Mamalade

Ben and Agnieszka left last night. Home to Melbourne first, then next month they’ll move to California. Maybe for a year. Or two. Maybe for ever.

I felt concerned because Oscar had been outside all day – maybe he knew that Ben had bought worm tablets. I hoped he would come back before they left.

Ben and Agnieszka were still out visiting when Frances brought Miles around to see them off.

“He’ll be too tired to go to the airport,” she said. “He hasn’t had a sleep.”

It was getting late.

Ben and Agnieszka returned and Ben started to pull the shower screen apart to see why it was jamming.

“For goodness sake, just get ready!” I said.

“I am ready!”

I gave Miles his dinner while Frances went to pick up Joel from work. Miles was too tired to eat and kept clamouring for “Airconditioner.”

“What on earth is he talking about?” I asked Frances when she returned with Joel.

Frances laughed. “He means Agnieszka!”

A furry face appeared at the door.

“There’s Oscar!”

Ben sprang after him. “Now he can have his tablet!”

“Oh no, not when you are leaving! Don’t leave him with a bad memory of you!”

“You won’t be able to give it to him.”

Ben can be very stubborn. He shut himself in the bedroom with Oscar.

Oscar can be stubborn too.

“I thought they were leaving at quarter past.” I said to Frances.

“Do they know what time it is?”

Ben came out of the bedroom with Oscar. Oscar was frothing at the mouth.

“He only had half.”

“Let’s go,” said Joel, jangling his car keys. “Do you want to come and see the planes, Miles?”

“He’ll go to sleep,” warned Frances. “You’ll have to carry him.”

“I wanted to take a photo of you all together.”

“Hurry up then!”

I took a photo of them all beside the car. Then Frances took one with me in it. Then Agnieszka took one.

“Hop in,” said Joel. “Are you coming, Frances? There’s room.”

“She hasn’t had her dinner,” I wailed.

We hugged all round. “We’ll be back,” said Agnieszka.

“We’ll probably see you just as often as we do when you’re in Melbourne,” I say. “Only it seems such a long way.”

“Say goodbye to Buddy. You won’t see him again,” Joel told them.

We all waved as they drove off and I held Buddy close. His tumour is growing. They probably won’t see him again.

But they’ll be back sometime.

I walked into the house and got the mop. Oscar had thrown up the worm tablet on the kitchen floor.

“Its usually cool up here,” I say, getting out of the car. “I’ve been to Mt Tamborine before and worn a cardigan in summer.”

“Ooh, it was hot in our car. We don’t have air-conditioning.” Frances stretches her sticky limbs. Miles, flushed from sleeping on the way up, looks around in bewilderment.

At the Information Centre, we study the large 3D model of the area.

“Look how the mountains are in a circle,” I say. “It looks like a huge volcano.”

“Oh look, it says here – Mt Warning in the middle was the volcano and the others have been formed from the lava.”

“I never knew that before! Must have been some volcano!”

Miles is more interested in the spider specimens. Joel lifts him up for a closer look.

Back in the car, we travel on to a picnic area. It looks vaguely familiar. Have I been here before? It looks like the place we visited not long after Deryck and I were married – about 35 years ago. We had brought my Grandmother for a drive – Grandma loved travelling! I remember sitting on the brown-checked rug. I wonder what became of it? We must have had a chair for Grandma, surely! And we had eaten the rice pudding I had brought.

Rice pudding. What a funny thing to bring for a picnic lunch, I think, as I watch Joel and Frances barbecuing the sausages and kebabs that were left over from yesterday. A kookaburra flies down and waits hopefully.

“I’ve got a good recipe for rice pudding.” I had told Grandma.

“You don’t need a recipe for rice pudding!” said Grandma.

But you do, when you are newly married and never made rice pudding before!

I spread the old gray blanket on the ground. I had grabbed it as we left home. You should always take a rug when you are travelling, I tell Ben. (In case of an accident, but I don’t say it out loud. Please God, keep us safe. Don’t let me die before I tidy my bedroom!)

Miles walks across the blanket.

“What are you doing, walking on the table!” Ben says to Miles.

Miles thinks this is a great joke. He laughs and lies down with his head on my squishy cushion. His blonde hair is plastered to his forehead with perspiration. The tall gum trees provide only filtered shade.

“What are you doing, sleeping on the table!” I say.

Miles giggles and rolls over onto the grass.

“Careful, don’t fall off the table!

The game continues until the kebabs are cooked and the kookaburra flies off with a piece of sausage.

I’m Miles’ grandmother now, and I don’t need a recipe for rice pudding. But I’ll leave the barbecuing to the young ones!

Natural Arch

You’d think I would have written about the steep road down the other side of the mountain, about our visit to the Natural Arch at Springbrook and the crowd swimming in the ice-cold water by the waterfall. Particularly about the storm that sprang up as we hurried back up the bush track, and the tree branch that blew down and landed right in front of us!

Hot. Stinking hot. The only place to be was in the pool. I’m so glad Frances offered to have our family get-together at their place, around the pool.

It was a public holiday and a good opportunity for Ben and Agnieszka to see everyone. My three sisters, Relle, Jan and Lea came, with their husbands and families. And Mum, of course, but Dad insisted on staying home with his book and the lunch Mum had prepared for him. He finds it too awkward going out.

The water was warm from the sun. The kids splashed in it all afternoon. Nelson, the corgi, raced round and round the edge, barking excitedly. He must have been dog tired afterwards.

They didn’t blow away. Ben and Agnieszka returned on Monday, after a relaxing time on Stradbroke Island. They had escaped most of the storms.

The cats are looking more settled and have started to explore the yard. At first they wouldn’t move far from the door, but now they are becoming more adventurous. My own cats are accepting them very well. This morning Buddy and Oscar rubbed noses and there were no sparks. The only problem is, Buddy has started to mark his own territory. I suppose I should have felt honoured when he sprayed me, but I must say I wasn’t thrilled.

The fight is on

It’s like a battlefield. Each day the attacker advances and destroys more strongholds. This morning I looked in disbelief at my backyard. It was dotted with tiny white flags. Closer inspection revealed them to be ingenuously made with toothpicks and white masking tape.

Ben appeared in his battle uniform – thick red rubber gloves and spray bottle.

“You can’t poison them today,” I protested. “Look – they’ve surrendered!”

“I put the flags there so I’ll know which ants nests I haven’t poisoned,” says Ben.

A sudden sting on my foot made me dance on one spot. It was evident they still hadn’t surrendered.

“I’ll help you find more nests,” I said.

Ben and Agnieszka have gone camping on Stradbroke Island for a few days. They’ll be back tomorrow – if they haven’t blown away. The weather turned rather wild after they left. We had a hailstorm one night. Thankfully we didn’t have the strong wind here that caused a lot of havoc in some places.

The best seat in the house

Before they left for Stradbroke, we went shopping for my Christmas present. I had mentioned a while back that I hadn’t been using the computer so much because it was making my back ache. So Ben decided to buy me a new desk chair.

The shop assistant was very patient. We tried every chair, raising and lowering the seat, and tilting them at every angle.

“This one feels good,” I said.

“It’s exactly the same as the one you said you didn’t like,” said Ben.

It was so hard to choose.

“Come on, let’s go to another place,” said Ben.

So we went through the same procedure at the next place, till I decided, “This is it!”

“Are you sure?” asked Agnieszka.

“Yes, the seat is not as padded, but it supports my back.”

Ben rode up and down in it a few times.

“It won’t last as long as the chairs at the other place. Let’s go back.”

Back we went and sat on every chair all over again.

“This one!” I said at last.

“No, let’s get this one,” said Ben, sitting on a more expensive chair. “It’s exactly the same, only you can adjust the tilt.”

Then we had to decide on the fabric.

“This one will go with the carpet,” I pointed to the standard gray with a pink fleck.

“No, it’s synthetic,” said Ben. “Wool will be more comfortable to sit on.”

He chose a deep blue one.

“It will show up every cat hair!” I protested.

The assistant was hovering hopefully.

“We’re just choosing one to match the cat,” I told him.

The colour didn’t really matter. We got the deep blue. 100 percent wool.

It’s very, very comfortable. Ask Olive. I covered it with a rug as soon as it was installed in front of my computer and Olive immediately claimed the chair. Removing her is like transplanting a cactus. The only way I can use my chair is to roll up Olive in the rug and dump her on the bed, then sit down before she bounces back.

Close encounters

Oscar and Olive still haven’t had a real confrontation with my own cats, Buddy and Ingrid. They are all aware of one another, but are taking care not to cross one another’s path. Sort of like being in a plane and watching to see if anyone is headed for the toilet before you get out of your seat.

Yesterday, Ingrid wandered in just as Oscar was emerging from the bedroom. They both scuttled away then peered cautiously around doorways at opposite ends of the house.

Ingrid likes to sleep on my bed at night. Last night, I was wakened by a “wump” on top of me, then a mad scuttle out through the door. Olive must have jumped on my bed and almost landed on Ingrid. Ingrid didn’t even wake.

Buddy has chosen to stay outside for the time being. I seek him out and give him a cuddle every time I go outside. I miss having him under my feet.

Ben and Agnieszka have arrived from Melbourne. Joel picked them up from the airport last Saturday night while Frances and Miles waited with me at home. I don’t know how they fitted everything in the car. In addition to the usual luggage, they brought camping gear, a big box of Christmas presents, and two cats, complete with their own bedding, litter tray, feeding bowls etc.

Miles was thrilled to see the cats, Olive and Oscar, but the feeling wasn’t mutual. Olive disappeared under a blanket and Oscar retreated into his own padded bed and stared out with huge eyes.

The cats will have plenty of time to get used to their new surroundings. They are going to stay here while Ben and Agnieszka are in California. They’ll be away for at least a year.

So far, they haven’t ventured out of the bedroom. The cats, I mean.

Red-back spider

I was about to have lunch when Frances rang.

“I’ve been bitten by a red back spider!”

“I’ll be there in a minute!” I grabbed the car keys and ran to the car.

A red-back!!! They can be fatal!!

Miles gave a whoop of joy when I arrived. “Meemar! Play with me!”

I scooped him up. “We’ll take Mummy to the doctor, first!”

Frances had already phoned her doctor and been told to come in. She wasn’t showing any dire symptoms, apart from feeling a bit sick and shaky – probably from fear as much as anything. I was pretty shaky, myself!

I thought it would be treated as an emergency, but we were kept waiting for ages at the doctors’. Frances had plenty of time to tell me she’d been rinsing muddy shoes under running water in the laundry when she felt the bite on her hand. It was only a small spider, but it was definitely black with a red back. She’d managed to kill it and brought it with her.

The doctor finally appeared and said he thought she’d be all right, but she was to go straight to the hospital if she had any swelling or felt really ill. He gave her an anti-histamine tablet. Only the hospital has the anti-venom, he told her. (So going to the doctor is a waste of time in a real emergency.)

Thankfully, Frances was all right. Maybe the spider wasn’t fully developed or maybe the running water prevented it from injecting too much venom.

Anyway, they are getting their house sprayed as soon as possible.

The body in the bath

Backtracking slightly….

While Frances and I were waiting in the treatment room, I tried to keep her spirits up with a bit of light hearted chatter. The doctor was talking to another patient on the other side of the partition.

“The man came to clean the carpets yesterday,” I told Frances.

“Did you get all the stuff picked up off the floor?”

“Yes. I put the little tables in the kitchen. And stacked up all the books. But I was a bit worried about all the bodies around the house. I thought they might look a bit odd….So I sat Max in the downstairs toilet and shoved Jill in the bath and closed the shower screen so he wouldn’t see her…”

There was silence on the other side of the partition.

I continued… “When the man came, he asked if he could use hot water from the bathroom. I hadn’t thought of that. I said to him, ‘Well, I’ve stacked a few things in the bath, but I can pull them out.’

‘Then the shower screen jammed and he had to fix it for me. Just as well – I might have had to stay dirty forever. I told him ‘Don’t worry about the body in the bath…’”

Frances chuckled appreciatively.

“… I pulled Jill out of the bath, then he decided it would be too awkward to get his bucket around the screen and decided to use the tap in the laundry. So I took him down to the laundry and of course the toilet door was wide open, and he could see Max sitting on the toilet.”

“What did he say?”

“He just said, ‘I see you have another one!’ Of course, he would have seen the two little ones when he arrived and that probably prepared him. I’d shoved them on top of the piano…”

The doctor looked rather bemused when he came in to treat Frances – but the look on the other patient’s face when we passed her on the way out was indescribable!

bodies

If you have ever been to my house you will know what I was talking about. If not, I’d better explain.This is my “other” family. From left to right: Christopher, Jill, Katie and Max.

I made them by simply stuffing old clothes. Their heads are made from styrofoam wig stands, padded with dacron and covered with old panty hose.

I made one for as friend once, but her dog wouldn’t let it into the house!

Oh…did you think I was normal?

Of course, I knew it wouldn’t last… I broke one of my New Year’s Resolutions the very first day. (No sitting up late at the computer.) I was ready to close it down at 10.30pm, really I was, then a little voice whispered “Just one quick game of FreeCell…”

Ah, the flesh is weak!

So of course that led to the collapse of the next resolution. “Get up earlier in the morning.” You can’t rise with the larks if you hoot with the owls!

Beware of Kerfuffles

I suppose we shouldn’t have discussed it in front of him, but Miles triggered the topic himself, when he started to tell me about a video he had been watching.

“We thought he’d like it,” said Joel. “It’s about a friendly robot – but he’s been having nightmares.”

“He comes into our bed,” said Frances. “And creates a kerfuffle.”

Miles laughed at the word “Kerfuffle”, but presently he asked to be lifted up to the window to see if there were any “fuffles” outside.

Later he pretended to be stuck between the bed and the wall, and yelled, “Help, help, the fuffle will get me!”

When looking at an animal picture book, he commented, “Crocodiles come through the window.”

“Oh, no,” I reassured him. “Crocodiles can’t come through the window.”

“No,” he said, seriously. “They come through the door. Fuffles come through the window!”

The world can seem a scary place to a two and a half-year-old!

buddy

Buddy

“Buddy is looking scraggy,” said Joel. ” He looks like Smokey did when he got old.”

“Any cat would look thin after your cat!” I retorted. “She’s like a barrel…”

But I looked anxiously at Buddy. He has lost weight recently and is not demanding food as much as he did. About a month ago he was a bit off colour for a few days. There was some cat virus going around. He hasn’t seemed quite his pesky self since then.

“But he still has his big fat tummy,” I said, running my hands down his sides.

It didn’t feel right.

Surely, his belly shouldn’t feel so hard and tight!

I took him to the vet.

“There’s definitely something there,” said the vet. “Probably a tumour…”

They could operate, she said, and it might give him a couple of years – or he might die on the operating table. He’s not a young cat.

“He’s quite happy now,” she said. “I think it would be best to just leave him until he no longer enjoys life. You’ll know when the time comes.”

I can’t bear to put him through the trauma of a big operation. I’ll just love him and enjoy him while I can. The time we have together will be very precious.