Skill with the drill

Returning to the dentist and her scary drill,
a visit on a day that tested my will.

Whiled away an hour, cause she was running late,
a harrowing time spent contemplating my fate.

She wasn’t too happy with my teeth last week,
so off for full X-rays a clearer picture to seek.

Then full of dread waiting to learn the result
Envisioning another painful drill- assault

Like a lamb to the slaughter I’m led to the chair,
Nurse keeps chattering a trick to keep me there.

My Dentist arrives … face mask in place,
I simulate a demeanour of dignity and grace

“Muzz the news is not good so I will be blunt,
a root canal’s needed for that tooth in the front”.

On having the needle, I didn’t utter a peep
I’d just removed myself … pretended to sleep.

A light doze I’ll admit while still being aware,
in a twilight zone far too drugged up to care.

While practicing her craft with talent and might,
she drills and she digs until she gets it just right.

Arose next morning in more pain than before,
with no end in sight there’s still appointments galore.

I gifted this poem, hoping mounting fees to stall,
next visit it’s there framed up on her wall

My catchcry being …we are girls we can do this,
reneging at this stage would be quite remiss

Costs rocketed so high … for this little lot,
reckon I bought my dentist her very own yacht.

It’s Too Quiet

Its quiet, too quiet, could be that everyone had gone back to sleep, albeit highly unlikely at ten am on a Saturday morning.
A choice to make; do I take advantage of this bonus, with four kids under six it doesn’t happen very often, but no … would be different if Tom was home, his early morning starts still have two more to go.
What the! that’s not normal, the dogs! … I can hear them barking from their pen!! They’re never penned unless we’re going out. Where are those kids – TJ, Sarah, Junior, Wendy, where are you? Come on kids Mummy wants you please … nothing … into TJ’s bedroom … no one under the bed, shoot have to remember to vacuum there later, through each bedroom, no one there either. TJ, Sarah, Junior, Wendy, stop it, this isn’t funny, Mummy’s not joking, answer me please. Playroom empty, breakfast dishes on the table so they have eaten … outside TJ, Sarah, Junior, Wendy where are you?
The silence is frightening, Oh hell surely not in the garage it’s supposed to be locked … it is, no kids here. The chook shed, maybe they’re collecting (and dropping) the eggs. Not there damn! TJ, Sarah, Junior, Wendy answer me NOW, dead silence.
Please god! … Police … call the police don’t wait, things happen, time is crucial, rushing past the dog pen wishing they could talk, wait they may know … open pen, find the kids, Rover, find TJ, both dogs are off in a flash down the block over the fence barking like fury.
Oh my god NO, they’re running around atop the dam bank, racing in the wake of the charging dogs, trying not to panic while struggling with the gate latch that has jammed again, how many times have I asked for this to be fixed? No time … climb over, nearing the dam my vision is being partially blocked but I can hear excited voices and see waving arms behind the bank, Oh dear god, climbing the bank I hear Rover, Spot get out, go home … TJ, Sarah, Junior, Wendy? … rounding the dam I see they are behind the opposite bank. What the hell is going on, why are you here, laying on the ground?, TJ’s yelling and waving his arms, Mummy Mummy come quick, but keep Rover and Spot away … I was worried sick TJ, speak to me young man.
        Mummy, Mummy look, Mrs Woolly is making babies she made one and is making another one, look Mum we can see it’s feet and nose, you said she wouldn’t have a baby till daddy was home to help her, she did it all by herself and she made two look.
Oh Dear lord thank you.

Autumn

DAILY PROMPT
Autumn Leaves
Changing colors, dropping temperatures, pumpkin spice lattes: do these mainstays of Fall fill your heart with warmth — or with dread?

Hearing the radio announcer suggest, that we enjoy this wonderful warm sunny day, as it may very well be the last one for some time, had me looking out my kitchen window. The beautiful autumn splendour spreads gloriously across the valley. From this vantage point, the view is panoramic, domed by a cloudless soft blue sky, descending down behind the far off hazy hills and valleys that form our horizon.
Far into the distance, normally arid and dry at this time of year, the small acreages dotted throughout the foothills, still display a carpet of green, resulting from the unusual amount of unseasonal rainfall. Further up this undulating landscape, shards of sunlight reflect off the main buildings of local vineyards. With the inevitable invasion of birds that come with the ripening of fruit now past, and minus the protective white vestal like draping nets, their once luscious green foliage has turned to a rust gold, that greedily catches the rays of the sun, as it searches for the juicy plump ripened grapes that, up until a few weeks ago nestled there.
Dragging my vision closer to home, through the breeze driven dancing fronds of the house yard tree ferns, somewhat appearing out of rhythm with the cloth-line full of washing flapping merrily away in the background.
Noting I am not the only one appreciating the tranquillity magnified by the warmth of the sun, nestled under a bush is our kitten, Butterfly, lazily giving her-self a bath. Rolling back and forth in the open, making small grunting noises of contentment, Cocoa the dog, an arthritis sufferer, obviously enjoying the warmth, and the pain relief it brings.
Fowls, wandering about our yard at will, catch my eye, the big rooster in particular, normally a mixture of varying shades, ranging from tan and brown to black. On turning, his movement has his feathers catching the sunlight, transforming the seemingly black tail to a dark shimmering bottle green, his brown body feathers magically transformed to a living burnished copper shade, overlaid by head and neck feathers of fluorescent metallic gold, all this topped off with a ruby red comb standing to rigid attention. Undeniably justifying his arrogant, Cock of the walk, demeanour.
Conflicting thoughts drift, intermingling through the misty recesses of my mind, as I fluctuate between regret, somehow sensing the distant advancing of winter, with its dreary dark over cast skies, icy cold winds, rain and rumbles of the thunder to come, but aware that in time, the sun will return, again lighting my world and warming all within it.

The Daily Post

Nosey Delights

From the yeasty warmth of freshly baked bread to the clean, summery haze of lavender flowers, we all have favorite smells we find particularly comforting. What’s yours?

 

 

Aunty Etta,

It’s ordained, it has to be, why else would I plant them in every garden that surrounds the home I happen to be living in at any given time, and there has been a few over the years.

Geraniums plain albeit colourful geraniums, the colour isn’t the important feature to my story, nor is the fact that they are not my favourite flower, that honour belongs to the daffodil, it’s the perfume they send up on watering them that sends me spinning back to what, I would credit as being one of the best years of my mid-teens.

After a dissension with my Mother it was decided that I live elsewhere, (mindful that this being  in the late fifties, children did not usually leave home to live on the streets, not if they in anyway respected their elders) I was taken to the opposite end of the city and introduced to an elderly lady as my Aunt Etta, I had met her on a previous occasion, but to this day I have no real idea which twig she was or how she came to belong on a somewhat twisted branch of our family tree. I was reluctant, as from the view point of a fifteen year old, she looked as old as the hills, to be truthful she was about the same age I am now, but selfishly I felt it would be better than nothing, knowing I had no intention of living another minute in my mother’s home.

It wasn’t long before I realised living with Aunty Etta, was a holiday in paradise, it was here I learned to relax and start to enjoy the everyday activities of a teenager. I came to appreciate this dear lady, not for what she looked like or her age but for her kindness and support, she taught me trust, encouraged me to join the scout movement as a cub leader and to go out and to mix with friends or to bring them home, all were welcome

It was while living here I met the first love of my life, he was a tall, handsome young policeman, who used to come daily into the food court where I worked. We dated a couple of times and Aunt Etta always made him welcome. It was her that comforted me when he told me, that as a policeman it was his job to protect young girls from older men not date them. She was the only one that didn’t tell me it was all for the best, that I would find someone else one day, she acknowledged my pain at the time and just held me while I cried.

Aunty Etta was a widow of many years standing; who had a great love of canaries, housing dozens of them in individual aviarys intermittently placed throughout her back yard, each one separated by geranium bushes. On sunny days when she watered her flowers, the orchestra of chirping birds and buzzing bees creating an atmosphere instantly aromatised with the fragrance of geraniums, a memory I will take to my grave.

 

I lived happily with this wonderful lady for twelve months, now every time I smell the perfume or water my geraniums, my heart whispers Thank you Aunty Etta.

ROARING LAUGHTER

THE DAILY POST: ROARING LAUGHTER JULY 7, 2014

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/roaring-laughter/ What was the last thing that gave you a real, authentic, tearful, hearty belly laugh? Why was it so funny?

 

Slippery Slips

Slips

9.30am Saturday morning, a beautiful sunny day, all I have to do is decorate a birthday cake for our five year old granddaughter, we don’t have to leave for the party until 3.30pm. Hubby is about to leave to collect some offered wood, free firewood being hard to come by should be collected as soon as possible.
Our daughter and I are chatting on the computer before she goes shopping for ingredients to complete a casserole she’s taking to the party. Out of the blue I hear

May! I need help … Slips is in next door’s yard … can you give me a hand please,

Quickly relaying this event to Sunny, I join Hubby at the fence, sure enough there’s slips, our two year old Dorper sheep happily grazing in the yard next door, nearby a dip in the fence suggesting his means of entry. Hubby’s in a quandary as this is one large sheep that has no intention of coming near us.

Here you take his lead May he may come to you … I’ll go get some feed he’ll come for that.

Sweet talking him gets him over to me, attempting to slip the lead over his head scares him off, hubby arrives with the food and seeing Sunny (who has come out to watch the fun) asks.

Can you ring next doors and let them know what’s going on in their back yard… Hubby and I climb through the fence,

I rang them, can I do anything to help Dad? … Yes please, Mum and I won’t be able to do it alone.

Hang on a min I’ll get some sturdy shoes on… she disappears inside only to return a few minutes later in work shoes and an old jumper over her good gear.

Approaching Slips and offering the food, then just as the animal goes to feed Hubby, with all the agility of someone well past their prime, lunges grabbing hands full of wool, the suddenness of this attack causes Slips to take off. Hubby now laying across his back clinging with all his might,  berating him with a full vocabulary of swear words while trying to bring this well fed sheep to ground.

Hubby’s having trouble holding Slips down …  Bloody hell Dad, be careful, hold him, I’ll come in there, 

 Hell! … grab his bloody front feet May, Sunny you grab his back legs’ and hold him for gods sake,

Sunny’s grinning like a fool … We should have the camera going  it’s funnier than Funniest Home Movies … God I hope no one’s watching this and calling the RSPCA,

The thought cracking me up into in a fit of the giggles, we now have poor Slips pinned down,

What now Dad?  … How the bloody hell would I know I don’t even know how to get out of this friggen place, even if I did the stupid sheep won’t lead, he’ll just jump around and there’s no way of holding him.

How about we get the wheelbarrow and wheel him home? … That remark earning me a look that says if you can’t talk sense shut up.

I told you I don’t know the way through this place…Dad if we get him over to where he came through the fence, could we lift him back over?

Buggered if I know, but I need something to tie his feet together, you two keep holding him down while I get something,  don’t let the bugger go.

Both crouching down with a death grip on poor Slip’s legs giggling fit to burst,

God he can kick, he got me a beauty on the shin, its gunna have a terrific bruise hope I can drive. I gotta go get the stuff for the casserole…You’ll make it, but I’m not sure how the hell we’re gunna get Slips back, Dad’s not happy,

How ya hands holding up Mum, you ok?… Oh they’re doing ok thanks love.

He returns with enough rope to hogtie a ruddy wild bull, and proceeds to tie the front feet together.

Oh for god’s sake Hubs you’re not in a bloody Rodeo, he doesn’t need to be so bound up.

Dragging and pulling we manage to get Slips to the fence line without damage,

Mum! … stop laughing,

All trying to lift  poor helpless Slip’s is hopeless, we can’t even raise him an inch off the ground. I’m lost, tears running down my face while grasping my aching stomach, caused from laughing.

Slips starts to buck and wriggle around… Muzz watch it … too late I cop a kick right in the inner thigh muscle.

Sunny you drop on top of him and hold him steady … Hang on!  I have a cramp in my bloody leg, I’m getting up to ease it.

Drop on him Sunny, come on … Dancing around not sure where to drop, down she goes trying not to actually squash him, the wriggling stops.

Dad as we can’t lift him what if you get the wheelbarrow, could we get him in that and maybe roll him over the fence where he came through?

S**t, the bloody barrow’s full of wood, I’ll have to empty the confounded thing, you two hold him there, I won’t be long … he wanders off muttering who-knows-what, about bloody sheep.

This is lovely, can you just see their faces at school tomorrow when they ask … And what did you do over the weekend Sunny? … Oh nothing much just rolled around in next doors yard with Mum, Dad and Mum’s pet sheep, …  we are both a giggling mess when Hubby returns with the empty barrow and lifts it over the fence with difficulty.

Tipping it on its side hard up against Slips’s back so we could roll him into it, between the three of us this was accomplished with a lot of laughing, (from we two girls only) huffing and puffing. The barrow is lined up against the fence as all together we roll and push him under the top wire.

Oh bugger I pushed my hand up his backside and that’s not something one should do unless you’re wearing rubber gloves … Sunny that’s not a nice thing to say, but it’s ok love I won’t tell anyone I promise,                                                                                              

Amid a new round of laugher we actually get him through and land him softly on our side of the fence, untying his legs and gently getting him to his feet, he wanders off as if it was a normal event in his life.

Well I’m off to get the bloody wood if there’s any left,

Ok, I’ll ring next doors and tell them we’ve finished, then I’m off to have a shower again before I go shopping, I stink of sheep.

And I’m going home to decorate the birthday cake.

The games people play

One can feel the crunch of despair

when you’re suddenly made aware

that you have become another victim of the games people play

 

How many times have you been cheated?

by ones who have counted

that you’re gunna be best buddies for ever and a day

 

They always sound so damn convincing

as they carry through their trust facade inducing

your confidence tho any fears try to allay

 

Time and time again

they inflict their intangible pain

while to the outside world never are their true colours on display

 

It’s often the inner ache that forms your doubt

when sympathisers always say good karma will out

albeit they know it’s still hearsay

 

Pessimism born of such exposure

is damaging to human nature

leaving emotional wellbeing in utter disarray

 

This widespread affliction

has no cure in pill nor lotion

it’s exclusively in the hands of those practicing emotional foray

 

Just beware on life’s perilous journey

of what’s real and what is blarney

both being fundamental tools in the games people play.