Saturday, December 10, 2011

Do I Have Irritable Bowel?

Maybe it's just bad temper!  I am the owner of a bowel (nooooooo I hear you say), and I am so damned irritable that it isn't funny.

And when I get irritable, so does my bowel.  And the rest of me to boot.  There is also pain, which is constant and debilitating to say the least.  Some days it is a dull roar, other days it is so bad I hardly know what to do with myself, and the drugs I have don't help.  So I get irritable.

Today the pain was extreme, feels like I need a back-ectomy or something.  I am coming back as a jellyfish or an amoeba, and that way I won't need to ever experience backache.  Knowing my luck, if I return as a damned jellyfish I will have tentacle ache instead. Do jellyfish get tentacle ache?  Betcha I would.

One of the biggest bitches I have is that the brain is only in the early 20's, even though with the pain and all the memory is shit.  But the body is ancient and wizened.   The biggest blow my esteem has taken just lately is from the results of the CT scan to my abdomen...there are words on there that if you used them I would wash your mouth out with soap.  And words that have approximately 22 syllables.  Totally unpronounceable.  And amongst the scientific mumbo are the words "moderate degeneration of the left hip",  and also the fact that the lowest disc space in my spine is now almost non-existent.

For ages I have been joking and saying I think I need a new hip.  Now?  Mind over matter?  I dunno, but since I found out that it actually IS my hip the pain has been three times as bad. Or is it that I notice it more?  So frustrating, not to be able to do all your shopping in one hit, for example, but to have to go back day after day because you can only walk for an hour or so before being totally unable to take another step.

Today it was my back, the pain not so much in the hip. To ensure that it got worse over the course of the day, I decided I would do some weeding and what-not.   Maximum time 10 minutes, then 15 minutes rest.  Do this for one hour, maximum 1.5 hours!    Gone are the days when I could happily spend all day working hard in the garden!  Piss off, pain.

Add pain to pain and pain to irritability, and the whole lot comes booming down as molto depression. That bit is, I think, the source of the tiredness.  Fighting off the depression is sure to suck every bit of energy and strength out of anyone.   You guys know I have coping mechanisms - kick out the negative thoughts, sing loudly and all the rest.  Sometimes it is more difficult than others!

How some ever, we shall overcome, one way or another.  Getting out of the house into the fresh air is a good depression killer, except when you have two monster dogs bugging the hell out of you.  Somehow they know when I am down in the dumps and they eagerly make it worse by trying to stick more closely than usual.

Need a dog whisperer to tell them to just be nice poochies and back off a bit huh?   I need a little dog-free space, not muzzles down holes and pees on the lilies I am uprooting!  No lolling on my feet please, it hurts my ingrown toenails! In other words?  Bugger off dogs, I am trying to be depressed here!

I Googled Christmas Wreaths?

||Artificial insemination for goat class||: ||artificial streaks ...
bulk wholesale artificial christmas wreaths. artificial satellites in indian express. artificial poppies for sale nz. artificial pumpkin vine ...

Dear Google, or should that be Goggle?

Thank you for your enlightening information!  I am sure getting an education  in the ways of the world around me.

It seems, however, that your little search men got all twizzled up with their satellite, as the search returned the most amaaaaaaaaazing results.  In fact, I should just check out some of the sites to see what in hell the little men found for me.  For example, what, oh what is a "leroy-artificial-vagina"?   I daren't even begin to ponder this one.  

And what a crackup, who would want "artificial satellites in Indian express"?  Express what? Total hilarity here, just saying.

The most astonishing result of all, one which for the life of me I can't see having the slightest bearing on artificial wreaths, was the return of "artificial insemination for goat class".   Goat class of what?  Class of '11 maybe?  Low class of goat?  The poor mind is overheating and the jaw is aching from the spontaneous laughter.

Just as a last query, why would anyone want an artificial pumpkin vine?

Kind regards,
Your favourite searcher,  Carol
p.s. thanks for all the laughter I have.

Baring Your Breast? Is Breastfeeding In Public Offensive?


One thing I don’t like is someone using a twisted sense of morality or decency to try to prevent something as healthy and natural as breastfeeding in public.

The above was a comment on a blog on wordpress, go to the following to see it:

Now I know I am an older person (stop laughing all right?!), however, I don't believe I am showing my age when I OBJECT to that remark, by someone called "Tim Merrick".  Yep, I get embarrassed as hell when a stranger partially undresses in front of me in a very public place, ok?  I do NOT have a twisted sense of morality or decency! 

What the original poster of the blog and succeeding posters, plus many many of those who have commented, including Tim Merrick, have NOT BOTHERED to take into account or even to think about, is the upbringing of people of my generation and the generation ahead of me!  Anyone who knows me will know that there is no way on earth I am a prude, a prissy miss, nor do I have a twisted anything - except perhaps my sense of humour. This does not prevent me from being embarrassed!

The generations younger than mine are far more relaxed and open about all things sexual, about their bodies, about their antics in the bedroom, whatever. I know I am not alone in the way I was introduced to matters pertaining to the "birds and the bees". 

My instruction was from a little book that my mother gave me to read, saying "If you have any questions just ask me".   I need to add here that if I had asked her anything she would have probably died on the spot from extreme mortification.  I don't think her mother told her and my aunt much, if anything at all.  It was all hush hush - and sex, bodies, menstruation, the whole of it - never to be spoken of, and definitely not in public!

As for bare bodies in ads - unthinkable!  No sex in the movies, just the waves suggesting motion  or some other 'subliminal' prompt.   I still can't watch a movie in which couples strip and dive into bed to have sex.  I find it extremely unnecessary and hideously uncomfortable.  Maybe that is my twisted sense of decency?  I just feel sex is a very private matter, and is between two people who love and care about each other.  Not for voyeuristic consumption.

Somehow I have come a long way in a short time, and can talk about many things quite openly, but will always have that training, that upbringing, lodged firmly in my mind and many of my attitudes.

Not speaking for the men of any generation, but the women I know don't agree with half naked female bodies being used to promote or sell anything.  We feel ashamed and embarrassed (there's that word again) when we see billboards or ads with young women posed in deliberately provocative ninon over none-on clothing.  Most of my mates disagree with this type of exploitation, and feel that there would be far fewer sex attacks and far more respect for women if this type of advertising was damned well banned.

Come on, you don't often see adverts using men with their bag of fruit hanging out, now do you?  Somehow women have become OBJECTS, and sexuality TRIVIALISED.  And girls and women go along with it.  No, I don't find bum cracks and bare bellies attractive, not at all.  And judging by remarks I read and hear, few others disagree with me.  I don't find tits hanging out all over the show attractive either. Whether it is the girl in the mall or a 'film star', it is just not a good look. They demean themselves.  There is a  distinction between looking sexy and looking like a tart.

And guess what else?  The original blogger lost the plot or missed the point or something.  The ads have nothing whatsoever to do with breast feeding!  Heigh Ho, the BF Nazis are going to hate me for this, but it has bugger all to do with women undressing in front of me at the bus stop.   Yes, yes, breastfeeding is all natural and healthy and whatnot etc etc.  IF you can do it - good luck to you.  BUT.  Please don't be one of those (and there are many many many of you) who deliberately go out of their way to make, or prove, a point.  What that point is (apart from their bare nipple) I am not sure. 

Hell's bells, I have stood with a friend of my daughter's, who said excuse,  placed baby in the sling and fed her.  Her respect for other people's feelings was enormous, and I applauded her.  My respect for her was also enormous.  She didn't make a display, nor an exhibition, nor a point.  She quietly got on and fed her baby.  And we quietly chatted while the little one had her meal.

In answer to the question posed - no.  Breastfeeding in public is not offensive, it is a certain type of mother who makes it into a spectacle that is offensive.

And in answer to those who say ' you don't have to look ' - how can you bloody well avoid looking when some women are so blatant about popping their boob in front of your eyes?  Some women feed their babies discreetly, respectfully, and with modesty - well I think the majority do - they are the ones I can smile at! 

The ones who show no discretion, no respect - which after all means 'consideration'  - to me it is just as though some strange boy dropped his pants in front of me.  The effect is exactly the same.  It is human nature to LOOK!  Yep, breastfeed in public because your baby needs feeding - but where you have wonderful quiet facilities to do so, why not use them?  If you don't have the facilities, have consideration and don't provoke!

Who'd Have a Bloody Dog?

Um. Me?  Please don't ask me why, as I have no idea whatsoever!  Two monstrous, hair-shedding, spoiled, four-legged shadows.  Wherever I go they go.  If I suddenly turn around I trip over one of them, sometimes both.

Trying to garden is an exercise in extreme patience, without the goodwill to all dogs.  Picture me.  Fat backside in the air, 'lady garden fork' dug into the muddy ground, levering away at Canna Lily corms. We are doing well so far, Carol, we have 3/4 of the pest dug out.
When along comes the dog, and along comes the other dog.  Dog one decides that there is a magnificently stinky pong coming from the hole under the corm I am struggling to dig out.  So she shoves her whole nose and half her head into the hole.  I am trying to lift the fork, corm and dog, all covered in mushy mud.  Growl at her and push her away - she doesn't need a forking hole in her muzzle eh?  She comes right back.  End up popping her on the nose and pushing her physically out of the way.

She comes right back.  So.  I continue, drag out the corm and shoots and shake it like mad.  Getting dirt all over the damned dog.  Who immediately shoves her head in the hole.   I win.  I cover the hole with dirt.   So she promptly sits where I am about to dig next.

Fair enough, two can play at this game madam.  I move to the next spot.  Dog number two has been happily barking his fool head off at a falling leaf, but seeing that I am about to dig he comes barrelling back and - with a huge smirk on his furry dial - pees all over the lily I am about to dig up.  AAAAGH!

Right.  Forget the lilies, I have a garden edge to straighten and re-define, at the back of the house.  Off I go and collect the trusty ' lady garden spade'.  As I commence panting and grunting and pounding the spade into the ground, sweat drooling off every surface (of me, not the spade!) - along comes....... no not Jones, the bloody dogs!

Dog one decides there is a wonderful stinky smell in the hole I have just dug............repeat paragraphs 3 and 4 (above).  Dog two?  Happily sits watching until I get to an especially heavy spot (must be a stone under the surface), whereupon he pees.   double AAAAGH.

Nothing daunted, I carry on, with one dog happily digging out the edge and widening the bed even more, and the second dog sitting in the exact spot where my spadeful of dirt will be thrown. I gave up in the end, with just one or two more spade widths left to dig. 
Who'd have a bloody dog?