Cobwebs and guava, laughing and cup cakes

When you get married it is for better or worse. It's one of those promises we make as we stand all dewy eyed at the altar. I remember it clearly. Barry has been getting the worse for quite a while and I am sure he is sick of it. When we visited the oncologist last year before my operation; the nurse asked who would be looking after and caring for me after the op. I was very arrogant and said 'Barry will take care of me.' And he has. No, I did not forget that he is also struggling with his own cancer, I was being a self involved idiot and never gave it a second thought. And he has worked like a Trojan at keeping the household ticking over. My standards are not terribly high and I can live with mess but still I was feeling incredibly guilty this week as he struggled with mowing the lawn and hanging up the washing. Yes, I know that mowing and hanging will not kill Barry, but I felt that I was significantly stressing him out by my expectations .. low as they may be. But not much I can do about it now, might have to make it up to him later. When I can push the mower..... or maybe pay someone else to push it for me. I happened to switch on to a pod cast thingy about why we feel guilty for things we cannot help. The person was talking about interviewing abuse victims ... no, I am not an abuse victim.... and how, no matter how terrible their abuse has been, that they always say 'I am not so badly off. Other people have it much much worse than me and so therefore I do not deserve any help or assistance.' Am I falling into the same category? Because seriously I do think that other people have it much worse than I have. If people offer to vacuum the carpet I am really tempted to do the cleaning before they arrive. Mmmm no, actually I seldom vacuum the carpet because it is now residing on the patio due to a concerted pee attack by the prodigal cat. But I was looking at all my cobwebs and wondered if I should phone a friend to come and remove them because stretching is still a challenge ... but then I thought 'No, silly girl, the feather duster has an extender arm.' You might be wondering why I don't get my children to come and do the dusting ... well they are busy with jobs and family. The nurse did ask if I had children that could help .... I think she took one look at Barry and became concerned about his health.... but no, the kids are all too far away and too busy. No.... I am not whining and saying 'Oh woe is me.' I actually dislike sympathy. A good friend asked me what I would like her to do for me ... she has been through the loss of a loved husband and knows where my head is at. I told her that a chat and maybe a hot chocolate date at the cafe would do me much more good that me lying on the couch watching her chase dust bunnies around the floor. Good friends and maybe a plate of cookies every so often .. that I feel no guilt about accepting.

Summer is giving up the heat to the misty days of Autumn. The colours of Autumn trees are amazing and I love it but my guavas are still green and if that pesky frost comes early I will seriously cry. I do dash out with frost cloth etc at the first hint of a chill, but the guavas ... well they are tropical fruit and dislike the cold. So even though the frost might be a few weeks off, they have stopped growing and ripening. We planted the tree in a sheltered warm spot and it has rewarded us with about a hundred gorgeous little guavas .... but they do not taste nice when they are like miniature green marbles. I do have a portable hot house and I am thinking of putting it over the guava tree and moving a large electric heater into close proximity. But the last time we did something similar, it just cooked the leaves and frizzled the fruit. Disaster. I will have to watch diligently for ripening fruit and forget the heater idea. It is right next to the patio and there are chairs I could sit in as I contemplate eating my guava treats. But would that make me a nut case? Or a fruit case? You would think that I had been deprived of fresh fruit this year. No. We have already eaten our way through a cornucopia of deliciousness. And even at this moment I still have a bowl of Cape gooseberries to consume.

We had a few friends and family visit for the annual Running of the sheep through town this week. Not that I went and watched the running. Been there, done that a few times already. One of the visitors was an old university friend of mine. We both studied art at the same time. Anyhow, I showed him a drawing I had done for my latest book and he immediately picked up on something that I had snuck into the art work. I like to do those things that you have to know the secrets to appreciate. Anyhow my latest book is a colouring/story book about a Maori myth involving a love triangle. The one man ... who is actually a volcano ... well they are all volcanoes. Anyhow Taranaki lost the girl to his brother Tongariro and had to run away to escape with his life ... taking his love child with him. Yes, the child is also a volcano. I know, very convoluted story line. Anyhow I drew Taranaki holding his baby and running towards an area covered with Kawakawa leaves. The leaves are used by Maori to heal heart problems and I thought a broken heart also needs to be healed. But I never expected anyone to read my convoluted artist licence until Joseph (my friend) asked if I knew the significance of the leaves I had drawn? Yes, I did. Wow, I might have to be a bit more careful with depicting them correctly next time. But it really made me feel good that a fellow artist recognised my deviousness. His wife then told me that the story I was writing was being taught in the schools that she is involved with. Another nice moment. I think I need to invite more people like them around to our house. And to make things perfect, they brought food. No, not cupcakes but rather a big pot of sausage stew. I love a good visit or two and a good stew.

Well folks, just as I was writing that I like a good visit or two, in popped a friend on her daily walk and then to add happiness to joy, in walked our nephew for a chat. He had us both laughing at his mimicking of old people playing pool at the club he works at. He says they walk as if they are on skis..... slide, slide, shuffle, shuffle. They pick up the pool cue and then ski, ski, shuffle, shuffle into position and take off their glasses and search for their other pair of glasses ... shoot and then have to shuffle, shuffle, ski, slide over to the board to mark their score. He says it takes hours to play a game. I know I shouldn't laugh, but our nephew shuffling across our lounge floor like a geriatric skier was more than I could cope with. I need a good laugh now and again. Better than watching a movie ... or having him mimic me dusting the cobwebs ...... or Barry hanging out the washing.