splodgenoodles: (Default)
Avid stalkers may recall that I recently wrote about trying nasal irrigation, just with a syringe as explained here, to see if it might not prove to be a cheaper and possibly safer way of controlling my chronically stuffy sinuses than hideously expensive nasal spray (Rhinocort) that can eventually destroy your sense of smell and is just one more dose of a cortisone-based steroid that I'd rather avoid.

Point being, I just had a bit of a whirl at it. Used a 5ml syringe - our chemist don't have any bigger - and some tepid salt water.

And while my health status has not changed dramatically in the last 30 minutes, I do feel much like how I used to feel as a kid after a hot summer's day of near drowning experiences at Victoria's notoriously dangerous Koonya back beach. All I need are some burnt patches of skin and sand in my twat and I'm there.

So nice to feel young again.

My main concern is that what's supposed to happen is that you squirt the water into one nostril and it comes out the other but this does not seem to have happenned. It's all gone in and hardly any has come out, and even less from whichever nostril is supposed to be acting as the drain. It's just disappeared. And while I do have that summers day saltiness thing going on, I don't *feel* like I've swallowed several mouthfuls of Bass Strait. That's a much more icky feeling, believe you me.

Admittedly it was quite hard to get a proper vacuum seal around the nostril with the syringe in it, so some water leaked out there and down my arm (my PJ elbows are now wet), but I'm sure enough went in. And when nothing seemed to be coming out, I tried a few more times thinking maybe I just needed to reach critical mass, but nothing's happenned yet.

So I'm waiting for a sudden gush. Still. My hopes are fading.

I suppose it was silly to be hoping for fountains, but I must say this is quite a let down.

On the plus side, maybe things were just really dry in there and my sinuses were simply hanging out for a good drink.
splodgenoodles: (Default)
Avid stalkers may recall that I recently wrote about trying nasal irrigation, just with a syringe as explained here, to see if it might not prove to be a cheaper and possibly safer way of controlling my chronically stuffy sinuses than hideously expensive nasal spray (Rhinocort) that can eventually destroy your sense of smell and is just one more dose of a cortisone-based steroid that I'd rather avoid.

Point being, I just had a bit of a whirl at it. Used a 5ml syringe - our chemist don't have any bigger - and some tepid salt water.

And while my health status has not changed dramatically in the last 30 minutes, I do feel much like how I used to feel as a kid after a hot summer's day of near drowning experiences at Victoria's notoriously dangerous Koonya back beach. All I need are some burnt patches of skin and sand in my twat and I'm there.

So nice to feel young again.

My main concern is that what's supposed to happen is that you squirt the water into one nostril and it comes out the other but this does not seem to have happenned. It's all gone in and hardly any has come out, and even less from whichever nostril is supposed to be acting as the drain. It's just disappeared. And while I do have that summers day saltiness thing going on, I don't *feel* like I've swallowed several mouthfuls of Bass Strait. That's a much more icky feeling, believe you me.

Admittedly it was quite hard to get a proper vacuum seal around the nostril with the syringe in it, so some water leaked out there and down my arm (my PJ elbows are now wet), but I'm sure enough went in. And when nothing seemed to be coming out, I tried a few more times thinking maybe I just needed to reach critical mass, but nothing's happenned yet.

So I'm waiting for a sudden gush. Still. My hopes are fading.

I suppose it was silly to be hoping for fountains, but I must say this is quite a let down.

On the plus side, maybe things were just really dry in there and my sinuses were simply hanging out for a good drink.
splodgenoodles: (Lacey's)





By [livejournal.com profile] deadro. From here.

If you don't know why this is funny, please go away.

You can come back when you've read a history book...or even just gone to a trivia quiz night.
splodgenoodles: (Lacey's)





By [livejournal.com profile] deadro. From here.

If you don't know why this is funny, please go away.

You can come back when you've read a history book...or even just gone to a trivia quiz night.
splodgenoodles: (Default)
It's a warm, cloudy day so I'm having trouble keeping my eyes open. I am slouching round in pj bottoms and a singlet. They are pink pjs with polka dots.

Actually I've noticed something about these jarmies: if I answer the door while wearing them, and there's a bloke on the other side, I get really good eye contact for the duration of the conversation. It's like they're scared of looking and noticing.

Or possibly they're worried about what will happen if they don't watch me like a hawk. Maybe middle aged women in novelty pyjamas only belong in Stephen King novels. And I just remembered there's a small box of hammers within clear view of the front door which you could see if you had reasonable peripheral vision.

Time, I think, to put a sign up telling everyone I'm perfectly nice.

~~~

I suppose they might not see me as a middle aged woman in novelty pyjamas, hopefully I'm just running myself down there. Maybe they think I'm a hot, hot vixen and they are awestruck by my charisma.

Next time this happens, I'll try and find out. I'll leave my top completely unbuttoned or something, and drape myself round the door instead of slumping against it like I usually do, and generally just try and crack on to the bloke in question. I'll wear heels instead of slippers. It'll be hard to find a pair of heels that can manage my orthotics but as long he doesn't look down, he won't notice.

And he won't look down, he'll be too busy looking deep into my eyes in wonderment so maybe I'll just stick with my woolly boots, they're far more comfortable and I won't need to use gaffa tape to hold my orthotics in position.

And this time, I'll brush my teeth before I answer the door.

I anticipate great changes to my self esteem, stay tuned.

~~~

I have been cheerfully chowing down real food the last couple of days, lashings of the stuff. Vegetables even! Broccoli! It was fun while it lasted but I am now regretting it heartily.

~~~

I recobooborated one of my worm farms yesterday and set it up just outside the back door near where it used to be. I'm pretty pleased about that. After I got too sick to properly tend them a while back, Big Alison suggested we put them under some trees out in the yard, and directly in contact with the ground and sort of leave them in semi-retirement there, in conditions that made them less dependent on me. (At least I think that was the idea). But anyway, I've decided I could cope with a little bit of worm farming again.

Poking through some castings, I was pleased to note that while they haven't been hugely prolific, there are enough worms and eggs that I doubt I'll need to purchase new ones. A bit of TLC and we'll soon be back into small scale fertiliser production.

Next I want to get our new compost bin assembled. It's a fancy jobbie that hopefully requires no turning of the contents. This will take larger amounts of garden rubbish, and possibly even the odd bag or three of lawn clippings. Our various other composting strategies have also fallen through due to the work required, this one _might_ just work.
splodgenoodles: (Default)
It's a warm, cloudy day so I'm having trouble keeping my eyes open. I am slouching round in pj bottoms and a singlet. They are pink pjs with polka dots.

Actually I've noticed something about these jarmies: if I answer the door while wearing them, and there's a bloke on the other side, I get really good eye contact for the duration of the conversation. It's like they're scared of looking and noticing.

Or possibly they're worried about what will happen if they don't watch me like a hawk. Maybe middle aged women in novelty pyjamas only belong in Stephen King novels. And I just remembered there's a small box of hammers within clear view of the front door which you could see if you had reasonable peripheral vision.

Time, I think, to put a sign up telling everyone I'm perfectly nice.

~~~

I suppose they might not see me as a middle aged woman in novelty pyjamas, hopefully I'm just running myself down there. Maybe they think I'm a hot, hot vixen and they are awestruck by my charisma.

Next time this happens, I'll try and find out. I'll leave my top completely unbuttoned or something, and drape myself round the door instead of slumping against it like I usually do, and generally just try and crack on to the bloke in question. I'll wear heels instead of slippers. It'll be hard to find a pair of heels that can manage my orthotics but as long he doesn't look down, he won't notice.

And he won't look down, he'll be too busy looking deep into my eyes in wonderment so maybe I'll just stick with my woolly boots, they're far more comfortable and I won't need to use gaffa tape to hold my orthotics in position.

And this time, I'll brush my teeth before I answer the door.

I anticipate great changes to my self esteem, stay tuned.

~~~

I have been cheerfully chowing down real food the last couple of days, lashings of the stuff. Vegetables even! Broccoli! It was fun while it lasted but I am now regretting it heartily.

~~~

I recobooborated one of my worm farms yesterday and set it up just outside the back door near where it used to be. I'm pretty pleased about that. After I got too sick to properly tend them a while back, Big Alison suggested we put them under some trees out in the yard, and directly in contact with the ground and sort of leave them in semi-retirement there, in conditions that made them less dependent on me. (At least I think that was the idea). But anyway, I've decided I could cope with a little bit of worm farming again.

Poking through some castings, I was pleased to note that while they haven't been hugely prolific, there are enough worms and eggs that I doubt I'll need to purchase new ones. A bit of TLC and we'll soon be back into small scale fertiliser production.

Next I want to get our new compost bin assembled. It's a fancy jobbie that hopefully requires no turning of the contents. This will take larger amounts of garden rubbish, and possibly even the odd bag or three of lawn clippings. Our various other composting strategies have also fallen through due to the work required, this one _might_ just work.
splodgenoodles: (Default)
I was clearing out my inbox before, but decided to keep the one from Fairfax media with the subject line See Inside Nicole Kidman's Pad!

I do a double triple take every time. And then I feel kind of grossed out and unclean for a while.

Aren't you glad I shared?
splodgenoodles: (Default)
I was clearing out my inbox before, but decided to keep the one from Fairfax media with the subject line See Inside Nicole Kidman's Pad!

I do a double triple take every time. And then I feel kind of grossed out and unclean for a while.

Aren't you glad I shared?
splodgenoodles: (Lady Penelope's car.)
Rather surprisingly, we went out for a meal out tonight. This really was very surprising, but that's enough of that. Point is, we went oot.

~~~

And at dinner I got the impression a couple of guys looked at me in a noticing way. Guys from different tables, so not two guys snickering in a corner or anything.

I suppose it might be for nice reasons, but whenever this happens I tend to assume it's because I've got toilet paper stuck to my shoe.

It's worse if they keep making eye contact because then I start to think somehow it's gotten stuck to my face. Yes my life is hell.

~~~

On the way back to the car I mentioned their noticing behaviour to 10B and he asked who they were and I rather glumly mentioned they were *sigh* just a couple of fairly normal looking middle aged blokes, to which he blithely pointed out that that made perfect sense - what with me being a fairly normal looking middle aged woman and all - so even though I now had some confirmation that I had been noticed for reasons other than me being coated in toilet paper, I didn't necessarily feel a whole bunch better.

~~~

Which is why I had to go and conduct a raid on the Paperback Bookstore in town (at least that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it) while 10B circled the city looking for a non-existent parking space.

I would be amazed at how busy that tiny little bookstore was, but I'll confess that it's the only place in the CBD that I ever spontaneously feel like going to on a Saturday night and I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised that I'm not unique.

It's like a special little frottage club for people who don't like making eye contact. (Or frotting, really. I made that bit up. Honest).

~~~

I realised I'd bought too much when the salesguy gave me two bags because "these bags aren't all that strong really".

Or rather:

"These bags aren't all that strong...really!".

Yes. Yes that's more like it.

~~~

I had to spend the secret money from my wallet to pay for the books. I'm a girl, so I was taught to always have a secret bit of money tucked away for emergencies, and to programme myself to forget it was there so I'd never spend it and not to mention it to anyone else...whoops...because it's a girl's secret weapon - like some kind of tiny, well armed and very flat helicopter.

Recently we were out somewhere and I was looking in my wallet for something (money I guess) and accidentally found my emergency money and I was so startled that I mentioned it to 10B and this seems to have broken the spell. I keep remembering I've got it now and spending it. Oh and he keeps remembering I've got it too, so my secret weapon is no more.

~~~

For those who want to know, the latest books to be added to the Great Noodle Mountain Of Undigested Knowledge (aka I'llgetroundtoitonedayama) are: Holmes et al., Reading the Garden - The Settlement of Australia which I figure I should read as kharmic payback for my willingness to sound off on the topic whenever someone says "Buxus sempervirens", Vikram Seth's first book The Golden Gate (it's in verse!), the first volume of His Dark Materials by Phillip Pullman because everyone's read it except us; and People Of The Book by Geraldine Brooks because her story about the plague town ripped my socks off.

10B bought another book about how modern food has lost it's way. He's building quite a collection on the topic. For a man who lives on microwaved party pies and Domino's Pizza, there's a truckload of poignancy in there somewhere I'm sure.

~~~

I've also been spending time watching Aunty Jack. It's dated enough the giggles are fairly well spaced out for me, I seem to recall it was a total pisser in 1972.

But I was only five years old in 1972 and men dressed as ladies are gold when you're that age. Especially when those ladies wear boxing gloves.

I also recall crying when she died, and Mum having to hug me a lot and reassure me she was going to come back, just like in the song - and then having to sing the end credit song and jolly me into singing along too so I would cheer up enough that she could put me to bed without having to listen to me crying myself to sleep because I was a delicate flower (with a good set of lungs.)

~~~

Fairwell Aunty Jack,
We know you'll be back.
Though you're ten feet tall,
You don't scare us at all...


I'm delighted to note that the wikipedia entry points out that Aunty Jack has often been compared to Monty Python (something that leapt out at me within the first 60 seconds of watching it as a grownup)...but that Aunty Jack came first (a thought which leapt out almost as soon as the first one did).

So nyah to the rest of the world. Our outdated humour outdates your outdated humour any day of the week. Nyah nyah.
splodgenoodles: (Lady Penelope's car.)
Rather surprisingly, we went out for a meal out tonight. This really was very surprising, but that's enough of that. Point is, we went oot.

~~~

And at dinner I got the impression a couple of guys looked at me in a noticing way. Guys from different tables, so not two guys snickering in a corner or anything.

I suppose it might be for nice reasons, but whenever this happens I tend to assume it's because I've got toilet paper stuck to my shoe.

It's worse if they keep making eye contact because then I start to think somehow it's gotten stuck to my face. Yes my life is hell.

~~~

On the way back to the car I mentioned their noticing behaviour to 10B and he asked who they were and I rather glumly mentioned they were *sigh* just a couple of fairly normal looking middle aged blokes, to which he blithely pointed out that that made perfect sense - what with me being a fairly normal looking middle aged woman and all - so even though I now had some confirmation that I had been noticed for reasons other than me being coated in toilet paper, I didn't necessarily feel a whole bunch better.

~~~

Which is why I had to go and conduct a raid on the Paperback Bookstore in town (at least that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it) while 10B circled the city looking for a non-existent parking space.

I would be amazed at how busy that tiny little bookstore was, but I'll confess that it's the only place in the CBD that I ever spontaneously feel like going to on a Saturday night and I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised that I'm not unique.

It's like a special little frottage club for people who don't like making eye contact. (Or frotting, really. I made that bit up. Honest).

~~~

I realised I'd bought too much when the salesguy gave me two bags because "these bags aren't all that strong really".

Or rather:

"These bags aren't all that strong...really!".

Yes. Yes that's more like it.

~~~

I had to spend the secret money from my wallet to pay for the books. I'm a girl, so I was taught to always have a secret bit of money tucked away for emergencies, and to programme myself to forget it was there so I'd never spend it and not to mention it to anyone else...whoops...because it's a girl's secret weapon - like some kind of tiny, well armed and very flat helicopter.

Recently we were out somewhere and I was looking in my wallet for something (money I guess) and accidentally found my emergency money and I was so startled that I mentioned it to 10B and this seems to have broken the spell. I keep remembering I've got it now and spending it. Oh and he keeps remembering I've got it too, so my secret weapon is no more.

~~~

For those who want to know, the latest books to be added to the Great Noodle Mountain Of Undigested Knowledge (aka I'llgetroundtoitonedayama) are: Holmes et al., Reading the Garden - The Settlement of Australia which I figure I should read as kharmic payback for my willingness to sound off on the topic whenever someone says "Buxus sempervirens", Vikram Seth's first book The Golden Gate (it's in verse!), the first volume of His Dark Materials by Phillip Pullman because everyone's read it except us; and People Of The Book by Geraldine Brooks because her story about the plague town ripped my socks off.

10B bought another book about how modern food has lost it's way. He's building quite a collection on the topic. For a man who lives on microwaved party pies and Domino's Pizza, there's a truckload of poignancy in there somewhere I'm sure.

~~~

I've also been spending time watching Aunty Jack. It's dated enough the giggles are fairly well spaced out for me, I seem to recall it was a total pisser in 1972.

But I was only five years old in 1972 and men dressed as ladies are gold when you're that age. Especially when those ladies wear boxing gloves.

I also recall crying when she died, and Mum having to hug me a lot and reassure me she was going to come back, just like in the song - and then having to sing the end credit song and jolly me into singing along too so I would cheer up enough that she could put me to bed without having to listen to me crying myself to sleep because I was a delicate flower (with a good set of lungs.)

~~~

Fairwell Aunty Jack,
We know you'll be back.
Though you're ten feet tall,
You don't scare us at all...


I'm delighted to note that the wikipedia entry points out that Aunty Jack has often been compared to Monty Python (something that leapt out at me within the first 60 seconds of watching it as a grownup)...but that Aunty Jack came first (a thought which leapt out almost as soon as the first one did).

So nyah to the rest of the world. Our outdated humour outdates your outdated humour any day of the week. Nyah nyah.
splodgenoodles: (Lock stock stoner eyes)
Our local Vietnamese takeaway knocks of for Lunar New Year (that's what they call it on their recorded message). Our other main takeaway appears to have closed down, it's got newspaper pasted all over the windows and they aren't answering the phone. Strange, it was very very popular. And good.

And we really aren't pecunious enough to be doing Japanese.

And half the stuff on my long neglected youtube playlist has been removed.


The drama, oh the drama.


Meanwhile, the world goes to rack and ruin.
splodgenoodles: (Lock stock stoner eyes)
Our local Vietnamese takeaway knocks of for Lunar New Year (that's what they call it on their recorded message). Our other main takeaway appears to have closed down, it's got newspaper pasted all over the windows and they aren't answering the phone. Strange, it was very very popular. And good.

And we really aren't pecunious enough to be doing Japanese.

And half the stuff on my long neglected youtube playlist has been removed.


The drama, oh the drama.


Meanwhile, the world goes to rack and ruin.
splodgenoodles: (Default)
Ravely is lethal. What could be more fun than hanging around in a large space full of people going "Yay knitting!1!!" and talking about things they're going to make and looking at nice ideas?

Certainly beats actually _doing_ anything. Like knitting, for example. Hah!

~~~

Still pretty fucked up today.
splodgenoodles: (Default)
Ravely is lethal. What could be more fun than hanging around in a large space full of people going "Yay knitting!1!!" and talking about things they're going to make and looking at nice ideas?

Certainly beats actually _doing_ anything. Like knitting, for example. Hah!

~~~

Still pretty fucked up today.
splodgenoodles: (Default)
Today has been a bath day, I'm in recovery from a delightful Saturday spent out on the river to celebrate a birthday with [livejournal.com profile] sjkasabi and the usual crowd of suspects - and a now defictionalised [livejournal.com profile] enrobso. Yay!

~~~

Today I have also found myself getting very concerned about some bananas we have here at the House Of Bear And Noodle.

I am concerned because that these bananas came pre-packed. "What's the problem?" I hear you ask, "bananas have always come packed. It's called peel and when you want several at once, you grab the ones that are attached in a thing called a bunch."

But no. While I am happy to say these ones still had peel, they've been taken apart and put into a specially designed box, side by side, with clever arrangements of cardboard to stop them slipping about in the box or falling out, and an inordinant amount of writing on the box to explain why these bananas - and their box - are so innovative.

These are, in fact, eco-bananas grown by eco-ganic methods. And they come in an eco-punnet. It is an eco-punnet because it is recyclable and because packing things in cardboard is better than packing the bananas in plastic (and if you need me to explain the stupidity of this, please read what you said to me two paragraphs ago about peels and bunches).

Oh and they've been dipped in bright red wax too, apparently it extends their 'shelf life' but given the number of newly-minted words on this box containing the syllable "eco", I am disinclined to believe this. Or rather, disinclined to believe it's being done for my benefit, given that although they look all happily just-yellow and edible, they are all kind of squishy to touch.

~~~

In other news, while I'm clearly in recovery mode after a big day out, I slept like a log last night which is most unusual and quite heartening. Exertion is nearly always followed by insomnia, so I'm taking this as a good sign.

Throat's sore. With that plus the usual other signs I'm expecting to be pretty buggered tomorrow. However I've only got two fairly small tasks that must be done (phone calls) so I think I'll be okay by Tuesday night, which is when we are next hoping I'll be well enough to go forth into the world.
splodgenoodles: (Default)
Today has been a bath day, I'm in recovery from a delightful Saturday spent out on the river to celebrate a birthday with [livejournal.com profile] sjkasabi and the usual crowd of suspects - and a now defictionalised [livejournal.com profile] enrobso. Yay!

~~~

Today I have also found myself getting very concerned about some bananas we have here at the House Of Bear And Noodle.

I am concerned because that these bananas came pre-packed. "What's the problem?" I hear you ask, "bananas have always come packed. It's called peel and when you want several at once, you grab the ones that are attached in a thing called a bunch."

But no. While I am happy to say these ones still had peel, they've been taken apart and put into a specially designed box, side by side, with clever arrangements of cardboard to stop them slipping about in the box or falling out, and an inordinant amount of writing on the box to explain why these bananas - and their box - are so innovative.

These are, in fact, eco-bananas grown by eco-ganic methods. And they come in an eco-punnet. It is an eco-punnet because it is recyclable and because packing things in cardboard is better than packing the bananas in plastic (and if you need me to explain the stupidity of this, please read what you said to me two paragraphs ago about peels and bunches).

Oh and they've been dipped in bright red wax too, apparently it extends their 'shelf life' but given the number of newly-minted words on this box containing the syllable "eco", I am disinclined to believe this. Or rather, disinclined to believe it's being done for my benefit, given that although they look all happily just-yellow and edible, they are all kind of squishy to touch.

~~~

In other news, while I'm clearly in recovery mode after a big day out, I slept like a log last night which is most unusual and quite heartening. Exertion is nearly always followed by insomnia, so I'm taking this as a good sign.

Throat's sore. With that plus the usual other signs I'm expecting to be pretty buggered tomorrow. However I've only got two fairly small tasks that must be done (phone calls) so I think I'll be okay by Tuesday night, which is when we are next hoping I'll be well enough to go forth into the world.
splodgenoodles: (Default)
Last night, as we were pootling about, we encountered the following graffiti:

Leah is my absolute favourite! <3

and a billboard that read something like "Caulfield's finest apartments", with the last word crossed out and others added so that it now reads:

Jenny is Caulfield's finest writer.


Surely this is wooing at its most tasteful, even if it is done with a spray can.

So very sweet.
splodgenoodles: (Default)
Last night, as we were pootling about, we encountered the following graffiti:

Leah is my absolute favourite! <3

and a billboard that read something like "Caulfield's finest apartments", with the last word crossed out and others added so that it now reads:

Jenny is Caulfield's finest writer.


Surely this is wooing at its most tasteful, even if it is done with a spray can.

So very sweet.
splodgenoodles: (The delinquent daisy)
...being deliberately obscure makes me feel good about myself.

I've had a few conversations recently about how at least I'm not a boring suburban type nor are the people I hang out with, because all my friends do cool and creative stuff that they really enjoy and aren't mindless consumers, yeah!

In reality, this means that learning to knit is doing wonders for my self esteem.



Splozza socks it to the man, oh yes she does.
splodgenoodles: (The delinquent daisy)
...being deliberately obscure makes me feel good about myself.

I've had a few conversations recently about how at least I'm not a boring suburban type nor are the people I hang out with, because all my friends do cool and creative stuff that they really enjoy and aren't mindless consumers, yeah!

In reality, this means that learning to knit is doing wonders for my self esteem.



Splozza socks it to the man, oh yes she does.

Profile

splodgenoodles: (Default)
splodgenoodles

September 2017

S M T W T F S
     12
3456789
10111213141516
17181920212223
24252627282930

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Active Entries

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 21st, 2017 03:41 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios