I just came back from the school’s Art Show. As an Assistant Principal it was my job to hand out awards to the Year 7 and 8s and shake their hands, for which I earned a rather nice bottle of red wine. The perks of the job! There were some great art works on display and it’s nice to see the community come together.

Yesterday I collected Doris’s ashes from the vet. I was very sad driving her home for the last time – she used to be so vocal in the car, as it wasn’t one of her favourite things. The ashes are in a nice little wooden box. This afternoon I was discussing with Mark whether we should scatter or keep the ashes. I was holding the box  in both hands and coming down the four steps from our lounge room to the kitchen when I stumbled and fell – I landed bang on both knees, and then elbows, still holding Doris is my two hands – I wasn’t going to drop her and have a “Meet the Parents” moment with ashes flying everywhere. Mark witnessed the whole thing.

I think she must have wandered under my feet as came down the stairs…

I don’t think she wants to be scattered.

Today is a public holiday for the Melbourne Cup horse race, which means I have had some more time to get the house ready. We have the photographer coming at sunset tomorrow so everything has to be “photo ready” by then. We had the most incredibly busy weekend – it’s amazing how all those little jobs add up. I did everything from washing walls to painting the security door, and Mark tended to the outside. We then spent most of Sunday re-staging Mark’s study as a bedroom. It’s all coming together now.

Orlando is sleeping in what was Doris’s favourite spot on the back of the couch. He used to join her there occasionally, but it was very much her sleeping place. It must still smell of her, so I can’t decide whether Orlando is missing Doris or re-establishing territory.

 

On Friday Mark got a visit from one of our neighbours. Her children and some of their friends were planning to go “trick or treating” in the neighbourhood on Halloween. She felt that it wasn’t fair to expect people to have to lay in supplies for this quite non-Australian affair, so she produced half a bag of lollies (candy) for us to give to the children when they visited the following evening. Mark, who lived in America for several years, explained that he would be stocking up on supplies from the supermarket (“just in case”, he always explains to me – though somehow we always end up eating them all ourselves on November 1st) and she was delighted. She continued on her journey to the rest of the residents on the street.

The next day, at 5pm, the neighbour visited again, this time checking we were home and declaring the estimated time of a arrival of the children. When they  arrived (about ten minutes late) they were vociferous and very polite (though one little girl snatched four of the items, leaving only a Freddo Frog for her little brother). They appeared to have no tricks on them, though their costumes were quite good. They were also not very interested engaging in conversations about their costumes: all they wanted was the goods.

There were no more trick-or-treaters that evening (so we have now consumed all the leftover Milky Ways and Fun Size Mars Bars…). We felt guilty though, for having participated in The Collective Halloween Deception. What sort of world was this woman setting her children up for? A world where they will never experience disappointment or hear the word “no”? A world where every door opens and produces candy?

What would you have done if this woman had come to your door?

 

Found at Joe My God.

As he came down the stairs this evening, Mark casually informed me that he will be in the 2010 edition of Who’s Who, and asked if we want to buy a commemorative silver platter.

I questioned him exhaustively as he passed the letter with gold embossing to me – When did he find this out? Why wasn’t I told earlier? Is my name in it too, given that we are Civil Partners? How much is said sliver platter?

Why this didn’t warrant an email from him at work I’ll never know!

I feel like Hyacinth Bucket (it’s Boo-Kay!): “Won’t you come along to one of my candlelight suppers with mulled wine and hot minced pies? We could drink tea from my Royal Doulton with the hand-painted periwinkles!”

How To Find A Masculine Halloween Costume For Your Effeminate Son

Sadly, Doris died last night. She was at Dr John’s and was on painkillers and other medications, so John says she would have just gone to sleep and not woken up. All her vital signs were fine that evening and she had eaten. I hope she wasn’t frightened, or confused, or lonely, and that her last few hours were peaceful. I wish that I was with her when she died. I last saw her yesterday morning and had given her some reassuring words and a pat, and she nuzzled my hand and pushed her body against me. I combed her back a little too, because she hadn’t been grooming.

Fifteen years ago Doris selected me – she was yowling in a rainstorm outside my window one night, wet and bedraggled. She must have a seen a warm home, and a handsome young boy-cat called Orlando. She moved in and never left.

Orlando and Doris have been best friends ever since. They would playfight and tussle, sleep and eat together.

I think Orlando is starting to wonder where Doris has gone.

Doris was an uncomplicated cat, never moody, never aloof.

Her favourite thing in the world was tummy rubs. Her least favourite things were ear medicine and car rides.

From where I am sitting I can see the sofa that Doris loved, and this was her favourite time of the afternoon because the sun comes streaming in through the window.

She was the sweetest girl you could ever meet.

Doris taught me that love comes from unexpected places. You don’t always choose the people you love, sometimes they choose you.

Goodbye Doris. You were loved and will be missed.

 

 

 

Doris is spending her second night away from home. On Sunday morning we had to take her to the Animal Emergency Centre as she was exhibiting some very severe symptoms (I won’t go into details…). She was put on fluids, antibiotics, painkillers and antacids. Her  blood works showed that she had been bleeding internally for at least a few days. They’re still not sure what’s causing it – the ultrasound didn’t show anything conclusive and the next step would be a gastroscopy or even exploratory surgery. Today I transported her from the Emergency Centre ($1500 later…) to Dr John’s.

We’re waiting to see what happens next, though her appetite is back. We’re still very worried though.

Box Number One.

Mark’s already up to four now…

Pineapple Banana Salad.

No comment.

I found this on today’s The Age online…

So, we had the Home Stager through our house tonight. She was a lovely lady, but unfortunately I think we disappointed her.

A Home Stager’s job is to “stage” your home – one’s home is a performer that needs to give its all in the lead up to sale, so they’re kind of like a coach for your house. They discuss furniture placement, dressing (of the house), and the creation of the correct “lifestyle story”. Anything that suggests “work” should be avoided, so you need to create the illusion of an utterly beautiful, yet practical and effortless home. Teacups and hardback books strewn effortlessly (and very carefully) throughout the home tell the story of drinking tea and reading. That’s good. Rubbish and recycling bins in view at the front of the home suggest rubbish and recycling. That’s bad.

I always knew that our problem was over-furnishing. We came from a much larger house and just crammed everything into the space we had. The front room became a study, a sitting room , an entry hall , a music room and a cat lounging area. The family room room became a TV room, a dining room, a reading room..and a cat lounging area. The bedroom became a bedroom…and a cat lounging area.

Basically, the message that came from the home stager was “reduce”. “Reduce”, I must add, is very different to “de-clutter”. Apparently de-cluttering can lead to the “soul” of the home being lost, and no-one in their right mind would want that. We have all the “right” kinds of clutter: crystal and glass is “all shimmery and gorgeous” and that’s good because it reflects the light and makes people happy. Groups of three are also a positive, and unfortunately – for our home stager – groups of three abound in our home. Three Wedgwood Jasper Conran crystal vessels. Three Jeanne MacDougall Tupton-Ware vases, three Kate Spade ornaments, three art deco vases. I threw open our wardrobes and said “What about this?” and she sighed, “Normally I say: make sure all your hangers are the same, that you have grouped like with like, that everything’s facing in the same direction – and that’s exactly what I see here! I don’t need to do anything!”. In the kitchen it was the same story: “The fruit in your fruit bowl is colour-coordinated!” She tried to hold back a tear.

I attempted to reassure her as I led her to the door: “Don’t worry,” I said, “Maybe this is your first gay house. I’ll remember what you said about moving the dining table one foot to the right – it will make all the difference. Thank you.”

As she left I greeted a lady in a Scout uniform from the Scout Hall who was loading up her car with  the refuge we had put on our verge for the council’s hard rubbish collection tomorrow – old canvasses, a laundry trolley, an art deco coffee table that we never got around to restoring, two electric fans… “Great stuff!” she exclaimed as she stuffed our rubbish into her car…

We’re just glad it will find a new home. I hope it will tell the correct “lifestyle story”…