And, oh my goodness, Thursday already. Like much of Australia I have become entwined in the really stupid TV series, MKR (My Kitchen Rules). It is incredibly fabricated, far from a true reality show, yet it grabs the attention of millions, of whom I have become one. Sad brain rot! Now the last of the current part has played I shall have more time to discover things like unpaid bills...
Yesterday I went to Warwick for essential shopping and to have a cup of coffee with daughter El. She has the most amazing garden, as I have mentioned before. Folk passing in the street stop to ask her about plants they have never previously seen.
I persuaded her to send me a couple of pictures of plants that looked like decorations for Melbourne Cup head-gear. Here's one:
Now, just as a brain teaser, can anyone identify these? They may be more common in other countries, but over here they are virtually unknown. I will give the answer next blog, but would like some replies first! Just put them at the end, under Comments.
Back to yesterday. The main beneficiaries of my shopping are usually the dogs and this was no different: 10+ kilos of special dog bones, kilos of frozen vegetables, packs of dog mince... I bought some fruit and veg for me too. Lucky me.
It was doomsday for Virginia, as she was the last of the pack to have a vet appointment this time around. She and the vet have a smoochie relationship, and this visit was no different. Yes, of course he can put thermometers in rude places, stick needles in her, whatever he likes so long as she has lots of cuddles. What happened next ruined her day, though. I had booked her in for a hydrobath as she didn't just smell of dog - to be blunt, she stank! She is the only pack member to hate water, the others splashing in and out of the dog dam whenever they feel inclined. Virginia is catlike when it rains: you must be kidding, me go out in this? Preferably NOT!
Anyway, she was led off by the vet's assistant, and I collected her fifteen minutes later, a tragic wreck of a dog. Still very wet, she was traumatised, constantly apologising for whatever she might have done wrong. All the way home, whenever I looked at her, she waved a wet paw; 'I'm sorry, so very, very sorry...' She was sad all day and I had to give her lots of hugs while I watched the dread MKR. Today she has recovered and is back to her happy, bouncy self. Thank goodness, poor dog.
And today Banjo is back to being a twerp, but I think a better twerp than he was. The vet yesterday called him, 'Crazy Dog', but he hasn't seen him recently. My hope is that I will be able to take Banjo for a visit in the future and impress Greg that all dogs are salvageable. We'll see.
Take care, enjoy whoever or whatever is in your life -
Cheers - Fliss