Friday, December 30, 2005
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Saturday, December 24, 2005
Good Morning, It’s on Christmas Eve as I, (Peter) write this, thanks to all the folk who visited and sorry about the confusion that reigned supreme during the teething period, which I hope has now finished.
Merle will be missing for a cupla days, she has gone down to her daughter Kathy’s place for Christmas, Kathy and her family live on a dairy farm just out of Pt Campbell which is on “The Great Ocean Road” some of you may have heard of it? one of the most scenic drives anywhere.
Now I had better admit the few bits and pieces that have been posted so far have come from me, but I know my Sister well and they have expressed her feelings truly, if any of you have bookmarked this site please delete your bookmark and save it anew, I hope that will give you a clean version without my name or any details.
On that score it may take a while for Merle to get enough confidence to fill in her profile details, I’ve tried to prepare the ground, but of course she should tell us about herself in her own words.
OK I’ll try to sign this as Peter as I leave and I hope the next post will be the REAL Merle, (it will be barring the need for any more surgery) Merry Christmas from both of us here.
It's the only type of cooking a real man will do.
When a man volunteers to do the BBQ the following chain of events are put into motion:
(1) The woman buys the food.
(2) The woman makes the salad, vegetables, and dessert.
(3) The woman prepares the meat for cooking, places it on a tray along with the necessary cooking utensils and sauces, and takes it to the man who is lounging beside the grill - beer in hand.
Here comes the important part:
(4) THE MAN PLACES THE MEAT ON THE GRILL.
(5) The woman goes inside to organize the plates and cutlery.
(6) The woman comes out to tell the man that the meat is burning. He thanks her and asks if she will bring another beer while he deals with the situation.
(7) THE MAN TAKES THE MEAT OFF THE GRILL AND HANDS IT TO THE WOMAN.
(8) The woman prepares the plates, salad, bread, utensils, napkins, sauces, and brings them to the table.
(9) After eating, the woman clears the table and does the dishes.
And most important of all:
(10) Everyone PRAISES the MAN and THANKS HIM for his cooking efforts.
(11) The man asks the woman how she enjoyed "her night off." And, upon seeing her annoyed reaction, concludes that there's just no pleasing some women....
Friday, December 23, 2005
My Favourite Poem.
The love of field and coppice,
Of green and shaded lanes,
Of ordered woods and gardens
Is running through your veins.
Strong love of grey-blue distance,
Brown streams and soft, dim skies-
I know but cannot share it,
My love is otherwise.
I love a sunburnt country,
A land of sweeping plains,
Of ragged mountain ranges,
Of droughts and flooding rains,
I love her far horizons,
I love her jewel-sea,
Her beauty and her terror-
The wide brown land for me.
The stark white ring-barked forests,
All tragic to the moon,
The sapphire-misted mountains,
The hot gold rush of ,
Green tangle of the brushes
Where lithe lianas coil
And orchids deck the treetops,
And ferns the warm dark soil.
Core of my heart, my country!
Her pitiless blue sky,
When, sick at heart, around us
We see the cattle die-
But then the grey clouds gather,
And we can bless again
The drumming of an army,
The steady soaking rain.
Core of my heart my country!
Land of the rainbow gold,
For flood and fire and famine
She pays us back threefold.
Over the thirsty paddocks,
Watch, after many days,
The filmy veil of greenness
That thickens as we gaze.
An opal hearted country,
A willful, lavish land-
All those who have not loved her,
You will not understand-
Though Earth holds many splendors,
Wherever I may die,
I know to what brown country
My homing thoughts will fly.
Dorothea Mackellar 1885 – 1968.
Hi, I'm Merle
Just click in the white space above for photo!!!!! This photo has been added so you will all know what Merle looks like, bootiful aren't she? and so I have a URL for a pic. in her profile, sssh, don't tell her.
Merry Christmas 2005 Everyone should have a big Sister, and every big Sister should have a blog of her very own.