The Invisible Boy.

He walks, invisible. They move around him as if he is not there, because, for them, he is not.

No one acknowledges his presence, nobody stops to say "Hello" or even nod.

My. Heart. Breaks.

How can they not see the brilliance of his smile?

How is the warmth of his heart ignored?  How can they be so cruel in their dismissal? They are teenagers, that is how. Even those who have grown up with him now move aside as he passes.  Alone.

One friend, just one. It is all it takes.

Has nobody learnt that loneliness can kill?

Hello?

Hello?

Please... anybody? Somebody? Help him. Save him.

The Music of Love, The Dance of Lust and The Last of Lascivious Larceny.

In my lost youth I danced with many. The driving beat of sensuality lived within my body, constantly pulsating, throbbing in time to the music of want. The rhythm of those days was a palpitating house beat. Loud, unrelenting, endless, driven... *doof*doof*doof*doof*.

My husband lay beside me in the lazy morn. His breath warm, moist, soft against my neck. His hand slowly traced a rhythm down my body, undulating, teasing, tempting. My fingers clasped his, slowed, then stilled the travels over me.

I once pulsed with the music of sex, but over the years the rhythm had slowed. Dance club beat had moved to slow dancing in the moonlight, then gentle swaying without movement to stillness.

Children, exhaustion, stress, aging, ill-health had slowly drowned the palpitations of lust until defeated they lay in the pool of my night sweats, limp, lifeless.

His hand slowly began its dance once more. "Shhh, let me rub your back. Relax, forget, just enjoy."

Underneath his memory-laden fingertips my body softened. He stroked, slowly pulling the cadence from a slow waltz into a sensual tango. Gradually he drew me into the beat of sensation, his touch persuading my body to dance once more.


The music within flowed from Sexual Healing to Billy Squires' The Stroke, and finally leapt into life under the driving rhythm of Nine Inch Nails' Closer.

I lie next to him, the sweat cooling on my body. The beat of my racing heart is slowing, the driving pounding, decelerating until the only sound I hear is his breath in my ear, and the wordless whisper of "I love you".

Hot Flashes, Hot Flushes and The Gallons...

Continuing on with the current theme (think this may be running for a while), I present you with the bane of the menopausal woman:

Hot Flushes!

(or Hot Flashes as the northern world dwellers seem to call it)

Yes, the joy of being able to cook your breakfast WITHOUT having to leave your bed... or saving money on heating - who needs heating when your core temperature shoots sky high at irregular intervals?

And, you may be aging and your body could be driving you slowly insane, but hey! You get to wear skimpy clothes or lounge around naked in your home, it's just a different kind of HOT to what your husband remembers from years gone by. And HOT is HOT... right?

RIGHT?

RIGHT?????

Nod vigorously people - you don't want to piss offf a menopausal woman!

And we come to the next little hiccup. When you wake multiple times (oh dear Lord, I remember when the multiples related to far more pleasant images), your body on fire seeming to burn from within, what is the first thing you reach for?

Yes, fluids. Be it water, juice, soft drink, whatever, you will swallow ANYTHING to quench the fire in your parched throat and replenish those body fluids that seem to leach from you in gallons. And THAT then creates the cycle:

Hot Flush

Drink

Awake

Bladder

Toilet

Really AWAKE

Insomnia

And repeat...

Ten times per night.

Welcome to my nightmare.

You?

Oh, and I know it should be litres here in Oz, but you know what? If you are old enough to relate to this, then you are old enough to clearly remember when it was gallons... m'kay?

Madmother & Menopause - Otherwise known as revealing the raging beast.

Yes.... "THAT" again! You may remember this post just over a year ago. It garnered lots of views but few comments. Maybe just a little too icky for some delicate sensibilities?

Well, I'm hitting it again.


Menopause. The great undiscussed... except by the women in "Menopause The Musical". And me. And my friends. And the random women in the supermarket queue as I manically fan myself mid hot flush. And the husbands of the wives who are discussing it at the... well, you get the picture.

In my case it is no longer peri-menopause, it is the real deal. And not fun.

I had managed to abate many of the symptoms by utilising a natural remedy recommended by the naturopath. 'Til now. My GP had warned me it may not be a long term solution, but after many horror stories of experiences on HRT (mainly from family members) I really hoped she was wrong. The hot flushes have returned with a vengeance ("Ha - you thought you were rid of me? Well take that... and that... and here's another just because I can!"), the insomnia, mood swings. Yes, all those culprits I joked about in my other post.

And since last year so much more information has been forthcoming.

I mean, we all know of those hot flushes, mood swings, and mad, unpredictable flood or famine female menstruation known by some as Auntie Flo... BUT someone forgot to list the incredible migraines, the panic attacks (and I mean full on, can't breath, scarily terrifying AM-I-HAVING-A-HEART-ATTACK? wee hour of the morning hysteria) and the insomnia. Oh and weight gain (WHY do you gain weight and suffer fluid retention when you are sweating out more water than a year in a sauna - someone explain THAT to me!). 

Seriously? How the hell could you neglect to mention these? Not like they are little niggling annoyances - for Dog's sake, my last migraine lasted four days? And the headache I had for three weeks and ran from chiropractor to GP to masseuse trying to fix? Didn't anyone think to mention menopause migraines? It was my cousin who innocently asked "Have you got the headaches yet?" and triggered a jaw-dropping moment of realisation... "OOOH, so that's what these are!"

And then you have the constant lack of energy, aches and pains, tiredness similar to post-childbirth shell-shock. Oh, and ... what was I saying? Ah, yes, memory loss! Oh, and did you know there is a condition named Menopausal Anxiety Disorder? Hmmm? Nope? Well, NEITHER DID I!

And - facial bum fluff! Yes, whiskers! Well, I cannot claim ignorance of this one, after all I was the one who plucked the few stray whiskers from Wise Woman's chin when her sight diminished, BUT no-one told me that a fine soft downy hair would start to grow ALL over your face? What the hell are you supposed to do with that? Wax your face and pray to God you miss what little is left of your eyebrows? (Oh yes, the hair diminishes on the bits it should be and increases on spots it never was!)

Ah, this is fun. NOT!

Okay, I'm done with the bitching, moaning and whining. To lighten the mood I'll leave you with this joke:

Q: How many women with MENOPAUSE does it take to change a light bulb?



A: One! ONLY ONE!!!! And do you know WHY? Because no one else in this house knows HOW to change a light bulb! They don't even know that the bulb is BURNED OUT!! They would sit in the dark for THREE DAYS before they figured it out. And, once they figured it out, they wouldn't be able to find the light bulbs despite the fact that they've been in the SAME CUPBOARD for the past 17 YEARS! But if they did, by some miracle of God, actually find them 2 DAYS LATER, the chair they dragged to stand on to change the STUPID light bulb would STILL BE IN THE SAME SPOT!!!!! AND UNDERNEATH IT WOULD BE THE WRAPPER THE STUPID LIGHT BULBS CAME IN!!! BECAUSE NO ONE EVER CARRIES OUT THE GARBAGE!!!! IT'S A WONDER WE HAVEN'T ALL SUFFOCATED FROM THEPILES OF GARBAGE THAT ARE A FOOT DEEP THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE HOUSE!! IT WOULD TAKE AN ARMY TO CLEAN THIS HOUSE!

 I'm sorry.... What was the question?

May The Fourth BE With You!

*Cue deep raspy breathing*

Yes, it is here finally folks! No, not my new laptop (still getting stuff installed by Big Boy), but one of the most important days of the year in a geekie household:

INTERNATIONAL STAR WARS DAY!

(May the fourth be with you... geddit?)

In honour I have photoshopped my own badly executed Star Wars Aussie Tribute...





Yes, that is Ned Skywalker in there.



And I'm wearing Boy 2's badge : "Automatic doors make me feel like a Jedi."