Meet the Newest Member of the Household

Published January 5, 2026 by helentastic67

Meet the newest member of the household

So, meet the newest addition to the household, Freddie.

I could have changed his name. I wanted to but, in the end, I don’t know how he would take to me calling him Noire? I was not feeling the vibe to give him a new name. He had a sibling I met also called Jason. So, that was a whole Halloween thing I don’t subscribe too. Apparently, the females from several litters had all gone days earlier. I just think of that poor kitten Jason there with no Freddie for context. Jason had very cute white tips on his feet but was otherwise all black.

Years ago, when I adopted Mika, I asked if she answered to her name? The woman in the shop shared a look with me like she didn’t need to answer as it was indeed a stupid question. She did tell me if I wanted to change her name to do it immediately and consistently so she would get used to it. I stuck with Mika and she knows it’s her name. Sometimes, Mika’s favourite carer will make a kissing noise to get her attention and I will call her name and she will come to me.

After a few days of isolation, Freddie escaped the safety of the bedroom to be chased like a rodent around the couch, Mika was not well pleased. Freddie realised he wanted back into the room he felt the safest. Mika of course chased him under the bed and hissed and growled at him. A few extra days after giving him the reign of the apartment while Mika was in the study with the door closed, I introduced them together. A few days after that she was giving him a clean and it seems all will be OK in the world. Not even two weeks, here are some cute pictures of my kids.

All Things Current and the Sh*t Time of Year

Published December 22, 2025 by helentastic67

All Things Current and the Shit Time of Year

So, you may have noticed I don’t comment often on current news stories or politics on this forum. I generally ignore the news and media on weekends and so good to let the dust settle on horrific stories that are commented on around the world. I don’t appreciate the unnecessary commentary that feeds hate or any one person’s political agenda. It is to say the horrible shooting that marred Sydney’s Bondi Beach over a week ago was the worst terrorist event in Australia ever ending not only fifteen people’s lives but injuring many others. It was perpetrated by two individuals that subscribe to a version of their beliefs not shared by all that hold the same faith. The victims were being Jewish and the two perpetrators being of the Muslim faith that had been radicalized.

I have known and befriended people of both faiths in my time on this earth and while my beliefs are not the same as theirs, I just wish we could all put our differences aside and learn to get along without the need for bloodshed. There is never a need.

I can count one less than one hand how many times there has been a mass shooting in my lifetime. We don’t have gun violence in this country. We are not prepared for it to happen ever again.

Why can’t people agree to disagree and learn to get along? Don’t answer that. I know it’s a simplistic view on it, but it’s not rocket science.

It’s generally a shit time of year in my home as I don’t love Christmas. People often forget it’s not a super fun and exciting time for everybody. This year I’m preferring to spend the day home alone rather than take up the one offer I have received that was to join some friends who were participating in a gathering at their church. To which I answered, “You will do fucking anything to get me to your church!” Thankfully, she laughed as much as I appreciated the offer. I’m planning to go solo at home with the fur-kids. Make turkey or ham sandwiches and roast a few things in my oven. There will definitely be a special version of French toast for breakfast and a weird creation of trifle using no homemade ingredients and it will be shared to whoever is here to partake until all portions are gone. I even bought myself a bottle of Bailey’s even if I need to put a note in my diary once a month to have a nip to remind myself, I’d got to be had. I didn’t say I never drink I always say I barely drink. That’s what that looks like.

While most have holidays, catch up with family and friends and generally take it easy I will have a staycation at home and attempt to do things I never get to. I will finally sort my oven tray cupboard and get the last few off my bench. I don’t know when I last had a holiday. So, just remember this time of year is not as much fun for everybody as you might imagine or hope yours will be?

It’s also with great sadness I must report the recent passing of another friend who I’d known since primary school. She had a rare condition called F.O.P. Which does not stand for Fairly Odd Parents as your first google search might yield? But here’s one I’ve prepared for you earlier.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fibrodysplasia_ossificans_progressiva

Try saying that five times fast. Try just saying it once. So, it is with great sadness we will no longer see Lyn Smiths brightly dyed hair in my media feed or her posts about her beloved cat her snuggly sleeping companion, but her regular visits to hospitals she reminded us she was still here. Still doing her best but here. Now, I have to start 2026 with a funeral. Thought she would outlive us all.

Just remember, I often write the right thing at the wrong time or the wrong thing at the right time.

Everybody, enjoy the holiday season, just as long as you eat lots drink liberally, and try to do a little less damage to those who don’t deserve it.

And to finish on a lighter note.

With the passing of the great cartoonist Leunig late last year, I’ve been asking what calendar would grace my bathroom door considering a Hot firemen calendar so I could tease my carers each month. You are aware I’ve met a few firemen needing to evacuate the apartment complex I’ve lived in in recent years and having been through the MFB training centre when I was still working and none of them looked like the men in the calendar. False advertising much.

Just learnt there is a Leunig calendar for 2026. It’s sold out, Hot firemen then? Pity the zoo sent me a calendar.

Stay safe!

Problem Solving

Published November 10, 2025 by helentastic67

Problem Solving

I’ve been trying to solve a problem in my new home since moving in last November. It’s such a mess.

There are so many moving parts and potential solutions but more people to ask permission from before implementing solutions to the problem. So, the work around feels like a real fuck around.

Sometimes, I wish a clairvoyant or divine entity would just point you in a direction and narrow the field for you.

Here’s a real estate example which has been the perfect example whenever I’ve been on the hunt for a new home. I gave this example to a friend earlier:

If you wanted to only live in Ivanhoe and you had a set budget, and you wanted a certain number of bedrooms, bathrooms, car spaces, etc, etc. And if you couldn’t budge on any of those parameters. Maybe money wasn’t a limiting factor and you absolutely had to live in Ivanhoe; you would spend what you needed to spend.

If budget was important you would start to compromise on different things depending on what you could live with. Maybe less bedrooms, or whatever, but eventually you didn’t even live in Ivanhoe.

Maybe a clairvoyant could point you in the right direction and suggest Ivanhoe. Yes! But start looking for something a little smaller, or …..xyz. Then you wouldn’t waste your time trying to find all these other solutions.

Just an FYI, I didn’t have Ivanhoe money so I’m just giving that as an example. People that live in Ivanhoe have Ivanhoe money. You can’t hate them. You just appreciate them.

This is one of the major things on my list I’ve been chipping away at and made all the worse by a “friend?” suggesting I needed to get on my issues, like I was being lazy? Who needs enemies when you have friends like this?

So, the problem? I feel a part two coming on

I’ve had my mobility scooter AKA Hellonwheels for the last 15+ years and every time I’ve moved, I’ve had varying degrees of storage and weather proofing, security, etc in storing my Hellonwheels.

Some places I’ve lived at were easier than others for scooter storage alone. One house I rented didn’t have room to put my shed up for the scooter, so I ended up putting a BBQ cover over the scooter in the backyard close to a power supply and using locker straps around the cover to secure the cover and waterproof my scooter. It was a fuck around solution.

At my last rented home, an apartment, my car space didn’t have power so I was able to swap with a neighbour so I could erect my shed, park my scooter inside and charge it. I also stored my gardening supplies, and at one point my oversupply of pasta and tinned tomatoes, and my panettone.

I am such a Nonna!

My landlord queried what I was storing in my shed and I suggest Owner Corp and landlords do not have a sense of humour. Don’t say what I did? I responded to their original query that I wasn’t cooking meth or anything. My shed wasn’t big enough for that and I ended up using the lights on the front of my scooter to illuminate the inside of the shed to show them the contents. Seriously!

And while I was living there, I could go in and out of the only entrance to the garage on my scooter, I could go straight into my shed or go up on my scooter in the lift without causing damage. Parking near my apartment door and transferring items gathered into my apartment one item at a time before returning my scooter down to the shed to store and recharge. When I had more to take up and less time, I’d unpack items into a market trolley I stored in my shed and take that up.

Every pedestrian entrance to that complex had zero access for a scooter, and therefore no access for a wheelchair, except the B1 level or the carpark, just to give you a bigger picture.

Good thing I only have used my scooter for solo shopping missions locally as well as prompt local appointments where I get to maintain a level of independence.

So, when I moved to my forever home, the real estate agent showed me the apartment. My car space, the lift, the direction of the closest power supply to my car space and basically gave advice on both my disability and access to things he had no working knowledge on and directed everything to be sorted by the owner Corp when the time came.

I don’t know if anyone else has had to deal with an owner Corp, or had to solve problems of access for someone with a disability? And under the NDIS I have people for that right?

I prompted my support co-ordinator if she could get on that and sort things so when I moved, I wouldn’t lose my independence around needing my mobility scooter. After multiple prompts I was provided with a company name and the comment that they were expensive.

You might imagine the title of that person, being a Support Co-ordinator would mean they um, Support and Coordinate?

But it often means THEY DO NEITHER OF THOSE TWO THINGS!

So…

New Hellonwheels

Published September 1, 2025 by helentastic67

New Hellonwheels

Have I mentioned I’m getting a new Hellonwheels this year? I know I haven’t. I’ve been too busy sorting the permanent housing or garaging and powering location for it in a communal garage.

To be fair, I had asked my support coordinator before I moved back in November 2024 if she could help sort these things before I moved so I would not be without the use of my scooter. The best time of year to be out and about on my scooter is summer. I literally had to pester my support coordinator to assist me with this task. In the end she did neither of those things. Support or coordinate.

I received a text with a company name who helped with this issue and the comment that they were expensive. I have never been angrier. Or so I thought.

At my previous address and all previous addresses over the last 15 years, I had been storing my scooter in a shed that had been funded for me by my first OT and over time it was a method of great importance and security to maintaining some independence for allowing me to get to local appointments without the assistance of carers or doing some hunter/gathering solo, to get ahead of when I did have carers for limited times.

When I moved, I concentrated on the things inside my new home. I don’t know if you have ever moved one-handed, but I’m limited by weight and size. For something without ADHD when I move homes I find I am always moving around, moving things from one location to another until everything settles to where I can best store, access or use it one-handed. Somethings only I can put away as I need to be able to get it out again if nobody else is around. Somethings that worked in my previous home may not work here.

I lagged in storing my belongings in my storage cage because I had to wait for my handyman to bring bolt cutters. I wanted to have him cover the inside with black plastic. to keep prying eyes from my belongings, my gardening supplies and my boxes of bits. Don’t need to explain that I hope. I was not allowed to erect my shed in my car space because its height got in the way of the sprinkler system and storing my scooter there was redundant as there was no power supply I could access and all the other fucking things.

I had been so busy sorting inside my home, I had implemented the theory of Schrodingers Cat to the belongings in my car space.

My neighbour who has the car-space beside me informed me my belongings had been rummaged through. When I checked I found a transformer for my scooter had been stolen. What the actual F. Do I need to finish this sentence?

At least this meant I poked my handyman to sort out the things by stopping ‘Mr get these things away’ And then…

Spitting Chips

Published August 11, 2025 by helentastic67

Spitting Chips

Now, this post should come with a warning, there will be swearing or alluding to words I normally will not so much as utter, but I feel you will allow considering the circumstances.

There was one particular Monday, I went down to fang it to a 12.30pm appointment. I had another appointment at the same practice, so Hellonwheels comes in handy. Even allowing me to scoop up take-away on my way home and maybe some items from a supermarket. Fresh milk anyone?

I went into the garage and had two sets of keys in my hand as well as my walking stick and the flag for my scooter. I keep the flag inside as it’s not my first flag. If it’s a selfish person or a low hanging branch they seem to walk.

I walked in the direction of my scooter and looked up, my step slowed when I realised it was not where I expected it to be. The transformer cords dangling loose out of the EV cabinet. Eyes wild, I couldn’t decide if I leave the flag where I expected to find my scooter.

But time was short, I only had 20 minutes until my first appointment, I couldn’t afford to reschedule. I had to get to both that day.

Mother trucker!

What kind of LOW LIFE Scumbag steals a Mobility Scooter? I’m still months later yet to cry. What’s the point? Too angry! One-handed without pockets I was juggling two sets of keys, my walking stick and the flag. Don’t even know why I was still holding on to that.

All while calling my lovely Young John. No time to talk. Was he free? Could he help me get to my appointment? Use the key to get from the carpark into the foyer and then the lift.

Next call to who Young John would refer to as my Indian boyfriend. Basically, any other taxi driver I call to be my transport.

I had to problem solve getting to my appointments. Unlock my front door after going up in the lift. Put flag and scooter keys inside. Back downstairs and out to the street. Get in taxi. Call Owner Corp regarding CCTV Footage. That process alone should have been easier. Made it to my appointment only fifteen minutes late. So grumpy, I did not manage to sleep at my physio appointment. So angry I was.

It’s Still a Win Right?

Published July 21, 2025 by helentastic67

It’s Still a Win – Right

You know those days, this is literally how my Monday went. I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.

Went to bed early, 12.30am, that’s early for me, trust me. Still awake until 5am, but I had an early start plus a full morning planned. First mission, fucking disaster.

Carer arrives at 8am, even my cat is listed off and confused. She knows when I should write off the day and go back to bed, but I had a specialist appointment that is every three months. On a Monday, at 11.30am, because it’s the last appointment for this clinic on the day.

This is often a Team Helen mission. Mondays I have a carer called Helen; she’s a Heavy Hitter! (I’ll circle back to that later!) We taxi to save parking dramas or me going in without her. Her agency also hits me hard for kilometres in my carer’s car. (ie. they hit me for it instead of my funding.) and the carer always is worse off. I digress, taxi to appointment, I inhaled my entirety of pills before I left and pack something to eat on the way. Learnt from the driver that burnt toast smell I always catch on the way is a coffee roaster. No, I’m not having a stroke. (Apparently, that smells like burning car tyres?)

Arrive safely and early. Hear a Code Grey while we wait this triggers a Google search of the different codes that are used in a hospital. My carer is on my left and that is my worst blind spot. I regal her it’s a story of a visit to hospital over ten years ago when a code was called for me when I’d tried to get a sleeping pill at 1am when they kept putting me off. “Just close your eyes and you will go to sleep!” I was told, like I’m a four-year-old child not a forty-year-old woman who never slept at the correct time. Anyway, started to feel a little seedy while we waited. Helen asking if I was OK, did I want a drink?
You know when you just want to power down and not be present? Started to feel sick. Suggested Helen should move to my right side. We had discussed it, but we went with it anyway. So, I threw up. (Just saliva! Not my breakfast even but worth noting!) and peed my pants. Honestly! This has never happened before in public.

I used the bathroom and when I returned Helen mentioned the Doctor had asked if I was still OK for my appointment? Like, I didn’t come all this way to throw up in the waiting room and not get Botox in my leg? It’s also usually these times my carer comments on how pale I look and after throwing up how much “better” I look. I am generally sun-averse anyway, but “pale” is normally fine by me.

My recent visits for Laser hair removal start with the question “Have you had any sun?” And my witty response. “Not if I can help it?” Anyway, asked for something to put on my seat on the way home. This was granted and off we departed for home. She asked me if I was OK, and I reminded her if I wasn’t I’d come to the right place. It was a hospital after all. Mission to get home, half showered and into clean clothes and back to bed my only goal for the rest of the day.

My lovely carer departs and I manage to sleep for two hours. Wake in time for an appointment with someone that thinks my appointment is on Thursday. Don’t know why this keeps happening, but it’s about the only thing I can read in my diary. Lazy standard rest of the day. Prepare the next week of pills, while standing in the kitchen. Feed Mika, eat standing up to better utilise time. Hope the Botox doesn’t kick in while I’m moving around my home. My leg will give out mid-step. Botox in my leg doesn’t make it look younger, just work better.

Botox puts over worked muscles to sleep for a few months, so other lazy muscles have a chance to build and take an even balance when the Botox wears off. This is to manage my drop foot and hyper extending knee so, I don’t need a knee replacement one day and I move and walk better. Who knew right? So, that was my Monday. Am I done yet?

Blacksmiths Were the Original Mixed Business

Published May 12, 2025 by helentastic67

Blacksmiths Were the Original Mixed Business

I know, my posts have been so cryptic lately, why’s that? There has just been so much happening and going on, it’s hard to keep things simple. Remember, simple can be boring.

I purchased some Billy’s at the Swedish Warehouse to store my DVDs in my new home.
Billy’s, a type of slim shelving units purpose built for CD’s or DVD’s, conveniently. Swedish Warehouse? IKEA. You are welcome.

Even getting a project like this to completion is a multi-faceted project. Who has the muscle, who has the appropriate method of transport? Also, who can put it together?

Eventually, it came together and a few extra hours over a few weeks for the right carer to unpack boxes and build. Four Billie’s leaning against my bookcases in my study. Looking weirdly like coffins in an old blacksmiths business. I will hope the Meme Queen can bring the image to us here.

One of my older carers, I explained my intention for storing two pieces of carpet off cuts so I could store them elsewhere, and she opened the last box, everyone pitching in to the best of their abilities and physical capacities. Sometimes, I explain my plan for world domination and over time they see said “Plan” coming together they understand how I work and if they can do anything to get the plan to come together, they will help. I came from my bathroom after my shower to see this.

Bloody nearly died. I hadn’t expected her to make it happen, I only told her what I planned to try and achieve, so she just pitched in and got it done. I told her it looked like a Dead Body. She didn’t disagree. I should totally put it in my storage cage in the undercover car park and if anyone wants to imagine it’s a D.B. and it sends the message not to mess with me. This could work to my advantage. Maybe this post should have been called “D.B.?”

And Next

Published April 28, 2025 by helentastic67

And Next

So, people are getting the understanding, I’m now a homeowner. A rate payer. Seemingly, when some acknowledge as a fifty-two-year-old single barren spinster, I’m a respectful member of society.

It’s a weird space to be in, because I always hoped and imagined owning my home one day just assumed I’d have a husband that would pay the mortgage and my income would go towards the beautiful tiles to renovate a bathroom.

When my father died, I was able to contemplate having a forever home and weirdly conversations with friends about buying started to feel weird but normal. The basic understanding was shock, because I didn’t work and who was going to give me a mortgage. Trust me, I did all the research and was in all the groups and organisations that build AFFORDABLE AND SUSTAINABLE HOMES FOR LOW INCOME, etc.

I even had to fight to have myself put back on the public house in lists. That right there is a Bag of Farts. You don’t want it. But maybe not in a bag, but you need it and if you get offered it you definitely don’t want it. See the bag of fart analogy works out in the end.

After reaching out to both Local MP’s and Local Federal Members, the first time not much help, the second time never even replied to my call. I changed tactics and just got to house hunting. To be clear I didn’t have house money. I had Apartment Money, I’ve just wanted to make my dad proud.

The research I did leading up to buying, I learnt what you can get for how much. I saved fifty K, okay not having a second bathroom, but also spend an extra fifty K on not having a building with a car stacker. I’m still serious car stackers are a travesty. I hear nothing but horror stories.

Admittedly, the buildings that had those, the apartments felt much more like student digs. International students with lots of food deliveries. I really wanted a much more owner/occupier vibe with friendly neighbours who cook and give a crap about the environment and not having food arrive that they leave at the entrance to only get refunded and they do it all again.

R.I.P. D5

Published March 24, 2025 by helentastic67

R.I.P. D5

I would suggest this is happening too often already. You would think fifty-two years old, would be considered middle age as I don’t know I’m going to make it to one hundred and four years old, nor would I want to. However, people I love are falling off the perch already and it’s too soon. If you don’t know, falling off the perch is the elderly term for dying.

Apart from the passing in late 2022 of my father’s death and the recent departure of a very close friend, she’s not dead just not in my weekly routine anymore. I learnt a week ago a friend from my clubbing days in my twenties had passed. He worked for me back in the day.

I think we bonded because we were from a similar part of the Victorian countryside. While I moved to Melbourne at nineteen to study and work, he moved to Melbourne without the same kind of plan. Not in place anyway. When I asked him why, he responded with “I looked around and just said No!” with a little shake of his head. Like me it was just an instinct to get the fuck outta town.

Around 2000 I had moved back to the country, not born in my hometown but to a more isolated community where my mum and younger sister had moved to. I needed a lift to town and a V-Line bus to go anywhere further. It was hard.

Every few months I’d get back to Melbourne and couch surf for a few days, to go clubbing and catch up with as many people as possible. Going to clubs was the easiest way.

Standing in a goth club I heard this song, looking around at how many people were dancing and not recognizing it, I found D5 close by and he asked that I didn’t know who it was. I was like, “No! I’m living back in the country where you get fuck all exposure to new music” let along anything else. This song will always remind me of him.

I guess a warning might be in order. But the beat is really good.

I’m sure for most it will be a lot, but her wiki page is interesting, if you dare. If you don’t follow my blog for a little different, you are in the wrong place. Teaches of Peaches – Wikipedia

So, around the time of my fiftieth birthday, I sent D5 an invite for my gathering in case he thought to join. My father had passed earlier that month and for years we had drifted, but I always send him a birthday text as he was born on Valentines Day. Bit hard to forget that one.

He came to my birthday and we caught up a few times, I cooked him dinner, my single girl dinner reminiscent from my twenties and that Christmas he gave me a lift to my father’s house in my home town on the way to his hometown. So, we had a three-and-a-half-hour road trip to chat and for me to own the CD Player and have him guess what I’d put on.

Moments after he had left me at my dad’s there was a knock on the door. He was there holding up the black thumb cast for my trigger thumb. “Good luck thumbing a ride without that?” He was rather reserved and shy but when he shared his wit it was a treat for your soul.

While I didn’t see or hear from him often and there had been years in between when he had been married and doing his thing it was always a comfort to know he was out there walking the earth. He is survived by his twin and his cat.

He told me his marriage had ended like many during the Covid 19 lockdowns when couples were confronted with being around each other in close confines 24/7 apparently, they looked at each other and just both said No.

Now, alas, the world is bereft from his passing. He had chosen to fight his battle with cancer with only a small few aware this was his fate. He had told me he was dealing with something but not what. He was about seven years younger than me and the younger brother I never knew I needed. But our world forever better for the time he had been amongst us.

R.I.P. D5.

I am too young to be saying goodbye to friends

* D and the number there after referring to the number of Dave’s in the club days, I’ll cover that another day. D5 was a longstanding Dave and not to be undervalued despite not being D1- D6+ ceased to exist. Obviously, finishing today’s post without my regular cheer.

Circle Back to 2024 – Part 2

Published February 24, 2025 by helentastic67

Circle Back to 2024 Part 2

So, 2024 was weird also cause money became a huge topic and while I’ve always had an income from somewhere and five cents to my name it’s a weird space to find yourself in to have some actual money and options.

I wanted to blog about it last year but was up to my eyeballs in all the things, so had to let things play out and play catch up. This ergo-case-in-point is the catch up.

I guess, women of my generation, didn’t get educated about how to manage money. I’m Gen X remember. I did grow up with coins and handling money. My first paid job I picked up a yellow envelope with cash and coins in it. I had a paid job from around fifteen years old.

As an adult when you have household expenses you learn you need to have more coming in than going out. Sure, but on bigger expenses women my age was taught that we would marry and our husband would take care of it. Do you see me writing about a Husband? I have an Italian surname so it was largely assumed I would get a husband. Not bitter. Just making a point.

Some of the groups I’m in, some women will see and ask a friend who seems to manage her finances well and when asked she will be told “Oh, my husband does all of that!” So, it is to say I did consult a financial advisor. He’s in his late thirty’s, lovely man who I have not made proud. Yet. He wanted me to continue renting forever.

But as my next post will context women like myself when I reach sixty, are more than likely find themselves homeless. I’ve had to educate younger men on this topic.