The Last Weekend in September

Published September 29, 2025 by helentastic67

Once again, it’s that time of year when this weekend just passed, Australians gathered to yell at their televisions or went to an oval to yell at the outcome of two leading teams pitted one against another. Once a year I try to do a sporty post for people that way inclined. Don’t know if anybody here is bothered? But Hellonwheels don’t do sport. Not really interested.

When I was young, I was dragged to Little Aths, short for Little Athletics in my hometown to run sprints and other sporty things. I was pretty good at running and even high jump. I had my own technique of running hell for leather at the matt and at the last second throwing myself headfirst over the bar landing on the back of my neck in a roll. Alas, at some point my interest or skill waned. Not sure which but being dragged to this torture ceased.

Meanwhile, I’ve stated before my interest in the AFL is rather low. The grand final was this Saturday just gone. My team who shall remain nameless has not won a grand final since the mid-90’s. Shame! Shame! Just disappointing.

Alas, my interest to sit through a game even on TV is zero and the end of the season I want my team to not be on the bottom. Collingwood not to be on the top and the cup to stay in Victoria. Because I’m old school and am loyal to a time when all the teams existed in Victoria from the days of it being called the VFL.

You can get some history here…….https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Victorian_Football_League

A few years ago, a new favourite carer started on my usual Friday shift. It was halfway through the day, we realised our teams were to face-off that night. Causing me to state “That’s it! We can’t be friends no more” and we have roasted each other about it ever since.

So, repeating.

1) Carlton cannot be on the bottom.

2) Collingwood cannot be on the top.

3) And the Cup stays in Victoria with the exception of rule Number 1.

And for the last two years the Cup has ended up out of state.

Since having a new Pies friend Pies is the team mascot for Collingwood. I’ve occasionally sent the text to previously mentioned carer now friend. “Go Pies!” And have been rewarded with a row of these “🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕” Followed by an equally succinct row of these.”😭😭😭😭😭😭”

You can do your own research. It’s a serious game the only safety gear being a mouthguard.

One of my carers reports there’s a bar on Chapel Street that won’t serve a particular drink on account of a certain football team that frequent that location and those boys don’t mix well fuelled by Long Island Iced Tea.

What? You get everything here at hellonwheels.

I also revisited a childhood favourite which I haven’t revisited for about 10 years as it was not as good as I remember and that was a lunch of what my older sister fondly called “Little Boy’s!” being the classic footy franks or saveloys. Very inappropriate nickname but amusing. Good in little bread rolls with sauce, I guess it’s the same as hotdogs.

What can I say? In Australia this is how we do it. You’re welcome.

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.

Brittle

Published July 15, 2024 by helentastic67

Brittle

So, was in a Zoom meeting this week with a group I really enjoy being part of. It’s not completely women and sometimes I’ve been known to use the term, “Ladies!” Later thinking Damn it! Fucked it again.

Alas, I digress, at the start of every meeting we go around the group and do an internal weather check-in. If you are thinking this is soft, think again. It’s a chance to check in and find out how everybody is. Some meetings it’s also useful if there is anything that will get in the way of the meeting. In that meeting, I’m always tired, but share, I’ve got “Medicine and treats!” to get me through, medicine being coffee and treats being chocolate coated coffee beans just to begin.

I still got caught resting my eyes during the financial reports of that meeting. How do I know where the money went? I didn’t take it. Nothing worse than struggling to keep your eyes open and someone has obviously noticed because the split second your eyes stay closed a millisecond too long, they curtly say your name. PRESENT! Anyway, in the check in I mentioned I was feeling brittle. Going through the existential crisis again and then was a little too broken up to speak. But it became the topic of the day. My common crisis revolves around. Is this it now?

I have no real way to work to improve my financial situation, as I let go of groups and contacts I’ve been associated to in over fifteen years, I have reached my level to tolerate people and trying to make change in a group setting.

The two groups I’m still part of, I stay connected because I feel it’s always good to remain tethered somewhere. If you don’t and can’t work, you can’t drive to explore and be fully independent, your connections cease to be family, who might be far away, but people who actively choose to be part of your life.

There are always layers to grief and not just the loss of loved ones but the end of friendships, the history and shared experiences during the hard times. And the older we get the harder it is to give a flying tutti fruity to make new friends.

Who Names These Coffee Varieties

Published March 20, 2023 by helentastic67

Who Names These Coffee Varieties

A recent trip to a coffee roaster saw us answering the questions about what kind of coffee is drunk in the household?

Just imagine I’m the latte drinker. Yes, my favourite meme for this is, “Latte is Italian for: you paid too much for that coffee!”

I described and created the coffee roast “I drank too much Sake last night!” Speaking for a friend. Poor young sales assistant looked at me questioning. Did you read the above? I drink latte and I was THERE!

Note! I’ve not thrown anyone specifically under the bus here, but this relates to the time around my father’s passing, she says diplomatically.

Grief and Humour – Part 2

Published February 27, 2023 by helentastic67

Grief and Humour – Part 2

So, while dealing with this whole grief thing I’m reminded of times I’ve seen women in the supermarket, they stop and seem to pause for a moment and a hand goes up to their heart and for a brief moment it looks like they just received some devastating news. I have been moved to ask if they are alright? And they pause and then they seem OK again and they reply as much and the day goes on.

Last Saturday I was attempting to get a loaf of rye bread carefully transported via a friend across town, delivered on the Friday, into my fridge freezer. My carer had suggested she could do this. But my first world problem in recent years has been a problem getting things into my fridge freezer.

Full disclosure, I also have a bar fridge size freezer and that’s full too. My carer has recently suggested I could live out of my freezers for six weeks without going shopping, but I’d eat a lot of chilli con carne, ice cream and stews, what a way to go.

So, there I am, fridge-freezer door open. My carer waits behind the door in the kitchen as I shuffled, to get the portioned bread into every nook and cranny, I talked as I worked telling her amusing little tidbits from my day, life, anecdotes of my life with my dad. Don’t recall now, even what I was telling her about, but every few sentences I paused, couldn’t speak. Wanted to burst into tears, but needed more importantly to finish my witty stories. I kept it together. My carer had told me I didn’t need to keep telling her whatever it had been I was telling her, but I finished both my stories and the task of getting all the bread in the freezer for safe keeping. Before I successfully closed the freezer door, I announced to my carer a little sadly. “I’m not leaving the door open because I don’t want you to see me cry” as I closed the door.

I just want to point out this is a hard job being ONE-HANDED! Just try it sometime. I offered my carer to open the door again and bathe in the brilliance that I had managed to achieve and she stated if she opened it again everything would fall out. I told her it would then be her job to get it all back in before she left.

So, I opened the door to show off my brilliant Jenga technique, from behind me the woman FUCKING SNEEZED.

And twos things fell out and we laughed.

You still get to laugh sometimes…..it’s just sweeter.

Understanding

Published February 13, 2023 by helentastic67

Understanding

Some people might not understand why I’ve been sharing all the stuff about my father’s recent passing and partly, because it’s happening and it’s something we all go through, the passing of a loved one, family, parent, friend, whoever.

However, I’m also dealing with that on top of already dealing with my brain injury. Sometimes, people dealing or not dealing with how they are coping or not coping, I’m doing that too. On top of already dealing with my disability.

It might be 15 years since my disability happened but new things on top of that is like the first day of having my disability all over again. The disability stuff does NOT GO AWAY or TAKE a BREAK! Even something new comes along.

It is ON TOP OF…

Stuff to Avoid, While Grieving Dad

Published February 5, 2023 by helentastic67

Stuff to Avoid While Grieving Dad

So, try to get the humour in this post! Just try, yeah.

Cannot watch shows where happy couples are having tender moments with their newborn babies! WTF!

Can’t watch scenes of women being walked down the aisle. Who’s going to walk me down the aisle now? What? It might still happen.

Can’t even type these words, so it would appear! Fuck! Sad now!

Humour and Grief

Published January 15, 2023 by helentastic67

Humour and Grief

I know my posts were more on the miserable side since my father’s passing last October. Can’t even consider it on the dark side, it was very dark times. But, despite all of this I’ll share with you a few of the more humorous moments I shared with family and friends. My father being only in his mid-70’s had spent a great deal of time alone in more recent years, pre-the Covid-19 even.

He kept himself busy with jigsaw puzzles, something we used to do when we were kids over the summer. Trying to sneak out the corner piece when it was close to finished so we could come in and help put in the last piece.

My father retired early, much to his annoyance because, before he turned sixty, he was diagnosed with bowel cancer, followed by his consistent, bladder cancer. (Similar part of the body!) he did chemo for both. He managed to keep his hair. Both times. Not his beard but his hair on his head, bit of a Legend.

Anyway, I digress, many jigsaw puzzles and more than enough cactuses. What’s the plural here? Just asked google. I’ll let you also.

Alas, his fight was over, sad. The next struggle has been where should the jigsaws and dry, sharp, prickly, spider web covered plants go? Yeah, I had told my father in recent years his life should all be about standing outside holding a garden hose, little effort. He couldn’t.

At the funeral, jigsaws were on offer to anyone to help themselves. I told a few, “If you don’t take one with you, I’m sending five to your home!” Mildly successful. Still some to rehome.

The cacti? My dad’s two brothers visited and we beckoned them over to about five pots busting with cacti and pups ready to be re-potted.

My two uncles, no idea what’s was about to take place, like lambs to the slaughter. “Dad wanted you to each have a plant. It was in his will!” And their children, now adults, the joy on my most tender-hearted uncle’s face “Really?”

Had to be honest, no. But he would be very happy if you took some. When they’re over Christmas, many of the plants had flowers. I like to imagine dad was smiling down on us.

Another Year Over

Published December 19, 2022 by helentastic67

Another Year Over

Anyone else wondering where 2022 went? All year I’ve been desperate for this year to be OVER! Just when will it be OVER. So, now it almost is, I’m trying desperately to put the brakes on, as I’m not caught up yet.

Christmas is a week away and this week I normally deliver all my yummy rum balls to my regular appointments, locations. Seriously even the several post offices I use get a little delivery and they are not done yet.

Rain check anyone?

I confess, I’m usually stressed about Christmas, where I will be? If I can get carers? And will I be with family or home alone? Who will feed Mika? All of these things. It’s always such an emotionally charged and traumatic time. What Christmas, traumatic? Yes!

So, I’ve been frustrated, I have been short with people. I thought this was my default setting as it is my baseline every December. But no! Apparently, it’s grief! What the F? That does make sense.

The Other Worst Week Ever

Published October 26, 2022 by helentastic67

The Other Worst Week Ever

So, this is the last post with the subliminal message, has anyone picked it yet or even noticed? Please comment.

So, last week was the dreaded week of my father’s funeral, worst day ever. First piece of advice, someone offers you tissues. TAKE THEM!!!

Even though I had a friend, who saw my support person handing me a tissue every other minute, it wasn’t enough.

All the talks-talks, song, light candle stuff for which you think takes forever, it’s over before you know it and I was almost left behind. I did the walk out metres behind his coffin and tried badly to not rush, while desperate not to do the ugly cry. You know the cry where you at least want to bury your face in a hand, so no one witnesses it. You know I use a walking stick in my one good hand right? Yeah, not helpful.

The Funeral Home director asked if I could walk over to the cemetery or if I would need to go over in a car. Wisely, I said yes, car please. He had not been offering me a lift but if I had not been helped into the front passenger seat of the hearse, I would have been left behind. Lovely driver Phil made small talk to take my mind off things. I tried to sell him Dad’s car. But alas, dad no longer has the Valiant Charger in Vitamin C orange. So, that was a fail.

With all the love and respect in the world, if I ever hear the song by Bette Midler, The Rose it will be TOO FUCKING SOON! Jesus Wept!

Second piece of advice, when trying not to do ugly cry, try breathing in and out of your mouth. Not saying it worked, but it felt like it helped. Lastly, my family gave me the awards Best Worst Ugly Cry and Best Worst Timed Ugly Nose Blow. Charming, no.

The night of the funeral we had a pool party with our cousins around catching up and playing pool. I have cousins I’ve not seen for 30 years. And the most common memory was dad teaching everyone how to hammer in nails into a small off cut of pine. One cousin who has become a builder wants dads hammer, but I have already laid claim to it. What! I think we made dad proud that night.

His house felt like a home because it previously felt like someone had been merely existing there. We will be there for this upcoming Christmas, so I imagine dad watching over us as he promised. I might convince a carer one day to hold a nail for me while with half the necessary eyesight I smack in the nail in the triple tap technique my dad used. I’ll explain that better another time.

On Sunday, two days later I received the award of 1st Caligiuri Daughter to surface and be reasonably functionable. The household likes to start the day with coffee. I made the statement I prefer to start the day with my own natural energy and you should all be aware I’m NOT A MORNING PERSON. I need to end the day with my Medicine (coffee) so I can get through the rest of the day.

I guess all the family dysfunction we put off dealing with for one day in the future comes to the foreground when the passing of a loved one happens. Now we have to deal with all of that too. While grieving.