So where's the snow?

Muddling through life from Austria to Wales; God, life and a small black dog

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Masculine readers may want to go to the next post……..

That time of life for a woman,the menopause, I greet with a huge sense of relief.  An absence of hormonal highs and lows, monthly pains and inconvenience, a quieter place altogether. Ok so I may get a bit flushed now and then……. My mother rarely spoke of hers, except when she was hot while my Grandmother milked it for everything it was worth!

This is combined with a life without stress, no Burg, and the thyroid and iron levels all being normal at last. I’m engulfed in the deepest peace I’ve ever reached, and for that I give God the glory for moving me into a new place. It’s tangible.  Its been a battle for over five years and there still will be skirmishes, but its a new place for body, soul and spirit. 

It was really spelled out for me this holidays, where after the first adapting to having Dave home, I could see just how chilled I am.  I’m just so not bothered about anything!  I could even stop blogging and not be bothered! Not rushing in the mornings when there was no need, not working out a daily list to do, being detached from his concerns, he can sort them, I don’t need to control anymore.  Ok it has the downside that when we must be organised, I’ve gone too far the other way and leave things too late but its ok.

The only thing I would now change is work/career for us both. God gave me this job and I will stay till he says go, I enjoy the quiet and the people there when they’re at home.  I’ve been too much on my own these past fews months and can see that. Yet I would move on to our dream of buying the flat next door, being at home all the time to welcome guests and care for them.  We have the vision of being able to give people free holidays as an escape, retreat and blessing.  God has to deal with the  financial part of this!  When we had guests lately, Dave and I suddenly began working as a real team – he did driving, I did catering and he can stay up later than me, so I could sleep and he could chat. It really worked, so God is preparing us.  It will come, its only a matter of time -woohooooooo!

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Equine Assisted Therapy workshop

Following our training for EAGALA, Edith and I decided to run another Workshop to highlight the Equine Assisted L earning, (EAL) and went for it. This time we invited  people directly, did a Facebook page and invitations, advert in the paper and in the local tourist office – result, three people and two kids from the stables.  I guess its time to re think, we either have to go down the line of going completely professional, doing more workshops, more plugging around offices and officialdom, or maybe just have an open therapy session, such as a de-stress day,or relaxation day, but do things regularly. The other option is just leave it as it is – we get occasional people coming to us.  The changing situation at the stables where there’s more and more liveries who expect to use the arena 24/7 makes it difficult with privacy  and safety. Maybe its time to move on from the horses, despite my love of teaching riding, I’m determined this time to stay on God‘s agenda not mine.

Still it was fun working through the  basic EAGALA exercises and  seeing the dynamics and personalities of our victims, no,I mean volunteers, who were mostly complete strangers to each other.  We’ll see!

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Mummydaddy by Jeremy Howe

This only links to the published book

I don’t usually go for books about death and grief, but the story caught my eye.  How do you cope when a beloved partner is murdered?  So often in the press you hear of people who form support groups, push court cases and make shrines to their loved ones as either a coping mechanism or an un-coping mechanism, so I was interested to see how someone grieved especially with small children.

It was good that the narrative is framed through the perspective of now, how the girls have grown up and Jeremy has moved on.  Yet he writes about the agony of his loss as if it were yesterday and all his reactions through the first few months and years are fresh.  There’s no rosy tinted-ness either, he depicts his love, how she was with a clear sightedness and honesty which keeps you hooked to the tale.

Jeremy does find an end to his grieving, a unique closure, which perhaps many people do not get, such as when a murderer is not found or convicted, or the disease conquers.  His strength builds through the story, and this held me until the end. I guess the book could help anyone going through the same situation, but as a read, it was gripping through its sadness iand hope

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Poor Paggy

Might be April but this can still happen!

Poor old Paggy is still in hospital and he’s not really getting better. He said that he’d originally had a kidney infection and his body is better except for his blood sugar.  We visited him on Saturday and he was wired up to a drip and completely groggy,  coherent but doped.  The nurse asked us if we were relatives and said they need to find someone as Hans should be getting daily care, not once a week.  So with Linda’s help, I found his brother’s telephone number and gave it to the ward.  The two don’t get on, but he’s Hans’ only relative, maybe next time we visit Hans, he’ll chuck us out. He reckons he’ll be home for Easter, but I don’t think so.

Its been strange here when we’ve been doing stuff around the yard and garden, not to be hailed for a beer or our work criticised, maybe he’ll not come home at all, but go into the Old People’s home in Tamsweg.  It looks great, they have this huge reception/dayroom with a bar (this is Austria) and all sorts of facilities, he’ll soon have them rocking!

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Paggy update

We’ve been in to see the old codger a couple of times.  He’s not quite well, he’s convinced he fell out of bed which was what happened last time and keeps on saying how he’ll be home next week.  He claimed also he was just asleep when the police came, maybe he’s just pumped up with drugs, we’ll see.  I don’t know what the effect of having such low blood sugar might be. He wasn’t moaning about the food either!  But at least he’ll get the best treatment now – after all George Micheal says that Austrian hospitals are the best in the world.

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Langlaufing time!

I suppose my intense dislike for Dentists must have started in childhood with our one in Winchester.  He used to be quite rude about my teeth and once found a stray piece of cereal which I was expected to explain away.  Mum also used to quite often take us straight out and into the sweet shop next door!  I needed many filings,  I’ve found out due to poor enamel which I can can do nothing about.  I had to have root treatment when George was a baby and with no one to help had to sit him in a pushchair in the surgery, leaving him yelling at several stages while I was being treated.  Then when I came here, I needed more root treatment, when I suddenly had viscous pain  a couple of weeks after arriving. 

The Austrian Health system allows you to take responsibility for yourself, so no reminders are sent for check ups.  Hence I now only go when there’s a problem, which is also pretty stupid as I’ve just found out. I broke a filling out of a tooth and left it for months as there was no pain, not realising that this was one of the root treated ones, ans it was starting to rot and now I’ve even less  chewing ability than before!

So to the point, which is to talk about the system here.  Our Dentist (and this is common) works on his own and has three treatment rooms.  He then legs it between the three, for example while you are numbing up.  Which means no appointment is ever on time, and the receptionist has even told me to remember my book!  Is this better than the English system?  I don’t know.  It’s certainly more basic, he even hit my teeth with a metal prong to find out which one has the problem, although he does have an x-ray machine.  I don’t know which is better, except I’m still keeping to my non-attendance policy even if its stupid!