The Native Iowan

Most folks treat Trump Derangement Syndrome (TDS) as a joke, a funny situation, something to laugh about…

I playfully have suggested folks take their TDS pills.

But I’ll not do such any longer.

I am very saddened, even heart-sick of the division and anxiety witnessed for… how long… how long has this real and possibly deadly affliction been with us? Like most diseases, TDS has an epicentre. A ground-zero.

My ground-zero TDS occurrence is easy to trace…

There was a time when Donald J Trump traveled down the escalator in his NY building to announce his candidacy for the POTUS. At that time I wrote that I didn’t think DJT had a chance. he was running against the Clinton-Machine. Not the Democrat-Machine, no, in 2016 the DNC was owned and managed by the Clintons. I never gave DJT a chance.

I posted this after DJT won the 2016 election:
Here we gooo…I gotta comment… after over 12 months of voyeurism and arm-chair punditry… Donald Trump is President Elect… AND… I am gob-smacked! Damn! So, the next few days/ weeks/ months shall be very interesting… Damn! Did I say Damn?

I never thought DJT would become the POTUS. I never was a “Trumpeter”. But one very dear, old and good friend decided back then I was evil. Not because I supported and voted for DJT (because I did not) but because I did not support the Clinton-Machine.

I carry on discussion with numerous folks all around the globe. I consider myself a “commentator”. I read, listen, research, study and write my thoughts. My above referenced “dear old friend” and I carried on a running conversation throughout the 2026 election. We chewed the topics, discussed the candidates. My dear old friend was a card carrying member of the “Pant Suit Brigade”… “Pantsuit Nation was a private Facebook group and Twitter hashtag used to rally Hillary Clinton supporters during her 2016 presidential campaign in the United States.”

I joined the PSB at one point to follow my friend’s discussions. And, immediately after DJT won the 2016 election, my dear old friend went ballistic on my ass. I had been saying for a long, long time that “The Clintons should be in Prison”. My friend would never agree with this but I feel she was soooo confident that Hillary was the next POTUS she never chose to be angry at me, attack me for my views. We were still friends and respected each other. But that did not last long.

Immediately after DJT was confirmed as President-Elect my dear old friend went into melt down. We were emailing back and forth in real time… we had a habit of long, on-going conversations by email. When it broke down, harsh words were said by my dear old friend. I am not thin skinned and did not react negatively (I still have the emails) and tried to softly discuss the situation… and things got worse.

My dear old friend shut me out of her life. Called me names, decided I was too vile and evil to be associated with.

In July 2023, out of the blue, I received an email from my dear old friend. She told me she’d been diagnosed with aggressive cancer and was not going to live long. I responded as a friend, spoke of the “old times” and smiled through the tears. I never heard from her again.

On the 1st of April, 2024 I received an email from my dear old friend’s family telling me the sad news.

My very good, long serving friend and I had been sharing, talking, arguing since 1985, when we first met. After years and miles and changes in life, we were still talking. Enjoying each other’s time and attention. And after 30 years of close friendship it all ends, completely. And then she died.

From 2016 to her death in 2023, 7years, we lost each other because of political division. Not that I was opposed to what my dear old friend supported, but because I did not support what she so fervently supported. There was no room in her life for me.

And I find that all so terribly sad and wasteful.

I refer to this because, just this past week, another dear old friend of almost 60 years of association closed the door on me. Decided to end our friendship because I did not support his political position, and worse, because I would question his political position(s).

It is a tragedy.

I am too old and too nostalgic to give up old friends.

Life is tragic.

more later

Almost as sad as waking to hear of another ol compadre passing…

A dear, old friend, a guy I have known since the 4th grade, has allowed his dysfunctional mental illness to go too far. After over 60 years of interaction we have called it quits.

I am no quitter, I make a point of being very “view-point” sensitive. Just because we disagree, maybe even cant agree, we can still be friends and respect one another. But we gotta talk. We gotta listen.

I blame it on the modern mania that pervades and invades… Trump Derangement Syndrome is a real thing.

I can’t explain why, really, but I have a close connection with my ol’buddy, Tony. He has always been thoughtful, articulate and interesting. But things have changed.

I blame it on old age and personal unhappiness. And a lack of personal and professional achievement. My friend has become mad, mean and malicious. The world is no longer a good place in his mind. Sadly, Tony has lost his child-like-wonder.

And worse of all, he has closed the door to open discussion.

After a bit of discourse yesterday I received this: So please do not expect replies anymore. In fact, I would not mind if you did not reply to anything I wrote.

I heard this not long ago…

“Certainty is found only in a closed mind”

Sad that.

Another on bites the dust…

More later

My how time flies… One down, eleven to go… I’m not in a hurry, no rush here on my side of the fence… Time can take it’s time, as far as I’m concerned…

Sunday morn, the day is heating up quickly. Targeting 90f/32c today. The sun is bright and radiant. Ive closed the house up, lowered the shades, and have the aircons cranking. A full day of bloodsports coming on. Some good fights going to happen. I shall sit and ruminate and write as I watch…

Lady Godzilla, all 4kgs/10lbs of her is snuggled into the chair with me. I do believe she thinks my back-side to be too large. She is constantly squirming for more room.

I’ll talk about wood and whittling and turning timber into saw dust… One of my favourite things to do is “work wood”…

Ive discussed before how I scavenge old timber from around my farm. I have a few piles of old split-rail fencing that dates back 100 years or more. I know the oral tradition of this land going back almost 100 years. I’ve met old folks that lived here, grew up here. One neighbour has been living here all his 80years. His father once owned the land I am on. Through him I met a gentleman that was born on this land in the 1930s.

The original “settlers” that came here used the trees growing on the land to erect their first fence lines. This region, the Stanley River catchment, was originally settled by two brothers, the Archers, in 1840. The remnants of those early hands working the land are still well evident.

The old fence posts are valuable wood… Mostly all some kind of “Gum”, these posts and rails have been sitting in the weather, drying out, hardening, aging for a long, long, long time… It is brutally hard to cut. I wear out blades and bits quickly.

This shows how dense the old wood is…

This past week I put a couple sticks on the table…one is for my bird-watching buddy in the USofA. Named Kingfisher, its is a change from what I have done in the past. It is of a “crook handle” style. I really like it a lot…

Another stick is for a friend I sent a stick to a while ago. The first stick, Fearsome, was designed as a traditional walking stick. My friend said that a longer stick for hiking would be useful so I made “Standup 44″…

Branding a stick is my favorite part of the job…

Whittled by Mike…

And remember…

Wood, Not War…

more later

I have written about my “thing” with watching commercial TV, watching the commercials, learning much from what is being advertised to the non-ppv-viewers.

My old compadre, KTWD, always watched and happily paid for “Able TV”. Not “Cable TV”. Able… what his TV was able to pick up. He was vehemently opposed to paying to sit in front of the “boob tube”.

Our modern world of subscribing to “news”, or “breaking information”, or movies or porn or weather reports or… pick your bubble, choose your poison… Our modern world offers many escape routes, many bubbles one can retreat to, hide behind, get lost in. Turn the TV “on” and you connect to the www. Download “Apps” and access in-depth info on any topic, positive or negative… YouTube, Netflix, Disney, Fox, CNN, MNwhateveritis, Al Jazeera, BBC, CNBC, XYZD, SIBC… All offer a “service”, normally behind a pay-wall, All intend to capture you, your attention, your time, support, money…

Like KTWD said, folks are paying to be brainwashed, indoctrinated, recruited.

I must admit… My Name Is Mike And I Flip Channels…

I am a TV watcher. I pay for quite a bit of “TV”. And I like watching commercials. I learn a lot about society seeing what is being marketed. I switch channels often. Stop and watch what catches my attention. I pay attention to what is being advertised. Trends in ads are as telling as polls. What are people watching? What are people buying?

An old saying, “if it dont pay it dont stay” is most visible in TV.

If a commercial is regularly played, the product is selling big.

I use the example of a series of commercials for underwear here in Aus. Very clever, very entertaining and made a star out of a guy named Lawrence. Simply called “Step One”. Good ads. Clever use of local celebs. Very clever all in all.

Aus has traditionally been very clever and riske’ with their made for TV commercials. Some have become icons… check out “Antz Pantz” and the 4X ads from the. 80s.

So, to my friends that are stuck in a Netflix rut, living in a “newz” bubble, listening to too much Maddow, or Hannity, or Sharpton… Go commercial for a while, flip the channels, travel through a few bubbles.

Please don’t get stuck in bubbles, echo chambers, dead zones… It may well be terminal.

Smiles

More later

It is Australia Day here in the “Land Down Under”.

What is Australia Day, you may ask? “It marks the anniversary of the 1788 arrival of the First Fleet of British ships at Sydney Cove (Port Jackson, New South Wales), led by Captain Arthur Phillip. On that day, Phillip formally raised the Union Jack flag and claimed the eastern part of the continent for Britain, establishing the first permanent European settlement (which became the colony of New South Wales). This event is seen as the foundation of modern Australia.”

As a very proud Aussie Immigrant, I feel fortunate, very fortunate, to have been allowed to become, be welcomed into the Land of Aus. It is a very good place to “be”.

How and why did I end up in Aus? Firstly, I got lucky. My timing was fortuitously perfect.

Things were different 15 years ago. Australia, and specifically Queensland, was then keen to attract “older investors”. There was a specific Visa Class just for a guy like me, a retiring individual with money to invest. As well, I was only in my mid 50s. I was still considered “young enough” to contribute to this fair Land. I was allowed to come, invest, live and enjoy life here, but I had to prove to the authorities I had $$. In the words of the rules at that time, I had to prove I ” …would not place financial burden or obligation on the “Common Wealth”.

I jumped through all those hoops, was a very good poodle. Had a number of well paid “Agents” that took my money and managed my submissions, applications, responses to hundreds of questions. Every application came with a hefty fee. When I and my wife finally received our approvals, we paid a lump sum of over $150,000.00 that was compensation to the Common Wealth of us being older, not having contributed to the communal fund for the previous 30 years, and, importantly, because they could.

In some venues it is thought that Australia, and specifically Queensland, were “selling” citizenships. And in many way they were, and I am fine with that. It was a calculated program to entice and attract a certain class of folks with $$. And in 2010, post Global Financial Collapse times, folks with business skills, cash-in-hand, and a desire to live in the Land O’ The Lucky were what was wanted.

In 2010 I bought my first property. A new house that had sat for 2years, empty, unsold. The economy (world wide) at that time was pretty beat up. In the neighbourhood where I bought-in, there were many “zombie” properties. Properties where the owners had ceased making their payments, walked away from the banks, dropped the ball, maybe gone bankrupt. When I bought into the area of QLD known as “The Sunny Coast”, ours was the first land transaction, land purchase in the area for quite a while.

Things are very different these days. No longer the “Land O’ The Lucky”, Aus is now a strange, sad parody of itself. I’m going to check something real quick… Hey Grok…

Population of Australia in 2026 place it at approximately 27.8–28 million with an annual growth of about 420,100 people (1.5%). For Comparison: Population in 2010Australia’s estimated resident population was:22,342,000 as of 30 June 2010.
22,477,400 as of 31 December 2010. This represents growth of about 5.5–6 million people over the intervening 15–16 years, driven largely by migration and natural increase.

How much of this 5.5 – 6mil increase is due to immigration? Cumulative net overseas migration from ~2010 to mid-2025 is estimated at 3.4–3.8 million people (based on annual averages: ~220,000 pre-COVID, low/negative during 2020–2021, and 300,000–550,000 annually in 2022–2025).

Makes me wonder how many new homes are built annually? Australia completes approximately 170,000–180,000 new dwellings (homes) each year in recent periods, based on Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS) data and industry reports.

So, we see 300,000 to 550,000 new immigrants annually while only building 170,000 to 180,000 new home annually.

And that is only one side of the discussion… As we are experiencing right now, today… Whom are these folks immigrating? How well are they vetted? I hope they too are being asked to ensure that they will never place any financial burden or obligation on the “Common Wealth”.

Hmmm… As we say in Aus… “Kinda suss, Mate!”.

In my 15 years residing here in The Land of Aus, things have changed very, very, very drastically.

And to recap, the main problem, issue at hand… For the past 15 years, 2010 to 2015, we have been building at the most, 180,000 new homes each year, for a total of 2,700,000 (two million seven hundred thousand). While importing no less than 500,000 new residents annually, for a total of 7,500,000 (seven million five hundred thousand) folks requiring a home. And this does not account or cater for the natural, domestic population growth.

I knew the situation was skewed, but damn, I say Damn!

One more thought… What protests/ marches are planned for Australia Day, 20226…

Invasion Day Protests and Marches on Australia Day 2026 (January 26)Today, January 26, 2026, marks Australia Day, but for many Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples and allies, it is observed as Invasion Day, Survival Day, or a Day of Mourning. Numerous protests, rallies, marches, and community events are taking place nationwide, focusing on issues like black deaths in custody, child removals, sovereignty, and calls to “change the date.” Thousands are expected in capital cities, with significant police presence (e.g., 1,500 officers in Sydney).

• Counter-protest: “March for Australia” (anti-immigration rally) authorized from Prince Alfred Park to Moore Park.
• Melbourne (Naarm)Invasion Day Protest: 10:00 AM–2:00 PM, starting at Parliament House (Spring St). March to Flinders Street Station or similar routes. Annual large rally protesting ongoing colonial impacts.
• Brisbane (Meanjin/Magan-djin)Invasion Day Rally: Speeches from 10:00 AM at Queens Gardens; march from noon to Musgrave Park.
• Perth (Boorloo)Invasion Day Protest: 12:00 PM rally at Forrest Chase (Wellington St); march from ~1:30 PM to Stirling Gardens for Survival Day events.
• Hobart (Nipaluna/Lutruwita)Invasion Day March: From 11:00 AM, starting at Tasmania Aboriginal Centre (198 Elizabeth St), marching to Parliament House lawns.
• CanberraSovereignty Day Event: Gather 9:30 AM at Garema Place; march to Old Parliament House lawns. Organized by Aboriginal Tent Embassy, highlighting resistance.

As we say in Aus… “Kinda suss, Mate!”.

More later

I have been watching that star-studded circle-jerk that is the annual Davos get-together of the rich, influential, and deluded. I very much enjoyed the coup perpetrated by DJT & Co.

All I can say is that the USofA schooled the rest of the world on what to expect to come down the ski slope. I have been reading this morn (it is 738am) what transpired while I was sleeping. I enjoy the right and left view points. I find it interesting to figure out what folks have seen, heard, experienced, emoted.

It takes all of our senses to distill what we understand, then construct an interpretable story-line. Folks see and hear things so differently.

In my vernacular I discuss filters we each have, use to navigate the world. The old term was “seeing through rose-colored glasses”. And, of course, the opposite of rose-colored glasses exists.

I have discussed the world-wide angst I see and hear, the mental illness I witness and am subjected to, the fact the TDS is real, debilitating and oft times terminal. And alive and well on stage in Davos.

Davos exemplifies, usually, the waste and foolishness of the rich and famous. I have written on this topic in the past: https://nativeiowan.com/2024/01/19/2024-v1-dizzy-in-davos/

In my past writing I stated: “Davos is a crime scene, sanctioned and supported by anyone that wants to be a who’s-who.”

This year is different I think. I think the US0fA changed the tone, stole the show, Made fools of so, so, so many “impotent people”.

Like the old man who was having difficulties performing in bed… he went to the doctor, had numerous tests, was told he is impotent and sent home.

On his way home he stopped at the haberdashery, bought a coat with tails, a bow tie, a top hat and a walking stick. When he got home his wife said “Fool, why you dresses up so funny?”. “Honey, the Dr said I was impotent, I’m gonna dress impotent.”

more later

It started in the 70s. The idea that those poor unfortunate folks in the “county home” or the “mental health institute” would be better off “at home” or “on their own”. It was Liberal Blindness looking for an outlet, a pat on the back, recognition.

It was Liberal Blindness that increased the suffering of those “ill”, or affected. It was the Liberal Blindness that considered it “progressive” to “release” those “patients” who were considered “well enough”.

I was 18 years old in 1976. I worked the 2nd-shift at the Iowa State Mental Health Institute (MHI), in Independence, Iowa. I was a Psych Aide. I wore a white uniform and was there to “assist” the nurses and doctors and therapists. I had a key that opened every single door in the entire facility. It was a huge facility.

Above is the “Main Building”. There were at least a dozen large, old buildings, and one large, new, “Children’s” facility.

Established in 1893. With up to 2000 beds, it saw its highest number of patients in the mid-1900s. At one time it was a working farm where patients (some patients) got to work. Somewhere in the 60s it was determined that patients working, though good for their mental health, was close to slave labor, so that had to end.

By the time I was there in the 70s the population was quite small. Not more than a couple hundred people. Most of the wards were closed off. The once bustling facility was a ghost town. We only had the Mens ward, the female ward, the chronic ward, the geriatric ward and the teen ward. With the children in their own facility.

I worked all wards, got to know the facility and the patients pretty well.

My job was that of the basic “strong-arm”. I was on the ward to be the enforcer for the nurse or the therapist or the doctor. The population was kept pliant through medication.

Ever hear the song “Kill Your Son”? By Lou Reed, it was about dosing patients with Thorazine. Here’s a blurb about Lou Reed… “Kill Your Sons” refers to Lou Reed’s tragic upbringing, consisting of electroshock conversion therapy. Locations such as Creedmoor and Payne Whitney are mentioned as facilities Lou was sent to during his teenage years.’

In those days, before kids had rights, parents could send their kids to an “institute” for being unruly, disagreeable or, as in Reeds case, Bisexual.

It was during my tenure at the MHI that policy started changing. Patients that were considered “able to” were “sent home” with a 60day supply of meds.

I was very friendly with one such man, Charlie Martin.

Charlie had all the symptoms of a socially unacceptable dude. He was big (huge), black, quite uneducated, probably unemployable, and suffered from narcolepsy: “Narcolepsy is a chronic neurological disorder causing uncontrollable daytime sleepiness and sudden “sleep attacks,” stemming from the brain’s inability to regulate sleep-wake cycles, often linked to low orexin levels and an autoimmune response, leading to symptoms like cataplexy (muscle weakness), sleep paralysis, and hallucinations, manageable with stimulants, naps, and other medications, but with no cure.”

Charlie’s medical condition was treated by the Drs through administering 5mg dexedrine 3 times a day. This made Charlie unable to sleep (15mgs Dex will keep you awake very nicely, thank you). For the uneducated, dexedrine is pure speed. 5mg would keep me awake for a day or more. Charlie got 15mg everyday, and could never, ever sleep.

So they administered a big dose of Seconal at bedtime. “Seconal (secobarbital) is a short-acting barbiturate, a central nervous system depressant once used for insomnia, anxiety, and pre-surgery sedation, but it is now rarely prescribed in the U.S. due to high addiction potential and safer alternatives”

So my buddy, Charlie, gets released with a big bottle of speed and a big bottle of downers. He was back in a week, handcuffed, in a police car, in trouble, again. He’d sold his drugs, got all drunked-up, passed out hard, woke up in the jail house in Waterloo, Iowa, and proceeded to tear the place to pieces.

Charlie was in and out, in and out. The State was downsizing, allowed a revolving door scenario for Charlie and others like him.

Charlie simply could not cope in public. He’d last a day or two, sell his medication on the street, raise hell and have a party, pass out somewhere in public, then be wild and uncontrollable when he woke up.

I left the MHI at the end of the summer of ’76. Moved on to attend College and pursue a degree in psychology.

I heard later that year that Charlie had been shot dead by police.

So now, 50 years after releasing the mentally ill patients from the institutes across the the USofA, spending megabucks to mange an unmanageable situation, Trump is looking to rebuild, reinstitute the wholesale care and housing of those homeless and unable to care for themselves.

I thought the decision in the 70 to be a lazy move in the name of do-gooding. I believe from an educated stance that safe care of those suffering mental illness is essential in a modern society.

As I said, The Liberal Blindness = Mental Illness.

I am not known for my agile thought processes, or my acerbic wit. I’m rather slow of thought and action. Ive been wrong so many times in my life, I am scarred, broken in many places, and these days hesitant to react quickly to much more than snake bite and run-away dogs…

I see murder in the streets of Iran. I see people risking EVERYTHING to make their voices heard. They are fighting for their physical, emotional, intellectual and spiritual freedoms.

As we watch, we have folks on the sidelines making excuses. Rationalising and reasoning their way out of the paper bag that is their pliant mind.

I watch as streets in the USofA are on fire. One side of the discussion (it is a violent argument) is simply saying “enforce the laws on the books”. The other side of the discussion screams hysterically, impedes law enforcement and cries like babies when they get pepper sprayed, hurt, arrested or tragically lose their lives while “peacefully protesting”.

I have yet to really see what those loud hysterical voices are saying. It don’t make much sense, I think. But it must either be a powerful emotion that brings them out in subzero Minnesota weather, or they are being paid. I personally would have to be very, very bored and/ or paid very, very well to stand and act stoopid on a cold MN winter’s eve.

It is a matter of semantics mostly… Claiming “sanctuary” from federal law only goes so far. And quite frankly makes very little sense for anyone but the elected Elite of the society. What positives do those receiving sanctuary really add to the community at large? I just spoke to a friend in Minneapolis. She is going out to a birthday party. Her words, “I hope I don’t go through any protests”.

Speaking of hysteria, and semantics… The US has a sitting Supreme Court Justice that cannot tell us what a “female” is. A woman herself, Justice Kentanji Brown cant bring herself to buck the leftist loony ideal of transexual men being women and transsexual women being men that she has to lie, yes LIE from the bench. She continues to prevaricate and dissemble with word salads in order to stay pertinent. Which she is not.

Here in the Land of Aus… Our “gang of four and a half” are very much losing grasp of the narrative. PM Albo simply cannot keep the ball(s) spinning fast enough. He is one of those politicos that will say anything to get through the interview, the meeting, the press conference, the day… We can see his skin getting thin. The entire “X ban” foolishness is because folks are getting AI to parody and make-fun of Albo & Co. The mass murder of Jews at Bondi still has Mr. Albo scared and trembling. He can blame guns, white supremacy, lack of cohesion… but he cannot blame islamic hate.

Much like Mr Tim and Small Frey in MN, Albo & Co are losing control quickly, and are scrambling to not go-down-with-the-ship.

It simply cant go on. The damage being done (on all fronts) is huge… the finical implication of the fee-for-all buying of votes, the fast n furious spending on big$$ schemes (scams) such as solar rebates, wind farm incentives, hydrogen power plants that never go anywhere, mega batteries that melt when they are turned on… There is a right way and a wrong way to do things. We are not being very intelligent as is, unless lining your pockets as quickly as possible is considered ok, rational, and intelligent.

I have read a lot of sci-fi novels. Old Skool and modern. The prediction, the promise of a dystopian future has always been a theme in sci-fi.

I refer to an older movie… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a3IbGPUt6p4

It is Wild in the Streets…

I use the term “Evil Twin” to refer to siblings born within months of each other. In the old vernacular I grew up with such siblings were referred to as “Dutch Twins”.

I have two sets of Evil Twins in my family. Sons, Don and Paul, both had daughters born in quick succession. G.G. in Feb, Dawn In April. Both are now 10/11. Then Vera and Nova. These two are 9/10. It’s a double set of evil twins.

And its pretty cool.

Dawn and Vera have been with me for over 6weeks. Connie showed up before Cmas with her 4yrold, Brimstone.

It’s been a fun, confusing, entertaining, loud, stress filled family few weeks.

It all ends early tomorrow morn. At 4am we shall hop in the 8seater people-mover and head to the airport for their return trip to the Solomon Islands.

Years back, when the respective moms were with their second child each, we took both G.G. and Dawn and had them here with us. Aim was to give the Moms a break. That period was defined by a fine line between homicide and suicide. Gracie and I have raised soooo sooo many kids we kinda make it look easy… but it sure as shit aint.

Dawn n GG, way back when…

So, with the house in shambles, the floors sticky and the tables and chairs covered in debris. I was just thinking “I’ll start cleaning up a bit”, then thought “That dont make sense”. Save it all for when they are gone.

Here’s Dawn n Vera “helping” in the kitchen:

Here is Brimstone with his dashhound, Lady Godzilla:

They shall be gone tomorrow.

Dont tell anyone but it’ll be very quiet, and even a bit boring without them.

Family is guuud.

Kids n Dawgs are guuud.

More later

Australia is an interesting place. Used to be one of the highest standard of living lands on the planet.

One of the “things” about Aus is that we basically shut-down from 15 December to 15 January. Not retail and such but general business, service providers, private contractors and such all take a month long break. Aus traditionally was a very (is a very) life style oriented land. Surf and sun and beach and beer and shrimps on the barrbie…

I like Aus a lot. It is a good place. It has changed quite a bit in the 40+ years Ive been kicking around here. In the late 80s everything was shut on Sunday. When I first arrived, my very first visit, I arrived late in the eve. Got to my cheap hotel about 8pm. No food joints were opened in Brisbane, then, that time of the “night”. Everything was closed for the day.

My how things have changed.

Australia is still a really good place. I got lucky and was allowed to emigrate in my 50s.

It took me over 10years (and quite a bot of $$ in consultants and fees) to gain citizenship.

I had to be very seriously vetted. As a business man I had traveled extensively previous to retiring. One requirement was I had to supply dates and places for all my travel for the 10years previous to my application for citizenship. If, in that 10 years, I had spent more than 3 months in any place I had to obtain a “Police Clearance” from each and any. This list included: Solomon Islands, PNG, Korea, Singapore, Taiwan, both California and Iowa in the USofA, and the UK/ city of London.

The entire process required a well paid Visa Consultant. The entire process took years. Each scrap of paper, each submission, each part of the puzzle being submitted came with a hefty fee.

For much of the process of applying and being granted status, I was on a “bridging-visa”. This stated I could not leave the country, or my application expired immediately. I had to sit here and wait patiently.

Once I submitted my application and was granted status, a visa to wait n see, I could travel but I could not work here. I had to wait. I was allowed to buy land, a house, but my purchase gave me no rights to reside. For over 10 years I lived in a limbo of NOT KNOWING. They could decide that I was not going to become a citizen and give me a 2week notice to depart.

And all that was OK by me. I took the chance, paid my bills, played the game, sat when I was told to sit, jumped when I was told to jump. I was a very good poodle.

I note for editorial purposes that I also emigrated to Solomon Islands. That too was onerous 10years of playing the game.

So, I watch now as folks melt down, lose their self control, scream and rant at officials when folks that are in the USofA illegally are legally deported.

All I can say is folks in the US are soft, uneducated, self indulgent idiots.

I saw something today that made me laugh…

This was posted by an old friend in the USofA. His title to this was “Fox Propaganda”:

Sad, how smart people are so stoopid.

More later

Sunday afternoon. Ive got Green Bay V Chicago Bears on. It’s a playoff game. Both these teams are from “my neck of the woods” and though I don’t follow the great game of American football much, I take pleasure in watching a good game. Especially between two teams I grew up with.

The world is ablaze, again, and the TDS among my close friends and relatives is heating up, and boiling over. I hear a fevered pitch of angst and concern and fear and uncertainty. And… not much of it is reasoned, reasonable or sensible. I really like the Venezuela gig… Everyone kinda agreed over the past several years that Maduro was a Narco. All those crying and ranting and carrying-on forget Maduro was charged quite a few years ago: “On March 26, 2020, the U.S. Department of Justice (DOJ) unsealed criminal indictments in the Southern District of New York against Maduro and more than a dozen current and former Venezuelan officials. The case, originally filed under seal as early as 2011 (under a related name, United States v. Carvajal-Barrios), accused Maduro of leading a narco-terrorism conspiracy.“

We have many bits of old info where leftist-leaders (and loonies) attack the incumbent Prez for not being harder on both Maduro and Venezuela. I like this one from Chucky Schumer: “Schumer’s 2020 remarks during Trump’s first term, where he slammed Trump for failing to oust Maduro despite promises to “smash and break” the regime. In a 2020 Senate speech, Schumer said: “He hasn’t brought an end to the Maduro regime. The Maduro regime is more powerful today and more entrenched today than when the president began.”

So now its all changed, both the regime in Venezuela, and Chucky’s words.

And, oh no, the sky is falling the sky is falling… Trump is talking about Greenland. This is not new by any standard: “The United States first considered acquiring Greenland in 1867, shortly after the successful Alaska Purchase from Russia earlier that year. This marked the earliest documented internal U.S. government discussion of obtaining the Danish-controlled island.”

But now, with TDS running wild, its a terrible idea, an evil idea.

Much like the illness of the mind that infects folks and allows them believe that Che Guevara was a “good-guy”, a woman in Minneapolis is tragically shot while interfering with ICE officers. She is now the angel of virtue that, like the Maryland Dad, did nothing wrong, was never out of line and becomes an icon for those in the throes of TDS.

A repeat of the George Floyd BS, methinks.

I am thinking that TDS fogs folks’ reason, disables their historic perspective, and makes them susceptible to suggestion. Like a stage-hypnotist, using the power of suggestion to get you to believe you’re riding a horse when you are sitting in a chair (I watched my bro-in-law do this) folks disbelieve their lying eyes.

All my TDS infected friends and family think I am wrong, stupid, blind. With affection, they may be right, but let’s talk about it. I’m always and all ways up to discuss any topic. Only proviso I insist upon is that FACTS (yep those pesky things) are allowed in the discussion. I’m always welcoming to other folks opinions but, for instance, when someone says to me “ANTIFA is nonviolent”, I want to be able to review the past openly. Access info from all venues. Not just the one’s approved by those that move to control the narrative. I have a number of friends that refuse to look at info that does not originate within their bubble.

Same with Climate Change/ GlowBall Warming… I get told to “check the science”, which tells me anthropomorphic influence on the climate is hard to prove. Just a year ago a friend of mine in Minnesota was crying over the “brown Christmas”. I was told “it’s here, the end is near.”.. this year that same friend complains about the snow and cold.

Last, wishing Iran some peace. I remember well the fall of the Shah. My father worked with a man that fled Iran in the 70s. A young man, he escaped with nothing. Lost all his family because they were staunch Shah supporters. I have another friend from the Solomons, an officer in the Iranian Air Force in the 70s. He had to flee, was an ayatollah refugee because he was Bahai. His entire family was wiped out.

And the beat goes on.

more later

I feel confident that saying “All Dictators fall” And when they do, they fall hard. In some cases the fall becomes generational. I think of Assad in Syria. Of course the Kims in NKorea have held on now for their third generation. Will their time come?

Maduro’s time came quietly, in the dark of night, without time to escape, run away, hide… Like the Shah of Iran in the 70s. Or the Marcos’. Or Baby Doc. They got to run, like Assad did, before the cage closed ’round. He got out, got to safety, with his bags of loot in tow.

I am not a fan of covert-ops, and kidnapping, and regime change. I am even less of a fan of bad actors, acting very badly.

Sadly, the historic record for success, post external regime change, sucks. How many times has a powerful Nation attempted regime change only to regret it after wards? The US got bogged in Afghanistan after Russia gave up. I think of Gaddafi, and the scenes of Libya post regime change. Iraq… not a good outcome there, too.

I fear the modern-mind’s lack of historic reference leaves most incapable of completely understanding the situation(s), the technical and social influences and challenges to remove a long term “Strong-Man”.

Change is always very slippery, hard to grasp hold of. Positive change is slippery-er than negative change. Always easier to make things worse, than it is to make things better.

I hear talking heads say that Maduro had much support within the foundations of Venezuela. Within the Military, within the Government, within the Commercial sector… But, in reality, I believe “Strong-Men” dont have the support they believe their do… their support is purchased, extorted, or comes from fear… I think of Mussolini:

This is how Mussolini ended up.

I have no doubt in my mind that our modern world does not need Narco/Military Strong Men acting as War Lords.

Those days are gone. No longer required.

Time now to see how well, or poorly, this situation shall be managed.

Time will tell.

The Ying and Yang of life spins and smiles upon us.

More later

The Year has started with long legs. Been bizzy. Lots to do. Getting lots dunn.

The weather has been mild at best, and often chilly. Great way to start the year. If this is “summer’, I’ll take it!

A thought I am having… Karma is real. I know this to be true. Karma and I have been dancing partners for a very long time.

I believe that Karma has come back to bite unprincipled and self serving actors in the proverbial arse… I am watching Minnesota and Venezuela… I think also of the “no good deed goes unpunished” theory of existence. A certain class of citizenry have been living high in both places, for too long, at Communal Expense. And its been coming too long, been needed, too long…

It has been Political Party policy to buy votes with tax dollars… Politicos use the “free-be” trick too often. Student loans, free day care, subsidies for NGOs and huge budgets for Govt Bodies… The fast rail in CA, the EV mandate, the “green” mandates… each and everyone represents money misspent, misused, misappropriated… by Politicos and Cronies… Lavishly spending from the public purse, all the while growing personally wealthy.

Name all the players, anyone, young and old, left and right… They start with nothing and end up wealthy, elite, better than you and I.

Is the curtain being raised? Has the curtain been raised? Are things ever going to change?

There appears to be a house-of-cards, world-wide, that is beginning to be strained, that is becoming unstable. Instability and pressures both external and internal threaten many folks’ “way of life”… I caught one clip where a woman in Minnesota was crying about being caught for fraud. She admits it was fraud then went on to cry in tears, “how will I pay my bills”…

The global quantum of misused, abused, diverted, misspent, corrupted and pocketed dollars, meant for “good”, is bigger than anyone can guess. One small billion dollar scam in a place like Minnesota is just a fly one the horse’s back. World wide. Here in Aus…

The fraud that has been the Labor Party is shaky. PmAlbo is hiding. Doing appearances on friendly turf only. Refusing a “Royal Commission” into the Bondi tragedy. The incumbent “leaders” of the Labor Party are running scared in their ineptitude. They never had “policy”. The played the ol slight-of hand tricks to get a second term. And have wallowed and prevaricated since reelection.

We are hearing reports of Minnesota type industrial-scale-fraud going on here in Aus, in certain suburbs, with certain demographics…
* Recent and Projected NDIS Expenditure (in AUD billions):2023–24: ~$38.0 billion
* 2024–25 (current financial year as of January 2026): Approximately $48–49 billion (projections vary slightly across sources, e.g., $48.5–48.98 billion, with recent data showing spending tracking lower than initial forecasts due to reforms)
* 2025–26: Projected at around $52.3 billion (some earlier forecasts cited lower figures like $44.6 billion, but updated budget papers reflect higher growth moderation)

So, 50billion spread over a population of 25million… roughly $2000.00 per citizen. Hmmm… all that money going into one funnel… got be some getting spilt, no?

My next question would be to look at which constituencies receive the most federal funding. I see its not an original question:
https://x.com/SpambotX/status/2007021217816138209?s=20

I also like the new disclosure that shows the Somali Ambassador being the registered Principal in day care centres in Ohio. And make no doubt about it, none what so ever… the likes of Tim Walsh’s future depends on the support and consideration of Minnesota’s Somalian voters.

Independent Journalism is on the rise…. go team go… Legacy Journalism has been dead a long, long time.

Yes, indeed, the Year do start out on an interesting tangent… Oh yea, News flash: Looks like it’s regime change time in Venezuela.

I’m never a real fan of force, aggression, military incursion.

But I know that if white ants are in the timber, you’re best to burn it before your rebuild.

More later

Smiles

I know, I lied. One last post for 2025…

2025 has been a landmark year in more than one way:

1) My Brother, Monk, passed. He was 74. His is the first death, of my generation, within our large and extended Hemmer/ Iowa family. My Father’s generational family are all gone. I cant think of a single Hemmer, from Dad’s generation, that is still around. My Mother’s youngest sister is still alive. Aunt Molly is the last of that branch of my tree, from that generation. I am prompted to make contact and wish Molly and her sons and grandkids well. So, Monk’s passing is a first for my familial generation. Important in that it brings home the impermanent nature of our here and now. I wrote about Monk’s passing at the time: https://nativeiowan.com/2025/11/10/2025-v11-ode-to-my-brother-monk/

2) I learned an amazing lesson in modern child-care. My Evil-Twin granddaughters, Dawn and Vera, came to stay with me a month ago…

I was lucky to have the big empty house, all by myself, for most of November. Grace was in the Solos. Paul had been doing some work in Honiara. His return to Aus coincided with the E-Twins getting out of school. So they came to stay with me. By the end of the first week the devices that entertain and occupy were permanently on the shelf. Not just for the day, or for a week, or until Cmas… Due to the E-Twins being too clever and me being too dumb… they’d logged onto the home network, got into the www unrestrained, unsupervised, unauthorised. Their dad overseas saw them online, busted them. Bad dawgs… And we all learned together that the world does not end when devices are evaporated. We learned that we have books to read and stories to write and pictures to drawn. A scary movie is good fun. Connie showed up with son, Brimstone… he too lost his device. And guess what? His world did not end either. The Lesson-Learned is that the kids do not need to be connected and “live” on their devices. They can survive without. And, books and paper and pencils are very, very cool.

3) I am no longer young, bulletproof, and totally ambulatory. Ive known this, but am harshly reminded of all, over this past year… My ancient injuries (there are many) have been catching up with me, and ruling my world. Ive also added a couple good “mistakes” to my long list. My PhysioTherapist is now a good friend. My joints ache. I walk like an old man. I visit doctors more often than, than before… I think of my Mother who had most of her joints replaced (knee, hip, shoulder), and some replaced twice. I have been making walking sticks for “Old Friends” for a few years. All are useful, beautiful, functional weapons that I “whittle”. I scavenge ancient wood from my farm. Work the wood with ol-skool tools. Use modern materials to turn them into composite creations. Ive shipped quite a few overseas. Given a number away here in Aus. This year I started looking for “My Stick”. It’ll take a while but I’ll find, whittle a stick that I’ll claim. Here’s a few sticks whittled in 2025:

I think that may be it…

More later

Next Year

Smiles

My last story of 2025…

I like the idea that sedatives, pain killers, drugs often save the day. From penicillin to chloroquine to morphine, drugs often do save the day. But who ever thought that 2 simple, basic, measly Panadols would be the day’s hero? I know a lady who survived having her arm taken off by a croc, with the aid of Tufella Panadol. It’s a good tale. But first…

My last story of 2025 is nominally entitled “The Wild Boys of The Marovo Lagoon”…

Jani and Patu were two good friends, both now passed, both from the Marovo Lagoon. Both were wild. As were most of the folks in the North Marovo Lagoon. A remote, distant, isolated, magnificent place on this glorious planet. Worth a visit if you ever get the chance.

Jani was long and lanky and strong as I have ever seen, Indefatigable. He spoke seldom. Skilled in many schools of craftsmanship. He was Patu’s right-hand man.

Patu was short and dark skinned, bandy-legged and talked a lot. A trained builder/ carpenter/ joiner/ shipbuilder. He had many, many great skills.

Jani and Patu and I worked on a lot of projects together. We played, drank, hunted, fished, raised families together for over 10years. I was the “Contractor”. Patu and Jani were the “work force”. I’d get a “job” and the guys would come and we’d do a job, make some money, have some fun. We built wharfs, reclaimed swamps, rebuilt remote fuel depots, fished a lot, raised gorgeous children and had a lot of fun.

Most of our projects lasted months. A couple were full year-long gigs. And after every project, money in hand, the boys would travel back into the Morovo, back home, and go wild, be wild until the next gig.

One memorable tale about the wild boys of the Marovo…

Jani and Patu were out in a 21ft/ 7mtr alloy runabout. Powered by a 30hp outboard, it was a sleek, fast, maneuverable craft. The boys had money, their respective wives were happy. They had a good boat and fuel, so they were out being wild. They were fishing, hunting, prospecting in many ways. Out traveling the shore line and the river mouths and the estuaries and the mangrove swaps for food. For anything eatable.

It is a beautiful day, fine seas, just the sort of a day to be happily wild. A short distance up a river mouth they spot a large croc sunning on the bank. Without thought, with no conscious reasoning at all, Patu picks up a hefty 12ft/ 2mtr long mangrove tree/stick with a 1ft/300mm sharpened bit of re-rod sticking of it, and skews the croc deeply.

Now Patu thought he was a clever bugger when he installed a one-way barb on the tip of his big spear. A simple piece of bent to-fit stainless steel, with a pin through the re-rod. The spear would go in but the barb would make it hard to pull out. Patu thought he was clever as could be with his invention, modification.

So, I recreate the scene… Jani in the stern of the light boat, running the outboard motor. Patu is in front and has just tossed his long, heavy, sharp spear deep into the body of a big, heavy, strong, dangerous lizard. I note for detail that the big, heavy spear is tied by a length or good stout hemp line to the boat.

Patu was proud of his spear and what he could kill with it. He was a good hunter, a keen killer.

So the croc decides to jump in the water and swim quickly out to sea at a rate of knots…

This of course upset the seamen in the boat. Patu is tossed half-overboard. Jani is thrown to the floor boards.

By the time they regain some state of composure the stout line is taught, the bow of the light craft is plowing water. Janet attempts to make use of the outboard and hold the boat steady. The croc is too strong. It is pulling them through the lagoon and out to sea. In telling the tale to me Patu said “me close up cut’em line”… but he didnt, and he regretted it. It was a long, harrowing trip/ tow through the lagoon that day. Between bailing out the boat, keeping it from swamping, the two had reason to regret not cutting the line quickly.

It was well after dark when something in the system that made up the spear, the barb, the stout line failed. The boys had long since stopped running the outboard. They had fuel, they knew where they were, basically. Off shore an Island we knew well, Rovana. No emergency. All was well, sorta. They had been towed for a couple hours. Now they had to limp home, minus a stout spear, empty handed.

Their wives would be unhappy with them for being gone all day and returning, limping home with nothing to show for their efforts.

Which leads me to my end-year, 2-for-one special…. A fine tale from my partner in crime, W.E.

A tale about a Marovo lady, Patu’s sister, who arm wrestled a croc… https://rosebyanyothernameblog.wordpress.com/2017/12/19/the-crocodile-and-tufala-panadol/

And, lastly… a cherry on top… Fishing with Frigates, Sleeping under Sago….

See you next year

An island tale…

In classic “island extended family” style bigB and his wife, K, raised, educated and managed all of her 6 younger siblings.

Always known simply as bigB, he was a Dude. Big n strong. Hard working. A guy worthy of admiration.

K was a Babe. An ex-beauty pageant winner. She was the eldest of a large family that had seen their father die, and then their mother pass, while the kids were still quite small. K was the caregiver of all, and when she and bigB married, their ready made family was part of the deal.

B and K had 2 sons to add to the brood. K’s 6 siblings counted 3 girls and 3 boys.

B and K worked and toiled and lived and loved. Their brood was raised working hard, being smart, never being lazy. I always and all ways admired B and K.

About 10years ago bigB fell quite ill. Well into his 70s by then, we were all warned that bigB’s time may well be up.

In and out of hospital. Numerous “treatments”. We all watched as bigB withered, shrunk, aged. It was a tough time for all close to the family.

At one point, at one very dark point, bigB decided he was not going to live much longer. A guy that had lived his life on his terms, a no compromise kinda guy to the end, big B decided he was going to “confess all” before he went to meet his maker.

The Family got called together for the “final blessing” from bigB. Time was short. It was an important time for all involved.

On his Death-Bed, bigB confessed to all that he and K’s youngest sister, Dee, had been having an ongoing affair since she was a teen.

Not an abusive affair. A loving, caring sexual, hidden affair that had been ongoing for over 30years. Hidden and unknown by any but bigB and Dee. A shared secret. Hidden meetings, innocuous trips that were not what they appeared to be, up until very recent times. All had been transacted under the watchful and trusting eye of the Family.

By this time Dee was well married with a number of kids.

With tears and histrionics and the Family listened partook in bigB’s confession.

It was very hard on everyone. K was devastated. She felt terribly betrayed by both her husband and her sister. The other siblings all had a stance, an opinion, something to say, to add to the confusion. All suffered some form of hurt if not betrayal by bigB’s confession.

It took a lot for bigB to make his admission to the Family. To profess his guilt and to ask for understanding, if not forgiveness. He got strength for it all from his illness, his impending death, his need to “come clean” before he shook his mortal coil off.

That was about 10 years ago.

And as of today, 30/12/25, bigB is still alive.

And K is still angry.

Might be some sort of lesson buried in here somewhere…

One more day before 2026…

Golly, we be getting short. way, way short. Not much of 2025 left…

A chilled, pleasant morn in my little valley. Kids and dawgs and “moms” still sleeping.

I say “moms” because we have plural mothers under one roof. When the kids ask “can I…” I say “ask a mom”.

Surprisingly cool out. Got down below 18c/ 60f over night. Won’t get too warm today. The sun is out. perfect mowing weather. For such a short, short week, I may just get something done.

Today, today’s Monday, is a strange one. We just had a long weekend filled with noise and confusion. We are heading into another short, short week and a long, long weekend… makes things confusing. Hard to keep track of time and date and tomorrow and all that sorta important adult kinda stuff. A long weekend like we just had, turns us all into children.

So I sit, think of family around the globe. Think of my youthful Cmas holidays. Walk the hallways of my past, collecting discarded thoughts and ideas from forgotten corners of the past…

I recently explained to some young friends of mine that Cmas has never been a “big thing” for me… As the middle of 9kids I had very little time in my life as the favourite, the important one, the one that got all the loot. By the time I was 7years, I had 4 younger siblings. I distinctly recall a conversation with my mother when I was quite small… Sitting on Mom’s lap, she explained the babies got all the loot, I was too old, too big. I fell for it. I let Mom convince me I didnt need to cry and complain when I saw th little ones get cool stuff.

This confused me because my elder siblings appeared to get a fair bit of loot too. They got clothes and shoes and such for school. My young accountant’s mind saw the quantity of presents before I saw the present itself. A wrapped pair of socks was still a present in my young mind.

I learned very early on not to be jealous. I never saw the sense in being upset because of something I did not receive. I never set my expectations too high. I dont really recall being too fussed with wish lists sent to Santa. I was an observer way back then. Watching folks and things and happenings, rather than emoting or being frustrated with what I saw.

I was saying, Cmas was never about the gifting in my mind… I did though really enjoy the food. My Mom was a great cook. Her Cmas season specialties were amazing. Greek Cmas cookies, varieties of chocolates and fudge. The sticky n sweet baklava was my favorite… Damn! I have not thought of Mom’s baklava for ages, and now I have a hankering… may need to whoop a batch up soon…

That was fun. A trip down memory lane and now I’m going to be thinking of baklava all day…

Thanks.

That was fun.

More later

It’s the day after, the day after, here in my valley. We’re all still recovering. 825AM and the kids are up but moving slow. The dogs are pleasantly quiet. I have a fresh pot of coffee near to hand. The day is overcast and quite chilly. Temps here going to be cool all day. Rain has been on and off. The air smells fresh, the flora is shining, the fauna is noiseless. I sit wrapped in a granny-blanket.

As this year, 2025, grinds to a close, I consider, ponder, ruminate upon a number of thoughts…

The world has appeared to have changed so, so much since I was “young”. And, of course, I have changed so, so much – since I was young…

Once, long ago, I was a builder, a do-er, a nonstop action figure that climbed ladders and swung hammers and toted and carried and mixed cement and poured footings and erected structures and welded metal… and more… Living “on the water” we knew the ocean, the weather, the reefs and the lagoons. We fished and hunted. Moving nonstop, endlessly… Being young and beautiful is a lot of work…

During this time I was too busy to be too involved with the things that were too far away, too external to my immediate needs and demands. For all of the 80s and 90s I watched, had access to zero (literally ZERO) television. I listened to the radio for “news”. Periodicals were important. Information was important.

In my elderly youth I find information easy to access. Visual, audio, written info surrounds and accosts the senses. Modern, push button info gathering is available without thought. It is an info-world of garbage in/ garbage out. Unlike my beloved set of Encyclopaedia Brittanica with its accompanying Greatest Works of Western Man, all one needs to do these days is ask a question and the answer(s) comes back AI generated. No page turning or mental sifting required.

But there is info that is substantial, like my beef roasts. Just as there is info that is candy, sugar for the brain. And like sugar rotting one’s teeth, much of what passes for info these days do rot the brain.

I find I spend a fair amount of time sifting through info, reading and ruminating… I no longer believe there to be a “trusted” source for newz, for the bluez…

Much of life is cyclical. I find that the cycles (circles) I travel through are similarly themed, and quite reoccurring… Life’s rich pageant parades past, again and again and again… Is there such a thing as “original thought”.

We were all babies that grew to toddlers, gained language and life lessons and grew into youth. I have a couple 4year old kids in my family. It’s a good age. They are competent humans, almost. I have a couple 10year old kids around too. They are more than competent. You can leave the 4year olds with them, sometimes, if you’re lucky.

And life grows and changes and ages and matures… My biological self is aging. My joints ache, my old injuries, my scars, my past mistakes are all well known. Very evident.

As I approach 70 years of age, I begin to agree with my old friend, W.E., who states that there is early youth, middle youth, and later youth. According to him I have passed my youth and middle youth, am currently enjoying my later youth.

An old smart-assed line comes to mind… “You are only young once, but can be immature forever”.

And the beat goes on… only a couple more sleeps until 2026…

Smiles

Damn!, I say Damn!

CMas day this side of the planet… 924Am and the house is almost quiet…

Up early cranking on the traditional cinnamon rolls. Have Connie and her son, Brimstone, Don’s big girls, Dawn and Vera, plus Paul and Betsy (their 2 girls are with grannies in Munda). The “night before” was a bit confusing with folks still running around until past dark, so we didnt get set up and sorted as early as I’d liked.

I’d mixed the dough, knocked it down and rolled it a bit before they got home. I was not sure if they’d come home hungry or not so I had not cooked. They did come home early so I BBQ’d a pile of steaks. It worked. No complaints were heard. These kids are conivorous.

Later I dressed the to-be-breakfast up, and got it rolled an into the baking pan. Love the smell of fresh dough and cinnamon.

Put it all in the refrigerator and, rather drunkenly, went to bed at some unknown, too late hour.

About 5am I woke thinking “shit” and rushed to see the pan of nice smelling rolls out on the counter. I’d half expected to find them still in the refrigerator. They did need to come out and rise before baking. Gracie had beat me to it.

I turned the oven on and dozed in my chair a bit before popping all in the oven.

The smell of the caramelised butter and sugar brought the family out from their beds.

Was told they were “the best ever”.

By 8 or so, everyone had assembled, we had breakfasted, then got into the presents under the tree.

By 930 things had settle down.

The kids spent the entire day in their pyjamas. So did Gracie. They all had the big front room to sort n investigate and play with their gifts, which included; a big lego set, a number of action figure dolls, a steam engine kit, a wooden puzzle of DiVinci’s helicopter, a number books and coloured pens and pencils.

Paul built the helicopter and we fired up the steam engine. Dawn put the lego set together. Brimstone and Vera played and laughed.

By noon… Connie and Betsy were working on a 1000pc puzzle and drinking champaign. Paul had disappeared down stairs to snooze. The kids played individually and as a group all day long. No tears, no worries, no conflict… something must be wrong!

The afternoon went slowly, easily. It was over 30c/ 90f outside, and very humid. So aircons running, we spent the day inside. By late afternoon a good squall blew through. Dropped 30mm/ 1inch of rain in 30 minutes, and cooled things down.

I put a big hunk of beast in the oven. These kids are serious carnivores. Made a great gravy out of the drippings. A simple supper ending a worthy day of CMassing.

This morn we all move slow. I slept until after 8am. It’s now 10am. Connie is whopping up breakfast from the leftovers. I’ll finish this off and then go out and see what I can do. Weather spins around us. Going to have another squall or two, me thinks. I’ll spend some time outside. Always something to get done.

Next stop 2026…

See you there.

More later

25th of the 12th this side of the planet.

My Evil Twin granddaughters woke up early proclaiming “Merry Christmas Eve morning”.

I’m whooping up pancakes…

My pancakes are tailored. Made one at a time.

I just sent the Evil Ones to wake the Moms up. It is 744am.

My two Evil Little helpers:

Merry Christmas Eve morning to one and all…