Nuts Ahoy!

Remember that old saying that "for want of a nail a horse was lost"? It was said a lot in days of yore and was a 15^th Century precursor to the Chaos theory. I remember having to write an essay on it for my third form English exam.

Well this week I experienced fully blown Chaos theory up close and personal; and for want of a peanut a house was lost! All because of my silly mother-in-law.

She and I have never been the cosiest of couples; we definitely rub along.  The only reason that our mutual indifference hasn't turned into a war is because of our shared adoration of Josh and Alex. And that we live in sunny Sydney while she survives chilly Melbourne also helps. Somehow I knew her offer to fly to Sydney to "help out" with our planned auction purchase of our Pavilion Dream house in Kensington spelt doom as soon as Josh told me.

She arrived at 6:30 a.m. on Saturday (four days before the auction) and was soon ensconced on the floor of Alex's room on our inflatable Aero bed. Apart from telling me how to run a healthier and cleaner house and just how lucky I was to marry Josh (wasn't he lucky too?), all was going fine.

The auction at Di Jones Real Estate of our dream house was this Tuesday at 6:30 p.m. At 5:30 p.m, my parents arrived at our house to discuss auction tactics (don't forget to register to bid; don't bid twice in a row; don't bid lower than the last bid). I provided a cup of tea and a fresh batch of my yummy peanut cookies to fortify us; my parents said they'd shout us all dinner at Love Supreme afterwards to celebrate or not, as the case may be.

At 6:15 p.m. we were all ready to go and my mother-law-assisted in the clean up by eating all the left-over cookies.

Everyone headed to their cars while she followed me to the kitchen. I was putting the dirty cups in the dishwasher and she was mid-sentence telling me why dishwashing liquid was so much better than the dishwashing tablets I used when she suddenly stopped talking. That was strange enough in itself, but I counted my blessings and closed the dishwasher door with a thud. I turned and grabbed my handbag and keys. I looked up, about to tell her to get a wriggle on. Dear old Shirley was as blue as the tongue on a blue tongue lizard! She had stopped halfway through her diatribe to draw breath and had inhaled half a cookie.

She was choking! What should I do? The auction started in 15 minutes. Sorely tempted as I was to keep on walking to the car (I really wanted this house), I let my conscience have free reign and spun Shirley around, attempting the Heimlich manoeuvre (or my version of it) to dislodge the peanut cookie.  No dice. I tried again. The wheezing continued, the breathing didn't.

This was serious. I raced to the cars outside, with their motors on and called for assistance from my family while Shirley did a crazy dance of distress across the kitchen linoleum. In an eye blink they were back. Josh tried the Heimlich too then put his fingers down her throat trying to dislodge the cookie, to no avail. It was a terrible thing to see, I must admit. He pulled out her dentures by mistake and they sat smiling at us from the kitchen table. My mum made worried noises and my dad range 000 from his mobile. Alex saved the day. He had learnt First Aid at school that week, when the Red Cross people came and discussed safety rules. He went up to his granny and hit her hard on the back. Five times. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. On the fifth bang, the cookie dislodged, flying through the air, jettisoning peanuts on the way before it landed in a sodden heap on the table next to Shirley's teeth. Shirley breathed freely. Yippee! If I knew that the calamity could have been solved by repeatedly hitting her hard on the back, I would have definitely done it myself.

Shirley was distressed and insisted we take her to the hospital. I did feel sorry for her as it must have been so scary. But it was already 6:30 p.m. and we would miss the auction! But duty prevailed. Josh is a good son and I am a dutiful daughter-in-law. Mum and Dad looked after Alex, taking him back to their lovely furnished short-term rental apartment for a sleep over. So on Tuesday night Josh and I didn't bid on our dream home in Kensington, we sat next to sick people in the Emergency ward at St Vincent's Hospital with his mother. We didn't have champagne and pizza, we had crisps and coffee from the hospital machine. His mother saw the doctor after four hours. He said she was fine.

Gary Sands and Jane Schumann from Di Jones called while we were at the hospital to see why we weren't at the auction as we had appeared so keen. We explained our dilemma and Gary explained that we could have sent my Dad along with an authority to bid on our behalf. Drats! He was ever so nice though and the next day, following a phone call out of courtesy letting us know that the home indeed had been sold last night, a bunch of flowers was delivered to my house to wish my mother-in-law good health.

Oh well, on the positive side of things, Shirley goes back to Melbourne today, bustling with energy (the flowers must have worked) and I will have every good reason to continue with my weekly Open for Inspection Girl dreamings.....