Trawling through the past...

I have jigged around my work days - crammed all of my official "work" hours into 3 days. This means instead of me being out of the house for 4 full days (I always ended up running around and not getting home ever before 4.30pm) I am home after 5.30pm on those 3 days, but on one day of the week - Wednesday - I can do "me" stuff.

I know. What a horrible mother. Making my day for "me" a childcare day... Still, I have a 100% Paris-friendly Friday (used to be Monday), and the real bonus is a one (or two) on one afternoon a week for 'Salina.

I find sometimes I miss her the most.

The first week that I undertook such a Wednesday was last week. I had plans. The sewing machine my mother had bought for my birthday (I know - spoilt AS!!! Thanks Mum!) had not been removed from the box and taken for a spin, and that is exactly what a (relatively) child-free "me" day calls for.

Unfortunately, one of my jobs is a small role with a community group - and trying to get input and information from a committee of volunteers (and extremely busy people in real life) can be a juggling act, and half of my Wednesday - and most importantly the afternoon section starring 'Salina - was stripped away.

That meant that last week, I spent a few quality hours going through all of my sewing stuff (over 10 years of "what I used to be" thrust into boxes for when I got the time) and a short half-hour fixing 3 skirts and expanding (at least the bottom half) of my wardrobe 100%.

This week, I was really REALLY determined to have a "me" day. Well, I was determined to a point - because I realise that the concept of "me" must include all of the paperwork detrius that has started to weigh upon my psyche (at least that part that is counting on a decent tax return to tick a few things off the list) and so today - I tidied the office (with nary a football team to prosper by it).

As V is using the spare room/office for his study at the moment (even as I type), I brought all of the boxes that my office had been stuffed into about 2 years ago, when we rearranged the house for the advent of a baby in our lives...

I took photos of that - you'll see them if I have time to download them (I am all about time and motion today).

I threw out whole swathes of "why the heck did I keep that". Do you know that I finally bit the bullet and binned 69 floppy disks. I don't have access to a computer that would take them, and even if that were possible, I finally erred on the side of "no" when I asked myself if I really NEEDED 7 boot and 4 rescue disks for operating systems that were obsolete. I even agreed that is was possible that neither I nor anyone else would really want to look back upon assignments and notes from Tafe courses I studied a few years ago.

(Okay, I did keep 7 - but they have important stuff like my poetry on them).

I also put together all of the "I can't part with this due to sentimentality" into only a few boxes and put them up into that cupboard that has room. I know, a little bit moving the deckchairs, but it takes a while for me to let go of stuff - just ask V.

By lunchtime, I realised that the job I had undertaken was a 2-parter, and it would be better to succeed at the first (which I had, thank you very much) and fill the remaining hours with

• pegging clothes,
• printing a few photos for a few frames found and deserving of being used - a task I never REALLY seem to get around to (obviously, its not genetic),
• transfer all the information from an dead computer's hard drive to a new external drive in case I need any of the files, and
• blog

Sure beats going through the paperwork that precipitated the original task!! Oh well, there is always next week...

Finally, I will leave you with 2 things - a question: - what do you do on "me" days? - and a rant - from 13.5 years ago. I was so arty, it really did start mid-sentence.

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Diary entry –

Saturday 28th (February, 1998)
… ex-wife don’t get on, and now I know WHY” scene most often ends this merry-go-round.

I believe in being upfront and honest when entering new Love’s domain. This includes “I’ve got a kid”, “I’m only in town for another month” (and “I am not married”), “Let’s see what happens and…” (sorry about harping on about the state – recurring nightmare).

But, hey, there comes a point when a girl can dream – share a bed; breakfast together – alone; the next twenty years; matching plots – okay, I never go that far. But the fertile plains of the imagination are never dormant – unless blighted.

Even the most simple girl like me has her fantasies.

To be allowed to wallow in those fields is the most forbidden luxury… unless
I’m talking about a certain commitment, men. A sort of right here, right now – a decision. Shall we cut the safety ropes together and push offshore?

And then, the stupid bastards run, don’t they? Dust. Cut out impressions on the door. Maybe it’s the delivery?

Boom. Back to the caves and rocks, and I go back to the mill. Churn out another bastard poem.

That would make this The July Post

Ah yes, over another month and what to show for it?

Well, nothing really, because I just dyed away all visible evidence of the month that was!!

Oh, I slay myself.

Anyway, update from us is not much to blog about.

We went on holidays (and actually was PAID during that time for the first time in 18 years - the joy of being a permanent rather than casual employee). Of course,I did ensure I got approval for holidays by promising to be back at work for one day in the middle to pay everyone. So my 2 weeks holidays was actually 2 blocks of 6 days...

For our first block of 6, we had to wait a day for 'Salina to finish school, so with the day travel there and the day travel back, we had 3 days in Brisbane. In the intial planning stages there was an original intent of running around like mad things trying to catch up with everyone. Luckily (?!) I was not organised as I would have wished, and therefore we had a leisurely catch up with only a few very special people.

The second break saw us travel to visit various members of my family (including my sister). It was great to spend a longer time with them rather than a weekend, as it allowed Paris time to actually thaw and interact (with most).

Paris is a rather shy creature, startled by sudden movements and overt displays of tomfoolery. In fact, even the catching of the eye will result in her defensive posture - assume the invisibility cloak and melt into the shoulder of whoever she is being held by (or has been begged to hold her).

It was actually a relief that both our Brisbane "family" and those related by blood got time to witness that she does indeed make sound (and some of it is very intelligible) and is an interactive - if extremely wary - toddler.

Since being back, I have been immersed in work and the garden - since the very wet Summer we had when our vegetable gardens slid into what we referred to as "Lake Paradise", the yard has been a wasteland of neglect. Many hours and a few sore muscles later, it is now a wasteland of attention, with piles of dirt awaiting redistribution once we work out where a vegetable patch or two may be most viable. We do have some rather grand plans, just awaiting a few grand resources to plant them.

I don't talk a great deal about work on here - and that is because long diatribes get edited. And then edited a bit more.



All in all, its a bit of a see-saw.

Duck Day

Yesterday was sort of a duck day.

Every time we thought the sun was out to stay - the clouds would come and threaten.

Hence we were cooped - especially when both girls have annoying coughs and the rain from the day before meant a very wet yard.

That didn't hinder all activity, however.

I pat myself on the back for ticking one large box of complete rearrangement of the spare room so I can contemplate my sewing piles and access the machine.

V employed a hammer very effectively, and we now have rope under the house AND 'Salina has 3 things hanging ON her walls rather than propped.

Not only is the floor now devoid of those 3 things, but 'Salina even got her room into that mythical space of "being proud of it" for a few minutes in a row!

And Paris? Well, she loved the freedom of finding the spare room's true space and it is rumoured that she is scoping it for her bedroom sometime in Spring.

But what about the ducks?

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Well, we love the ducks here, as they are easy to recognize (important with a toddler), easy to imitate (see earlier note) and don't mind a bit of grazing in the parkland near to our house and viewable from our windows.

Yesterday there were many ducks. This story would no doubt have been more accessible with a photo or two, but I hand it to you, dear readers, that your minds are able to click a few images as I regale.

Two doors down from us is a crossroads with a little bridge. Across from us is park. Yesterday there were many ducks, so many that there was a large mob on the flat farther along the road, a middling mob across the flood drain and a small mob across the road near the crossroads.

"Look" I shouted out to my family (because although the distances within the house are small, the walls are ingeneously placed so the only method of communication between rooms - other than the logical walking three steps to a doorway - is to yell. Well, that is my story).

"Look," I shouted. "Look at all the ducks".

Unfortunately when I went out to the balcony, I noticed another natural development that was not so cute. Two 12 year old boys (and I know they were around 12, as at least 1 of them is in 'Salina's year at school) had delayed their scooting on our side of the little bridge and were THROWING ROCKS at the ducks.

"Oi" I yelled (even louder than the internal shout). "That's not very smart."

They did hear me - one paused, the other seemed to think that being dumb was reason enough to continue with his stupidity.

V came out to the balcony and, with full boom, emitted "BOOOOOOOO. BOOOOOOOOO."

Magically, the boys dropped rocks, grabbed vehicles and scooted the heck out of dodge.

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Epilogue One
Late in the afternoon, it was noticed the same two boys slowly dawdling along the road. Funnily enough, they hopped on their scooters and were rather quick in passing our house. I don't particularly mind being "the crazy folk", especially in the eyes of adolescent boys - we shall continue use the power for good.

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Epilogue Two
While flicking around during an ad break last night, we caught some of a Gorilla documentary.

In hushed tones, we were advised that one particular gorilla was "an adolescent now, and probably looking for trouble".

We laughed at the parallels with great apes and rock-throwing boys.

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What are your tips (apart from terrorising fowl foul youths) to get through those not quite rainy/not quite hale days?

Insert interesting title here

Oh my goodness - I thought it had been a little while since I had blogged, but it has been BIG while, hasn't it?

It just seems my free time in front of this thing is about nada - most mornings I am up and out of the house by 7.30am, my getting back time until flop time is fairly filled with activities around getting the girls fed, clothed, clean and cosy.

I do, on occasion, check one or two blogs - with comments these days I am very slack!! Generally, though, I try to spend a bit of time with V or just collapse.

Mind you, we have had time to all come down with gastro a short while ago - and I am planning on having a holiday from work when school holidays come around in four weeks (my first PAID holiday since 1992 - woo hoo) and actually doing fun stuff with my family.

Getting my groove back

Ah, and I truly wish that it was of the creative and bloggity blog variety...

It may well be I will get my sewing groove back next week when my beautiful mother comes to visit and find my birthday present with me.

And one day I will get my beauty queen groove back, because my sister gave me some Pamper Yourself (with a facial and a pedicure) vouchers for the same occasion (it a few weeks ago - I snuck it by).

But I can assure you that the cranky-butt induced-by-bureacracy groove got a great workout yesterday...

Let me set the scene.

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Recently, we have had a spate of Public Holidays - which is actually relevant to the story.

On the Tuesday post the long long weekend held for my birthday containing both Easter and Anzac Day, I discovered that the biggest bureacracy in the country (known hereabouts as "The Evil Empire") wanted to see a document, and by the tone of the letter, they wanted to see it NOW. Of course, NOW is relative, as it had been sent by the office in the nearest town via an office in Sydney, and dated just prior to the long long weekend - so 5 days of my "NOW" deadline was already in the gray.

So they wanted to see it very soon - and given that I have several jobs that pay by the hour (and bosses that want me to work the hours I am slated to do) PLUS another long weekend shoving all of my slated hours into continuous slog during all of their opening hours, I had to delay my fulfilment of their demand until yesterday when I could spare a half hour between jobs.

One of the problems with going in to the offices of EE is the congregation of other patrons who brings out the hidden snob within me (and possibly of us all). I am sure if there was a one-way mirror opportunity there would be HOURS of fun in just looking at the masses and working out who was there due to bad luck, who was there because due to circumstance and who was there as a career path... Unfortunately they haven't yet tapped into the money making opportunity such voyeurism offers, and therefore they seek fun in putting stressed cranky cows into the mix.

Another of the downsides is there is always a queue. It seemed innocuous - there were only about 7 people between the end and the other end when I was directed to join it and there were 2 people serving. Logically, that should inspire hope - unfortunately, logic (and indeed hope) are not options that were budgeted...

While the 7 people inching encrutiatingly towards the end goal were an irritation, the folk being funnelled into the line behind me were - well, let me just say that had the queue been a dark alley, I would have looked around for the cast of CSI to join us...

How long should it take 2 people to serve 7 people, do you think?

No, I wouldn't have thought over half an hour either - by which time, my allotted "between 2 jobs" free time was fast running through the glass - but I was at the head of the line (which now contained over 20 people to my rear) - and so it was with a degree of joy that I greeted the counter clerk with a hale "hooray, lucky this is an easy job - per the letter, here is the document, take your copy and I will begone in a jiffy" - well, I may not have used those EXACT words, but be assured, my greeting was upbeat and perhaps a contrast to the atmosphere.

It was obvious from the outset that such an attitude created quite some confusion with the clerk, and it seemed to the detriment of the whole process - so used to a snarl and a thrust of problems, she decided that the situation needed a few problems inserted into it.

"You need to take a seat over there and wait for someone to see you." she told me.

Now, I have been reading for a few years now, and nowhere in the missive I had been posted did it say "come in and we will waste your time for you" - had it done so, I would have wasted a few hours (possibly paid - I can multi-skill, especially when all but 5 minutes of that time would be on hold) to their call centre and made an appointment - because that is what people do when they don't have time to waste.

I told her no - it may be that I said it in a tone that she was more comfortable with, rather than the joviality that had set her astir in the first place - but she was not to be appeased.

On the letter, there was an option of sending the document to the office that I was standing in, so I asked if it were possible then to do this? Unfortunately I had stirred the power-dragon of bureacracy concealed within her meek demeanour, and set upon wasting my precious moments was she and denied that the letter would allow her to use such an initiative.

At an impasse, a passing clerk offered the alternative of giving me an envelope so that I could post the document to them - which was found and passed over to me with a dismissive gesture.

Now the truly curious thing? The envelope (reply paid - thank you EE) was addressed to a different address to the office I had been in - indeed, it was not even the office that had passed the letter through to me, but a third.

But you know what? I got them in the end. Oh yes, I had to write a cover letter for it - and I am the Queen of Passive Aggressive letter writers.