Insomnia-manial Interludes in the Early Morn...

(or, how Jeanie's Machiavellian mind conspires with 2014 to unveil the secret project)

Good evening - or rather, should I say, good morning, for the dial as just tipped past the 1:18am mark - I know this, as I have checked on its progress for the past 78 minutes.

Part of the past 78 minutes has been spent thus:

• Me: Perhaps if I lie on this side and clear my mind...


• Mind: ANOTHER BRILLIANT IDEA - WHAT IF WE HOP ONTO THE BLOG AND BLAG WHAT IS GOING TO HAPPEN


• Me: Shhhh - I am trying to sleep.  How about I try flat on my back and meditate...


• Mind: we can't go to sleep just now, we have to brainstorm - I have this surge of ideas that just require a bounce around.


• Me: Can you do it without me?


• Mind: no, no, no, no, no - it is only 25 days until that thing and IDEAS need IMPLEMENTATION!


• Me: But really, we are talking about a dream -


• Mind: that wasn't going to happen until you grasped the nettle.


• Me: I know.  I can't believe I did that.


• Mind: I can.


• Me: Its your fault.  We could have stayed safe and invisible and just paddled through 2014 the way we have paddled through -


• Mind: for 27 bloddy years.  ENOUGH. E-bloddy-NOUGH.


• Me: but its so easy making excuses.


• Mind: kicking the comfort zone out of the way now, honey - one, two...


• Me: You are being too bossy!


• Mind: That is because I AM the boss now.  No more pussy-footing around.  It's announcement  time, baby!!!


• Me: Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! La la la la la la la la la....







• Me: Now look what you have done.


• Mind: Three.  tee hee hee hee

The Curse of the Footwear Strikes Again

I was walking in to work recently - over this holidays I have had a few days here and there for an old employer - feeling like a million bucks but with the smirk of one who had outlayed less than ten.

The shirt was a gift from a good friend - it always feels good to wear something received in such a manner, I find.

The skirt was an absolute bargain at the local Vinnies.  Four dollars.

And the shoes!  The shoes were only four dollars and fifty cents!

You may recall, I don't go shoe shopping lightly.

In fact, I find it much easier to NEVER go shoe shopping - sure, it means my footwear options are rather limited and the few forays into shoe shops are generally urgent and without the required therapy beforehand.

However - however, I was in the local Vinnies and bumped into a friend.  She is not so backwards in such pursuits, and ALWAYS checks the racks for good finds.

"What size are you?" she enquired.

She immediately found TWO pairs that fit me a'la Cinderella.  Two pairs that were almost brand new.

The rhymes-with-witch at the counter (who could have done with a bit of Saint in her attitude) however almost caused my shoe buying journey into meltdown with an accusation of trying to diddle them out of some revenue, as one of the pairs wasn't marked at the right price - so I emerged with only one pair - but hey, I bought ONE pair of shoes when I wasn't even looking.  Go me.

So there I was, jauntily (if you will believe) sauntering in to work, making small talk with the boss and the beautiful receptionist and the boys out the back and the birds were singing and everything was right with the world.

You know what is coming, right?

Planets never align like that without a little entropy for fun...

I heard extra footsteps as I walked, and I looked down, and one of my almost brand new shoes was flapping.

I eeked appropriately, so I went out to the workshop area to see if I could find anything to fix my problem.

I did find plenty of spray lubricant, but no spray adhesive.

While looking, the pair went out in sympathy, so I was double-flapping while searching.

And then - well, then I saved myself an embarrassing wait at the local Mister Minit while he resoled my shoe.

I fixed it with something from the office.

Do you think I could start a trend?

2014 boxes to tick...

Yeah, pretty late in putting up a "Happy New Year" post - but then, that is okay.  One of my 2014 boxes is to be a little realistic in the bars I set myself. 

I fail. I often do, but I do need to give myself a break on the self-beatings regarding it.  This year, I am going to try and turn my failures into lessons, and even if it means just a simple "well, not going to try THAT again" then darn it, I might glean something.

I do have blog posts I was MEANT TO post in draft, just waiting for inspiration - but they aren't out there yet because I didn't have the necessary mojo.  That is okay - one day perhaps those draft posts might see light of day.  Or not.  Writing them at the time served a purpose, even if it was to learn when not to hit "Publish".

(One of the "meant to" posts is in regard to the Dip that Bush Babe mentioned in her Christmas post - yeah, I know, weeks ago - and I would link but her site is currently crashed out - which will happen as it was YUM.  Another of the "meant to" posts was for the Garden Share Collective,  but the wind and the heartbreak of the garden at the moment really kyboshed anything happening.  I have hopes for next month and there are blooms on the Lime Tree, but Northerlies, Grasshoppers and Powdery Mildew are seeping it badly)

I finally got offered a decent enough contract for paid work to relax on that front (the joys of temping), so will be doing some work towards setting up my own business website in my downtime to build something before that contract ends.  Don't try don't get, hey?

I also have another project in the works that, if it comes off, I will let you all know about.  he he he.

And on top of that, I plan to perhaps do some study so that I have a bit of paper to go with a swag of skills that I do have but can't offer because they changed the requirement for a piece of paper.

So, a post that isn't a post about nothing at all - but it breaks the duck.

Hello 2014 - lovely to see you.

The Quadrennial Parisienne Review

I know here in internet land, there are those who are primed to see amazing feats of childhood dreams being breathed into life with matching straws and dispensers of spun sugar.

If you are from this category of fish, its probably best to look away now.  We didn't do that to celebrate 4 years of having Paris in our lives.

Actually, we didn't really "celebrate" at all internet style.

We just awoke at 6am at her request and did her bidding all day - pretty much an average day in Paradise.

 

It has been four years of joy,

smiles,

and love.

She lights up our lives

and adds colour and sunshine to our days.

We made fairy cakes,

she got some new wheels,

we went and ate junk food together in the park,

and she got lasagne and mango (separately) for dinner.

Why did the duck cross the road... or Shoe Part 4 I suppose...)

I would like to announce that the season of Christmas Shopping has officially now launched in Paradise.

I know.  Early this year.

("Christmas Decorations as viewed by Paris" - by Paris)

---

I have heard rumours that some people apparently finish their shopping for the festive season in October.  Sheesh.

Where is the fun in that?

What do people do on Christmas Eve if they are not wrapping presents and hyperventilating about enough stuff and more than enough stuff?

---

I like to approach a Christmas quietly for as long as possible.  Sneak up on it.

If it knows you are there, it will try to extract as much festive spirit - or as the agents of christmasitalism call it, profit - from you as possible.

The pickings leaning towards any -isms profitting from me do tend to be rather stringy and lacking in substance.  Therefore I have learned I cannot stand up to protracted scrutiny from such suckers, and so quietly with an air of disinterest is the only approach possible.

It is not just through fear of being parted from the filthy lucre that makes me pause, though.  I know what the combination of spending, me, and the term "sucker" have, and I actually suffer from a rare (however very rarely fatal) condition, where I am a woman who does not enjoy shopping for the sake of spending.

(I will let you in on a secret - there are more of us out there than you think)

As a result, I am a hugely unsuccessful shopper.

---

However, even I surprised myself with my launch* this year.

It has been a week - nay, ten days - oh, what the heck, nigh on over a year of crap being dumped in my general vicinity.  Not aimed directly at me (all the time) but close enough to make an impact on the otherwise smooth and uneventful perambulations of my life.

The little, niggly stuff amped up a bit over the last week - speeding fine (again, so not my fault), death, confirmation of a friend finale (not due to death), dental dramas, pre-menstrual psychosis - okay, perhaps the lady doth over-exaggerate, but if there is a bad guy aiming stink bombs, they were hitting fairly frigging close to the bone.

So today, all armed with the knowledge that the proposed budget is in the black until at least 2014 ** and listed up, Paris and I set forth on the inaugural shop.

 

(not an actual representation of the list.  I am not giving anyone Vinegar for Christmas this year)

---

My shoe broke.

My freaking shoe BROKE.  I was strong.  I did not take it as a sign.

It was not a SIGN.

(if you look closely, you can see a mob of kangaroos behind this sign)

It did, however, mean that, rather than striding into the first store of my chevy, I approached in a more disheveled manner, broken shoes in hand to PROVE that ferality was not my natural state (well, not for the last few years, anyway) but still bowed by the sneers of the righteous folk lined up at Santa's Kiosk and exiting the bottle-shop near the entrance of the Shopping Centre.

Now, I had actually budgeted for a pair of shoes.  For Paris.  My footwear has not been pencilled in, therefore whatever is spent in the shodding must be spent with care and an eye to very low financial impact.

I have before mentioned my shoe shopping phobias, have I not?  Here and here.  This one is nothing about shopping for shoes, but emphasizes that should the universal conspiracy have been looking for something that is going to just make my life a little bit more stressy, go for the footwear.  The girl sucks BIG TIME at shoe shopping.

Let me just say that I am actually not TOO much poorer, as a result.

My total footwear range has expanded, it is true...  however, we would have to describe the trajectory of style and show of social standing as in a Southerly direction, with the other major shoe factor, comfort, not really offering any redemption in the selection I ended up with.

Am rethinking my declination of the feral status.

---

*  Allow me to confess to three transgressions:

• I actually used the internet to contact Santa and arrange his part in one Parisian delight;
• Whilst shopping for 'Salina's birthday I inadvertently overbought at one store (it was an excellent deal); and
• I have hatched a scheme for several of the recipients of the darts of my goodwill that has required an assembly of materials - and I have procured the materials.

 ** a year that I hold much higher hopes for.