Tuesday 31 July 2007
Saving Juliet
I have no idea how to combine a pic with a workable link, so I've put a hard text link in and there's a working linky down below.
The aliens have landed
I have been taken over by a pressing need to nest.
One minute, I was minding my own business, and the next thing I knew, my fridge was sparkling, my utensil drawer was a shadow of it's former self, and there is a rather large bill for Tupperware on my Visa. Stuff is being turfed left, right and centre, I'm starting to ponder the (future) redesign of my kitchen, and Al and I are doing battle over whether the mis-matched cushions in the lounge are going bye-bye (really, it's just an exercise in allowing the husband to give in gracefully. The cushions are going bye-bye). He likes his squashed, clashing cushions, but then he's also used to dealing with a wife, so I'm pretty sure he realises he's just arguing on principal at this point, and that I'm just arguing back because I like it. He's probably surprised that he doesn't have new cushions already (which is because I lined up some gorgeous ones the other day, but they were $100.00 each. Ahem. And, that was on sale too. Now, I have to find something I like just as much. (It's like the overnight bag dilemma. I've wanted/needed one for about 2 years, but I found one last Christmas which was worthy of actual worship ...and it was $1,000.00. Now, do you think I can find anything I like even half as much for an amount that's not more than my fortnightly mortgage? No. Of course.)
I'd like to put the nesting down to the imminence of spring, but I think it's actually about finally making my home my home, not my home pending children.
Or, you know, it could also be just that I hadn't cleaned the fridge in a while, and there's a level of horror associated with finding a plum sauce that expired four years ago that propels one to also clean out the pantry, and it just snowballs from there.
One minute, I was minding my own business, and the next thing I knew, my fridge was sparkling, my utensil drawer was a shadow of it's former self, and there is a rather large bill for Tupperware on my Visa. Stuff is being turfed left, right and centre, I'm starting to ponder the (future) redesign of my kitchen, and Al and I are doing battle over whether the mis-matched cushions in the lounge are going bye-bye (really, it's just an exercise in allowing the husband to give in gracefully. The cushions are going bye-bye). He likes his squashed, clashing cushions, but then he's also used to dealing with a wife, so I'm pretty sure he realises he's just arguing on principal at this point, and that I'm just arguing back because I like it. He's probably surprised that he doesn't have new cushions already (which is because I lined up some gorgeous ones the other day, but they were $100.00 each. Ahem. And, that was on sale too. Now, I have to find something I like just as much. (It's like the overnight bag dilemma. I've wanted/needed one for about 2 years, but I found one last Christmas which was worthy of actual worship ...and it was $1,000.00. Now, do you think I can find anything I like even half as much for an amount that's not more than my fortnightly mortgage? No. Of course.)
I'd like to put the nesting down to the imminence of spring, but I think it's actually about finally making my home my home, not my home pending children.
Or, you know, it could also be just that I hadn't cleaned the fridge in a while, and there's a level of horror associated with finding a plum sauce that expired four years ago that propels one to also clean out the pantry, and it just snowballs from there.
Monday 30 July 2007
Oh, what a week
First, is anyone else having heart palpitations over it being August this week? As in, somehow, almost two thirds of 2007 is over? Bleurg.
Last week at work was one out of the books, so although I apologise for my bloggy slackness, I honestly didn't have the energy to string a sentence together. Very uncool. By Friday afternoon, about the only thing on my mind was hybernating for the entire weekend.
Up until last week, we were still surviving in the warehouse on temp staff, which was about as successful as you can imagine (the general rule of thumb with temp staff is that they're temp staff for a reason). Aside from the imbecile factor, they're generally wimps in one sense or another, and our latest fell over (figuratively) on Tuesday, so Wednesday through Friday (his words - he had to work too hard) I was covering both office and warehouse. Again. It may not sound like much, but I was unbelievably stretched trying to cover it all, and when you think that our lightest warehouse item (excluding roofing accessories such as drains and wotnot) is 15kg? Ug. And, of course, coming into end of month, all admin work has to be absolutely spot on and up to date as well, so by Friday afternoon, I was not in a good way mentally or physically. I was lifting and shifting throughout the second half of the week, as a rule, between one third and two thirds of my body weight. No wonder I dropped 2kg in a week! (yay for dropping 2kg in a week)
Still, I did it. A bit of No. 8 wire mentality, and I was there.
I also went shopping on my expense account. Hooray for Moochi's website, reliable sizing and helpful staff. I imagine my manager will have fifty fits when he sees the bill, but it won't get back to me, so all in all, I'm quite cheerful about that side of things. Besides, do you have any idea what a company pays a temp agency for a warehouse chimp for a week? They got the better deal, believe me. I tossed up throwing some shoes in as well, but after a quick(ish) do I/don't I debate, I went with don't I. We'll see how this week plays out.
The Sales Manager in Auckland went completely spacko at the GM on Friday night about the general situation last week, and it seemed that we may well have a permanent employee starting today, although, as of about 10 minutes ago, the agency hadn't even made contact with said potential employee, so it's looking really good from where I'm sitting.
Still, I'm upright and speaking coherently, which is an improvement on Friday night.
Last week at work was one out of the books, so although I apologise for my bloggy slackness, I honestly didn't have the energy to string a sentence together. Very uncool. By Friday afternoon, about the only thing on my mind was hybernating for the entire weekend.
Up until last week, we were still surviving in the warehouse on temp staff, which was about as successful as you can imagine (the general rule of thumb with temp staff is that they're temp staff for a reason). Aside from the imbecile factor, they're generally wimps in one sense or another, and our latest fell over (figuratively) on Tuesday, so Wednesday through Friday (his words - he had to work too hard) I was covering both office and warehouse. Again. It may not sound like much, but I was unbelievably stretched trying to cover it all, and when you think that our lightest warehouse item (excluding roofing accessories such as drains and wotnot) is 15kg? Ug. And, of course, coming into end of month, all admin work has to be absolutely spot on and up to date as well, so by Friday afternoon, I was not in a good way mentally or physically. I was lifting and shifting throughout the second half of the week, as a rule, between one third and two thirds of my body weight. No wonder I dropped 2kg in a week! (yay for dropping 2kg in a week)
Still, I did it. A bit of No. 8 wire mentality, and I was there.
I also went shopping on my expense account. Hooray for Moochi's website, reliable sizing and helpful staff. I imagine my manager will have fifty fits when he sees the bill, but it won't get back to me, so all in all, I'm quite cheerful about that side of things. Besides, do you have any idea what a company pays a temp agency for a warehouse chimp for a week? They got the better deal, believe me. I tossed up throwing some shoes in as well, but after a quick(ish) do I/don't I debate, I went with don't I. We'll see how this week plays out.
The Sales Manager in Auckland went completely spacko at the GM on Friday night about the general situation last week, and it seemed that we may well have a permanent employee starting today, although, as of about 10 minutes ago, the agency hadn't even made contact with said potential employee, so it's looking really good from where I'm sitting.
Still, I'm upright and speaking coherently, which is an improvement on Friday night.
Friday 27 July 2007
Back by popular demand ...
... on Monday. Sorry.
Chaos is still reigning supreme in my world.
On the plus side (for me at least), Management at work have been told that my expense account is going to be taking a beating over the weekend, and that they will be meeting the bill. They're still getting off light.
Sometimes I think they're (and by 'they're', I mean head office management) completely torn between wishing they'd never hired the angry little redhead in Auckland, and marvelling at what I can actually achieve when the heat is on.
And on that note, I have to run. Literally.
Chaos is still reigning supreme in my world.
On the plus side (for me at least), Management at work have been told that my expense account is going to be taking a beating over the weekend, and that they will be meeting the bill. They're still getting off light.
Sometimes I think they're (and by 'they're', I mean head office management) completely torn between wishing they'd never hired the angry little redhead in Auckland, and marvelling at what I can actually achieve when the heat is on.
And on that note, I have to run. Literally.
Thursday 26 July 2007
Wednesday 25 July 2007
The photos ...
Seriously, you cannot imagine how those treats stink (like my pink bench?).
And, in case you didn't believe me the other day about the dog hairs - the pasty pink background is actually my leg, and that black line is one of Jack's dog hairs firmly lodged under my skin.
Aaannnd, in case you didn'y believe that, here's a pic of me pulling the hair out.
Jack (unsuccessfully) using the force to will the treats off the bench. You can just see Jess to the right.
And, in case you didn't believe me the other day about the dog hairs - the pasty pink background is actually my leg, and that black line is one of Jack's dog hairs firmly lodged under my skin.
Aaannnd, in case you didn'y believe that, here's a pic of me pulling the hair out.
Tuesday 24 July 2007
The things we do
A couple of months ago, Al and I came across a lady in the park while walking the dogs, who had something (treats) in her pocket that our two manner-challenged muts took a serious liking too. They were sitting there one minute chewing sticks up, as they do, and then the next both noses were in the air, and she pretty much had one mut glued to each thigh. She offered to give us the recipe, and then both of us promptly forgot about it.
Out of the blue, about a month ago, she dropped by our house (she knows where we live because she walks past our place with her dogs, and our two always say hello. Loudly) with the receipe.
So, shopping list in hand I went to the supermarket a few days later determined to make these for myself. Or rather, the dogs. You know what I mean.
Lambs fry. Check. (Gross)
Eggs. Check.
Rolled oats. Check.
Garlic. Check.
Not only was the cost of the treats better than commercial ones (they work out to about half price), they're better for the puppies (all natural ingredients) and the environment (the Schmackos packets we buy at the moment come with one large plastic packet containing 4 smaller packets. Lots of plastic). Plus I can buy the ingredients in bulk. Yay!
The only real concern I had was how my stomach was going to stand up to liquifying lambs fry. The mere thought sends my stomach bubbling.
It was interesting ... meat liquified in the blender perfectly fine and I survived the experience, eggs went in, rolled oats were sitting to one side in anticipation of being mixed up with the liquid ingredients. And then, I chucked the garlic in. You would not believe the smell that came from that. It honked something wicked. Luckily, my younger brother was staying the weekend, and stepped in to mix it all up and get it in the oven before I threw up in the mixture.
Still, the merest hint of one of these treats and both dogs go batty. Marvellous stuff. I just need to look in the direction of the fridge (where I keep them) and the two of them appear, sitting expectantly at my feet, from whereever they have been on the property.
Needless to say, it was with much trepadation that I realised I was going to need to make another batch last weekend (silly me, I'd been giving them away to people for their dogs to try, and ended up going through the batch quite quicikly). BUT, because I am a genius, I had a plan.
I went out to the shed, got Al's fume mask and made sure there wasn't a hope of anything getting in around the edges, and away I went! It was so tight, I'm pretty sure my face went purple. The dogs were happier than happy things, I have a good months worth of treats, the husband got a very good laugh out of it, and I didn't lose my stomach contents.
Al actually took a pic of me 'baking' which I'll put on here later for your amusement if I remember.
Out of the blue, about a month ago, she dropped by our house (she knows where we live because she walks past our place with her dogs, and our two always say hello. Loudly) with the receipe.
So, shopping list in hand I went to the supermarket a few days later determined to make these for myself. Or rather, the dogs. You know what I mean.
Lambs fry. Check. (Gross)
Eggs. Check.
Rolled oats. Check.
Garlic. Check.
Not only was the cost of the treats better than commercial ones (they work out to about half price), they're better for the puppies (all natural ingredients) and the environment (the Schmackos packets we buy at the moment come with one large plastic packet containing 4 smaller packets. Lots of plastic). Plus I can buy the ingredients in bulk. Yay!
The only real concern I had was how my stomach was going to stand up to liquifying lambs fry. The mere thought sends my stomach bubbling.
It was interesting ... meat liquified in the blender perfectly fine and I survived the experience, eggs went in, rolled oats were sitting to one side in anticipation of being mixed up with the liquid ingredients. And then, I chucked the garlic in. You would not believe the smell that came from that. It honked something wicked. Luckily, my younger brother was staying the weekend, and stepped in to mix it all up and get it in the oven before I threw up in the mixture.
Still, the merest hint of one of these treats and both dogs go batty. Marvellous stuff. I just need to look in the direction of the fridge (where I keep them) and the two of them appear, sitting expectantly at my feet, from whereever they have been on the property.
Needless to say, it was with much trepadation that I realised I was going to need to make another batch last weekend (silly me, I'd been giving them away to people for their dogs to try, and ended up going through the batch quite quicikly). BUT, because I am a genius, I had a plan.
I went out to the shed, got Al's fume mask and made sure there wasn't a hope of anything getting in around the edges, and away I went! It was so tight, I'm pretty sure my face went purple. The dogs were happier than happy things, I have a good months worth of treats, the husband got a very good laugh out of it, and I didn't lose my stomach contents.
Al actually took a pic of me 'baking' which I'll put on here later for your amusement if I remember.
Monday 23 July 2007
Grrr formatting. Again.
It seems to be related to putting a pic in the post, or getting fancy schmancy with headings.
Sorry about the squishedness of the post.
Sorry about the squishedness of the post.
I have a sore thumb
See?
And, who knew that you had to be a contortionist to use your left hand to take a picture of your right thumb? I managed to get it all lined up properly, and then realised I had no way of pressing the button to actually take the damn photo because it's on the right hand side of the camera, and I was doing it left handed. So, at the moment the pic was snapped, I was bent at unnatural angles trying to depress the button, hence the fuzzy pic quality. I'm getting too old to be bent at any angle, let alone unnatural ones, so you get what you get with that one.
Anyway, the offending digit in said pic is hosting a staph infection, which may or may not land me in hospital Monday morning (here's hoping for may not). I'm allowed at home on antibiotics on the strict basis that if there is no improvement within 24 hours, I have to go back to hospital for IV antibiotics (I'm typing this on Sunday to post Monday morning because I've pretty much only ever been able to type with about 5 fingers, and the thumb was one of them, so this is taking half the day).
We won't discuss the tetanus jab, other than to say that my arm feels like it's going to fall off any second, and no, I'm not being melodramatic.
Still, now we know that immune system vs burgeoning staph infection is probably what caused my Wednesday illness, though that being the case, I really feel my immune system could have displayed a little more dedication to the task. Then again, it wasn't until I woke up in the wee smalls of Sunday morning with white hot pain running into my hand (all I said was ouch too, I swear, no matter what anyone else in my neighbourhood tells you they heard being yelled) that I thought there might be something a bit wrong. Al took one look and dragged me to hospital by the ear.
Monday morning:
Hand seems stable, so I'm going to flag hospital. It's a bit rough not being able to take painkillers since the pain is making me a bit cross-eyed, but apparently staph moves fast and can be quite dangerous - especially if you have it somewhere like ... ohhh ...let's say, your hand? So, no painkillers, doctor's orders (otherwise, one of the main symptoms of the infection, in particular the infection travelling, is masked). Bollocks. Am feeling a bit seedy today, but I suppose that's a mixture of pain and immune system, so that shouldn't last long.
Fun and games.
Oh, and how did I manage to actually get the infection? Especially since there is no wound? The possibilities are endless, but point of entry seems to be the nail bed of my thumb, so probably puppy wrestling or something.
Friday 20 July 2007
Guess how long it took me to get to work this morning?
Go on. Guess.
I'll give you a hint.
It normally takes me 20 minutes.
Today though? Oh, my friends, today was something quite special and out of the ordinary.
Today, it took me two hours.
TWO HOURS!!
I left home at 7.10am, and arrived at work at 9.15am, and the only thing to do was watch my petrol gauge move.
All this courtesy of an 8 car crash on Mangere Bridge, and a broken down truck.
I'm currently considering moving to somewhere in the dark depths of the South Island where they don't even know that a motorway is, let alone have one.
I'll give you a hint.
It normally takes me 20 minutes.
Today though? Oh, my friends, today was something quite special and out of the ordinary.
Today, it took me two hours.
TWO HOURS!!
I left home at 7.10am, and arrived at work at 9.15am, and the only thing to do was watch my petrol gauge move.
All this courtesy of an 8 car crash on Mangere Bridge, and a broken down truck.
I'm currently considering moving to somewhere in the dark depths of the South Island where they don't even know that a motorway is, let alone have one.
Thursday 19 July 2007
Weird. And kind of fascinating.
I have been having the same problem for months. I put on socks and boots, usually for walking the dogs, and almost immediately the pain starts. It's a sharp pain that I get in one place, or several, around my feet and ankles. I've always thought that this was because of perhaps seeds or little thistle needles or something working their way into my socks or boots while in the park. I couldn't tell you how many times I have examined my boots from one end to the other trying to find the source, or my socks for that matter. It's not unusual for me to get as far as the park and desperately need to get my boots off, and there are the two of us, me and Al, sitting on the ground with my boots and socks trying to find what on earth is causing the problem.
You might be inclined to think I'm imagining it, I was beginning to wonder myself, but the thing is that I'd come home and there would be marks - what looked like scratches, tiny wee welts, or a little blister, or just a really angry red patch on my foot or leg. I even have a small scar from a recent blister. I have really sensitive skin, so it wouldn't have had to be much causing it, it's just a bit miserable.
On Tuesday night, we found the source. If I hadn't actually discovered it, I probably wouldn't have believed it, and Al has said that if I hadn't shown him, he wouldn't have believed it either.
Do you want to know?
Dog hair. Seriously. Jack's to be particular. I took my boot off, to find a small welt coming up on my ankle and 2 of Jack's hairs, which I didn't associate with the welt. Initially. That is, until I had some trouble brushing one off, and couldn't brush the other off. It was actually under my skin!!
His hair is getting caught up in my socks and the individual hairs have been piercing my skin, and I suppose with the movement of walking, actually moving up under the skin. In this instance, the hair was all but completely under my skin. And believe me, it itched and burned like you wouldn't believe for a couple of hours after I pulled it out too. They're like little wee needles his hairs, but still - they are dog hairs!
Thinking about it, I have noticed Jack's hairs being difficult to brush off me before, it's just not something you'd imagine happening, and I never paid much attention. Surely my skin isn't so soft that it can't keep a dog hair out? Apparently I assume too much. Perhaps they get in via pores?
So, as I said - weird, but fascinating.
Apparently it's not unknown to happen though and can lead to nasty Staph infections, so I'm going to have to get a couple more pairs of socks for my boots, and make sure that there is no dog hair caught up in them before I put them on. Honestly though! Of all the things!
You might be inclined to think I'm imagining it, I was beginning to wonder myself, but the thing is that I'd come home and there would be marks - what looked like scratches, tiny wee welts, or a little blister, or just a really angry red patch on my foot or leg. I even have a small scar from a recent blister. I have really sensitive skin, so it wouldn't have had to be much causing it, it's just a bit miserable.
On Tuesday night, we found the source. If I hadn't actually discovered it, I probably wouldn't have believed it, and Al has said that if I hadn't shown him, he wouldn't have believed it either.
Do you want to know?
Dog hair. Seriously. Jack's to be particular. I took my boot off, to find a small welt coming up on my ankle and 2 of Jack's hairs, which I didn't associate with the welt. Initially. That is, until I had some trouble brushing one off, and couldn't brush the other off. It was actually under my skin!!
His hair is getting caught up in my socks and the individual hairs have been piercing my skin, and I suppose with the movement of walking, actually moving up under the skin. In this instance, the hair was all but completely under my skin. And believe me, it itched and burned like you wouldn't believe for a couple of hours after I pulled it out too. They're like little wee needles his hairs, but still - they are dog hairs!
Thinking about it, I have noticed Jack's hairs being difficult to brush off me before, it's just not something you'd imagine happening, and I never paid much attention. Surely my skin isn't so soft that it can't keep a dog hair out? Apparently I assume too much. Perhaps they get in via pores?
So, as I said - weird, but fascinating.
Apparently it's not unknown to happen though and can lead to nasty Staph infections, so I'm going to have to get a couple more pairs of socks for my boots, and make sure that there is no dog hair caught up in them before I put them on. Honestly though! Of all the things!
Wednesday 18 July 2007
Bleurg. Am sick.
There was no indication I was sick, or even getting sick, until I attempted to get out of bed this morning. From there, it went seriously pear shaped. I rolled out of bed as I do every morning, except this time my legs didn't co-operate and I ended up in a heap on the floor. Not being a morning person, I assumed this had more to do with me being half asleep than anything being amiss in the health department. But, it turns out I was a bit wayward in that assumption. I made it as far as the bedroom doorway, to find that the following half hour was a colourful combination of me either folding like a card-house in a breeze, or throwing up, or both. Still, at this point, me being me, I was of the opinion that gritting my teeth would lead to a successful attempt to continue getting ready for work, and so I had a shower. As you've probably guessed, Al came home from work to find in the bottom of the shower looking a little worse for wear, and dumped me back in bed.
The trick appears to be not to move. Moving is very, very bad.
Back to bed.
The trick appears to be not to move. Moving is very, very bad.
Back to bed.
Tuesday 17 July 2007
Quotable Quotes
I can't even remember what the (very friendly) argument was about on Saturday afternoon, but this is how it ended ...
Me "Tough titties"
The husband "Your titties aren't tough, they're nice and soft"
Me (Raised eyebrows)
The husband "They're just tough to get at sometimes"
It's a hard life for a husband.
Me "Tough titties"
The husband "Your titties aren't tough, they're nice and soft"
Me (Raised eyebrows)
The husband "They're just tough to get at sometimes"
It's a hard life for a husband.
Monday 16 July 2007
Actual clever, I thought
I was driving to work this morning, sitting in my car on the South Western (well, on my way to the South Western), and taking in all the new construction. There's a lot of construction going on in South Auckland, especially around Wiri, along Roscommon Road, and there's not much else to look at really while you're waiting at the lights. Anyway, the warehouses etc have been going up for a few months, and gradually the taggers have flocked, and made their usual mess.
I despise taggers above all else. Absolutely, completely despise them. They make an absolute mess of things for no other reason than they feel like it and because they have no respect for what people have worked hard for, and because they will probably work hard for nothing. Ever. They think they're cool, but they're about as cool as something I'd scrape off my shoe.
But, this got me thinking about one instance of tagging which I thought was particularly clever. I came across it about 3 years ago, and have always remembered with a smile. I've probably told any number of you about because it impressed me so, and honestly if I ever came across the kid that did it, I'd shake his hand and give him a pat on the back. He was cool.
He tagged a massive length of sidewalk along the road which runs adjacent to ours, in huge letters which took up the entire width of the sidewalk. And, he did it with a waterblaster. So, he did his tagging, made no permanent damage because within a couple of months it had completely faded from the side walk, gave me and I imagine others a very good laugh, and had anyone been very upset about it, they could have just gone over it with a waterblaster themselves and that would have been the end of it.
Kudos to him. If only other taggers had half a brain cell to rub together.
I despise taggers above all else. Absolutely, completely despise them. They make an absolute mess of things for no other reason than they feel like it and because they have no respect for what people have worked hard for, and because they will probably work hard for nothing. Ever. They think they're cool, but they're about as cool as something I'd scrape off my shoe.
But, this got me thinking about one instance of tagging which I thought was particularly clever. I came across it about 3 years ago, and have always remembered with a smile. I've probably told any number of you about because it impressed me so, and honestly if I ever came across the kid that did it, I'd shake his hand and give him a pat on the back. He was cool.
He tagged a massive length of sidewalk along the road which runs adjacent to ours, in huge letters which took up the entire width of the sidewalk. And, he did it with a waterblaster. So, he did his tagging, made no permanent damage because within a couple of months it had completely faded from the side walk, gave me and I imagine others a very good laugh, and had anyone been very upset about it, they could have just gone over it with a waterblaster themselves and that would have been the end of it.
Kudos to him. If only other taggers had half a brain cell to rub together.
Friday 13 July 2007
Stupid formatting. Grrr.
I have no idea why it's done that. No idea at all. Can't work out how to fix it either. It annoys me immensely.
The letter
fertility + PLUS
11th July 2007
Simonne Walmsley
[address]
Auckland
NHI [number]
Dear Simonne,
I am writing to inform you that you have been enrolled in the publicly funded healthcare waitlist for infertility treatment.
You will receive the date of your orientation appointment soon, as well as your treatment month. This will all be relayed to you by letter. It is very difficult for us to give you a speculative timeline, so we ask for your patience with the system.
If you have any questions of concerns please feel free to contact me on [phone number and extension]
Kind Regards
[name]
IVF Coordinator
In the instant I read this letter, I felt insanely angry and hated anyone and everyone that has never had to go through this. It passed quickly, but it was there, for an instant. Yuck.
I hate that the letter is addressed to me, alone. I know that anything IVF related depends pretty much on the female - her age, her weight, her health, her history, her everything except whatever male factor qualifies her for treatment. I wish that letter was addressed to both of us.
It meant a lot that the letter was signed though, by an actual person, instead of an electronic reproduction of a signature. That was nice. Comforting even. Caring? It felt like it a little. It took the edge off.
The very funny thing was that Al phoned me to say that the letter had come in, pretty much at the exact moment a friend emailed me to say that her wee girl was having the temper tantrum to end all temper tantrums and was currently doing hard time on her naughty mat ... perfect timing. On the back of that, I managed not to scrawl 'return to sender' across the letter though when I got home.
Wooppee for Friday! Happy skippy joy (yep, stole that one from T).
Have a good weekend one and all, and thank you to the lovely man who saved me at the petrol station this morning. The stupid petrol thing would click off after about half a litre, and he could hear it clicking from the next pump as I tried to fill my tank (very slow process). He popped his head through the pumps, and suggested I pull the nozzle almost out of the tank, because it looked like the nozzle was bent (it was, it was pointing about 45 degrees sideways), so it was registering my tank was full when it wasn't because it was pointing into the side of the tank. It all went beautifully from there, apart from me feeling like a complete girl.
Thursday 12 July 2007
Clever
I just realised that I forgot to post this morning. Oops! Not sure how that happened. Well, I have a fair idea, but still. It shows a lack of dedication, doesn't it? Naughty Ginger.
Chaos has ensued in general this morning, but mostly because the GM emailed to say there is a major business meeting in our office this afternoon and they need a catered afternoon tea. That was about 4pm yesterday, for a meeting that's been planned for weeks. Genius. Hence my running-around-like-a-headless-chicken-ness. It doesn't help that it's the first fine day, and every man and his dog has realised in the last few days that their roof/deck/canopy/whatever is leaking.
All good fun.
Gotta fly! xo
Chaos has ensued in general this morning, but mostly because the GM emailed to say there is a major business meeting in our office this afternoon and they need a catered afternoon tea. That was about 4pm yesterday, for a meeting that's been planned for weeks. Genius. Hence my running-around-like-a-headless-chicken-ness. It doesn't help that it's the first fine day, and every man and his dog has realised in the last few days that their roof/deck/canopy/whatever is leaking.
All good fun.
Gotta fly! xo
Wednesday 11 July 2007
The nod
There is some restructuring going on at work at the moment. Head Office have realised that the construction industry in New Zealand is largely driven from Auckland, and therefore Auckland is a very important arm of the company. Big development in Queenstown? Chances are the specs have been done by an Auckland Architect. You see what I mean? There is going to be more energy being poured into Auckland.
As part of that restructuring, I was offered a new job with my company yesterday - Auckland sales and technical rep.
It really was, for me, the nod from these guys that I can hold my own. It was recognition of the job I'm doing, and how well I do it, the strong relationship I've built with the customers I deal with, and the organisation that I've brought to their lives.
That nod really made my day.
As part of that restructuring, I was offered a new job with my company yesterday - Auckland sales and technical rep.
It really was, for me, the nod from these guys that I can hold my own. It was recognition of the job I'm doing, and how well I do it, the strong relationship I've built with the customers I deal with, and the organisation that I've brought to their lives.
That nod really made my day.
Tuesday 10 July 2007
What looks like crazy on an ordinary day
Crap book. Didn't even finish it. Barely even started it.
Great blog post title. Kudos to me for reapplying it where it was worthy.
My cold is holding it's own, and much to my disgust I think I'm still in the pre-actual-suffering stage. The husband went through the same thing for weeks, and ended up with the only flu he's had since I've known him. You never know whether to let it do its own thing and drag on, or take the dogs for a walk in a storm, and get it over with quicker. The husband opted for the storm last week, and it worked a treat.
I've come to a conclusion about this husband of mine in the last few days. Most especially about his desire to have children, and where that desire stems from.
The thought started niggling a week or so ago when for the umpteenth time, he was chasing the dogs around the house with a can of whipped cream ... he's yelling, they're barking, there is all manner of banging and crashing going on, and the house smells like a dessert. A marvellous time is had by all of course, or at least those 3 anyway - I'm usually sitting in the lounge with my fingers in my ears, hoping they don't break anything, and trying not to think of the mess.
It niggled again a few days later when, in the midst of that thunder and lightening storm (we were walking the dogs at the park - unfortunately, the only weather condition that they find offensive is hail and that's only because it hurts their noses), he leaped in the stream at a major point and starting building a dam. I'm talking hand-clapping delight here when the water started to back up, and he's been back every day since looking for more logs to throw in there. One of these days I'm going to find him smuggling a hand saw into the park to assist in this endeavour.
And now, he wants a Batman costume. I was looking at vintage tees on Ferrit last night (No, I didn't buy any, I'm still behaving ... or trying to ... but someone told me about them, and I had to look) and he spotted the Batman costume. It even comes with muscles (!!). And, it's in his size. Admittedly though he was kidding about this. I think.
So, I've realised that he's in this kid thing for one reason above most others. He's after a mini partner in crime. A little person who he can pin stuff on and who will legitimise his inner (lovable) 5 year old. Someone to help him chase the dogs, build dams, and help him get away with wearing a Batman costume.
Great blog post title. Kudos to me for reapplying it where it was worthy.
My cold is holding it's own, and much to my disgust I think I'm still in the pre-actual-suffering stage. The husband went through the same thing for weeks, and ended up with the only flu he's had since I've known him. You never know whether to let it do its own thing and drag on, or take the dogs for a walk in a storm, and get it over with quicker. The husband opted for the storm last week, and it worked a treat.
I've come to a conclusion about this husband of mine in the last few days. Most especially about his desire to have children, and where that desire stems from.
The thought started niggling a week or so ago when for the umpteenth time, he was chasing the dogs around the house with a can of whipped cream ... he's yelling, they're barking, there is all manner of banging and crashing going on, and the house smells like a dessert. A marvellous time is had by all of course, or at least those 3 anyway - I'm usually sitting in the lounge with my fingers in my ears, hoping they don't break anything, and trying not to think of the mess.
It niggled again a few days later when, in the midst of that thunder and lightening storm (we were walking the dogs at the park - unfortunately, the only weather condition that they find offensive is hail and that's only because it hurts their noses), he leaped in the stream at a major point and starting building a dam. I'm talking hand-clapping delight here when the water started to back up, and he's been back every day since looking for more logs to throw in there. One of these days I'm going to find him smuggling a hand saw into the park to assist in this endeavour.
And now, he wants a Batman costume. I was looking at vintage tees on Ferrit last night (No, I didn't buy any, I'm still behaving ... or trying to ... but someone told me about them, and I had to look) and he spotted the Batman costume. It even comes with muscles (!!). And, it's in his size. Admittedly though he was kidding about this. I think.
So, I've realised that he's in this kid thing for one reason above most others. He's after a mini partner in crime. A little person who he can pin stuff on and who will legitimise his inner (lovable) 5 year old. Someone to help him chase the dogs, build dams, and help him get away with wearing a Batman costume.
Monday 9 July 2007
Friday 6 July 2007
Oh dear. I appear to have chopped my leg off.
That's an example people. I'm setting the tone. Practising even. Don't you think that if I'd actually chopped my leg off, you'd have heard me swearing my head off? Exactly.
So, what's the grand occasion I'm practising for?
My parents are coming up to visit this weekend, which means that I have been, as usual pre-parental visit, in intensive training for pretending that I don't have a potty-mouth.
My parents have a strong objection to potty-mouths, and certainly don't have them themselves. Well, that I've heard anyway. Who knows what Mum actually says if she stabs herself with her pruning shares while doing the gardening and no one's around. It's like the old 'If a tree falls in a forest and no one hears it' debate. Personally, I just can't see how when you do yourself bodily injury 'Stone the crows' could be perfectly adequate. If nothing else, it's a nightmare to say five times fast.
Heaven knows, when I dropped a roll of Butynol rubber (35kgs worth) on my foot at work the other week, 'Stone the crows' was neither the first thought I had, nor the expression that left my mouth and reached the ears of everyone over a five mile radius. Then again, 'stone the crows' isn't an expression that usually leaves my mouth anyway. Why would it when there are other perfectly adequate, exceptionally colourful, nice offensive phrases to use instead?
Having said all that, my parents have actually all but given up on my potty-mouth, and I'm pretty sure that they arrive with ear plugs in hand these days. I try, but more often than not, I fail miserably, well within hearing range. They'd much rather I didn't have a potty-mouth, of course, but have largely resigned themselves to the fact (doesn't mean I can't make the effort though, you know how it is) and now simply despair of how I turned out how I did. I know that they despair of this because I usually hear at least once a visit, "I really don't know how you turned out how you did". 100% of the time it's my mother saying this of course, while Dad just either sniggers in the corner (out of swotting reach of Mum) or pretends that his ears fell off in 'nam (I figure that since he didn't go to 'nam, and I don't swear ever, it's a fair trade).
Bring on the weekend!
Off on a completely different tangent, I am horrified to admit that I really like the High'n'Dry that I've been driving around the last couple of weeks (courtesy car while the garage continues to break my VW). Once upon a time (as in a couple of weeks ago) I wouldn't have touched one with someone else's barge pole, but that little car isn't half bad. It has cup holders for one, but most significantly, it's done more kms on half a tank than I get out of a full tank in the VW! I said to Al last night that if I get 700kms out of a tank in the High'n'Dry, I'm going to faint. I've just hit 400km and I have half a tank of gas left, so it's looking possible. Unbelievable!
So, what's the grand occasion I'm practising for?
My parents are coming up to visit this weekend, which means that I have been, as usual pre-parental visit, in intensive training for pretending that I don't have a potty-mouth.
My parents have a strong objection to potty-mouths, and certainly don't have them themselves. Well, that I've heard anyway. Who knows what Mum actually says if she stabs herself with her pruning shares while doing the gardening and no one's around. It's like the old 'If a tree falls in a forest and no one hears it' debate. Personally, I just can't see how when you do yourself bodily injury 'Stone the crows' could be perfectly adequate. If nothing else, it's a nightmare to say five times fast.
Heaven knows, when I dropped a roll of Butynol rubber (35kgs worth) on my foot at work the other week, 'Stone the crows' was neither the first thought I had, nor the expression that left my mouth and reached the ears of everyone over a five mile radius. Then again, 'stone the crows' isn't an expression that usually leaves my mouth anyway. Why would it when there are other perfectly adequate, exceptionally colourful, nice offensive phrases to use instead?
Having said all that, my parents have actually all but given up on my potty-mouth, and I'm pretty sure that they arrive with ear plugs in hand these days. I try, but more often than not, I fail miserably, well within hearing range. They'd much rather I didn't have a potty-mouth, of course, but have largely resigned themselves to the fact (doesn't mean I can't make the effort though, you know how it is) and now simply despair of how I turned out how I did. I know that they despair of this because I usually hear at least once a visit, "I really don't know how you turned out how you did". 100% of the time it's my mother saying this of course, while Dad just either sniggers in the corner (out of swotting reach of Mum) or pretends that his ears fell off in 'nam (I figure that since he didn't go to 'nam, and I don't swear ever, it's a fair trade).
Bring on the weekend!
Off on a completely different tangent, I am horrified to admit that I really like the High'n'Dry that I've been driving around the last couple of weeks (courtesy car while the garage continues to break my VW). Once upon a time (as in a couple of weeks ago) I wouldn't have touched one with someone else's barge pole, but that little car isn't half bad. It has cup holders for one, but most significantly, it's done more kms on half a tank than I get out of a full tank in the VW! I said to Al last night that if I get 700kms out of a tank in the High'n'Dry, I'm going to faint. I've just hit 400km and I have half a tank of gas left, so it's looking possible. Unbelievable!
Wednesday 4 July 2007
And so ends jury duty
Phew.
Luckily I was the wrong shade of Samoan to end up on the jury for the big trial. Absolutely no offence intended to anyone when I say that, but it's the honest truth. The lawyers (actually, here's a thought - am I allowed to say this? No idea) used up all their available challenges (63 of them, if you're interested - it was a veeeery long process choosing the jury), and managed to tailor their jury to the accused, if you know what I mean. Then I managed to avoid getting balloted for jury selection for the remaining two trials of the week, and that was that. I was so cheerful I walked all the way home from the Court (which took an hour incidentially, and I walked in the door at home just as the electrical storm hit. Close call).
Yay for Thursday tomorrow, because that means Friday is only a day away.
And one big final wooppee for squeeking out of serving on a jury!
Oh, and I must confess that I broke my anti-consumer resolve and bought a book. My defence is that I wanted lots of books, but just bought one (and the dollar was at 78 cents US!) ... very bad girl, but I can't wait to get it. A Child Against All Odds by Robert Winston (he who does the Child of Our Time and Human Body series')
Luckily I was the wrong shade of Samoan to end up on the jury for the big trial. Absolutely no offence intended to anyone when I say that, but it's the honest truth. The lawyers (actually, here's a thought - am I allowed to say this? No idea) used up all their available challenges (63 of them, if you're interested - it was a veeeery long process choosing the jury), and managed to tailor their jury to the accused, if you know what I mean. Then I managed to avoid getting balloted for jury selection for the remaining two trials of the week, and that was that. I was so cheerful I walked all the way home from the Court (which took an hour incidentially, and I walked in the door at home just as the electrical storm hit. Close call).
Yay for Thursday tomorrow, because that means Friday is only a day away.
And one big final wooppee for squeeking out of serving on a jury!
Oh, and I must confess that I broke my anti-consumer resolve and bought a book. My defence is that I wanted lots of books, but just bought one (and the dollar was at 78 cents US!) ... very bad girl, but I can't wait to get it. A Child Against All Odds by Robert Winston (he who does the Child of Our Time and Human Body series')
Tuesday 3 July 2007
Ahem
Lucky I'm right onto it keeping you all up to date on the IVF progress! Otherwise, I might have forgotten to tell you about this ...
The letter, received last Friday, confirming our allocation to F+ for publicly funded IVF treatment.
The letter, received last Friday, confirming our allocation to F+ for publicly funded IVF treatment.
The envelope containing our written authority for FA to release our file to F+, posted Saturday morning. It might have been any other letter going in the mail box, except for the very shaky hand that posted it.
Car go bye bye
At least temporarily. They killed it. Murdered it.
I had it back for a couple of days post-cam belt drama, but it was running like an eighteen wheeler, so it went back in Friday.
Last night, we had a meeting with the head mechanic, from which the key words appear to be 'piston rings', 'bent valve(s)', 'recon specialist', and 'highly unusual'. Since none of that relates to shoes, I was all but lost, but judged the importance of it all on the apoplexy the husband seemed to be having next to me. The long and the short of it is that we are probably looking at a new engine, which, incidentally, will be costing them a fortune. Not me. I paid my $800.00 for the cam belt and that's my bit done. I just have to live with the courtesy car for the next few weeks, with it's $1,000.00 excess in case of incident, and the rest of Auckland just has to live with my nana driving out of fear of such incident.
It's a little bit ironic (I think) that my poor little car (and Visa as a side issue) would have been better off if I'd kept the $800.00 and just let it blow itself apart if and when the cam belt felt suicidal.
Someone asked me yesterday if I have a pet name for my car, apparently because 'all girls seem to'. Putting that sweeping (and yet accurate, at least in this particular case) statement aside, said person did manage to get me to admit to having named my car ... I call it the polonoscopy, because it's just about small enough to fit up your bum (yes, he was sorry he asked). As per usual, it horrifies my mum (she doesn't know how I turned out this way), and amuses my dad.
I'm all class.
Have a good Tuesday!
I had it back for a couple of days post-cam belt drama, but it was running like an eighteen wheeler, so it went back in Friday.
Last night, we had a meeting with the head mechanic, from which the key words appear to be 'piston rings', 'bent valve(s)', 'recon specialist', and 'highly unusual'. Since none of that relates to shoes, I was all but lost, but judged the importance of it all on the apoplexy the husband seemed to be having next to me. The long and the short of it is that we are probably looking at a new engine, which, incidentally, will be costing them a fortune. Not me. I paid my $800.00 for the cam belt and that's my bit done. I just have to live with the courtesy car for the next few weeks, with it's $1,000.00 excess in case of incident, and the rest of Auckland just has to live with my nana driving out of fear of such incident.
It's a little bit ironic (I think) that my poor little car (and Visa as a side issue) would have been better off if I'd kept the $800.00 and just let it blow itself apart if and when the cam belt felt suicidal.
Someone asked me yesterday if I have a pet name for my car, apparently because 'all girls seem to'. Putting that sweeping (and yet accurate, at least in this particular case) statement aside, said person did manage to get me to admit to having named my car ... I call it the polonoscopy, because it's just about small enough to fit up your bum (yes, he was sorry he asked). As per usual, it horrifies my mum (she doesn't know how I turned out this way), and amuses my dad.
I'm all class.
Have a good Tuesday!
Sunday 1 July 2007
Stay right where you are black swirly fog, I have a gun.
I'm feeling better (getting a neck and shoulder massage from the husband while I type this helps! purrrrrrr).
Saturday morning I went to my beauty therapist and felt so much better for it. Traumatised, but good. I should have known when I walked in the door and found myself face to face with a fuming therapist that backing back out the door would have been the wiser option, but it wasn't until the bikini wax was underway that that one sunk in. There is a new store next door to her rooms which plays loud pop music, and it thumps through the walls something wicked. So, you're kind of getting the sounds of trickling water and flutey music punctuated by Christina Aguilera reaching similar pitches to what I did when I broke my toe. Not quite as serene an experience as normal, let's put it that way. My therapist has been doing battle with this other store over the volume of their music, and just before my appointment had the building manager in to hear it. He'd obviously then gone to the other store and told them to turn it down, which they did. For a bit. Bless them for cranking it up again half way through my wax. I didn't realise that I knew quite so much of the Our Father.
I then met up with some friends for a coffee which sealed the deal. I couldn't tell you how they managed to set me back on my feet, but they did.
Day one of jury duty tomorrow. How fun.
Saturday morning I went to my beauty therapist and felt so much better for it. Traumatised, but good. I should have known when I walked in the door and found myself face to face with a fuming therapist that backing back out the door would have been the wiser option, but it wasn't until the bikini wax was underway that that one sunk in. There is a new store next door to her rooms which plays loud pop music, and it thumps through the walls something wicked. So, you're kind of getting the sounds of trickling water and flutey music punctuated by Christina Aguilera reaching similar pitches to what I did when I broke my toe. Not quite as serene an experience as normal, let's put it that way. My therapist has been doing battle with this other store over the volume of their music, and just before my appointment had the building manager in to hear it. He'd obviously then gone to the other store and told them to turn it down, which they did. For a bit. Bless them for cranking it up again half way through my wax. I didn't realise that I knew quite so much of the Our Father.
I then met up with some friends for a coffee which sealed the deal. I couldn't tell you how they managed to set me back on my feet, but they did.
Day one of jury duty tomorrow. How fun.
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