The Last Bastion of Manliness and Merry Xmas to Me....

But not necessarily in that order.....

Ok, so I give up. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. As someone famous once said. Well, I guess they did. Someone got that expression from somewhere. The presents are wrapped and under the tree, which btw, is the first thing you see when you enter the house. Ok, so it would be if I could get MOTH and the Teen to use the front door. But, as I was saying, they are under the tree. Brightly coloured and hidden in plain sight. It's done this way to give the Teen one less reason to go riffling through my cupboards. It means though that we have to put up with the constant "are we there yet?" questions from both Teen and the Elder. The scarey part is it's beginning to rub off on me. Yes, I am losing my curmedgeon-like Bah Humbuginess and beginning to hear the lure of the wrapping and the gifts. Calling, whispering, beckoning, shifting, moving ....... "come on now, you know you want to. There's a good kiddie, quickly now, take a peek, no one is looking and I won't tell. Come on now .... just a little bit closer ...... that's right ...... ha! Gotcher!" I buckled. I succumbed. ..... I peeked ..... Well, just one. A voucher. I opened the envelope and looked. A mental 'naughty, naughty, naughty' at myself and returned it to the envelope. But like a junkie or something, I returned to the scene of the crime and completed the job. I looked at the amount. And put it back under the tree. Later in the week I had the opportunity to indulge in regret and guilt.... hmmm would you believe a tiny amount of regret? ... when I realised that this was the second gift mother bought me after she told me what the first was. After she thought she had given me something I wouldn't like. ... Sorry mum ...

Did I mention something in the title about manliness? Yes. Yes I did. Well apparently a "men's business club" here has voted against granting women full membership. That's right. We can join as associate members, but can't join in our own right. This, I read, is the fourth vote-down in the last 2 years. Seems to be an issue that splits the members themselves, and of course we have the requisite number of whining women who want to become members. Well, ever wondered why they call them members? You gotta have one to be one. But since women can still swan around the dining rooms and still be seen by all the right people - this place requires a $1100 joining fee - I really can't see what the problem is. So you can't sit on the committee. Whoop-de-doo. If you have the ear of one of the members, you can still brow beat him into submission. I really think this could just be a case of wanting something just because we can't have it...... And let's face it, if there is a place where you can shepherd him off for exclusive baby sitting to play with his manly men men friends while you go max his card, then long live the all male bastion I say!

Why can't I find that music? An ode to online downloads

Ok, so I am after a particular song. Nothing special, but perhaps it might be a little obscure. Possibly. My Chemical Romance. All I Want for Christmas Is You. Nothing too difficult, right? Wrong.

It's getting on to Christmas. I thought I might try curb the Bah! Humbug! gag reflex by composing my own CD of lovely little Christmas songs. To play at work. Just for myself. And anyone else unfortunate enough to be in the immediate vicinity. Wonderful things, like the above work, contributions by Elmo & Patsy and Weird Al.

But after about 3 or more days of Googling, Yahooing, Asking and begging, Christmas songs are thin on the ground. And try finding a download site that doesn't charge the earth, or a free one that doesn't file share. I thought I might have been on to a winner - Sony Music Store - but no! I live outside the US. The Teen had a favourite, but has been unable to renew her credit. Most unhappy and disgruntled has she been. Time to duck for cover.

So in an effort to find something, I have been forced to create myself a profile on myspace. Yup. Finally succumbed. Maybe there is something on music there. Yeah, right. Like when The Gods Must Be Crazy sees a rise in popularity and resurrects it's status from cult to mainstream....

For holidays that are waaaay too short

Just reading back over that plather that serves for a journal, I notice that it's been a while since I last posted. I could ask where the time has gone, but it could have just passed me by while I have been lurking on the dark side of the moon.

I have been on holidays and for a week at least of that, there has been no access to a computer. None. If it were possible, there may have been a trace of the DDT's for a while there.

Not that I'm a net-a-holic or such, but when you have no choice, things begin to get grim. I had to resort to rummaging through bookshelves for something to entertain myself with. It would have been nice to reacquaint myself with some of my favourites, but that would have involved waay too much effort. They are buried at the back of the shelves behind the romances and I was supposed to be on holiday after all.

The first week was spent doing as little as possible. Didn't want to make those days go too quickly. And it worked. The first week dragged. But then, the Elder requested that I 'help' her visit my folks. Who happen to live about an 8 hour drive away. Spending a week in that house always has appeal, but boy doesn't that wear off quick when you actually get there. Cats, bird and people rule what little space is to be had. And ... no computer.

Still, I managed to last the week, overdosed on the Teen's current obsession - My Chemical Romance, fought with the niece and nephew, ignored the siblings, got tasted by the birds, and bled by the cat. But best of all ... ... ... I managed to dutifully annoy my mother AND miss the Christmas rush when the rest of the relatives arrive ... ...

To the celebration of Firsts.....

Been a while since I last blogged it seems. I am getting somewhat slack. And for a person as verbose as I, that's no small thing. Mayhap the year is drawing to a close and I am running out of my yearly word quota..... A first on it's own.

I was keeping a journal at home as well. Just a small one. To chronicle my first brush with a broken bone. Assuming I live the expected age span, I have made it through about half my life without ever having done anything energetic enough to break anything. And eventually, there was nothing energetic about the event, just a fall after getting off a bus, but boy, did I make a public spectacle of myself. Dunno if that was a first though.... However, I digress, the Teen asked me to make another entry last night. First one since August.

But today is a momentous one. The Teen is about to have her first ....... job interview! Ah, so grown up. And I feel so old. But because I am working - wotta drag - I can't be there to hold her hand like my mother did for me (Mu-um!) Actually that could be a good thing - I don't recall answering many of the questions, mum did it all for me. Mind, a healthy dose of the 'who-you-knows' went into that one.

But good luck Teen. You'll be fine. Just remember that if this one doesn't work out, there is always something better around the corner.

My environment......

Woot! A new camera. A photo study of where I live and work. My environment........

To which I say Bah Humbug! And give thanks to the muppets...

Well, I notice that it's now November, I have barely recovered from Easter, and the Christmas dekkies have made an appearance in the shops. Now I don't know if it's just me, but they seem to come, suddenly popping out from behind the Halloween toys and sweets and announcing loudly in glittering colours of green, red and gold, that hey! extract that digit 'cause there are only 'blah' shopping days left until the Teen gets to rip the paper off, curl her nose up because it's not the latest Louis Vuitton accessory and toss it in the corner sometime between opening and New Year's Day.

Not that I'm cynical or anything. I mean, I just love standing around in the heat with the rest of the family, watching the tempers fray, listening to the nieces and nephews fight over possession of each other's gifts, and tuck into handfuls of wilted lettuce and melted chocolate. Not in the same bowl, of course. And since they are teetotallers, not even a decent beer to help wash it down.

Seems to me that once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away I did enjoy the Christmas spirit. But I was young and foolish then, and I didn't have to do much beyond trimming the tree and tearing the paper off the presents. Heck, I didn't even have to clean up the leftover wrapping. Dad used to put the Santa hat on, we'd all sit around and wait with baited breath while he - very slowly I might add - handed out each individual gift. Oddly enough, it's still a Family Tradition and the Teen and the Elder still enjoy it. Now I spend my time wrestling the tree out of the box and attempting to assemble it, worrying that we have enough food in the house, preparing food and clean up the paper leftovers. Put my gifts to one side so I can make the anticipation last, cause after they have laid themselves bare to my gaze, it's just another day. Oh, and after New Year, wrestle the tree back into the box and clean up the bits of tinsel that have fallen off the decorations.

But maybe this year will be different. Just the 3 of us. Hang on, maybe 4. I'll get my hands on Tim Burton's A Nightmare Before Christmas, and A Muppet Christmas Carol. Hang lights on the window and forget the tree. Let them eat chocolate for the day! And no opening presents until after lunch! Heck eat lunch all day! (See statement re chocolate) Stock in some alcohol. Run a repeat of the muppet movie and blast myself icy with the airconditioning - which I have this year.

Yes! Roll on Christmas......

The Woman

She walks down the road, carefully lifting and placing one foot in front of the other. Long blonde hair, once luxurious now streaked with silver and tarnish. Her lipstick is a vivid red slash against the paleness of her face. Sunglasses, square and dark obscure her eyes. The corner of a brown jacket slaps against her thigh in the wind. She leans forward as she moves, pushing against an unseen foe.

I sit, safe from the bite of the wind, in the car and watch as she moves past. Where is she going? What marvels, sorrows and joys have passed through her life? What tales could she tell if I were to ask?

Perhaps she is alone, a once loved husband lost through the mists of time. A love so grand, that once lost, could never be replaced? Is this a slow, lonely journey to the supermarket to purchase those small portions that speak of a solitary life?

How fondly does she look back on the special moments of her life - her first dance, her first kiss, the blush of a bride on that magical day?

Children of her own, and grandchildren. A house filled with love and joyous laughter. Treats must be bought, a dinner planned.

Man’s modern marvels, to celebrate our inventiveness – radio, television, a man on the moon.

Ah, what tales could she tell if I were to ask?

To recalcitrant plumbing ... and maybe other things

Third start - think I should give up. Was thinking about sink traps the other day. What the heck are they good for anyway? Thank heaven for Google. I found out. The water stops the nasty gas breaking into your home through the pipes. Hmm reminds me of some very spooky episodes of X Files. What I haven't figured out is why the trapped water smells so much. MOTH has to keep putting cleaner through the pipes to stop the smell. Something I have only noticed in the low set houses I have lived in. The ones built with a cement slab for foundations. How come it does that? Google hasn't answered that one.....

TGIF and the learning of obfuscation.......

It's finally the end of another week. And it hasn't come too soon really. Time has flown, I've accomplished nothing and missed my walk. Alright, so it's only the morning gone, but still. It's the principal of the thing.

Ever noticed how you think you're alone. The opportunity arises to indulge in a little bad behaviour, then suddenly you aren't as alone as you think. It happened to a friend of a friend of mine.... ok, so it was a work colleague. Went to ask him a question, but was warned off. Trouser cough. He'd just decided he was fine, and I walked around the corner. Whew. Mind, I was laughing so hard I couldn't breathe, so didn't have the chance to succumb to the effects of the gas. Or maybe it was laughing gas......

Obfuscate: to confuse, bewilder, stupify. To make so unclear as to be difficult to understand.

Been having a running battle with an outside agency about exactly what paperwork she needs to process a reimbursement of travel expenses. She and one of the GT have been debating for a while. The GT candidate - hereby referred to as J - has been having a running arguement about tickets v boarding passes. Although they seem to be talking about the same thing. Who knows. They don't. In the World According to J, she would be told that the Uni is ISO(blah) certified and we need to store the original here for an x amount of time and so we need the orignals here and we can't send the originals over there because we need them for audit purposes too you know and haven't you asked for the originals of the things we sent you and now you want the tickets because the originals of what we sent you you decided weren't what you wanted and we sent them to you yesterday before we got the email and now we have to send them again and so we sent you an email to let you know that we are sending to you originals of what you were supposed to be asking for and confusing us about and .......... I think you get the idea .........

Where I talk about nothing much and waste time...

Arrived at work today and wondered why I was here. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, the breeze is blowing and...... hold on. Why am I rambling?

Actually, it is a beautiful day and I am stuck inside, at my desk, while I wait for the troops to gather for a meeting. Ok, today the troops number the massive total of 4, but it's still enough to go ahead. Maybe if I grab the chocolate and dive under the desk they won't notice I'm missing? If surviving on a couple choc bars worked for that Scott fella, then I reckon I can last the whole year on the block I've got. Ha! Ha ha. Now there's a thought......

Went out briefly for a walk this morning. It breaks the monotony of the sit at desk stuff. Too many students though. Doesn't matter if my place of employment is situated on a University campus - it would still be a much better place without them. Saw a bride and groom being snapped against a building. Sandstone background and columns. Nice. Briefly distracted on the way back to the office by the sound of drums and sticks. Turned out to be an Islander dance troup so had to watch. Don't want to get back to work too early.

Nearly meeting time. Back to the chocolate methinks.......

In which I learn about Hallowe'en and other stuff

It's Friday afternoon. I'm hanging out for the end of the day which really can't arrive soon enough. Another inmate in the asylum lets out an hysterical giggle after reading one of those mortuary jokes. You know the ones, so old and lame they're technically dead. Turns out it's a 'horror' joke. About a week or so too early for Halloween. So my x-Canadian friend assures me that Halloween has a lead up. But as someone who doesn't do Halloween, what's it all about? Apparently it's all about All Hallow's Eve and witches going out to catch children. That's why they dress up as ghouls and ghosts. To foil the witches. There you go. That's what it's all about.

In an effort to appear busy, I'm knee deep in the latest news items on the abc site. A robber who held up a service station while brandishing a sword was nicked when he went back to the place he'd just held up. He forgot to take his haul with him. You can tell it's Friday. Armed robbery, brain optional.

Of course, that's to discract myself from plots and schemes of world domination. In my world, it would all run smoothly. Because I want it to. Waiting for someone to deliver a promised thingo from another time zone is kinda wearing. Especially if it doesn't turn up. But during that distraction, MOTH phones buzzing with excitement. There is a bushfire across the road. A big one, they've brought in the choppers that carry water. Well, actually it's across the road, down the way, around the corner and across the highway. But that's all semantics when it's close. And the only thing you have to keep you occupied is Neighbourhood Watch. And watching those neighbours.....

For manual madness......

Well, it's 2.26pm on Wednesday. In an effort to keep myself awake - work will just not do it - I decided to check the news breaks. Found a wonderful story about a young woman who attempted a carjacking, but was foiled because the car was a manual! Hmmm. Why would you bother attempting a carjacking if you can't drive both manual and auto? Didn't Forrest say that life's like a box of chocolates? You never know what you're going to get. Same could be said for carjacking it seems.

- So I'm sitting here at my desk, looking out the window watching the beautiful sunny afternoon slip away. Reminds me of my public service days. Why don't public servants look out the window in the morning? Because then they would have nothing to do in the afternoon.

- Still going with the steps challenge thing. But I am beginning to wonder why I bother. One of the teams is waaayyy out in front. Uber-competitive. Last week they set themselves a target. Break the 1,000,000 step mark. They did it too. But I have a life. Couldn't possibly do something like that. Reeks of exercise. Oo, now there's a dirty word. Time to rinse my mouth out with chocolate.

Ever stop to think, and forget to start again?

....... Now what was I doing?

bicycles, buses and other unassociated random stuff

As a regular user of public transport my day usually begins with a mad dash round the house to make sure I am ready before the supersonic dash down the highway to the station. Fighting the other wallies in the same situation for a stopping space in the drop off zone before everyone takes off at the same time, making the sprint for the exit to beat the traffic.

Just a regular, normal day.

Once I leave the train and grab a passing bus, I can zone till it's time to pretend enthusiasm for the day and head to the office. No zoning today - I think our driver had the Indy on his mind. Racing down the straights, weaving through the traffic. Bouncing off the kerb. I sit in the back row and doesn't that knock your bones about. Pulling into a stop and banging the back corner of the bus against the power pole on takeoff. Kissing the back of the seat before me because a taxi in front had the hide to stop. A cyclist, head down bum up, racing for all his worth, like a hare with a fox on its tail while the bus did its level best to run him down. Or pass, whatever. By the time I got to work the adrenaline rush was over and I was ready to go home.

And on the subject of bicyles, lately I notice that I seem to be stalked by the things. Creeping about in my peripheral vision. Through the pedestrian walkway in front of my work building. In the subway tunnel at the station. I never know whether to go left or right and just feel like sticking a stick through their spokes. Blighters. I hate the things. Fell off one once and never felt the same way about them.

Course you know I was cheering for the bus...

Incoherent ramblings which mean nothing much....

Here it is, Friday lunch time, and my Get Up n Go has got up and left. And had a party on the way out I suspect. Love Friday. It's my unofficial start to the weekend. Time to start winding down. Think most of my Friday is spent trying to avoid starting anything that remotely resembles work.

Not that there is anything much to look forward to. Except a healthy dose of 'me' time. That is, time when I vege on the couch with my nose stuck in a book. Love those books. Doing nothing and ignoring the MOTH (Man of the House) and the Teen. Pretending they don't exist and there is no such thing as cooking dinner, housework or any of those things that modern civilization throws in to keep us in a constant state of misery. Like Reality TV.

Even the telly viewing sucks. But maybe I should withdraw that until I have actually checked the tv guide. Ok, so there is usually nothing to watch. Sometimes I torture myself and watch the Johanna Griggs Show. A homestyle wotsit DIY type things. What do they call them? Oh yes, lifestyle shows. It's really called something else, but this woman shows up on all the segments. Saturday is the day. I love Monk. I can do with a healthy dose of quirk. It does require that you suspend disbelief and pretend there really is a plot. But it means I don't have to think, just laugh. Occasionally. And I need that.....

Maybe I will start a new book. I only have 9 books on the shelf, on the lounge, on the floor that I have either not yet started or not yet completed. It's good for the brain to have more than one book on the go at once. Keeping track of the plots and characters without losing the thread is a heady exercise that is sure to keep dementia at bay. At least I am hoping so. The signs are not looking good.......

Whoops here we go again

Just been surfing and noticed, in an out of the way place, a little Vote Now tag. For Australian Idol. Should a judge be sacked for making a comment that offended people with disabilities. Uh oh, here we go with the PC stuff again.

So, a judge on a no-account-who-the-heck-cares-it's-a-waste-of-air-time-reality-show makes a comment about something that the contestant is wearing. It would seem, from the bits that the Teen has inflicted on our household, that standard format is for a judge who deliberately sets out to cause controversy. Well, congrats Kyle, you have managed to do that with every ep. As they say, any press is good press and if it boosts the ratings all the better.

But, look out, we've offended a minority group - again. Gotta watch that. Ok, so I don't necessarily fit into that group myself, but I do have my blonde moments - careful! - and my mouth runs away without my brain sometimes, but what the heck. How boring would it be if everyone toed the line all the time. Think I'd like to check out of a world like that real pronto - I just wouldn't fit in....

A Whitlam's nest

So, an ex-pollie's wife expresses an opinion about the current PM's wife. Big deal.

Some of us, when we reach a particular age or stage - usually when we wake up to the fact that we can't please anyone most of the time and only what Number 1 thinks is important - quite freely express our opinions about people, objects, circumstances, the state of the world.....

Let her tell how she feels. Get it published in a book. Better still, get a blog. Long live the curmudgeon!

Getting old

So another one of those annoying emails arrived at my inbox yesterday. You know the ones - pass this on, you've just been hugged, you know you're getting old when..... Usually I delete them and pretend they never existed - still waiting for karma give me a good solid boot for that - and move on.

I have seen this one before, but I really do like it. It reminds me how stupidly paranoid and PC we are becoming. For me, PC is something that sits on my desk and has no other connotation. F'rinstance the mail makes a statement along the lines of mum defrosting the meat on the kitchen sink, taking sandwiches to school, wrapped in wax paper and put in a brown paper bag - you could always tell the rich kids, theirs was wrapped in rainbow coloured paper - not a coldpack, and no recollection of anyone getting ecoli. Yes! AND we used to swap lunches if you didn't like what your mum had packed that day. Did that many a time.

We said prayers and sung the National Anthem, were force fed free milk at morning tea - ugh, hated that bit cause sometimes the milk was warm - oh, and didn't like having to wash out the bottles in an aluminium garbage can - and getting detention was uber uncool. (There, Teen, I said it!)

We played in the vacant lot, doing stupid things on a pile of gravel left by a construction company and when we got hurt we went to mum for a bandaid, a hug and a 'get back out there'. Now, it's off to the dr, a course of antibiotics and mum phones the solicitor to sue the pants off the company for leaving the gravel there.

You were too scared to play up at your mate's place. You'd get your butt smacked there, and a double dose of trouble when you got home! If your mate hurt themselves doing something stupid, they'd get a swat from their mum for being a yobbo. These days she could own your house.

Ah, fond memories of growing up with a sense of freedom denied in today's world. They were the good old days. Blimmin' heck! I'm beginning to sound like my grandmother........ !

Wedding with a difference

I was fortunate enough to attend a friend's wedding on the weekend. A very cozy affair.

An operatic recital with vows thrown in for good measure. Poetry readings, an extract from a novel - Captain Corelli's Mandolin - an oboe soloist, baritone and soprano singers. All magic to the ears.

But the grand lady of the event was the pipe organ. Certainly a beautiful instrument, allowed to flex her chords both as an introduction to the ceremony and during a solo performance or two.

A wedding with a format not usually encountered, but knowing the groom I shouldn't have been surprised. Well done everyone. Loved every minute of it.

Stepping it up

I am currently competing - well, maybe that's too strong a word - participating in a 'World Walking Challenge'. Run by a section of Human Movement Studies at one of our local Universities. Pretty much a subversive plot to get us off our butts and onto our feet.

Nevertheless, our team name is based on Star Trek. What can you expect, we work in IT. A co-conspiritor from another team asked which one I was. "Enterprise."
"Really? Why on earth did you pick that one?"
"Umm, because I'm an enterprising person?"
He ignored that and complained Enterprise was the worst of the lot.
"When [E] came back from a Star Trek convention, he said he had been talking to [Deanna Troi] and asked if she minded that the Enterprise series was cancelled part way through."
We listened with interest.
"Not really was the reply. Why? Because it was crap..."

How can you argue with an assessment like that from one of the stars? (Actually I picked it because I liked the name...)