|
| Saturday, September 30, 2006 |
| I, uhh, walked into a door... |
Ata's face hurts.
Ata's face hurts because Ata learns slowly.
Ata bought a pair of ratcheting loppers for trimming branches.
Ata decided to remove the small tree beside the tap.
Ata used the loppers to trim off all the little branches before cutting the tree down.
Ata used the loppers to cut a branch a little thicker than they were made to handle. It was also a little too high to reach easily.
Ata struggled and struggled to push the lopper handles - which were at face height - closed.
Ata clocked herself in the jaw when the branch gave way.
That was face-hurt one.
Ata also decided to cut back the branches that overhang the back fence.
Ata slid the lopper-handles out (they're telescopic!) to their full length to snip off a high branch.
Ata got her cheekbone this time. Hard enough to see stars.
That was face-hurt two.
Fortunately, neither bruise has coloured up. But between those injuries and the neat venipuncture performed by the orange tree whilst Ata was shoveling dirt without paying close attention to tree proximity, Ata feels that yesterday's gardening efforts might be enough for a little while. |
posted by Ata @ 5:45 pm  |
|
|
|
| Thursday, September 28, 2006 |
| Changing Times |
Right now, the whole of Ata's world seems to be in a state of flux.
FAC has had her baby - the gym her husband works at has been sold - Mr Ata's redundancy has been announced and he has two new job offers pending - our other good friends have had THEIR baby, and a third couple have announced their first pregnancy - Mr Ata's Best Man has finished his medical degree and has a new job lined up - HIS wife is also interviewing for a new job - new new new new everywhere. Truly, it must be spring. Aside from the pending Carrot, Ata has a new temp contract beginning the week after next - although it is back at the place she temped at last year. When she finished, she told them she was going to look for a permanent job in Human Resources. So it is, of course, mildly embarrassing to be turning back up as a temp. But never mind. As it turns out, Ata likes temping. Besides which, there is perhaps less than half of the same staff that were there this time last year - so unless they have been gossiping, no-one will know. |
| posted by Ata @ 9:08 am |
|
|
|
| Wednesday, September 27, 2006 |
| Procrastination |
It's Ata's biggest downfall. Truly.
For example, Ata promised to do something - that is, arrange a live nativity display for her church in the few days before Christmas. She would like to make it known that she didn't exactly volunteer for this, rather, she was sort of backed into it by the person who was originally asked to do it but thought she might not be in Adelaide at Christmastime and wanted someone else to help. Then "help" became "do" and the original organiser became the helper. It should not be a large task - there is set and costumes available already, Ata just needs to organise people to be involved. It is not even a large commitment of time for those involved - half an hour a night over three nights. If people cannot make the three nights, surely they can make one of the three and we can have a rotating cast. They do not have to learn any lines, there is no play-acting involved (well, very little, anyway).
The problem is, Ata HATES asking people for stuff. Particularly asking people to DO stuff. The current task is that Ata needs to ask the person who has the stable in storage to show it to her, so she can get an idea of how many people it takes to put up and any safety issues associated with have a piece of set intended for a stage inside a church where people will be walking by constantly. As a result, she has put off making the necessary phone call for... oh... three weeks now. Delay any longer and it will be Christmas!
So Ata is firmly refusing to think thoughts such as "Why did I agree to this? Why did Jacqui have to go away? Why are we even HAVING a nativity display? Jesus didn't instruct anyone to celebrate his birth, so I'm sure Christmas is entirely unbiblical. And if we're going to be specific, it should be in a different month anyway. Didn't we plan to go to Darwin in December?" and so on. Such thoughts are Unproductive, and intended to mask the basic issue - which is that Ata is procrastinating about doing something she promised to do. Shared celebrations are an important community bonding activity. It's not really a lot of work. It's an opportunity for personal growth. You're an adult, Ata, so suck it up and get on with it.
It's not just at church that Ata procrastinates. The spare room bed is still piled with clothes Ata took on her last Darwin trip - the only reason they're out of the suitcase is that Mr Ata wanted to use the suitcase. At work, once, her boss asked her to organise some training for her Customer Service Department by negotiating with the sister company to join in their training. Ata delayed and delayed and put it off until he forgot about it. Ata once researched and wrote a 3000 word essay in 12 hours because she'd procrastinated about it until the day before it was due. And got a credit for it, too, but that's not the point. The point is that procrastination is a Very Bad Habit, and Ata needs to break it. Which she will. She will make that phone call, right now. Well, after a coffee. And then I'm not sure if I know where the phone book is. |
| posted by Ata @ 10:00 am |
|
|
|
| Monday, September 25, 2006 |
| Update |
Heheh. Saying update makes me think of Roy & HG commentating the Sydney Olympics gymnastics.
Sorry, back on track.
The carrot people want to talk to me again! Aaaaaaah! (that was a thrilled kind of scream, in case you didn't pick up on that). I just got a message! I have to call them back! When I got the message I actually waved my hands around and drummed my feet on the floor in sheer excitement, which I have never ever done before. Not even when I won the NT Schools Literary Award and the top achiever in my class also entered and only came third. Or when my parents gave me a kitten for Christmas when I was four. I think I might have been almost as excited when we got the message that we had been placed with My Little Sister, whom we waited four years for. Or was it five? I don't remember. So I'm pretty excited.
AAAAAAHHHHH!
I think I will have to wait a little while to calm down before I call them. I hope I get it. I hope I get it. I hope I get it and it turns out fantastic. Oh, I am so not going to sleep tonight. |
| posted by Ata @ 1:28 pm |
|
|
|
| Sunday, September 24, 2006 |
| Awwww, wook at de widdle toes... |
Alright, I didn't actually say that. I reserve babytalk strictly for puppies and kittens.
Today we went to meet Inara Jade, now two days old. We are on cat-feeding duties while our Friends-Around-the-Corner are in the Hospital-Around-More-Corners with their new baby. Modern maternity wings have rooms set up so that partners can stay - so, there is no-one left at home to feed the kitties. IJ is appropriately small and babylike. She has a dimple on her chin identical to her father, and her mother assures me that IJ in profile is identical to FAC's own baby photos. I have refrained from pointing out that babies - at two days old - tend to look more or less like others of their own racial background.
Ever heard the expression "useless as tits on a tomcat"? Well, that's pretty much how I feel around baby-oriented women. I have no common experience of childbearing or mothering. I am not inclined to coo and babble. Even gazing adoringly gets a bit much after a while. Oh well. I have been booked for mother-and-baby duty on Thursday, to be company for mum and an alternate baby-holder when she needs a break. I can read stories and sing songs with the best of them, so that's what I'll jolly well be doing, regardless of whether IJ gets much out of it. I was a speech pathologist, dammit. Reading to babies is good for them. |
| posted by Ata @ 6:53 pm |
|
|
|
| Saturday, September 23, 2006 |
| In the Garden |
Today I did gardening. Well, when I say "gardening" I mean "inhibited and/or killed things in the yard". I sprayed all the grass in the backyard with glyphosphate, and pulled up a handful of lantana seedling (Fricking lantana! I dug the parent plant up over two years ago, and I'm still getting seedlings coming up). Then I sprayed all the weeds down the driveway, the grass that's trying to regain a foothold in the garden beds (carefully, though, so as not to kill off my grevilleas), and the ivy beside the house (in the vain hope that if I get poison on the fresh new growth it might at least slow the stuff down). Then I cut back the unidentified yellow bush near the fenceline in the front yard, and attempted to dig the stump up but it was more firmly rooted than I anticipated. So I left it there for another day. Then I hacked the rosemary back (I know you're not supposed to prune stuff while it's in full flower... but rosemary is as tough as old boots in Adelaide, so I have no fear about attacking it with the secateurs). The garden waste bin was full of yellow bush, however, so I piled up the rosemary cuttings (with a few stems of ivy included) - my favourite approach to dealing with piles of cuttings is to heap them up somewhere they're unlikely to take root, and leave them there until they get dry and crunchy. Then I stamp on them for a while, and then put any large bits leftover in the garden waste bin. The dried leaves and little twigs that break off whilst stamping I leave on the ground, in the pretence that I have actually mulched the garden. That way, more fits in the green waste bin. It's only collected every fortnight so you've gotta squeeze as much in as you can. Mind you, it would probably be easier if I just gave things a little trim on a regular basis rather than a once-yearly hack job, but I like my way better. It leaves more time for important things, like the board.
Oh, and I piled the lillies I pulled up last week into the green waste bin, too. They'd been left in a heap on the concrete to dry out a bit, and I wasn't about to pile them onto a garden bed as "mulch" because some of them had roots and nodules attached - those little bastards spread fast enough as it is. They don't need my help. Whoever planted this yard obviously chose hardy, unkillable plants - ivy, lantana, nandina, unidentified lillies.... good job, guys. I think of you regularly (well, once or twice a year) when I'm battling one of the evil fascist psychopathic maniacs of the plant world that you populated the garden with.
Then I made an internal list of Stuff that Has To Be Done:
1. remove the small tree near the tap (we suspect it being part of the reason we have to get a plumber in every twelve months to clear the pipes)
2. remove the small tree near where the pipes from the toilet exit the house (also part of the plumber employment plan) - someone's tried to do it before, but they didn't poison/remove the stump, and the tree has just re-sprouted.
3. remove the ivy growing down the side of the house.
4. remove the ivy growing beside the shed
5. remove the yellow bush
6. remove the concrete path
7. remove the brick planter box
8. get someone in to build us some new gates (actually, I add this to the list every time I have to go through the side gate - it's just about detached from the fence and a pain in the proverbial to open/close)
9. plant stuff. Stuff that's pretty hardy, but easier to kill than kikuyu grass or lantana. Just in case someone wants to take it out someday - and just in case a future owner does not want the house swallowed up by rampant plant growth.
There's a lot of removing on the list, I know. Removing things is my basic approach to garden maintenance - just pull out the stuff you don't want, plant some stuff you do want, and pull out whatever doesn't grow. When my mother visits I am also prompted to do things like mulch, fertilise, tip prune... that kind of stuff. In the meantime, it's the poison and slash method.
So now the green bin is full, there's a pile of rosemary cuttings that's almost larger than what remains of the bush, and hopefully some other stuff will start to die in about a week's time. My job is done. And I have blisters from my secateurs. |
| posted by Ata @ 11:09 pm |
|
|
|
| Thursday, September 21, 2006 |
| Promise to Jes |
Okay, here's the deal.
If I get the carrot, and it turns out well - I'll tell you. All about it. You'll be even more sick of hearing about it than you already are.
If I get the carrot, and it turns out badly - well, you'll probably still hear about it, but I may need to be bribed with chocolate.
If I don't get the carrot - mmm, I guess you might one day get me drunk enough to tell you all about it, but I don't envision that happening any time soon. Or perhaps I will be so depressed at missing out that I'll tell you anyway, in a fit of self-pity, and regret it for ever after. |
| posted by Ata @ 11:24 pm |
|
|
|
|
| Work All Finish. |
Today was Ata's last day at her two-days-a-week job. It would have been tomorrow, but Ata wanted to do something else tomorrow so she arranged to work Wednesday-Thursday instead of Thursday-Friday. Because Ata usually works Thursday-Friday, the change of schedule took some people by surprise - one or two thought she was finishing tomorrow, and the rest didn't know that this was her last week at all. To be fair, Ata didn't know this was her last week until Tuesday either, so one cannot blame them.
Not liking fanfare, Ata did not announce her last day and name a place to have lunch, as is the tradition at that particular place of work. I mean, really - I'm a temp! I do two days a week! Surely I don't need to be farewelled! This drew some raised eyebrows when Ata informed them as she was leaving that no, she would not be back tomorrow. It occurred to Ata - somewhat belatedly - that the group lunch might be an Important Bonding Activity. Oh well. If the carrot does not come through Ata might be back there in a couple of months anyway. |
| posted by Ata @ 5:49 pm |
|
|
|
| Tuesday, September 12, 2006 |
| Remember the carrot? |
Remember the carrot? Well, I shall not tell you what it is. Suffice to say it is still dangling.
But I find myself in a quandary. I desperately want the carrot. This particular carrot, however, requires that I keep all of February free if I am to be able to take it, IF it is offered to me. Which is by no means certain.
In the meantime, there is a strong possibility - a very strong possibility - more of a certainty, really - that the people I currently temp for will offer me a 12-month full time contract. This would be beginning from, say, January. Not doing exactly what I am doing now, but in the same building. As Mr Ata expects to be made redundant soon, it has been decided that I should go back to work full time.
Herein lies the trouble. Do I say, yes, of course, I will take the contract - knowing that I then have a fulltime income for the next 12 months? I do not like to mess people around, so if I were to take the contract it would mean making myself unavailable should the carrot be offered. How long do I wait to hear more about the carrot? I expect to hear SOMETHING in the next week or two, but then again, I may not. If I turn down the contract, and hold out for the carrot - I might miss out on both. And where I work now (despite my current role being a little surreal) is a Good Place to work. They are friendly and helpful and often go out for long lunches on Fridays. AND there's free biscuits - often even Tim Tams. Plus, being a Big Company, it is likely that I'd have the opportunity to gain experience in lots of different business areas in the future, provided that I am a good little worker - which I am. And if I am to work full time, I do not intend to be answering phones and typing things for very long. This would cause my head to implode.
Mr Ata wants me to Think of the Dollars. We intend to get to work on an investment porfolio over the coming year, to reduce our dependence on working for money. But the carrot! The carrot! I have wanted this carrot for a long time, and it may never come again!
I don't even know what the contract role would be doing. All I know is that it wouldn't be what I do now. So I have told them that I am hoping to hear about my carrot, and that I would need to know more about the contract role to make any decisions. In the hope that, by the time they've gotten their act together and properly explained and offered me the contract, the carrot people will also have gotten their act together and begun divvying up the vegies. |
| posted by Ata @ 12:13 pm |
|
|
|
| Saturday, September 09, 2006 |
| Ata's Show Report |
Today was the last day of the Show, and hence Ata's last opportunity to go to the Show. So she went. Despite late hopes that Mr Ata may have been able to accompany her, the anticipated work problems did not occur, so he was required to work after all.
So off to the show went Ata. She ate poffertjes and a jam donut and a baked potato and more samples of dip/bread/olive oil than you can poke a stick at. She considered lining up for a sample of icecream with chocolate sauce - but then realised how long the line was. She paid $1 for a sample scoop of rice and vindaloo, and very nearly wiped out all ability to taste by sampling several flavours of chilli sauce.
But the Show is not all about food. There are animals! Hooray! First stop is the cats - they were judging when Ata got there, so access to the show cats was denied. Ata had to content herself with the Whiskas display, composed of a few purebred cats and some domestic moggies-for-adoption. There was a sheep-woolly Devon Rex and a family of ginger Scottish Folds, and a British Shorthair. Ata joined the tiny cluster admiring a Scottish Fold being shown off by a breeder. Then she wandered across to the rabbits - oddly, the rabbits/guinea pigs/cage birds are in the same area as the cats. A Dwarf Lop rabbit ran an obstacle course set up on a long table, then demanded treats from it's handler with busy scuffing paws on his jacket. After several runs along the course, the handler went to speak to some other rabbit people. The Dwarf Lop stretched out on one end of the table and gazed at the group of admirers. Three children were displaying calm guinea pigs for the judges on little squares of carpet. Ata has never seen such calm guinea pigs.
By the time the above animals had been inspected, judging was over. Ata proceeded through to see the Best Of cats. One or two had had enough and were hiding behind their curtains, but most were inspecting the audience or demanding attention from their show-ers. The Best Balinese Kitten was loudly complaining about being caged, while her neighbour stretched paws through the bars to snag the clothing of her owner. A breeder had a Somali out for admiration by the general public, and the cat reclined in her arms and kneaded it's paws in the air. Two Russian Blues watched passers-by with alert eyes - it is always a little confusing to see show cats that look so much like Bosco and yet not like Bosco. He is more delicately boned than the show standard.
After the cats, Ata went to see the dogs. A standard poodle with a traditional boofy French clip stood grandly on a table while it's handler brushed and sprayed the 'do to perfection. An announcer announced that could whoever owned the Schipperke please come immediately as it was loose. A Basset Hound leaned lovingly into the hand of an admirer who had stopped to speak to the breeder and scratch the dog. Then a child came by, balanced on the hip of her mother, and the dog immediately turned it's attention to the girl while the owner explained that he really loved kids. Ata paused to talk to the owners of a glowingly golden Saluki and went on to stare jealously at the only Wolfhound on display. They were judged yesterday, so today only the "Best Of" was on display.
After having done the rounds of her favourite animal displays, Ata was free to wander the rest of the show. She bought salami and cinnamints and cheap toe-socks and got offered a job by her old employers. She watched the farrier's competition and admired the patient Clydesdales, standing placidly while men banged and clattered on metal and made them lift their hooves repeatedly to check the fit of the shoes they were making. She watched the end of the freestyle motocross display and the beginning of the sheepdog trials - it was the sheepdogs she really wanted to see, but by the time the motocross had finished and the obstacles had been set up and the trials were beginning, it was Cold and Ata was tired, so she stopped briefly at the fairy floss stand and went home.
And that was the Show! |
| posted by Ata @ 5:35 pm |
|
|
|
| Tuesday, September 05, 2006 |
| Bollywood comes to town |
A Bollywood movie is being filmed in Adelaide. Alright, partly in Adelaide.
Ata watched some of the filmic action from a bus. The leading lady was excruciatingly beautiful, the leading man suitably dashing, and the supporting actors were identifiable by being (a) suave and (b) a head shorter than the leading man. The crew looked like... well... crew.
At any rate, it was quite an event, with police required to control traffic flow around the set and pedestrians wandering through at inconvenient moments. A temporary bus stop had been set up as the shooting was happening around the actual bus stop. A number of people, however, managed to not notice the very prominent sign attached to the bus stop pole that specified the location of the temporary bus stop - 30 meters away - and had to be redirected by the increasingly exasperated crew.
On an only slightly related note, Ata was Late to the job she was doing today, and as a result has almost crippled herself by running in her fairly-new heeled boots. Whilst they are alright to walk in, running is apparently a different story. There is a rubbed-raw patch on her right big toe the size of her little fingertip, and the other foot has a matching blister that - as yet - is still covered by intact skin. Ow ow ow. Ata had to stop at the supermarket for some food on the way home (otherwise there would only be leftover pizza and tinned baked beans for tea), but she had taken her shoes off in the car and could not bring herself to put them back on. So it was barefoot into the supermarket, with neon-coloured bandaids wrapped around four toes. And pant cuffs just long enough to get wet on the damp concrete outside. |
| posted by Ata @ 6:04 pm |
|
|
|
| Saturday, September 02, 2006 |
| Ata loves it - |
- it's the Show! Hooray!
The Royal Show began on Friday. Ata was busy this weekend, and Mr Ata is on call all week, and he is covering someone else's on call next Saturday.
"I guess we can't go this year" said Mr Ata.
"That's okay. I will go on my own" replied Ata.
"But you can't!" exclaimed Mr Ata, "It's something we do together! We go together!"
"But you can't go," said Ata, "so we can't go together. I will go alone."
So it is settled. Ata will go alone - provided, that is, that Mr Ata does not cave and take a day off work to accompany her to the show.
But anyway. The Show got off to a bad start this year - a carriage came loose on one of the rides and a couple of people suffered some broken bones. In addition, the woman who gets fired out of a cannon? Well, let's just say she's probably going to have lots of time to reconsider her career choices. She missed the air bag she was supposed to land on. Well, she clipped the edge of it, so that probably slowed her down some.
"Are you sure you want to go to the show?" said Mr Ata.
"Well," said Ata, "I won't go on rides or get fired out of a cannon, so it will probably be okay."
Aside, of course, from the risk of fairy floss overdose. |
| posted by Ata @ 10:35 pm |
|
|
|
|
|
