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| Friday, December 22, 2006 |
| Thieved from Sky |
All the Christmas facts about Ata that you never wanted to know, with thanks to Sky for pinching it from someone else.
1. Egg Nog or Hot Chocolate?
Hot chocolate. Although not at Christmas time, so much.
2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree?
Which what? I guess he just sits them under the tree, which would explain why they're in the same wrapping paper that was bought in bulk last year, with tags in Grandma's handwriting - Santa has obviously collected them from assorted relatives to deliver.
3. Coloured lights on tree/house or white?
Welll... I think I like white ones, but this year I bought my first ever set of my very own lights. And they are coloured. I didn't get the ones that flash in patterns, though, and now I wish I had. I've hung them around the dining room. Half hung, anyway. Really should get on to finishing that.
4. Do you hang mistletoe?
I once hung mistletoe in our bird cages. The red-wing parrot thought it was a fantastically tasty treat, and the lorikeet swung off it until it broke and he landed on his back. But I suspect our mistletoe to be somewhat different to what's traditionally hung over doorways.
5. When do you put your decorations up?
When I get around to it. Mine haven't really gone up yet. Which is why I feel justified in leaving them up for months after Christmas - it seems a shame to only enjoy them for a couple of days.
6. What is your favourite holiday dish (excluding dessert)?
Chicken wings. Every celebratory meal is, in my mind, centred around marinated chicken wings.
7. Favourite Holiday memory as a child?
Staying at my grandmother's house. She kept little china figurines of animals in the guest bedside drawers, and we played with them when we visited.
8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa?
We were never really encouraged to believe in Santa, or to disbelieve in Santa either. It was kind of a non-issue. So I guess we got the best of both worlds, being allowed to enjoy Santa at parties or shopping centres or whatnot, without a big let-down over discovering he wasn't real. Mostly, I had fun convincing my smallest brother to believe in Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, the Birthday Fairy (being the one to deliver birthday presents), and the Balloon Fairy (guess what she delivered!).
I do recall one year when, about a week after Christmas, I walked into the lounge to discover presents all over the table next to the Christmas tree... and having the sudden, startling thought that Santa had actually come - just a week late. (This was in the middle of nowhere, and if the post often took weeks to arrive, why not Santa?)
Then I realised it was my birthday.
9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve?
No. No no no. But if a friend gives me a gift prior to Christmas, I might open it then-and-there.
10. How do you decorate your Christmas Tree?
I have a very little tree, so it's decorated with whatever very little ornaments I can find. Although I think I might buy a little tree this year, which will be a little bigger than my current one, and it might need slightly bigger ornaments.
11. Snow! Love it or Dread it?
I have no experience on which to base an assessment.
12. Can you ice skate?
Yes, provided that I don't have to do anything trickier than start and turn in gentle arcs, and provided that there is a wall to run into for the purpose of stopping.
13. Do you remember your favourite gift?
Probably the camera my grandfather gave me when I was eight. Or the 3D-puzzle my brother gave me when I was 18.
14. What's the most important thing about the Holidays for you?
The feel of sharing a celebration with the whole city - the general sense of having something to look forward to that everyone seems to have.
15. What is your favorite Holiday Dessert?
Umm... can't say I really have one. I had an ice-cream Christmas pudding, once, made with icecream and lollies. Mum used to make trifle or pavlova for special occasions. I still love pavlova. Well, I like trifle too, but not if it's made with alcohol. I don't like that.
16. What is your favourite Holiday tradition?
Tinsel. I Love Tinsel. And the getting-together thing - we used to have friends over for Christmas in the years that we didn't go to visit family. I think the smallest Christmas day I ever had was me, Mr Ata, and his brother. It was the first time it occurred to me that most people spend the day with family, which was why none of our friends were up for Christmas lunch. We ate rolls with fancy fillings in a park, and climbed trees.
Oh, and crackers. I love crackers. This year I put little chocolates inside shop-bought crackers, figuring that chocolate is a much nicer cracker-content than those weird little plastic keyring things.
17. What tops your tree?
A star, made of cardboard and inevitably looking depressed around the edges.
18. Which do you prefer - giving or receiving?
Giving, I think. We don't have a strong tradition of gift-giving in our family, so I only do it when I feel like it, and when people are in the same state... the last few years they've all just gotten TEAR cards and chocolate. Which seems to make everyone pretty happy, anyway.
19. What is your favorite Christmas Song?
Hark the Herald Angels Sing. You can really get stuck into singing it, and it's right smack bang in the range I'm strongest in.
20. Candy Canes... Yuck or Yum?
mmmMMMMMMMMmmmmm. I love candy canes. But only peppermint ones - the fruity flavoured ones give me a headache. |
posted by Ata @ 10:31 pm  |
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| Thursday, December 21, 2006 |
| Ata's Cats |
Because you haven't heard about them for soooooo long.
Ata and Mr Ata were toilet-training their cats. As in, training them to use the actual toilet. This would probably have been an easier process if there were less than two cats or more than one toilet in the house.
Anyway, we felt we were making good progress - Bosco would use the toilet seat, but Ros would not, so we were having to go back a couple of steps. Then we thought we were making good progress again, until we discovered Bosco peeing down the plughole in the bath.
Eventually, Mr Ata insisted that we give up. Instead, we bought a covered litter box. The cats go in and out through a swinging flap. They did not like the covered litter box, and refused for a couple of days before giving in.
We thought all was well.
Today we discovered that Bosco has figured out how to get IN to the bag of litter, which he apparently feels is easier and better than simply pushing through the swinging flap.
But Mr Ata is a good boy, so Ata only had to discover this by hearing about it from Mr Ata, while he cleaned up.
Dratted cat. |
| posted by Ata @ 6:05 pm |
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| Tuesday, December 19, 2006 |
| Ata and the Lasagna |
Today, Ata went to the cafeteria for lunch. This is not unusual - she has been to the cafeteria for lunch everyday that she has been working at the hospital - that is a total of seven days, now.
The cafeteria serves three choices of main meal, and every day they are different. Additionally, once you have been served your choice of hot food, you may select salads, chips, wedges, cooked vegetables, and the like from the cabinets as you please before going to pay for your meal. Ata likes to have cooked vegetables, and just a few chips, with gravy. The salads are mostly uninspiring, although the potato salad looks alright.
On the day in question, Ata chose vegetable lasagna. Having been handed her share, she proceeded to the vegetables, and served herself some vegies. She noticed that, just above the wedges and to the right of the chips, there was a tub of warm cheese sauce. Usually there was only gravy to spread on your chips and vegies. Perhaps it was because of the lasagna, thought Ata. It does look a little dry - perhaps one is supposed to put cheese sauce on it oneself.
So she lifted the ladle experimentally. The sauce seemed a little thin, but evenly textured. Ata decided that just a little would be nice. As she began carefully drizzling, a cafeteria lady yelped at her - and then Ata realised her foolish mistake.
It was not cheese sauce.
It was cream of chicken soup.
Startled by her own lack of common sense (had she not, everyday, seen a tub of soup in that exact location? Usually pumpkin soup, but it does vary), Ata promptly forgot her personal rule - that is, when one is caught doing something silly, the best course of action is to make a startled face, admit the mistake, and laugh as if one is amused rather than mortified. Instead, she stammered something about just wanting to wet her lasagna, and escaped to the checkout. Ignoring the fact that the checkout lady was smothering a grin, Ata and her wounded ego stalked to a table near the window and hid in the book she had borrowed from the extra gifts cupboard.
Tomorrow she shall have to take sandwiches. |
| posted by Ata @ 5:44 pm |
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| Sunday, December 17, 2006 |
| Oooh, sparkley. |
Ata has just come back from the fireworks.
Mr Ata wanted to go. Ata was very tired and did not feel like going out, but she went anyway.
There is a church a few minutes from Ata and Mr Ata's house, a very big church. Guy Sebastian's old home church, no less. The Guy himself was singing at their Carols by Candlelight night tonight. According to the banners, Dorothy the Dinosaur was also in attendance. Which seems ever so slightly random, but nevermind. The finale of the night is a fireworks display. Ata and Mr Ata do not go to the carols, but they have in past years done the same as they did tonight - park on the side of the road nearby, and watch the fireworks from the footpath.
It was a very lovely display, all sparks and shimmers and showers of falling glitter. Multicoloured spheres and squealing rockets and cleverly shaped creations - stars inside circles and lopsided, misshapen hearts. And enough bangs and crackles to terrify dogs for miles around.
Fireworks are a remarkable thing to Ata. So much money, and time, and effort to create them - all for barely a few seconds of pretty sparkles that have no earthly purpose other than to be admired quickly before they fade. Sometimes it seems a great sadness, that we are so eager to be amused, we will put so many resources into such a short burst of empty glamour. Other times it seems the greatest expression of human joy and hope - to spend so much effort on brief glory for no purpose other than the enjoyment of beauty. |
| posted by Ata @ 10:13 pm |
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| Thursday, December 14, 2006 |
| Show me the loot! |
Ata has been working this week in the PR & Fundraising department of Adelaide's major children's hospital. In Reception, which is usually her least favourite roles. But the phone does not ring often and Ata can put it to voicemail if she steps away from the desk, so it's not too bad.
One of the nicest parts of this particular job is that people come in with donations. This week, Ata has accepted donations of knitted hats for premmie babies, knitted teddies, secondhand clothes, decorated mirrors, a TV, and assorted toys. Being close to Christmas, there is also the big Christmas toy Event - on Christmas Day, the children in hospital are given a gift by Santa. Today, a woman appeared with $1000 worth of toys to donate for Christmas. Apparently, she and her husband have been having trouble getting pregnant in the course of their IVF therapy through the hospital - so they decided to give gifts to other people's children instead.
There is also some kind of party happening tomorrow involving the Police. Ata has been warned not to be alarmed when 20-odd uniformed Police and STAR Force members show up.
Judging by the STAR Force officer who turned up today to try on the Santa outfit for tomorrow, alarmed would not be the right word.
Ata suspects that his presence is the Christmas present for the nurses on the wards... one of the administration girls has somehow snaffled the job of Santa's Little Helper, much to the envy of at least one of the media liaison girls.
Oh - and the other media liaison officer is a cat-lover. Ata has promised to bring in pics of her little beasties tomorrow. |
| posted by Ata @ 6:50 pm |
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| Tuesday, December 12, 2006 |
| Dumps |
Ata needs a job. Or something. Depressed and miserable and pointless-feeling, and only stupid little baby jobs that stop and she can't properly contribute to.
But still she doesn't want to work full-time. To take on something that she can contribute properly to - to get involved in the planning and assessing and setting-up that she loves to do means taking on fulltime, permanent work - and that means no time for the things she loves to do, and working regular everyday all the time hours that she hates to do, and then in a year or so - what? She'll get sick, and quit, and poof - it's all gone. No chance to see whether her works are implemented, no chance to see how they work out, and Ata's back to the same place she started. Even the money barely makes life more comfortable - all her salary gets saved and then promptly spent when she's out sick, and there's not even the satisfaction of working on a structure and plan for herself and Mr Ata. Everything is plans half-made and never carried out. Chasing the wind, all is chasing the wind. Stupid. |
| posted by Ata @ 8:05 pm |
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| Thursday, December 07, 2006 |
| The Platform |
You've had the text-only version of the caper that was the building of the platform, so I thought I'd get around to some pictures now. I won't filmloop them, I'll just post 'em. Here we go.
WARNING: very pic-heavy post ahead.
First task: disassembly of system in old room. 
Followed by reassembly in new room - in itself no easy task. We had to put a hole in the back of the new cabinet to allow cables to be plugged in.
After the saga with the buying of the wood and the saws and the long hours spent at Mitre 10, we set up the 'workshop'. See all that wood?
Ata has mentioned a dislike of powerful spinny dangerous limb-hacking tools, yes? Well, observe as Ata faces her demons.
Ata feels the fear....
...And does it anyway.
In the midst of work, there must always be time for cat-stacking fun.
It is just as well Ros is a good sport.
 Remember all those pine planks on the floor in that earlier shot? Well, after two days of measuring and snarling and measuring again, they looked like this:
Assembly could now begin.
With more measuring.
And some drilling.
And finally, after much measuring and drilling....
...Ta - Da!
A platform! Underneath it looks like this:
Except when it's on the ground, it has fewer cats inside. Um... as in, no cats inside. Although when we lowered it after taking this picture, there was a moment of alarm when Bosco could not be located... but then he appeared from under a chair. Phew. There are doors on a couple of sections on the right-hand-side - see the black bits? These are our storage areas for keeping DVD's in, as there is no space for shelves in the room.
The room is now pretty much complete, as the screen was hung on the weekend. And then hung again the other day when the block that one of the pulley wheels was mounted on broke. Now it needs re-levelling - as the knots tighten and settle, one side of the screen has dropped. But all in all, it is very comfortable. Pics of completed room to follow, when I can find the battery charger to make the camera operational again.
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| posted by Ata @ 10:56 am |
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| Tuesday, December 05, 2006 |
| Bleh |
I have decided that the Thing I Have Done is terrible. Awful. Wrong and Boring. My conclusion here is supported by the fact that everyone I show it to refuses to meet my gaze whilst saying, "yeah... that was... good..."
Awful. Horrible. Terrible. I am useless and will never amount to anything. Blech. I am so demotivated by evidence of my own patheticness that I can't even be bothered to take it down and replace it with a better effort. Uck.
At least I can make decent pizza dough. |
| posted by Ata @ 1:05 pm |
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| Friday, December 01, 2006 |
| Drunkards |
Ata went to a drinks night tonight. On the whole, it was a pleasant event, at which she met some new people and ran into some old friends. Then there were the cricket-watchers.
The cricket is on. This means that of an evening, the bars - and indeed any venue where alcohol is served, apparently - are full of sloshed cricket-watchers from all over the globe. Well, Australia and Britain.
The three Ata has in mind had spent the day at some sort of private function, apparently drinking more than watching cricket. The only real details she got were that there were a lot of blondes there. Ata got introduced to the three cricket-watchers when she noticed that her friend, who shall be known as T, was making 'come save me' faces from underneath three looming men. Obligingly gliding over, Ata promptly regretted the cut of the dress she was wearing when one of the three spent a good two minutes literally bent over double under the guise of reading Ata's nametag. Yes. Truly. After making polite but nonsensical banter, Ata extricated T, claiming that she needed to be introduced to... someone outside. It was fifteen minutes later that one of the three wandered outside and, in some kind of effort to apologise for his friend's behaviour, proceeded to lean very close to Ata and deliver a long, rambling essay on Men Who Try To Pick Up Women. Ata is ashamed to say it, but eventually she left T to suffer the tirade while Ata conveniently spotted someone much more sober who required her immediate attention. Well, I did give T the opportunity to claim that she needed to be introduced to this other sober person, but she didn't take it. Or didn't notice it. One of them.
Afterward, Ata went to collect Mr Ata from the PJ O'Briens, where he'd met his brother. This place was full of thoroughly off their faces cricket enthusiasts. Ata sidled through the crowd, avoiding making eye contact, but couldn't find Mr Ata. So she sent him an SMS. Instead of messaging back, he called. She shouted at him to message her, then hung up. He called again. Unable to hear anything, and attracting bemused gazes from those around her, she went outside and continued shouting into the phone. Finally, she made out a sentence - "I can't hear you. I'm going outside and I'll call again." Good. That'll do. So she stood in front of the door, avoiding the eyeline of the old man with a whisky glass sitting at one of the outdoor tables, until Mr Ata and his brother appeared and decided that they wouldn't call her, as they'd found her outside.
We sat at a table with - you guessed it - the old man with the glass of whisky. Turns out he is a regular at that pub, goes there with a mate every Friday. The mate joined us also, and we bellowed conversation for a time. Well, we think it was conversation. The two of them had Irish accents so thick that they stuck in the ears like cotton wool, and we would make out maybe one or two words from a paragraph. One of them procured yellow hats reading "Boony Army" for Mr Ata and his brother. They were pleased. Mr Ata's brother announced that he would wear his to the bogan party he was going to later.
Ata eventually tired of the shouting and confusion and insisted on going home. Now she plans to eat the last of the leftover pizza and go to bed.
Pfft. Social butterflying is for suckers. |
| posted by Ata @ 9:55 pm |
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