The Ghost of Chistmas Past

The wrapping paper is in the recycling bin, the turkey carcass has been picked clean and the final cracker pulled. Christmas has come and gone again yet somehow I feel like I missed it.
Maybe the magic of the season was tempered by the lack of excitable young children in the house. Teenagers might enjoy the day but they don't have that same breathless wonder they did only a few years ago.
Perhaps over exposure to the commercial aspects of Christmas (the shops here were pimped out in tinsel and Xmas sales from mid October) somehow inoculated me against the charm of the season.
Or could it be that the Christmas cards from far flung relatives still trickling in through the post box have left me with a subconscious sense of not quite reaching the big day yet.
Whatever the cause, Christmas left me completely ambivalent this year.
I do hope it's not an indication of Christmas future.

Bah Humbug!

It just doesn't feel like Christmas.
The tree is up, gifts are wrapped. There's turkey in the fridge and fruit cake on the sideboard. Shops are crowded, television is a never ending parade of Christmas "specials" and carols are being played on the streets.
But the Christmas spirit is yet to move me. Somehow it all feels a bit hollow.
I'm drifting through the season in a dream-like state not quite wanting it all to be over but not anticipating the day either.
What ever happened to the thrill and magic that used to accompany Christmas? When did buying and wrapping gifts stop being fun and start being work? Where did this lethargic attitude to it all come from? Will it pass before the big day arrives?
I'll just keep on going through the motions and see where it all leads.

Size Matters

Apparently it's true what they say, size matters.
At least to men, anyway.
That's the only explanation I can think of. Why else would my hero insist on having the biggest one?
I managed to convince him that something smaller would be better.
And he agreed, eventually.
But only to something slightly smaller. As it was, it only just fit into the car.
I must admit though that I've got used to the size much faster than I thought I would.
Perhaps at heart size matters to us girls more than we like to admit.
Though it may be that after a week of watching the tiny tv the wide screen only looks huge in comparison. On the other hand maybe it is really massive. That's what you get for letting a man choose the TV.

Death By Dusting

During my childhood my family moved house-a lot. I continued my nomadic existance right through to my mid twenties when having children forced me to put down roots. Which is to say, the idea of packing up a household consisting of not only myself, but also my hero and, at that point, two small children, filled me with dred and so through pure terror/laziness we bought our little house in the suburbs. I tell you of my vast number of past abodes so that you know when I say this is the dustiest house I have ever lived in, I've got a good base for comparison.
And this is the dustiest house I have ever lived in.
I'm not talking about a fine layer settling on neglected ornaments here. I'm talking about a quilt of dust as thick as the A-K yellow pages over everything. Now you might think that's to be expected if you haven't dusted in sixteen years but this particularly aggressive dust accumulates within days: certainly less than a week. I've long since surrendered to the inevitablity of the dust. Once every month or so I go into a frenzy then between times I just wipe over the electrical appliances and brush away the spider webs.
As an aside we have particularly diligent spiders here. Once I set up the ironing board, went away to get some water to fill the iron and by the time I got back there was a web string from the ironing board to the window sill. I have a witness. I made my hero come and assure me I wasn't seeing things. It does seem a bit unfair that we should have webs when you consider the size of the huntsmen that make their way in here. But back to the dust...
So yesterday I decided it was time to do some dusting. I wiped and vaccuumed and flittered about with the synthetic feathers (supposedly static to pick dust up not just blow it about). It all looked lovely, and probably will do for a few days.
Then last night I turned on the television. Reception was absolute rubbish-or so I thought. I put up with the flickering for a while then gave up and changed channels. Again with the bad reception. In fact every channel had a shockingly bad picture. And then-POOF! The screen went completley black.
We tried everything in our repetoire (basically unplugging it and plugging it back in) to no avail. Our TV was dead. Dead as a doornail.
I'm not sure what went wrong but I think it was the dust. The machine had probably accustomised itself to operating in a dust rich environment and then I came along and cleaned up. It just couldn't cope.
I'll be much more selective about my dusting in the future, that's for sure.

Gotcha!

My men were watching the V8 Supercars on TV and I came in just as one was leaving the pits (a car that is, not the men). I paused and watched it swing back out onto the track. Then said as deadpan as I could manage, "He didn't give way."
The look of shock and disbelief on my hero's face was priceless, as for just a second he thought my comment was serious.
Oh yeah, gotcha!

The Year That Was

The defining event of the past year has been My Hero's unexpected health issues. Much of the past eight months has been spent in and around hospitals and researching supplementary treatments (mainly dietary) while trying to keep things at home as routine as possible. This has meant downplaying the seriousness of My Hero's condition so as not to worry the children. With the Professor of Pedantics half way through VCE and Master of the Bleeding Obvious about to enter senior school the last thing either needs is to be worried about their father's health. Fortunately it hasn't been too difficult since he has few overt signs of illness.
On a happier note Boy Genius succeeded in getting a place at his first choice adult centre. He now attends Beachlynn Centre. He's settled in well and by all accounts really enjoys the program. Though it would take over an hour to get there via public transport, it's only about half an hour drive from home, so we bought a little car for me to ferry him out and back each day.
The car has also come in handy for the Professor of Pedantics to learn to drive. Yes, she got a learner's permit: and she's keener than she is skilled. At least I've got a year before Master of the Bleeding Obvious can get hers.
So that's the edited hilights of the year that was. It really doesn't sound like much but the time has swept by in a blur. I just keep breathing deeply and telling myself that everything is going to be just fine and so far, it has.

Password Recovered

SURPRISE!!!
For anybody still out there dropping by, you may be wondering why I haven't posted for over a year.
Well, the embarrassing truth is, I forgot my password and have been unable to log in, lo these many months.
So why didn't I use the recover password function? I tried, I really did but I am stupid. Note to self: do not make default email address for recovery password the address which you require the password to access.
Idiots fall down before me, for I am your queen.

Customer Relations

My mattress, which has been looking rather worn for a while now, finally gave up the ghost -a little spring poking its end out of the side. This coincides with council hard rubbish collection next week and the fortuitous arrival of a flyer in my letterbox detailing a mattress sale at a local factory warehouse. I took this convergence of events to be a sign that the time was right to buy a new mattress and promptly commenced researching mattresses.
The prices offered by the warehouse were very good value so I took myself there.
I was the only customer so had the full attention of the saleswoman. She asked me what I was after and I explained the need for a firm, supportive mattress. Naturally she showed me their top line product, and though I had no intention of spending over $1000 on a mattress I sat on the bed anyway curious about how good it could possibly be. I sank in a good three inches before I felt any support and told the saleswoman that I preferred something much firmer, like the mattress I already had. And she responded in exactly the same tone, and almost the same words, as the character Barbara from the bank world adds: If you like your old mattress so much, why are you buying a new one?
For a nanosecond I thought she was making a joke but her face and body language said otherwise. My instinctive reaction was to take my custom elsewhere but the prices were excellent and the mischievous imp inside me instantaneously came up with a plan to have a bit of fun. Without batting an eye I answered: Because we broke ours.
She then proceeded to show me the rest of their range. On each mattress I lay on my back, rolled over onto my side then sat up and bounced a bit finally culminating in kneeling and swaying slightly. After the third time she asked, in the exasperated tone one would usually use with a truculent two year old:
Is there a reason you’re bouncing and kneeling on the beds?
Straight faced I reply: I have a very active sex life.
Like a cartoon character, her jaw almost hit the floor. I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing. I selected a mattress for myself and on impulse decided to buy one for boy genius as well since his was getting on and the prices were so good. I explained I also needed a double bed mattress for my son. She once again showed me their top line model and I told her I wouldn’t be spending over $1000 on a mattress. She then showed me their most popular model. I sat on it, it felt soft yet supportive and it was very well priced so I said I’d take it. She then asked me if I wanted to lay on it and give it a bounce. I couldn’t resist, in my most appalled voice I answered: I won’t be sleeping on this one. It’s for my son.
I held it together long enough to pay and arrange delivery then had a good old giggle all the way home. I probably shouldn’t have teased the poor woman like that but I’ve never know such poor customer service in my life-and I’ve dealt with Myki.

Missed Milestone

Last Saturday the country went to the polls, for all the good it’s done. I went and did my democratic duty at the local community centre; since my hero was at work I had to take boy genius with me. As we waited in a queue that I’m sure could’ve been seen from space, we were approached by the usual suspects handing out ‘how to vote’ cards. Each and every one of them attempted to give one to boy genius and that simple act made me a little sad.
Boy genius turned 18 earlier this year. He’s now old enough to vote. And he never will. Even though voting is compulsory here.
At least he got to vicariously enjoy his first non-voting experience. He got to line up for ages on a windy grey morning and listen to the bored conversation of strangers discussing the chances of rain. He got to stand beside me in a booth while I numbered squares. But best of all, he got to post my votes in the boxes, an activity that filled him with delight the likes of which I’m sure the scrutineer didn’t see again that day.
Voting complete we slipped into the shopping centre next door and rewarded his good behaviour with the morning-tea of his choice and a peep at the 2011 Melways on display at the newsagent.
I know some people find voting to be a pain (obviously not those people in some countries that risk grievous bodily harm or death and trek for days to reach a voting booth anyway) but just you try to take away their right to vote. Boy genius will never be able to exercise that right whether he wants to or not. He’s an adult but he’s a child, it’s a mixed blessing we live with, but the reminders occasionally make me wistful for what might have been

I Blame Insomnia

My relationship would outlast the zombie apocalypse!

Take the How Long Would Your Relationship Survive in the Zombie Apocalypse? Quiz at JessePetersen.net

This is one fun and clever piece of marketing for Petersen's book "Married with Zombies". While it's not the kind of book I would usually pick up I stumbled onto the quiz while surfing the net in the wee small hours and it's piqued my interest. It sounds fascinating and fun. Or maybe I just need more sleep.