We’re experiencing technical difficulties

Please stand by.

Dry run day today

It’s Friday. The last school day before I’m off to strange lands.

So, of course, I’m making Hubby do everything I usually do whilst I’m here to supervise ‘cause I’m a paranoid B.

So far he’s woken up Chaos [Autistic, age 6] to come on a walk with him, Mayhem and the hound, and then left her lag behind 'cause I was there to hold her hand. Not encouraging, Hubby dear.

He also somehow managed to ninja some cereal into the house under the guise of bringing fizzy drinks home. I applaud that. Anyone who out-ninja’s me is worth a gold star. It means I have much more to learn about being an urban ninja.

FYI- No, I do not do any of that shuriken, wasabi or fu-jitsu. I’m just talking about being sneaky. Whenever I’m a step or three ahead of whomever, I show off the evidence and calmly announce, “I am ninja.” Fun.

It fits well with my passive ability of Blend Into Scenery - something that always happens when I’m trying to make an inquiry in person at the info desk… But I digress.

It’s very hard for me to sit back and watch. I’m a Mum. Meddling is what I do. I have to fix, twiddle, tweak or otherwise make sure others are going in the right direction. Or the right direction according to me, if I have to be honest.

From the sound of things, breakfast went off without a hitch and lunches are in progress. I’m fighting the instinct to get up and help Chaos get her clothes on.

That’s Daddy’s job, today.

Now the internet is fixed…

I’m not diverting the ponies. They have served their purpose in keeping a nice, long queue for me.

Besides, I’m likely to fill up my queue with Thailand stuff anyway.

Got Hubby to walk the dog with me, this morning. As always, his ideas of hound control and mine differ greatly. And as always, his are super effective. When I get back, I’m going to have to use them.

In the great field of canid-related expenses, Hubby is now talking about fencing off the backyard as a dog run. His proposed fence line means moving the metal shed, ‘cause right now, it’s square in the way. And it might screw up the drainage ditch. We’ll have to think about that.

Anyway, it’s all gas at the moment. We may yet decide to put the hound in a better home with lots of things he’s allowed to chase. We’ll see.

As for preparing to travel, I have accomplished most of the things I needed to do, and only a few piddly details remain. My biggest worry is that the rest of the family will leave me a big mess as a welcome home gift.

But that’s another day. If I deal with things as they come, I can relax. And that’s the whole point of having a holiday.

After eleven days of ponies…

You get this. An explaination as to why eleven days of ponies.

Long story short, the Internet died at home and I can no longer rearrange my posts, and posting more is a pain in the arse on my mobile devices.

But fret not, loyal followers! Soon, I shall be posting from/about Thailand! Pretty pictures, ahoy. Diatribes about why can’t we do X possibly accompanying same.

And in other news, the Hound has reached a point of annoyance where we really really really have to either shell out for training, or find him a new home.

Anyone want to help us with him? He’s a year and a half old, border collie cross, fully immunized, neutered, and needs a lot of space to run and chase things. Oh, and things to chase.

If you’re interested, please message me. Remember, we’re in Australia, specifically, the bit called Burpengary, so no international requests, thanks.

I’ll see what I can do about posting a photo RSN.

I’m leaving… on a jet plane…

I know when I’ll be back again.

Give yourself five geek points if you sang along, and ten if you yelled at the screen because I used the wrong words :)

Today’s the day. I’m headed overseas for the first time in my life.

And I’m a bundle of nerves that’s so bad that each of my nerves is a bundle of nerves and each of those nerves is nearly having a nervous breakdown.

Twenty points for making sense out of that sentence.

And despite apparently having about four hours sleep last night [finally got to sleep after midnight and spontaneously woke around 4:30 AM] I am wide a-freaking-wake and jazzed worse than someone on my fictional ‘wake-up juice’ [Long story. Fans of Sara Louise will know what I’m talking about].

MeMum has done her motherly best to make sure I know all about the disasters/strife that may or may not be happening where I plan to be. And all the things that can go wrong with airplanes. I’d tell her you’re statistically more likely to die in a car crash, but she’s already terrified of travelling in cars.

I’m still going.

I have a neck pillow in my purse in case of the unlikely event that I’ll actually drop off to sleep on the flight. My estimated odds of getting some use out of the damn thing are about billions to one against. And I bought my own headphones, too. Alongside a metric butt-ton of moneys.

I’m prepared.

But I’m still nervous and anxious and vibrating worse than a wet chihuahua in a sack.

This is beyond new for me.

I’m going away. Leaving my family behind. Letting hubby cope with two kids, a dog, and a house that needs a heroic-level clean-out again.

I’m not sure they’ll cope without me.

…and I’m kind-of afraid they will…

Thailand soon!

It’s the 13th of April. Nine days to go until I’m off to Foreign Parts.

I need to get a letter from my doctor explaining the meds I’m taking. I NEED a tetanus booster.

I need to get fresh meds so customs doesn’t go after me for having partially-used meds. Lord knows how I’m going to hack the trip BACK… The obviously can’t remain sealed y'know.

I need to find some colloidal silver that I can travel with without trouble from customs.

I need to make a list of everything I’m packing.

I need to print out my insurance papers.

I need to get a copy of my glasses prescription so I can get some cheap frames while I’m over there.

I need to wash my shorts so I have clean clothes to wear on the plane trip.

I need to find three hessian shopping bags in good nick and pack them.

I need to practice being normal so I don’t get the once-over from overzealous airport guards looking to find a little something illegal inside my personal apertures.

And I need to get it all done in nine days.

Eeek.

SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

I got the sweetest present for Easter, this year, and I’m not talking a life-sized effigy of myself in the world’s best chocolates, sans liquers.

…though that would be cool…

Hubby went and got me a Mac Lunchbox. I mean, a Mac Mini. Estimated lifespan, two years, given the lifespans of past Mac Minis in my “tender” care.

I’m still in the process of wrassling content off the old laptop and onto the new mac. Something that can only be done for the two hours a day that the old laptop deigns to consent to being activated and doing something.

It may take some time.

But never fret! This is only slowing me down. It is NOT discouraging my quest to make some dosh.

But, it is Easter Sunday, and we have an egg hunt to plot [MWA-HAHAHA…] after a trip to scenic Coominya. I shit you not.

And we can’t all take one car ‘cause the trip back will include two kids, a ton of chocolate and a dog.

Fun fun fun.

Two problems, one solution

I’m moderately proud of myself, this morrow [7th April] as I found two problems with one solution.

Since we had the jungle lawn slashed down to lawnlike levels, we’ve had a LOT of grass lying around in clumps. Including clumps near the fence, which threatens the wood palings.

We also have a lot of pit traps where Hound decided to imitate Simon from the Yogscast and diggy diggy hole.

So early in the morning, before the sun decided to threaten my unhealthy pallor with melanomas, I took out the rake and the mulch bucket, and redistributed the dead grass clumps by the fence.

I filled four holes and topped up the compost tumbler.

This may not seem like an earth-moving accomplishment to you, but Hound digs holes big enough to hide himself in. And he’s about labrador-sized.

The process goes like this: Rake up a small stook of dead grass, compact into bucket until bucket overflows. Haul bucket to nearest doggy diggy hole. Upend bucket over hole. Attempt to stomp down, lose sight of leg up to mid-shin. Keep calm and recover leg, continue compressing until compression is not an option. return with bucket to rake. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Just clearing the fence line is accomplishment enough for me.

Ugh.

Reasons why I’m bitching a lot about my dying Mac

Hubby pointed out to me that I talk about my dying mac a LOT. As in, almost every time I speak to him, a lot.

I didn’t mean to pressure him. I just really, really hate not having a mac.

And here’s a few reasons why:

1) All my stuff was on there. Well, almost all of it. I was still trying to figure out how to get all my photos off my iPhone and onto the mac[without wiping said photos in the process] when it died. Not to mention innumerable projects including a story-in-progress I had yet to export to the iPad.
2) I hate BSOD’s. The most annoying thing in the world is to be flying along in the middle of whatever best suits one’s fancy and just before one hits “save” or reaches a much-anticipated goal - the whole box and dice crashes worse than moths into gravy. Best case scenario, the computer can salvage everything but the last three paragraphs. Worst case and most common scenario, one has to start all over again.
3) The one project that had me on fire is on hiatus until further notice. Hubby will be the first to tell you that I have motivation problems. If something doesn’t catch my interest, it’ll pile up until it annoys me and I have to do it, or it reaches crisis point and someone helps me do it. This project - the MathMagician adventure map in Minecraft - had me so motivated I was rebuilding the original build. Now I’m seriously thinking about re-rebuilding from scratch in a Windoze environment. Yup. I’m just that bat-poop crazy about teaching my kid that maths [and education] is worth something.
4) Least Important Family Member Syndrome. This is just a feeling I get, but you gotta admit, I might have a point. Timeline goes thusly: Mayhem gets a new mac for his birthday. Mother-in-Law gets a new mac apparently for teh lulz. Shiftless gets a new mac for work. My birthday rolls around and I get dinner at Sizzler’s.

Yup. 6k goes on the blood relatives and about 160 bucks goes on me. I’m still understandably upset about this.

I always wind up with the hand-me-down tech that everyone else has finished with, except that one time when I got a fresh-release iPad1 because it’s better for my eyes than books. The iPad2 came out soon thereafter and I blatantly stuck to my guns to await the iPad3. Hubby has one for work. I still have my iPad1.

Make no mistake, I’m not stomping my feet and screaming, “It’s not fair!” until I get another pony [well, maybe a little…] but I am rather used to doing without and making do and holding things together with duct tape and paperclips until convenience declares that I’m greenlighted for something good. But, of course, something steps in between me and my ultimate goal(s) as more important and I end up scraping by for even longer on whatever I have left.

So I’m being a bit more vocal about the whole thing. That doesn’t make me a bitch. It just means I’ve had a bit more than enough and I’m speaking out.

It also means I’m putting my foot down. I’m going to seek out some temp agencies and see what they can do for my gainful employment. I’ll sign up for every freelance writer’s thing that lets me in for free [my current budget, remember?] and I’m going to frigging EARN myself some better tech. And more resources for my family.

Kids are coming home, soon.

My week off is nearly over. Soon, it shall be back to the slog of chasing after two kids and a dog and bitching about various life trials.

Good news: It means I’ll have blogging material again [seriously, you’re all two posts away from ponies as I write].

Bad news: I’ll have two shoulder surfers and a hound to worry about.

But I also have Plans. One is a trip to the cinemas for good behaviour - dependent on Mayhem’s actual good behaviour… and another is a trip to Chermside where they have a Build-A-Bear.

I might make it two trips in one. It depends entirely on how much I feel like risking another hound escape.

There’s a whole week to make a decision though.

Further bulletins as events warrant.