Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
Sunday, December 14, 2008
The Last Post
It's five days till my final day at work, and it's like this peak that I'm climbing towards and I can't see the view from the very top, but I know it's there and it's a fabulous view, and I know I'm going to feel this overwhelming sense of relief and delight when finally I scale it.
This whole redundancy thing has opened my eyes to just how much the tiniest, every day stresses of working a 40-hour week for a demanding corporate employer have layered themselves over me like an accumulation of dust - dust that weighs you down and chips away at your contentment.
I'm so thankful that I've lost my job, this job, and been given the present of having the height of summer to relax, to garden, to be outdoors all day, to take photographs, to spend lots of time with my daughter, to cast off that dust and start from scratch.
This time is also something I want use to inspire my online life too. I don't feel happy with leaving Kiwifruit behind, but then again, I love the freedom and flexibility of Blogger - the wonderfulness that is posting by mobile phone. I need to combine the benefits of both, somehow.
I'm also looking forward to having time to connect with some new people online, and time on Facebook and Twitter, places that I know my blogging friends (and non-blogging ones) frequent but at the moment I just don't seem to make time for.
I want to connect the dots of my existence on the internet and make it work for me.
So at this point I want to say a very Merry Christmas to anybody who reads this post, as Photografi is going on holiday too. Thank you for reading this somewhat earnest, browbeating missive and I hope that one day you'll come back and check up on what happened to me over this kind-of-special summer.
Fi
xxxxxx
The Other Harf, Pippa, Miss 8.3, Nephew T, Niece G and Niece T, yesterday afternoon
This whole redundancy thing has opened my eyes to just how much the tiniest, every day stresses of working a 40-hour week for a demanding corporate employer have layered themselves over me like an accumulation of dust - dust that weighs you down and chips away at your contentment.
I'm so thankful that I've lost my job, this job, and been given the present of having the height of summer to relax, to garden, to be outdoors all day, to take photographs, to spend lots of time with my daughter, to cast off that dust and start from scratch.
This time is also something I want use to inspire my online life too. I don't feel happy with leaving Kiwifruit behind, but then again, I love the freedom and flexibility of Blogger - the wonderfulness that is posting by mobile phone. I need to combine the benefits of both, somehow.
I'm also looking forward to having time to connect with some new people online, and time on Facebook and Twitter, places that I know my blogging friends (and non-blogging ones) frequent but at the moment I just don't seem to make time for.
I want to connect the dots of my existence on the internet and make it work for me.
So at this point I want to say a very Merry Christmas to anybody who reads this post, as Photografi is going on holiday too. Thank you for reading this somewhat earnest, browbeating missive and I hope that one day you'll come back and check up on what happened to me over this kind-of-special summer.
Fi
xxxxxx
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Monday, December 8, 2008
Saturday night's all right for not fighting
Well, there was no show-down at the Lord of the Manor's Christmas hooley on Saturday night, namely because the Geordies decided not to show up, and (according to whispered gossip, heard over tilted beer bottles on Saturday night) it was the Lord's son who was the gun-toting, trigger-happy culprit behind the whole drama.
It turned out to be a great night, and at one point there was well over 60 people milling about on the Lord's back deck, mingling and mixing and comparing stories on the Economic Crisis and the Downturn of the Economy, and 20 kids bombing in and out of their pool, all of them with blue lips and chattering teeth as there was a rather nippy breeze ducking over the back fence - not quite a balmy summer's evening.
All the adults were wearing "Hi, my name is" stickers with our names and addresses on so we could meet new and exciting people without having to be introduced, and I met several of whom I cannot recall the name of but I am sure they were very nice.
It was lucky for Craig (a newly employed farmhand who lives about 5km further down the road from the Lord's) that he was wearing his sticker when he was found weaving along the road shortly after 1am by Mr Perry (Chairman of the Neighbourhood Watch Support Group) as had absolutely no idea where he lived.
Anyway, the Other Harf and I have decided that if I do find myself another job quick smartish that we will seriously consider getting a (cheap and cheerful Para-type) pool this summer.
It would be worth every cent to replicate that dirty great big grin on Miss 8.3's face as she bombed and splashed and jumped and yelled.
It turned out to be a great night, and at one point there was well over 60 people milling about on the Lord's back deck, mingling and mixing and comparing stories on the Economic Crisis and the Downturn of the Economy, and 20 kids bombing in and out of their pool, all of them with blue lips and chattering teeth as there was a rather nippy breeze ducking over the back fence - not quite a balmy summer's evening.
All the adults were wearing "Hi, my name is" stickers with our names and addresses on so we could meet new and exciting people without having to be introduced, and I met several of whom I cannot recall the name of but I am sure they were very nice.
It was lucky for Craig (a newly employed farmhand who lives about 5km further down the road from the Lord's) that he was wearing his sticker when he was found weaving along the road shortly after 1am by Mr Perry (Chairman of the Neighbourhood Watch Support Group) as had absolutely no idea where he lived.
Anyway, the Other Harf and I have decided that if I do find myself another job quick smartish that we will seriously consider getting a (cheap and cheerful Para-type) pool this summer.
It would be worth every cent to replicate that dirty great big grin on Miss 8.3's face as she bombed and splashed and jumped and yelled.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
A week of photografi
Happy Birthday Niece T! / Pippa lickin'good / No more trucking for Nephew T today / A present from Miss 8.3 / Niece T's dance recital / Miss 8.3 takes a break poolside / Hi ho Santa at the Childrens Christmas Party / Pretty ballerina Niece T / Madam Tiggywinkle
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Christmas crackers at dawn
Today I pissed off oooh, at least a hundred spiders, as I spent five hours waterblasting the verandah and the front of the house and annihilated millions of metres of webs in the process.
So I won't be too surprised if that at some point in the night a posse of angry arachnids will abseil from the ceiling, Mission Impossible style and land on my face as revenge.
Speaking of vendettas, tonight the whole whanau is attending the community Christmas kneesup, held at the Lord of the Manor's farm down the bottom of the valley. And regardless of it being the festive season and peace and goodwill to all, there's trouble brewing, as a month or so ago the Lord shot two dogs (one of them was a rather roly-poly Lab, who couldn't even catch a cow, let alone pull it to the ground and maul it to death) who were in playing with his dairy cows, and those two dogs belonged to the Geordie neighbours up the road.
However, the Lord knew who the dogs belonged to, and didn't bother telling them what he'd done. The Geordies got an anonymous tip off and confronted the Lord, but he really didn't give a toss, even when they informed him that next time one of this prize bulls crashed through one of their fences he'd end up in their freezer instead of being chased back over the boundary.
Then a week ago, one of the Lord's prize bulls went missing, and the Lord instantly called up the Geordies, demanding to know what they'd done.
They told him that they hadn't even seen the bull, but during the night somebody put a bullet through the rear windscreen of their ute.
The following day the bull strolled back into his paddock, but there was no apology from the Lord.
And tonight? Geordie Neighbours are turning up to the Christmas do, lookin' for some answers and most of all, that apology.
So I won't be too surprised if that at some point in the night a posse of angry arachnids will abseil from the ceiling, Mission Impossible style and land on my face as revenge.
Speaking of vendettas, tonight the whole whanau is attending the community Christmas kneesup, held at the Lord of the Manor's farm down the bottom of the valley. And regardless of it being the festive season and peace and goodwill to all, there's trouble brewing, as a month or so ago the Lord shot two dogs (one of them was a rather roly-poly Lab, who couldn't even catch a cow, let alone pull it to the ground and maul it to death) who were in playing with his dairy cows, and those two dogs belonged to the Geordie neighbours up the road.
However, the Lord knew who the dogs belonged to, and didn't bother telling them what he'd done. The Geordies got an anonymous tip off and confronted the Lord, but he really didn't give a toss, even when they informed him that next time one of this prize bulls crashed through one of their fences he'd end up in their freezer instead of being chased back over the boundary.
Then a week ago, one of the Lord's prize bulls went missing, and the Lord instantly called up the Geordies, demanding to know what they'd done.
They told him that they hadn't even seen the bull, but during the night somebody put a bullet through the rear windscreen of their ute.
The following day the bull strolled back into his paddock, but there was no apology from the Lord.
And tonight? Geordie Neighbours are turning up to the Christmas do, lookin' for some answers and most of all, that apology.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
In which I self medicate away the realignment blues
Ho hum, I'm feeling a bit glum at the moment. There's just under two weeks to go till the final "realignment" of my job, and I've got the tedious task of teaching my replacement (who will be based in Auckland, where the work was "realigned" from two and a half years ago, make your frickin' minds up people) how to do all the work I've spent the last six months learning, tweaking and yes, perfecting.
It's a melancholy, regretful kind of glum, which I can't seem to budge, not with fine wine, luxury chocolates, or extravagant shopping expeditions.
Hang on a minute...
I've got it!
Oooh, I feel much better.
It's a melancholy, regretful kind of glum, which I can't seem to budge, not with fine wine, luxury chocolates, or extravagant shopping expeditions.
Hang on a minute...
I've got it!
Oooh, I feel much better.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Just missed Santa
It's been an action-packed weekend, what with the first round of Christmas parties (Mum's work's children's Christmas party, held at the local swimming pool complex, with yours truly as photographer and the Chairman of the Board stinting as Santa) and Niece T's ballet recital/dance extravaganza (again, with yours truly as photographer) as well as houseguests in the form of Bruvinlaw's parents (no photographs required).
Schweeties, all this Christmes festivity is *such* a social whirl and I'm whirled out already.
Schweeties, all this Christmes festivity is *such* a social whirl and I'm whirled out already.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
