Family time

Yeah, not much happening around here; I've been focusing on family. Denmark family visiting and an 18th birthday family event this weekend. There's also two sister's birthdays, another niece and a nephew. (Neph and one sis done today.) And the ongoing parent health focus. Fortunately, the parent is now having more good days than bad.

Oh, and other work/edit stuff. Not so much. It's winter, and that means hibernating in front of the computer. (When I'm not having near anxiety attacks over how much rain has fallen. The backyard is so soaked, the grass moves underfoot! I swear, the next house I live in will have a proper drainage system.)

So, off to Canberra tomorrow for party time and visiting more family. And shopping. Mustn't forget the shopping.

Upside down home styling

The parent is home and adjusting to her new environment; and I'm adjusting to the new configuration of the house. I still have things to put away, but the parent's comfort comes first.

Living in a two storey house never seemed a problem before, but now... it is fraught with issues, a lot of them to do with safety. It's not going to change, no matter how much I'd like to move to a single storey house.

My mother grew up in a two storey house and for years, we lived in a single. On my Dad's retirement, she was determined to live as she'd grown up - with damned stairs. For me, it's reversed. I like everything on one level.

It's been a massive adjustment all around, but with the help of family, we've created a fabulous space for her - she calls it her 'flat' (she's English and proud of it).

Now comes the hard part: stopping her from falling back into bad habits...

Update

Well, it's been a while since I posted, but my attention has been elsewhere.

The parent comes out of hospital tomorrow and we have been busting our butts to make the house more 'walker' friendly by shifting furniture and removing obstacles. We've created a nice haven on the ground floor where she'll be more comfortable.

There are still some issues to resolve, but nothing major; all it takes is compromise and a little extra effort.

Hopefully, by next week, I'll be able to get back to a near-normal schedule. I have work waiting for me that really needs to be caught up on.

The next step

The parent moved into rehab today, so it's all going well. No word on when she'll be home, but she's happy and mobile. Her only complaint is that there are so many people buzzing about.

I'm just happy she can complain. I expect she'll be confined for a while, maybe another week before they let her out on parole. In the meantime, I just have to keep her calm about her situation, by being calm myself.

And now, back to work. Apparently, there is no Edit Fairy - she just took long service leave and is basking on a beach somewhere in Fiji...

Teens in the crib

I've got teenagers in the house - I'm borrowing them so the beach doesn't feel so neglected while I'm editing. Actually, I buggered my knee and walking for any distance is a challenge (but the teenagers make a good excuse).

But I'm still editing. It's taking time because I keep getting distracted. You know, by the teens, by the teev, I mean... by the TBR pile and so many other things that conspire against me. (Teen one needed help on 'creative analysis of a metaphysical poem'.) Colour me bug-eyed. We didn't do metaphysics when I went to school. There's also the Cold War essay. But then, my niece is exceptionally clever and loves homework - teen two, not so much.

I think I'll be done by the end of next week. I had a scathingly brilliant idea for the cover - but I think I've forgotten what it was. Maybe I made a note somewhere...

Back to work. I'm taking the aforementioned kiddos to the movies later this afternoon - teen one I think loves homework a little too much and needs time away from it all.

Cats and mice

So, the mice have returned. I'm guessing the garage is too cold for them - and they probably ran screaming from the package of poison I tossed into the middle of their village up in the rafters.

I think we've caught six so far, but I don't know, since I told my SIL I didn't want her to lay traps over the weekend because the remains would stink up the garbage bin.

"Don't you just toss them up the back of the garden?" Was her question. "No." Like I want my veggie patch to stink of rotting flesh and have maggots and flies buzzing around. As usual, the SIL disregarded my wishes.

The only food they have is what's in the traps. I have no idea how they're getting into the house, but we don't have any problems in the other seasons. So traps. Snapping in the middle of the night and bodies removed before I get up.

I think I need a cat. If nothing else, a cat would provide endless entertainment:



Then again, a cat would go after the blue-tongue lizards; and then the snails and slugs would return. And they'd eat my veggies because I don't like to use chemicals and the cat would eat them, be poisoned and die. No more snow peas for us.

No cat. But I had a good laugh at the vid.

I'll deal with the mice - if they still live - after the rellos have gone. Thankfully, that will be tomorrow and my stress levels can drop. sigh I think I'll watch it again...

Family feuds

I'm trying. I really am. But sometimes, all family does is raise your blood pressure and stress levels. And I'm of the considered opinion that only family can tie you into a pretzel.

Either their mood isn't conducive to humour and fun, or I feel like I'm running a Fawlty Towers hotel. Even taking refuge in work wasn't effective - outside the house or my own editing.

The saying that guests are like fish, after a couple of days they go off, is a truism I shall hug to myself during those dark times of 'oh, no dinner/lunch for us, we're going out' while said meal is being cooked. The long, disapproving silences, the argumentative answers to questions... ad nauseum.

It's the headaches, the stress, the sleepless nights, the wondering why the hell they won't damn well talk to us like members of the same species, let alone family.

Still, only another three days to go. In the meantime, I'll try and remember why... um... family matters. And try not to bemoan, bitch, rant, rave and otherwise pop a cork.... sigh

A dark and...

It was a dark and stormy night... No, really! It was dark - coz it was night - and it was stormy, with a howling, intermittent gale and sweeps of heavy rain and hail rattling against the windows; bright flashes of lightning and disgruntled thunder mixed in with pounding surf made for an interesting dark and stormy night.

We're promised much of the same today. Fortunately, we didn't lose power.

I also managed to catch a mouse. I thought it the smart bugger that's been plaguing me. Five minutes after setting the trap - again - snap! one less rodent. But this morning, the second trap lay empty of peanut butter without going off. I guess I caught the dumb one.

The rellos arrived yesterday - a couple of hours early - before I could get the parent ready. (She doesn't like that and it tends to increase her stress, which leads to... well, she doesn't like being caught off guard.)

They're here for a week. Needless to say, work has ground to a halt; but I have high expectations that some will be done because I can't see them mooching about the house - there's lots to see and do that I've already seen and done.

For now, I'm getting back to the review I'm trying to write, before the relative arise for the day...

Upping the ante

I foresee, in my future, the creation of an online presence greater than I anticipate.

Yeah. Went to an e-business seminar today for the museum; the director was there, too. Next thing I know there are stars in my boss's eyes at all the shiney things I could do to promote the museum on social media networks. Facebook, MySpace, Twitter, Wikipedia, Blogger... oh, the horrible list went on. Meta-searches, keywords, HTML coding, F structure (as in how people view pages, not, you know, me cursing - a temptation I resisted).

Tomorrow, I head to the University of Wollongong to hear the marketing plans of the students and discuss the aforementioned seminar with the president of the board during the hour and a half road trip. Did I mention the president and the director don't actually get along? Harumph - yes, it's a word. Harumph. There'll be a meeting next week on how to proceed in this new and sparkly universe. I'm of a mind to dump all manner of techno-speak, statistics, profiling, mapping and networking protocols on them... sigh, I need more staff. Oh, wait, I need staff so I can ask for more.

Meanwhile, Canine the Destroyer has buried a nicely sucked chew bone in the unfolded laundry... Am I being punished for spending most of the day away?

I'm also trying to find time to write a review for Lynn Viehl's Dreamveil, but so far, no luck. Bring on the weekend so I can do my stuff!

Catch up

Canine the Destroyer is acting more like a cat than a puppy, climbing on - or sliding under - as much furniture as he can. I might give him a spray, but five minutes later, he's at it again. His new target are socks. And now he's curled up on a blanket having a snooze.

So. This round of edits are done and I'll get to more next week, but I have a longing to read someone else's work and to catch up on some DVDs and that's what I've been doing - when not watching for the next bit of mayhem from the hound.

I'm deep into Lynn Viehl's Dreamveil and I can feel a suspicion sneaking up on me. But then, I'm always suspicious of Lynn because she hides her clues in plain sight and it's only at the end of the book that you slap your forehead and say 'Of course, it was there all the time and I missed it! Damn that woman!'

I can imagine Lynn mwahaha-ing all the way to the publisher...

And I'd best read some more while the puppy is napping.

Canine the Barbarian

Canine the Barbarian, the beast formerly known as Destructo-dog, formerly known as Dobby, formerly known as Scout, is coming along nicely with the help of a behaviour modification device; aka, the squirt bottle.

Currently, he's chowing down on a... stick, although cushions are his favourite toy, coz he can hump them at the same time as teaching them not to mess with him; obviously, the lack of two dangly bits hasn't stopped him.

So far, the garden has escaped his attention. Mostly. He's very good at turning over the Winter soil in the veggie patch and taking out those pesky weeds. He replants them on the lawn, after a manic victory lap around the garden, of course. He has no fear of the pitchfork; indeed, he sees it as an interloper to his game. And the three pronged fork is just his size for chewing - if he can get it out of my hand.

No rabbit dares enter his domain and the Blue-Tongue Lizards are safely hibernating in the garage. He also gets great exercise chasing the birds. And the neighbours? Well, why wouldn't they like to be woken at 7 am on a Sunday by his yapping at the early morning joggers? He's just reminding them that the day's awasting if they have a lie-in. Really, he's doing them a favour.

So now, I'll just go and clean up the shredded newspaper and plastic he's taken out of the recycle bin to chew and play with. (How can one puppy manage to put such small pieces in unlikely places? Like... under the couch?) At least he's not widdling everywhere...

Introducing...

Destructo-pup!

Or as he is known to his family, Dobby formerly known as Scout. He's five months old, a maniac and I'm puppy-sitting for another week.



Yes, it's been a bit breezy here, but I hesitate to make the connection to a certain Disney elephant.

Alright, he hasn't actually destroyed anything, just had a really, really good try. But I'm sure the newspaper, tissues and old yard broom would protest that statement. Also on his hit list are my slippers, runners, work boots, cushions, his sleeping mat, and any cord he can find.

At the moment, he's trying to dig through the driveway - something interesting must be buried down there. He's also tried to dig through the couch cushions and discovered... dust bunnies - I think they're his favourite. Every time I turn around!

When he's awake, he's finding new and interesting things to chew - currently, a small, old log he found somewhere; but when he crashes, he's down for the count.

I'd forgotten puppies have two speeds: full on and complete stop.

As a reward for my patience, he's digging over the compost heap in the veggie patch.

Good puppy!

Work, work, play!

So, I all but blew off my second deadline today; the boss is away for another nine days and I have no-one else to consult with on corrections.

I've been doing a photograph hunt instead for pikkies to add to the webpage.

Posted on Scribd is Huntress: Sacrifice as a freebie.

It means I have the whole weekend off to play with family who are coming down. Much joy, many photos from France, and copious amounts of alcohol to imbibe - can't ask for much more than that.

Oh. Right. Story-a-day marathon starts tomorrow. Well, I'll do that too. How bad can it be writing a couple of thousand words, trashed?

Goodbye Maggie

Sleep well, Maggie-moo-too, BFF of Saxon, much loved member of our families and the best little brown dog ever.

We miss you.

Busy

Been a busy week, with family descending for the maternal influencer's 80th birthday celebrations this weekend and a faithful, senior hound demonstrating how easy it is to worry a human companion with fussy eating.

Oh, and trying to fit in watching Torchwood: Children of Earth. Tonight, of course, is the final of this five episode show, and I shall be dining out - damn it. Good thing it's repeated tomorrow.

So, I'm hoping normal scheduling will return by mid-week.

One more year

Hmmm... another year older and I'm wondering if I'm that much more wiser.

No? Okay, hand over the chocolate, nice and easy now, and we'll forget I ever mentioned it.

Real busy

Tough day with some emergency baby-sitting. Four kids, under the age of ten, all excited to be together.

Still, I managed to get some writing done. Let's hear it for DVDs!

Busy week

Woo hoo! Can my cousins party or what?

I'm back after an extended long weekend. It was good to catch up with the cuzzes, even those I haven't seen in... mumble, mumble... years! It's amazing the changes those years have wrought. Everyone was relaxed and cheerful and chatty, but worse, most have a similar sense of humour so eruptions of laughter echoed around the neighbourhood.

I managed to do some shopping in the big smoke: picked up Lynn Viehl's pink-covered Stay the Night, Rachel Caine's Undone and a classic copy of Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility. Do you think I had a chance to read any of them?

Nope.

We went out on Friday night, had the party on Saturday night, lunch on Sunday to clear up any fabulous left overs, home baked pizza-oven pizzas on Monday night, shopping and baby sitting in between. And so... I am worn out.

I've yet to finish the final scene on two books, read what I've purchased and make notes on a book I had a scathingly brilliant idea for on the three-hour drive back to the coast.

It all has to wait until Friday when I have a day off my current obligations.

Oh, and we arrived home to find a few mouses running rampant. I am, however, relieved I didn't catch any. I had driven... maybe two hours before I remembered I'd set traps - and forgot to unset them. Can you imagine the stinkiness of bodies trapped for four days? Hmmm? In late Summer? HMMM? So. They got to party too, and defeated the traps anyway.

Tomorrow I'm off to do a Senior First Aid course. Should be interesting and worthy of some note-taking.

Family tree-d

I've been trying to get to the last scene of my current WIP... and failing. Real life keeps getting in the way.

This weekend, I'm taking the maternal influencer to Canberra for the 60th anniversary of her family arriving in Australia from England.

I'm working on organising photographs and printing out that side of the family tree for those who know nuffink about their origins. Some, we rarely see or hear from.

But that's the way with families. They came out as children, grew up here and wandered off to different parts of the country - and Australia is a rather big land. The grapevine, however, is alive and kicking and various cousins, second cousins, aunts and uncles have promised to turn up. It will be great to see them all: a generation of English and two generations of Aussies, all mingling.

What I find interesting is that no matter how long they've been in Australia, they still retain an English accent. I'm thinking it's because of the household they grew up in. Although... when my brother came back from a year in New Zealand, he had a New Zealand accent, and when I came back from a year in England, I had an English one. I'm guessing it's the people we're constantly with that gives us the speech patterns. (While in England, I was also mistaken for being Swedish or South African. What's up with that?)

It's something to think about - especially with the latest WIP *hurries off to make a note* - um, where was I? Oh, yes. I can't recall any books I've read that has someone returning home after a long absence with a different accent; attitude, personality and looks, yes, but accent? No. I wonder why that is? I'll have to rummage around my bookshelves, I think, and seek out any books that have this change.

Long ago...

Ah, yes. I remember it well; lying on the couch reading a book… when a knock on the door broke me out of Patrick Tilley’s world.

My sister came in, all bright eyed and eager. “You wanna puppy?”

I thought about it for a few minutes and her expression slowly dimmed.

“Yes.” Was barely out of my mouth when she grabbed my arm and off we went. “What’s the hurry?”

“I don’t want you to change your mind.”

I wasn’t going to; it seemed… right.

So she drove me to a friend of a friend’s house. And there, in the backyard, were half a dozen puppies gambolling around their mother. Some were white with red splotches and bits of black; some were more black with white patches. Two were black with tan highlights.

As I stood there, looking at the six-week-old cuties, one black and tan puppy came up and sat on my feet, stared up at me. Nothing for it, then. I crouched down and stroked the soft fur. The mother, mostly white, came over and gave the pup a damn good licking, as if to say, ‘now, you behave’. She then licked my t-shirt, gave me a look only a mother can give… and walked back to her brood.

Well, what could I do?

That was Australia Day, 1992.

I bedded my new companion down in a cardboard box in the laundry. To make her more comfortable, I wrapped the mum-licked t-shirt around a hot water bottle and tucked in a clock. She was fine, for a while, and then hours later set up to crying. Puppy. Crying. A heart-wrenching sound. I leapt out of bed at bugger o’clock in the morning. She was sitting on the cold tiles. I fixed her another hot water bottle and settled her again. Nope. Not fifteen minutes later, she was howling again.

At a loss, I opened the back door – in case she wanted to… go to the bathroom. Out she shot, into the darkness of the backyard. Remember, she’s a black puppy, so the night hid her. Once my heart settled back down I went out and called for her. Not a peep. Had she escaped? Decided she didn’t want me anymore? Wanted her mother who was miles away?

Nah. She came trotting back, a happy puppy from the side of the house. To this day, she’ll do her business out of sight of people, or turn her back – if she can’t see you, you can’t see her and she’s okay with that. It’s nice to get a house-trained puppy.

Right now, Saxon’s yet to arise for the day. As a grand dame, she takes her time; as a grand dame should. She still enjoys her walks up the street – albeit slowly – still bravely comes to me when I’m feeling pissed off and can still look at me as if to say ‘well?’ (…it’s my dinner time, it’s time for bed, for a walk, for you to scratch mah belly…)

She’s a little blind, has a bit of Arthur-itis, which I manage with medication, and follows me around the house. When guests come, she’s a little mournful at sharing, but bears up stoically. She also has the ‘hey, I’m sleeping here’ look if you wake her up before she’s done (so cat-like, but you didn’t hear it from me!)

And so, I wish Saxon a very happy birthday; she’s been with me a long time and I hope for time yet. She’s stays out of love for me and I try not to give her cause to reconsider. Saxon is the last of the litter. A gorgeous mixed breed pup with eerie intelligence, who can still makes me laugh at her antics.

I’m grateful my sister dragged me away from that book. My life would be very different if not for Saxon steadying my ship.