Monday, May 30, 2005
doggy tales
Every family has its animal legends, 'the dog that saved the baby' is a fairly common one.
In my family, legend has it that as a baby, being sunned in the back-yard in my basinette, I was saved from a huge black snake that was taking a less than friendly interest in my well-being by the family miniature foxy, a runty, smelly black and white animal named Trixie. Other friends and acquaintances all seem to have a more or less similar legendary family dog in their childhoods.
In fact my childhood was plagued by runty, smelly black, white or black and white dogs. Tess was the exception. A blue cattle cross who was allowed to have one litter of pups (my mother's wisdom was that female dogs should always be allowed one litter to improve their temperament before being 'de-sexed' (spayed)). Tess, true to her breed did a lot of damage to the heels of passing pedestrians and the tyres of the postie's bike before being 'given away to a good home on a farm' (according to mum) I always had my suspicions, and looking back I'm not sure that the threat of imminent legal action didn't consign Tess to a far harsher fate.
Next came -white and black- Ponka - so named by my much younger brother who was always wandering around with a wet nappy hanging off his skinny bottom and to whom the words 'stinka, pinka, ponka' (we were a literary family!)had been said so often that his favourite and almost singular word was 'ponka'. Ponka lived to a ripe old age and lived up to her name with a ripe old smell that permeated the family home long after she'd been 'skittled' (my father's euphemism for put down by the vet). I think we all heaved a sigh of relief when old Ponks was put out of her misery. Learning to catch fleas on my legs in the dark was something I can thank Ponka for. They were so thick in the house it was almost possible to pinch together any inch of skin and catch a flea on it.
After Dad died we grown up and left home kids decided that mum needed a dog to keep her company, so without reference to her, we bought her a black Labrador cross at a local fete and so mum enjoyed the company of Nigs (named after the lengendary, child-saving black labrador from her own childhood)for the next 14 years or so. Mum didn't want that dog but it ended up being her best friend. We kids were paid out for our gift by the fact that Nigs was only ever bathed when the youngest brother came home and consequently ended up as smelly and flea-ridden as Ponks before her.
One of my favourite dogs was a great dane named Athena (owned with a former husband who went on to name his future daughter after the dog!). This dog had a penchant for destroying things around the house when left too long alone or otherwise aggrieved. I can't tell you the number of times I came home to find feather pillows ripped up and feathers covering every surface but Athena's best trick was the time she'd been chastised severely by the man of the house. We had a dirty clothes hamper, a cylindrical cane basket about 5 ft tall. Lacking nothing in height, Athena had tipped over the basket, pulled out every item in it and strewn them all around the house. Strangely, nothing was ripped or chewed except Bob's absolutely favourite shirt, an almost sheer cotton with an intricate ruby red and deep green paisley pattern (well this was the early 70s!). It was ripped to shreds. Her message was loud and clear - don't mess with me buster!
Seamus was a huge and docile Irish Wolfhound who had a penchant for lying across doorways where it took a good bit of agility to clamber over his recumbent form. Do that several dozen times a day with a baby on your hip and see how you like it. Seamus got me out of a speeding fine once. I'd been pulled over by the police and was cursing my bad luck. When the policeman came up to the car and I rolled down the window, Seamus stuck his head out. The cop darted back a step, made some noises like 'do you know what speed you were doing madam' - then just waved me away with a caution to pay more attention next time. I reckon he was too scared to hand the ticket in the window or ask me to open the door. Little did he know, Seamus would have licked him to death.
But without a doubt my best dog ever was Daisy, a faithful and intelligent Australian Queensland Blue Heeler cattle dog. Daisy had a few hair-raising scrapes such as the time when she bit through the electric cord leading to the pool motor and another when we found her swimming round and round and round the pool, unable to get out again.
When she was young, we often found single shoes - shoes we'd never set eyes on before - around our yard. It seems when she got bored, she became the neighbourhood shoe-napper.
The next door neighbour rode a postman's bike and came up one day to show us the bruises on her legs where Daisy was attacking her every time she rode down her own drive when we were away from home. My eldest son who fancies himself something of a dog handler took Daisy to the beach once, then had to spend half an hour calming and providing first aid to a woman Daisy had decided to 'round up'. Another time we took her camping down the coast where the camping area had a resident goat. Daisy treed the goat for about 2 hours till we rescued it. She loved chocolate and could smell a chocolate at 100 yards. One Easter she ate all the tiny chocolate eggs hidden for the children't Easter egg hunt before they woke up (including most of the foil wraps) and another year ate the little bags of chocolate money right off the Christmas tree.
Even though I'm not a dog person, Daisy decided she was my dog - she was incredibly protective and always alert and so very, very smart and you never worried about intruders while Daisy was in the house. She tended to dislike men and while she never batted an eyelid at the boys' friends, she was unreliable around older men, particularly tall, thin men whose names started with the letter G - now how bizarre is that!
In my family, legend has it that as a baby, being sunned in the back-yard in my basinette, I was saved from a huge black snake that was taking a less than friendly interest in my well-being by the family miniature foxy, a runty, smelly black and white animal named Trixie. Other friends and acquaintances all seem to have a more or less similar legendary family dog in their childhoods.
In fact my childhood was plagued by runty, smelly black, white or black and white dogs. Tess was the exception. A blue cattle cross who was allowed to have one litter of pups (my mother's wisdom was that female dogs should always be allowed one litter to improve their temperament before being 'de-sexed' (spayed)). Tess, true to her breed did a lot of damage to the heels of passing pedestrians and the tyres of the postie's bike before being 'given away to a good home on a farm' (according to mum) I always had my suspicions, and looking back I'm not sure that the threat of imminent legal action didn't consign Tess to a far harsher fate.
Next came -white and black- Ponka - so named by my much younger brother who was always wandering around with a wet nappy hanging off his skinny bottom and to whom the words 'stinka, pinka, ponka' (we were a literary family!)had been said so often that his favourite and almost singular word was 'ponka'. Ponka lived to a ripe old age and lived up to her name with a ripe old smell that permeated the family home long after she'd been 'skittled' (my father's euphemism for put down by the vet). I think we all heaved a sigh of relief when old Ponks was put out of her misery. Learning to catch fleas on my legs in the dark was something I can thank Ponka for. They were so thick in the house it was almost possible to pinch together any inch of skin and catch a flea on it.
After Dad died we grown up and left home kids decided that mum needed a dog to keep her company, so without reference to her, we bought her a black Labrador cross at a local fete and so mum enjoyed the company of Nigs (named after the lengendary, child-saving black labrador from her own childhood)for the next 14 years or so. Mum didn't want that dog but it ended up being her best friend. We kids were paid out for our gift by the fact that Nigs was only ever bathed when the youngest brother came home and consequently ended up as smelly and flea-ridden as Ponks before her.
One of my favourite dogs was a great dane named Athena (owned with a former husband who went on to name his future daughter after the dog!). This dog had a penchant for destroying things around the house when left too long alone or otherwise aggrieved. I can't tell you the number of times I came home to find feather pillows ripped up and feathers covering every surface but Athena's best trick was the time she'd been chastised severely by the man of the house. We had a dirty clothes hamper, a cylindrical cane basket about 5 ft tall. Lacking nothing in height, Athena had tipped over the basket, pulled out every item in it and strewn them all around the house. Strangely, nothing was ripped or chewed except Bob's absolutely favourite shirt, an almost sheer cotton with an intricate ruby red and deep green paisley pattern (well this was the early 70s!). It was ripped to shreds. Her message was loud and clear - don't mess with me buster!
Seamus was a huge and docile Irish Wolfhound who had a penchant for lying across doorways where it took a good bit of agility to clamber over his recumbent form. Do that several dozen times a day with a baby on your hip and see how you like it. Seamus got me out of a speeding fine once. I'd been pulled over by the police and was cursing my bad luck. When the policeman came up to the car and I rolled down the window, Seamus stuck his head out. The cop darted back a step, made some noises like 'do you know what speed you were doing madam' - then just waved me away with a caution to pay more attention next time. I reckon he was too scared to hand the ticket in the window or ask me to open the door. Little did he know, Seamus would have licked him to death.
But without a doubt my best dog ever was Daisy, a faithful and intelligent Australian Queensland Blue Heeler cattle dog. Daisy had a few hair-raising scrapes such as the time when she bit through the electric cord leading to the pool motor and another when we found her swimming round and round and round the pool, unable to get out again.
When she was young, we often found single shoes - shoes we'd never set eyes on before - around our yard. It seems when she got bored, she became the neighbourhood shoe-napper.
The next door neighbour rode a postman's bike and came up one day to show us the bruises on her legs where Daisy was attacking her every time she rode down her own drive when we were away from home. My eldest son who fancies himself something of a dog handler took Daisy to the beach once, then had to spend half an hour calming and providing first aid to a woman Daisy had decided to 'round up'. Another time we took her camping down the coast where the camping area had a resident goat. Daisy treed the goat for about 2 hours till we rescued it. She loved chocolate and could smell a chocolate at 100 yards. One Easter she ate all the tiny chocolate eggs hidden for the children't Easter egg hunt before they woke up (including most of the foil wraps) and another year ate the little bags of chocolate money right off the Christmas tree.
Even though I'm not a dog person, Daisy decided she was my dog - she was incredibly protective and always alert and so very, very smart and you never worried about intruders while Daisy was in the house. She tended to dislike men and while she never batted an eyelid at the boys' friends, she was unreliable around older men, particularly tall, thin men whose names started with the letter G - now how bizarre is that!
cats
I've had some interesting pets in my life, starting off with a secret kitten (secret from my father that is who'd forbidden me to have a cat) called oh so creatively 'puddy-kitten' - don't blame me entirely, I was 11 and my mother was the secret admitter of the cat and she suggested the name after her favourite pet cat!
There followed a series of 'personalilty' cats for this Leo - Elke, the grey, Burmese-type stray who used to follow us up the highway like a dog; Sam (a super-intelligent little ginger mum) and her offspring Big Ben(a huge ginger/stripe tabby named after Ben -of Bill and Ben the flowerpot men) his most notable feature was a wandering eye that meant you never knew if he really saw you or not.
One day, devoid for the moment of cats, we heard a piteous mewling coming from the bush and discovered Misty, a seemingly pure-bread Abyssinian who never did get housetrained. Misty's progress around the house could always be tracked by the pervasive smell of cat pee coming from the pot plants.
Ratso was a tough white male whose favourite party trick was to hide in a tree and leap on your shoulders when you walked past until he fell off the roof of a neighbour's car or was hit once too often with a broomstick. He lost the use of his rear legs for a while and developed these huge, tough biceps by dragging his body along with only his front legs. Only diligent 4-hourly nursing for months pulled Ratso out of this adventure. He recovered but eventually fell afoul of passing traffic a couple of years later.
Then there was Kimba (the white lion of course) a part Persian, pure white with golden eyes, she managed to survive 4 moves with the family and about 13 years before suffering a terrible death at the teeth of a neighbouring pack of savage dogs that had escaped into our yard. Kimmy would have given them a run for their money though. She was never scared of any dog. Kimmy had favourites. For no apparent reason she'd allow one of the boys carry her around draped across his neck like an old-fashioned fox collar, the other she would lie spitefully in wait for, leaping out to bite his ankles as he walked past. The unfavoured one would try to make friends with Kimmy. Sometimes she would graciously allow his caresses for a limited time, then turn and bite him hard without warning. Mind you she was fickle with her affections for all of us except for that one boy. You could often see her lying behind a lounge or around a corner waiting her opportunity to leap out and take a chunk out of whoever came past. It was funny when you weren't the current object of her ire.
When we kindly donated Misty to my cat-less brother who treated her as a child and spent thousands of dollars on veterinary care for her before she quietly expired behind a lounge I was berated by an aquaintance who kept 20 cats locked up in the bathroom! Another friend had the ugliest pure-bred persian cat in existence who was bathed weekly in warm water and rinsed in a mixture of water and Chanel No. 5 before being dried with a hair dryer and groomed. A relative, the most house-proud woman in the world, had two Siamese that totally dominated the house and every seat in it.
I love cats and miss having a cat. Whatever you think of them they don't stink like dogs and don't destroy the house and they are so self sufficient and proud. Yep, I'm a cat woman.
There followed a series of 'personalilty' cats for this Leo - Elke, the grey, Burmese-type stray who used to follow us up the highway like a dog; Sam (a super-intelligent little ginger mum) and her offspring Big Ben(a huge ginger/stripe tabby named after Ben -of Bill and Ben the flowerpot men) his most notable feature was a wandering eye that meant you never knew if he really saw you or not.
One day, devoid for the moment of cats, we heard a piteous mewling coming from the bush and discovered Misty, a seemingly pure-bread Abyssinian who never did get housetrained. Misty's progress around the house could always be tracked by the pervasive smell of cat pee coming from the pot plants.
Ratso was a tough white male whose favourite party trick was to hide in a tree and leap on your shoulders when you walked past until he fell off the roof of a neighbour's car or was hit once too often with a broomstick. He lost the use of his rear legs for a while and developed these huge, tough biceps by dragging his body along with only his front legs. Only diligent 4-hourly nursing for months pulled Ratso out of this adventure. He recovered but eventually fell afoul of passing traffic a couple of years later.
Then there was Kimba (the white lion of course) a part Persian, pure white with golden eyes, she managed to survive 4 moves with the family and about 13 years before suffering a terrible death at the teeth of a neighbouring pack of savage dogs that had escaped into our yard. Kimmy would have given them a run for their money though. She was never scared of any dog. Kimmy had favourites. For no apparent reason she'd allow one of the boys carry her around draped across his neck like an old-fashioned fox collar, the other she would lie spitefully in wait for, leaping out to bite his ankles as he walked past. The unfavoured one would try to make friends with Kimmy. Sometimes she would graciously allow his caresses for a limited time, then turn and bite him hard without warning. Mind you she was fickle with her affections for all of us except for that one boy. You could often see her lying behind a lounge or around a corner waiting her opportunity to leap out and take a chunk out of whoever came past. It was funny when you weren't the current object of her ire.
When we kindly donated Misty to my cat-less brother who treated her as a child and spent thousands of dollars on veterinary care for her before she quietly expired behind a lounge I was berated by an aquaintance who kept 20 cats locked up in the bathroom! Another friend had the ugliest pure-bred persian cat in existence who was bathed weekly in warm water and rinsed in a mixture of water and Chanel No. 5 before being dried with a hair dryer and groomed. A relative, the most house-proud woman in the world, had two Siamese that totally dominated the house and every seat in it.
I love cats and miss having a cat. Whatever you think of them they don't stink like dogs and don't destroy the house and they are so self sufficient and proud. Yep, I'm a cat woman.
Sunday, May 29, 2005
supermarket wisdom
Some of my most meaningful experiences these days take place while waiting in the supermarket queue. Last week as I approached the quick checkout, one of the girls on duty asked the other whether she knew what had happened with that woman who'd lost her nine year old daughter yesterday. The other woman answered with a flip of her head and a mean-mouthed expression. "Don't know, don't care. If they can't look after their kids, they don't deserve to have them." Then she stalked off.
The one who had asked the question and was just about to serve me, looked at me open-mouthed and I reckon my expression mirrored hers.
Finding my voice, I remarked: "she doesn't have any kids, does she?" And of course the answer was no!
Of course she doesn't. Stupid, mean, nasty bitch. If she did have she would realise that kids always do the thing that's least expected and that it's very easy to 'lose' them in a supermarket or shopping centre and it's only by the grace of God that any of us manage to bring up our kids without serious mishap.
I felt angry, but then I wondered what was behind such unwarranted venom. Perhaps this girl was desperate to have a child and was not able to do so; maybe she'd lost a child to illness or there was some other terrible unhappiness in her life that made her say this thing.
But then again, maybe she was just a know-nothing, mean, nasty piece of work and maybe one day when she does have children she'll realise they are not inanimate objects and they don't always stay where you put them. Even if they do, the unexpected can still happen.
When one of my boys was a baby, I parked him at the front of a shop in his stroller then walked along to the next store and completely forgot for the moment I had a baby! Sure I remembered pretty quickly and ran back filled with guilt and apprehension, but sometimes, particularly as a new mother, your mind is on so many things that you leave that small window of opportunity that bad stuff can pass through.
Another day I 'lost' one of my kids in a K-Mart store. I was frantic running up and down the aisles, asking shop assistants, had a whole search party going only to find him right next to where I'd been. He was hiding under a rack of clothes, quite oblivious to all the fuss - guess he thought he'd found a cool cubby.
Another time I was shopping with someone else and one of the kids got 'lost'. The friend raced straight to the front of the store, looked away down the walkways then stood their ground while I looked. I found the kid and asked my friend why she was just standing there. Her answer made me realise how sensible her action was. "I figured she probably couldn't have got out of the store in that time," she said. "If someone was going to abduct her they would have to come out the front door and if not, she was bound to turn up at the checkout sooner rather than later."
A truly scary thing happened a couple of years ago with my granddaughter that proved to me how easy it would be to become a horrible statistic in a newspaper - one of those stories that makes mothers shiver and thank God it's not their child. We'd had a garage sale that day and put notices up on nearby lamp posts. I'd told the child we'd go far a walk and collect the notices - then I'd gone to the toilet. When I came out she was nowhere to be found. I enquired of mum and dad and others sitting on the back patio but they hadn't seen her, then I did another search of the house - I was getting bad vibes. I asked them again and asked did they think she might have gone off on her own to collect the notices. "No," they said. "She'll just be hiding somewhere in the house." But I decided to walk down the street anyway. There she was all golden curls and fairy wings, dancing merrily back up the street clutching a notice - from the pole on the other side of a fairly busy street.
It only takes a second of inattention in a lifetime of care for tragedy to strike, and when it doesn't strike you, you give thanks, mightily!
The one who had asked the question and was just about to serve me, looked at me open-mouthed and I reckon my expression mirrored hers.
Finding my voice, I remarked: "she doesn't have any kids, does she?" And of course the answer was no!
Of course she doesn't. Stupid, mean, nasty bitch. If she did have she would realise that kids always do the thing that's least expected and that it's very easy to 'lose' them in a supermarket or shopping centre and it's only by the grace of God that any of us manage to bring up our kids without serious mishap.
I felt angry, but then I wondered what was behind such unwarranted venom. Perhaps this girl was desperate to have a child and was not able to do so; maybe she'd lost a child to illness or there was some other terrible unhappiness in her life that made her say this thing.
But then again, maybe she was just a know-nothing, mean, nasty piece of work and maybe one day when she does have children she'll realise they are not inanimate objects and they don't always stay where you put them. Even if they do, the unexpected can still happen.
When one of my boys was a baby, I parked him at the front of a shop in his stroller then walked along to the next store and completely forgot for the moment I had a baby! Sure I remembered pretty quickly and ran back filled with guilt and apprehension, but sometimes, particularly as a new mother, your mind is on so many things that you leave that small window of opportunity that bad stuff can pass through.
Another day I 'lost' one of my kids in a K-Mart store. I was frantic running up and down the aisles, asking shop assistants, had a whole search party going only to find him right next to where I'd been. He was hiding under a rack of clothes, quite oblivious to all the fuss - guess he thought he'd found a cool cubby.
Another time I was shopping with someone else and one of the kids got 'lost'. The friend raced straight to the front of the store, looked away down the walkways then stood their ground while I looked. I found the kid and asked my friend why she was just standing there. Her answer made me realise how sensible her action was. "I figured she probably couldn't have got out of the store in that time," she said. "If someone was going to abduct her they would have to come out the front door and if not, she was bound to turn up at the checkout sooner rather than later."
A truly scary thing happened a couple of years ago with my granddaughter that proved to me how easy it would be to become a horrible statistic in a newspaper - one of those stories that makes mothers shiver and thank God it's not their child. We'd had a garage sale that day and put notices up on nearby lamp posts. I'd told the child we'd go far a walk and collect the notices - then I'd gone to the toilet. When I came out she was nowhere to be found. I enquired of mum and dad and others sitting on the back patio but they hadn't seen her, then I did another search of the house - I was getting bad vibes. I asked them again and asked did they think she might have gone off on her own to collect the notices. "No," they said. "She'll just be hiding somewhere in the house." But I decided to walk down the street anyway. There she was all golden curls and fairy wings, dancing merrily back up the street clutching a notice - from the pole on the other side of a fairly busy street.
It only takes a second of inattention in a lifetime of care for tragedy to strike, and when it doesn't strike you, you give thanks, mightily!
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Litchfield Park - photos explained
I've just blogged three photos taken at Litchfield the weekend before last. Litchfield National Park is about one and a half hours drive south of Darwin. There are numerous waterfalls running through the park. It is one of the most beautiful places you could ever hope to see, especially on a perfect dry season day. On this visit we had the benefit of being in a 4 wheel drive and so were able to access Sandy Creek Falls for the first time - that's me swimming there in the photo.
The clarity of the water is unbelievable, the bottom is sandy and it's fringed by pandanus and rainforest vegetation. The water is so clear that it looks about 1 to 2 feet deep but in fact, even near the edge it's around 5 to 6 feet and very deep in the middle.
About half an hour's drive along a dirt track and through a river, followed by a 2 kilometre walk will get you there from the main road. It's a beautiful walk and by the time you reach the pool you are ready for that cool swim. We had this whole pool and waterfall completely to ourselves for 2 whole hours. As we arrived one couple was just leaving. After 2 hours swimming and relaxing, we were just about to leave when another small group arrived. How lucky is that!
The giant goanna was just one of the four we saw that day and the red dragon fly, well you almost didn't see that because I've spent an hour trying to get it to load at a reasonable size as the others have. Nothing I do seems to have an effect on the size photobucket publishes my photos... guess I'll just have to be reconciled to having no side-bar for another month - though I have recently discovered I can access the side bar from the comments when it disappears from the main blog -(huh take that b...b...blogger!)
The clarity of the water is unbelievable, the bottom is sandy and it's fringed by pandanus and rainforest vegetation. The water is so clear that it looks about 1 to 2 feet deep but in fact, even near the edge it's around 5 to 6 feet and very deep in the middle.
About half an hour's drive along a dirt track and through a river, followed by a 2 kilometre walk will get you there from the main road. It's a beautiful walk and by the time you reach the pool you are ready for that cool swim. We had this whole pool and waterfall completely to ourselves for 2 whole hours. As we arrived one couple was just leaving. After 2 hours swimming and relaxing, we were just about to leave when another small group arrived. How lucky is that!
The giant goanna was just one of the four we saw that day and the red dragon fly, well you almost didn't see that because I've spent an hour trying to get it to load at a reasonable size as the others have. Nothing I do seems to have an effect on the size photobucket publishes my photos... guess I'll just have to be reconciled to having no side-bar for another month - though I have recently discovered I can access the side bar from the comments when it disappears from the main blog -(huh take that b...b...blogger!)
Litchfield dragonfly
Sandy Creek Falls
Goanna
The computer AGAIN!
Another whingeing post I fear. I've lost so much blogging time with my computer problems - about which I'm sure you've already heard more than enough because everyone else has these problems too and some a lot worse right? Still... today I lugged my computer down the two flights of stairs and back to 'Hardly Normals' for the third time in a week. Yes folks, I take it in, they tell me it's fixed, I pick it up, battling with a computer and keyboard and mouse under one arm while I try to stiff arm the doors into the carpark, carefully bend down and place my precious computer on the footpath, open the car door, pick up the computer, place it carefully on the back floor, close the door, drive home, up the two flights of stairs again having negotiated the car door procedure once more, then battle with the keys to the unit door, holding the screen door open with one elbow while I struggle my burden past it and guess what? Yes, the computer still doesn't work properly. It's just so damn frustrating, time-consuming and energy-consuming.
And it's a big joke really - if only it weren't all of the above kinds of consuming - because over the phone the problem was diagnosed as a failure of the video card. It took not two days -as advised- but four for them to look at it. Your computer is ready they say, it was not the video card, there is nothing wrong with the video card, we just downloaded a new graphics driver and it works perfectly...and there's nothing wrong with the mouse, it works perfectly. Home I trudge with my burden.
I plug everything back in and nothing works as it should, in fact, the problem appears to be exactly the same.
Attempt number 2. It must be the video card, they say, obviously quite forgetting they'd told me only yesterday there was nothing wrong with the video card. We'll do it today. So I drive back there in the afternoon and go through the packhorse procedure all over again.I shy away from dealing with it that night - frankly I'm too bloody tired and don't want to face any more disappointments.
Attempt number 3. Feeling more in control the next morning, I start the hooking up procedure only to find the video card they have installed doesn't fit the lead I have. I ring them. The superior Miss on the phone pretends she doesn't understand what I'm talking about - they are all pretty standard, she says. I assure her the lead does not fit into the plug and ask to speak to the technician. He says it's a different kind of card, two fittings in one, move the lead to the blue fitting on the other side. But it doesn't fit that one either, the plug is too wide to get past the casing of the computer. He is apologetic and says he'll have to change the video card for a different type...but guess what? I have to drag the bloody beast back out there yet again. Oh and by the way, the mouse has never worked on either of the previous attempts once I get it home. Are you sure, I say, have you tested it, does the lead fit the plug, does this card work is it all properly installed, I don't want to have to bring it back for a fourth time. No, no all works properly - including the mouse.
And here I am friends, I can use it but the graphics are all big and ugly - I can't properly describe but I know the techo understood when I told him this before while it was crashing all the time, that sometimes I could use it but the graphics were all big and plain and ugly...so I can only assume it is not properly fixed yet and will require yet another camel trek to the store...oh, and by the way, the mouse still does not work!!!!!
I'm hoping to come back later and post something a little more interesting to you, but for now, I just had to get all this off my chest before I drive out there, this time with a cricket bat instead of a computer, and bash his nerdy little head in!!!!
And it's a big joke really - if only it weren't all of the above kinds of consuming - because over the phone the problem was diagnosed as a failure of the video card. It took not two days -as advised- but four for them to look at it. Your computer is ready they say, it was not the video card, there is nothing wrong with the video card, we just downloaded a new graphics driver and it works perfectly...and there's nothing wrong with the mouse, it works perfectly. Home I trudge with my burden.
I plug everything back in and nothing works as it should, in fact, the problem appears to be exactly the same.
Attempt number 2. It must be the video card, they say, obviously quite forgetting they'd told me only yesterday there was nothing wrong with the video card. We'll do it today. So I drive back there in the afternoon and go through the packhorse procedure all over again.I shy away from dealing with it that night - frankly I'm too bloody tired and don't want to face any more disappointments.
Attempt number 3. Feeling more in control the next morning, I start the hooking up procedure only to find the video card they have installed doesn't fit the lead I have. I ring them. The superior Miss on the phone pretends she doesn't understand what I'm talking about - they are all pretty standard, she says. I assure her the lead does not fit into the plug and ask to speak to the technician. He says it's a different kind of card, two fittings in one, move the lead to the blue fitting on the other side. But it doesn't fit that one either, the plug is too wide to get past the casing of the computer. He is apologetic and says he'll have to change the video card for a different type...but guess what? I have to drag the bloody beast back out there yet again. Oh and by the way, the mouse has never worked on either of the previous attempts once I get it home. Are you sure, I say, have you tested it, does the lead fit the plug, does this card work is it all properly installed, I don't want to have to bring it back for a fourth time. No, no all works properly - including the mouse.
And here I am friends, I can use it but the graphics are all big and ugly - I can't properly describe but I know the techo understood when I told him this before while it was crashing all the time, that sometimes I could use it but the graphics were all big and plain and ugly...so I can only assume it is not properly fixed yet and will require yet another camel trek to the store...oh, and by the way, the mouse still does not work!!!!!
I'm hoping to come back later and post something a little more interesting to you, but for now, I just had to get all this off my chest before I drive out there, this time with a cricket bat instead of a computer, and bash his nerdy little head in!!!!
Monday, May 23, 2005
Excuse me!
You may have noticed I haven't been around much lately. That's because my computer is playing up. It finally died - that is I couldn't get it to boot up to a meaningful screen even after numerous attempts, so I took it in for repair. Now, almost a week later, it's supposed to be fixed, but guess what? It still appears to have all the same problems it had when I took it in. Guess I'll have to lug it back again tomorrow. How I wish I'd bought a laptop/notebook, at least that way I wouldn't have to disconnect everything and it would be a whole lot lighter!
I was going to tell you about a lovely weekend I spent enjoying the waterfalls of Litchfield National Park in glorious weather, and maybe post a photo. I might still try to post the photo but I'll get this off first in case everything collapses again - just so you know it's not mere laziness keeping me away from blogland. Hope to rejoin you with a working computer sometime in the next century!
I was going to tell you about a lovely weekend I spent enjoying the waterfalls of Litchfield National Park in glorious weather, and maybe post a photo. I might still try to post the photo but I'll get this off first in case everything collapses again - just so you know it's not mere laziness keeping me away from blogland. Hope to rejoin you with a working computer sometime in the next century!
Thursday, May 12, 2005
LIfe's spinning out of control
This is going to be a big whinge post except first to say thank you to Matt in Sydney who signed my guest map last week - leave a comment every now and again Matt - and to those readers who commented this week and let me know I'm not simply talking to myself here.
Whinges:
1. My computer keeps shitting itself. One year ago in an excess of insanity brought about by extreme change in my personal circumstances I bought a computer. Now you may have gathered that I'm not terribly computer-literate, I don't download games or anything requiring masses of amounts of speed or memory, but, wanting to pamper myself a little and deciding I would probably keep this computer for 10 years, I spent zillions of dollars on a top of the range everything. After 3 months the super flat screen karked it and I had to battle to get it replaced. Now the computer keeps turning itself off at random and doing all sorts of other weird things. When I send the error reports to Microsoft I get a number of different reasons, all to do with the ATI Graphics driver. I've tried to follow the instructions for fixing it but just end up bamboozled. What I want is somewhere I can log into that can look at my computer, tell me what the hell is wrong with the graphics driver and fix it but no such luck. I've tried the instruction manuals but I can't find any of the programs they say I have that would re-load the driver or whatever... hell I don't even know what a driver is. Hey TECH would you like to come for a visit and fix it? Oh and my computer at work has lost the CD drive -just fails to recognise that I have one- and even the on-site technician can't work out how to fix that.
2. I'm feeling befuddled and nervous about everything. Work overwhelms me. I've even checked out the job sites for new jobs but every time I read the requirements I realise I can't do a whole heap of the things they are asking for.
3. I do very little in my spare time but can't find time to do stuff I want to do eg
I have not exercised once since my return to Darwin 2 weeks ago, I promised myself I would practice drawing every Monday night since I have not signed up for another course this term..dong! No, haven't done it.
4. I'm tired all the time and mean to go to bed early then don't because the evening just slips away
5. I owe emails to a couple of very special people and either don't know what to say or can't find time to say it.
6. I feel so alone and can't seem to communicate meaningfully with the people I care about most - just seem to piss them off every time I try.
7. I look in the mirror and see this wrinkled old hag that bears no resemblance to 'me'.
8. My ears have been colonized by some tropical fungus that won't clear up despite several different kinds of drops over the last month. Now my teeth are aching too.
Wow, that feels better!!! Think I might head out of town for the weekend and blow off all these cobwebs. Maybe the computer will have worked out its own problems when I get back.
Quote from the book I'm currently reading: Harvesting the Heart by Jodi Picoult
"I realized that in a way I'd always been trying to find her. Except I hadn't been chasing her, she'd been chasing me. She was always there when I looked over my shoulder, reminding me of who I was and how I got to be that way. Until today I had believed she was the reason I had lost Jake, the reason I'd run from Nicholas, the reason I'd left Max. I saw her at the root of every mistake I'd ever made. But now I wondered if she really was the enemy. After all, I seemed to be following in her footsteps. She had run away too, and maybe if I knew her reasons I'd understand mine. For all I knew, my mother could be just like me."
If you like thinking about why people act the way they do, rather than simply following the action, you might like this book.
Whinges:
1. My computer keeps shitting itself. One year ago in an excess of insanity brought about by extreme change in my personal circumstances I bought a computer. Now you may have gathered that I'm not terribly computer-literate, I don't download games or anything requiring masses of amounts of speed or memory, but, wanting to pamper myself a little and deciding I would probably keep this computer for 10 years, I spent zillions of dollars on a top of the range everything. After 3 months the super flat screen karked it and I had to battle to get it replaced. Now the computer keeps turning itself off at random and doing all sorts of other weird things. When I send the error reports to Microsoft I get a number of different reasons, all to do with the ATI Graphics driver. I've tried to follow the instructions for fixing it but just end up bamboozled. What I want is somewhere I can log into that can look at my computer, tell me what the hell is wrong with the graphics driver and fix it but no such luck. I've tried the instruction manuals but I can't find any of the programs they say I have that would re-load the driver or whatever... hell I don't even know what a driver is. Hey TECH would you like to come for a visit and fix it? Oh and my computer at work has lost the CD drive -just fails to recognise that I have one- and even the on-site technician can't work out how to fix that.
2. I'm feeling befuddled and nervous about everything. Work overwhelms me. I've even checked out the job sites for new jobs but every time I read the requirements I realise I can't do a whole heap of the things they are asking for.
3. I do very little in my spare time but can't find time to do stuff I want to do eg
I have not exercised once since my return to Darwin 2 weeks ago, I promised myself I would practice drawing every Monday night since I have not signed up for another course this term..dong! No, haven't done it.
4. I'm tired all the time and mean to go to bed early then don't because the evening just slips away
5. I owe emails to a couple of very special people and either don't know what to say or can't find time to say it.
6. I feel so alone and can't seem to communicate meaningfully with the people I care about most - just seem to piss them off every time I try.
7. I look in the mirror and see this wrinkled old hag that bears no resemblance to 'me'.
8. My ears have been colonized by some tropical fungus that won't clear up despite several different kinds of drops over the last month. Now my teeth are aching too.
Wow, that feels better!!! Think I might head out of town for the weekend and blow off all these cobwebs. Maybe the computer will have worked out its own problems when I get back.
Quote from the book I'm currently reading: Harvesting the Heart by Jodi Picoult
"I realized that in a way I'd always been trying to find her. Except I hadn't been chasing her, she'd been chasing me. She was always there when I looked over my shoulder, reminding me of who I was and how I got to be that way. Until today I had believed she was the reason I had lost Jake, the reason I'd run from Nicholas, the reason I'd left Max. I saw her at the root of every mistake I'd ever made. But now I wondered if she really was the enemy. After all, I seemed to be following in her footsteps. She had run away too, and maybe if I knew her reasons I'd understand mine. For all I knew, my mother could be just like me."
If you like thinking about why people act the way they do, rather than simply following the action, you might like this book.
Monday, May 09, 2005
Me being almost brave
This was a 'behind the scenes' tour of Canberra Zoo. Just look at the size of those feet- and her eyes were on me every second. I felt very brave, even if there were bars between us.
The meaningful and the mundane
Yesterday I heard that a revered colleague had died in the crash of a small passenger plane in North Queensland. 15 passengers and crew on a scheduled flight from Bamaga near the top of Cape York, about to land at the small community of Lockhard River, perished when their plane crashed into dense and remote rainforest. This man was one of Australia's top scientists but he was more than that, he was an inventor, a diplomat, an urbane and gentle man who'd lived a life of service to his country and to science. He was on his farewell trip across the Top End because he was due to retire in the next couple of weeks. Here was a man with so much more to give to the world. It was shocking. I think we had all thought of him as immortal.
Today I was in a full day training course aimed at enhancing presentation skills.
The juxtaposition of these two events felt very weird.
Why does God always take the great and the good? You know, this stuff makes me feel guilty. Why am I still here and a man like this is cut down at the height of his power and influence? It makes no kind of sense.
I've just finished reading an interesting book. A Keeper of Sheep by William Carpenter. I hadn't heard of this author before but I'll certainly watch for him again. The Washington Post said it 'shows us how a poetic vision can illuminate the world, making the ordinary extraordinary', another reviewer called it 'both colloquial and poetic, lively and profound' and a third likened the main character (female) to 'Holden Caulfield's little sister come of age in a far harsher time.' It's a small, intimate story set on Cape Cod- I could almost see the fog and smell the fish- yet its theme of human suffering, human dignity, endeavour, creativity, community and personal relationships is universal. I loved it. Let me know what you think if you read it.
Today I was in a full day training course aimed at enhancing presentation skills.
The juxtaposition of these two events felt very weird.
Why does God always take the great and the good? You know, this stuff makes me feel guilty. Why am I still here and a man like this is cut down at the height of his power and influence? It makes no kind of sense.
I've just finished reading an interesting book. A Keeper of Sheep by William Carpenter. I hadn't heard of this author before but I'll certainly watch for him again. The Washington Post said it 'shows us how a poetic vision can illuminate the world, making the ordinary extraordinary', another reviewer called it 'both colloquial and poetic, lively and profound' and a third likened the main character (female) to 'Holden Caulfield's little sister come of age in a far harsher time.' It's a small, intimate story set on Cape Cod- I could almost see the fog and smell the fish- yet its theme of human suffering, human dignity, endeavour, creativity, community and personal relationships is universal. I loved it. Let me know what you think if you read it.
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Travel tales
I went to a conference in Canberra. For those who don't know, Canberra is the Capital of Australia, otherwise known as the bush capital because it's built in the bush. The story goes that when the States of Australia agreed to join together to form a federation back in 1901, the two largest cities, Sydney and Melbourne vied for the honour of being the nation's capital. In the first act of a perfect democracy, a compromise was reached, and the capital, Canberra, was purpose-built as the home of the Commonwealth of Australia, half way between the two cities - consequently it's stuck out in a paddock in the middle of nowhere where it's blazing hot in summer and freezing in winter and no-one wants to live there except for the hapless politicians and public servants who run this country. Check this site for a tour of points of interest
The city was designed by American architect, Walter Burley-Griffin, around a man-made lake. Now that lake is surrounded by parkland and walking tracks interspersed with aggressively modern public buildings. There are ducks and sail boats on the lake but I'm told the water is so filthy from the urban run-off that people have been hospitalised from taking an accidental plunge from a boat. Be that as it may, we stayed in a hotel at the lakeside and took a nice 15 minute walk every morning and afternoon around the lake to our conference venue - decidedly refreshing in the crisp and sunny autumn weather. The conference itself was held at the National Museum where some inspired architect had improved the conference rooms by adding a wall of glass overlooking the lake. Watching the water traffic sure beat watching PowerPoints for 8 hours a day.
So much for one week of my absence. The other time was taken up with visiting family- here's a sample:
Nanna, mum, dad and three children aged from 7 to almost 2 go to the beach. I'll mind them while you go up to the kiosk and choose some lunch says Nanna. Mum looks askance - I'll take the baby with me. No, no says Nanna, I can manage, he'll be fine. Famous last words!
As soon as mum is out of earshot baby picks up two handfulls of sand - eat! he proudly proclaims with a huge grin and proceeds to stuff the sand in his mouth. No, no! says Nanna -yuk! - wiping baby's mouth out with the bottom of her shirt. Unperturbed, baby picks up two more handfulls. Eat! he laughs - Yum! - and proceeds to ingest another huge mouthful, this time crunching it merrily, the grains gritting against his tiny teeth. Then he spies a sea gull on the edge of the waves. Off he runs merrily cackling -duck, quack quack- as he heads for the ocean at a rate of knots. Off goes Nanna in hot pursuit. Grabbing him from the jaws of a watery death, wails are suddenly heard from behind. Miss 7 screams - she's thown sand in my eyes, they hurt, they hurt! Nanna turns around to find her trying to rub the sand out with her sandy hands while miss almost 3 stands by looking angelic and puzzled about the commotion. Master almost 2 throws himself onto the sand screaming and yelling and trying to escape back to the 'duck' while Nanna tries to brush the sand out of sister's eyes, admonishing her not to rub more in from her hands. One eye on baby, one on big sister and ready to murder the angel/demon, Nanna starts to realise that maybe she is not capable of looking after three children on the beach for 10 whole minutes!
Then there's the suitcase -overpacked as usual- that loses its stabilizing legs somewhere in transit. On the way down it had the legs and I was just able to lift it- just. On the way home, it's gained at least 5 kilos, I can no longer lift it except with two hands and exerting all my body weight. There's no way I can get it down the aisle of the two trains I'm obliged to catch. On the first train I'm saved by a burly wharf labourer -about 6ft 3 and 15 stone- who picks it up and throws it onto a seat for me. I narrowly avoid falling between the train and the platform while getting off the first train as the bag overbalances, taking me with it. Getting onto the second train I almost suffer the same fate and am saved by the timely intervention of a Korean backpacker who then instructs her husband to lift the bag off for me at the airport. Thank God for kindly travellers!
In two weeks I caught 4 planes, 9 trains, 2 trams, 2 buses and 2 taxis. Kind relatives and friends gave me lifts 10 times.
I arrive home with a cold and feeling exhausted and wretched. Was this a holiday, I ask myself? Am I completely insane? If most of them really wanted to see me might they not make an effort to visit me just once in 5 years? As I say after every trip 'home' (3 times a year for the past 5 years) - next time Bali! But then I'd miss all those babies growing up and my mum looks forward to my visits so I guess I'll just go on punishing the rest of the family for the forseeable future!
But my trip was entirely uneventful compared to that experienced by a colleague who attended the same conference. He was on a fully loaded passenger plane that had just taken off from Adelaide when it suddenly went into a steep dive. I got really frightened when the cabin staff started falling over, he tells me. Down, down, down it went - I could see the water coming up to meet us, he says, and I started feeling under the seat for the life-jacket; I can tell you I prayed, I was begging God to help me. Eventually the plane levelled out with some serious bumps and wing dips from side to side. The pilot calmly announced that another jet liner had crossed their path and he'd been told to decrease altitude immediately to get out of its way. My colleague reckons he was shaking for the whole weekend.
Good to be back - thanks to those who missed me- it's nice to know you are out there.
The city was designed by American architect, Walter Burley-Griffin, around a man-made lake. Now that lake is surrounded by parkland and walking tracks interspersed with aggressively modern public buildings. There are ducks and sail boats on the lake but I'm told the water is so filthy from the urban run-off that people have been hospitalised from taking an accidental plunge from a boat. Be that as it may, we stayed in a hotel at the lakeside and took a nice 15 minute walk every morning and afternoon around the lake to our conference venue - decidedly refreshing in the crisp and sunny autumn weather. The conference itself was held at the National Museum where some inspired architect had improved the conference rooms by adding a wall of glass overlooking the lake. Watching the water traffic sure beat watching PowerPoints for 8 hours a day.
So much for one week of my absence. The other time was taken up with visiting family- here's a sample:
Nanna, mum, dad and three children aged from 7 to almost 2 go to the beach. I'll mind them while you go up to the kiosk and choose some lunch says Nanna. Mum looks askance - I'll take the baby with me. No, no says Nanna, I can manage, he'll be fine. Famous last words!
As soon as mum is out of earshot baby picks up two handfulls of sand - eat! he proudly proclaims with a huge grin and proceeds to stuff the sand in his mouth. No, no! says Nanna -yuk! - wiping baby's mouth out with the bottom of her shirt. Unperturbed, baby picks up two more handfulls. Eat! he laughs - Yum! - and proceeds to ingest another huge mouthful, this time crunching it merrily, the grains gritting against his tiny teeth. Then he spies a sea gull on the edge of the waves. Off he runs merrily cackling -duck, quack quack- as he heads for the ocean at a rate of knots. Off goes Nanna in hot pursuit. Grabbing him from the jaws of a watery death, wails are suddenly heard from behind. Miss 7 screams - she's thown sand in my eyes, they hurt, they hurt! Nanna turns around to find her trying to rub the sand out with her sandy hands while miss almost 3 stands by looking angelic and puzzled about the commotion. Master almost 2 throws himself onto the sand screaming and yelling and trying to escape back to the 'duck' while Nanna tries to brush the sand out of sister's eyes, admonishing her not to rub more in from her hands. One eye on baby, one on big sister and ready to murder the angel/demon, Nanna starts to realise that maybe she is not capable of looking after three children on the beach for 10 whole minutes!
Then there's the suitcase -overpacked as usual- that loses its stabilizing legs somewhere in transit. On the way down it had the legs and I was just able to lift it- just. On the way home, it's gained at least 5 kilos, I can no longer lift it except with two hands and exerting all my body weight. There's no way I can get it down the aisle of the two trains I'm obliged to catch. On the first train I'm saved by a burly wharf labourer -about 6ft 3 and 15 stone- who picks it up and throws it onto a seat for me. I narrowly avoid falling between the train and the platform while getting off the first train as the bag overbalances, taking me with it. Getting onto the second train I almost suffer the same fate and am saved by the timely intervention of a Korean backpacker who then instructs her husband to lift the bag off for me at the airport. Thank God for kindly travellers!
In two weeks I caught 4 planes, 9 trains, 2 trams, 2 buses and 2 taxis. Kind relatives and friends gave me lifts 10 times.
I arrive home with a cold and feeling exhausted and wretched. Was this a holiday, I ask myself? Am I completely insane? If most of them really wanted to see me might they not make an effort to visit me just once in 5 years? As I say after every trip 'home' (3 times a year for the past 5 years) - next time Bali! But then I'd miss all those babies growing up and my mum looks forward to my visits so I guess I'll just go on punishing the rest of the family for the forseeable future!
But my trip was entirely uneventful compared to that experienced by a colleague who attended the same conference. He was on a fully loaded passenger plane that had just taken off from Adelaide when it suddenly went into a steep dive. I got really frightened when the cabin staff started falling over, he tells me. Down, down, down it went - I could see the water coming up to meet us, he says, and I started feeling under the seat for the life-jacket; I can tell you I prayed, I was begging God to help me. Eventually the plane levelled out with some serious bumps and wing dips from side to side. The pilot calmly announced that another jet liner had crossed their path and he'd been told to decrease altitude immediately to get out of its way. My colleague reckons he was shaking for the whole weekend.
Good to be back - thanks to those who missed me- it's nice to know you are out there.
