It's been a busy few weeks. I had a week of night shifts, which was horrible; the usual revolving run of visitors; a run to my hometown to take my mother to a dental specialist at the major town between our respective homes (go go driving 1000km in 24 hours); discovered that my new babyproofing system appears to be making my backside expand at an exponential rate - I'm giving it another month for my system to adjust, then going back to the doctor to complain - on the other hand, I appear to have pulled my head out of the route to depression that I was heading towards, I've shaken the abandonment issues when Tobermory isn't there when I wake up panicking at o'dark'hundred, and I actually have energy instead of crippling tireds.

The peas are still battling the snails, and mostly losing despite all that chemical warfare can do to assist. The tomatoes are now battling the size of the tomato pot, and growing most valiantly. The strawberries don't appear to be growing anything except leaves (most vexing) but on the other hand, they're not dead. The cats are still growing; Tigra is now 3.2kgs at nine months old, Boomer is 5.2kgs at ten months old. BIG BUGGER.

I bought two swimsuits. One via TradeMe, via which means I bought a swimsuit that retails for $208 for $55. The other? Well, I picked Auckland's most recent AMAZINGLY shitty weather, when it was cold and wet and horrid, and went shopping. Walked into a store which I know primarily supplies bikinis to skinny minnies, started browsing. The female shop assistant wandered over, asked what I was after, and turned up five minutes after that with twelve things for me to try on.

The amusing bit? The tankini I eventually bought was half price.

The spa pool is repaired, it needed a new pump. I've broken in the new swimsuit (twice), and it was wonderful when Tobermory's friends from the UK visited this weekend.

I feel sorry for my beloved. Having his oldest / closest friends around has made him homesick in a way I don't remember him being before. There's nothing I can do, either, other than hug and sympathize. The move to New Zealand was good for him, in many many ways, and obviously I think it's a good thing because, well, we're together. But it's the people he misses. His friends. He's a social animal, and he left so many friends, good friends, behind...

Originally published at Spinneretta. » Click here « to leave any comments.

Moose threw a birthday party on Saturday. The theme was "Game characters", and I went as Carmen Sandiego.

It was a fantastic night, there were loads of awesome costumes, lots of good people, an amazing cake, and Tobermory and I took home the Best Dressed Male (Hitman*) and Best Dressed Female prizes.

I wrote a seven page letter of burble to my grandmother tonight. I'm going to send it to her along with photos of the party, so that she feels like she's included. The burble isn't just about the party, it's about the house and the kittens and ... everything. Well, a cheerful everything, I don't include the bad bits, just a nice positive chatty natter that she can read and re-read, and photos she can show the nurses, and so on.

There was more I wanted to write about the party, but after talking to Mum tonight, I am feeling somewhat melancholic.

Nana is 80 now. She's not going to last too much longer. She's had her second major bowel obstruction in a few years (she is on some amazing drugs for it right now), and she's far too frail for surgery. Assuming she would actually submit to going to hospital at all, which is far from certain.

She's had a good innings, and honestly her quality of life is slowly going down hill.

But I'll still miss Nana when she goes.

* I know I'm biased and all, but damn he looked good.

Originally published at spinneretta.com. » Click here « to leave any comments.

The inlaws* leave in a week. I'm pleased to have met them, pleased that I get along with them (especially Tobermory's mum, she's absolutely lovely). But also pleased, in a probably selfish fashion, that they're going home. Eight weeks is quite a long time to have relative strangers in the home, especially when working and just trying to live normally.

The weather has also started packing up. It's gradually heading into hurricane season, and we're starting to get the bad storms marching through. So it's probably good that they're going home, before the rain really comes in.

It turns out that the house has no leaking issues, which is always good to know. The front door lets some water in when it's raining sideways, but you do kind of expect that with a door that isn't particularly weather or water proofed. Tobermory wants to replace it, and that doesn't seem like a terrible idea.

The garage doors rattle in the wind. This is only really irritating if you're one of the guests sleeping downstairs, such as the inlaws, who have been stuffing newspaper in the hinges at night to deal with the incessant doing.... doing....

I've also discovered that my newly-adopted shortish haircut is going to prove problematic throughout the winter. It tends to be windy, and walking into work this morning I resembled Cousin It after a run-in with a lawnmower. I'm going to have to buy a hat**. My beloved laughed immoderately at me about this.

It's been pleasant having visitors, but I will also be pleased to return to the pleasant humdrum of our own life.

Also, when Tobermory's dad is home, i can get kitties.


*Yes, I know we're not actually married yet, thus they're not actually the inlaws, but what else could I call them?
** I also found a winter coat in a second-hand shop. It was actually for a costume party (which admittedly isn't till May), it cost me $15 and it's a glorious red knee-length coat.

Originally published at spinneretta.com. » Click here « to leave any comments.

I miss writing here. But I sit down with a lot to say and end up saying nothing. I've a dozen starts of posts, and they mostly end up ranting vaguely about nothing in particular.

The house appears to have fleas. At least that's easy to deal with; flea bombs, then dump flea powder on the carpet after vacuuming the following week. I miss having kitties around, but I won't miss dealing with fleas. I miss Candy dreadfully. We spoke with the neighbours, told them we had moved out, so they knew to check on both kitties. It was clear that we couldn't move such elderly cats, especially as we'd only be a couple of kilometers - well within kitty walking distance - from their old territory. We've gone back to check on them since; Candy in particular ran up, clearly missing us; but also recently bathed and well fed. I sobbed and sobbed. I miss her so much, the little fuzzy loving presence, the vibrating foot warmer on the bed, sitting on my desk with me. Meowing about my feet in the kitchen. But, we had to do the right thing by them, and I am convinced that we did. Even though it breaks my heart.

Mum visited for a week, and we survived, and even enjoyed it sometimes. Tobermory spent most of that time with her, as I was at work, and managed valiantly. I quite enjoyed most of it, not least because it's our home, our rules, and I got a few petty kicks out of that fact.

I'm back at work, frustrated, annoyed, and rapidly losing all my tolerance for everything. I am in need of a proper holiday, the week off to move house really wasn't holidaying. I am at the point where I have on two occasions broken my own rules about being rude to callers, and told them they have the choice of listening to me or getting the hell off my telephone, as I have better things to do than listen to whiny clueless fuckwits ignore what the skilled technician says.

Not in those words. I'm annoyed, not clueless, and not interested in being unemployed.

There are times I hate my job. It comes home with me, I get stressed and irritated and fractious, I snap at Tobermory and other people. I don't deal with stupidity, I lack kindness and patience with my friends. I know my failings, and they frustrate and depress me.

I came home from work yesterday, sodden with rain, and Tobermory met me at the door with towels, and a freshly-run hot bath. He is endlessly good to me, even when I know I don't deserve it. He complements my failings, draws me out of my shell. Supports me when I need it, tells me to shut up and get over myself when I need that instead. He's good for me in ways I never expected. And despite, or perhaps because of, our differences and disagreements, it keeps working. Two years of residence in that miserable tiny flat didn't destroy us, and if that didn't...

I miss my family. Mum's visit reiterated several things, one of them being that I am very much my father's daughter, and that I am hopelessly separated from my family, and I want to see them. Although, Dad was the odd man out. I resemble my grandmother, and my uncle, and my cousins; not so much my dad. I wish I'd had more time to know them as an adult. Mum wandered around our house, and it's funny, the things she pointed out to me. Things which I know my aunt and uncle and grandmother on that side do in their homes, and I do as well. Not because I'm mimicking them, but because it makes sense to me. Habits and hobbies, thought patterns, mannerisms even. I've always found the nature/nurture debate fascinating.

It's funny, I've never really thought about how life may have been different, had my father lived. For some reason, that idea finally arrived in my brain recently. I don't want to ask Mum, because I don't think she'll know the answers to my questions.

Mum spoke to my maternal uncle on the phone the other night. He was asking after Tobermory and I, our new home, and such. Mum passed on the standing invitation to visit, as I'd asked her to, and as I expected, it was promptly met with a "Thanks, but I don't think I'll be doing that". Until Tobermory and I marry, they'll not see me. And even then, they still may choose not to see the heretic daughter of the excessively pragmatic widow.

It's my own choice. I chose my life, I chose my freedom, and I'd make the same choice again and again. It still bugs me sometimes.

I try to show my family respect. I haven't contacted any of them, except Mum and Nana, since I left the faith. They occasionally pass messages via Mum, and they're always glad to hear that I'm well. Everyone was pleased to hear about the house. But, my uncles have standing in their respective congregations. Even if they wanted to see me, there would be those who considered it irreligious to do so. They are my family, and I owe them respect, owe their lives and choices and religion respect; in turn they respect mine.

Tobermory and I got engaged. My family isn't why. The proposal was extremely unromantic, but very us. No wedding plans yet. We'll get around to it.

And it's 1am. Life is busy, and I can't do it on no sleep.

Originally published at spinneretta.com. » Click here « to leave any comments.

I have worked a few hours of overtime this week. Thanks to a few outages, a new contract between companies, several factors, the email queues were several days old. Apparently, this causes Frowning Looks from the people who care about statistics. Cue my managers going “Akkkkk statistics akkkkk” and offering us money in exchange for further of our time.

I figured “Hey, why not!” and duly offered a few hours more. Thus, I worked 7am-5.30pm Thursday. I’d offered to work the same Friday, but by 4.30pm (my scheduled finishing time) the email queue was less than an hour old, with just under 50 emails in it.

I was not needed.

I did, however, have a nice little ego boost. Mid-afternoon, an email was routed to me. A customer, needing an update on his case. When I looked into it, I discovered that it was an issue that I, as a technician, thoroughly understood. Short version: Company A’s mail server has no reverse DNS records. Company B thus (quite justly) rejects their email. Customer sees this as “My email is broken when I email Company B, please fix it NOW.” Several of my coworkers, when handling this case, had grossly mishandled it through lack of technical knowledge. It wasn’t even with a server admin team when I looked at it, much to my disgust. I tried to pass this on to the agent handling. His response? “Well, if it doesn’t belong with the group it’s with now, they’ll send it back. Don’t worry!”

Of course, a new agent couldn’t possibly know anything about technical issues. Never mind that he doesn’t know dick about what I worked in before being dumped in helldesk.

However, I summarised events as positively as possible. Answered the customer’s questions as non-technically yes explicitly as possible, to try and settle his (extremely evident and entirely justified) crankiness.

His response?

Hi Emma.

Thanks for your update – it’s by far the most helpful response I’ve ever received from helpdesk. If there’s a reward for sending humanized, non-templated, useful and explanatory emails, you should get it.

I hope you have a wonderful Christmas.”

This from a man who was breathing fire three hours earlier.

I had warm fuzzies the rest of the day.

This work hullabaloo was on top of Tuesday’s little drama.

I walked into the bathroom, as usual. Do what I have to. Nothing unusual. Except that the toilet pan won’t empty. As the landlord said, when I called to request a plumber, Oh Shit.

Of course, it couldn’t be that simple. The emergency plumber that Landlord has an agreement with? Was at a party and declined to attend. (I was most unimpressed.) Cue me deciding to decamp for the evening.

“Jamie? I have a blocked toilet. Can I sleep in your spare room, please?”

“What? Oh. OK.”

Bless Jamie.

(It’s fixed now, and I’m back home, and all is well.)

Life is really pretty good.

Originally published at kiwi geek. You can comment here or there.