It's all a matter of perspective...

Jen's Perspective.

Dogs are the funniest creatures. If you have a chance to watch them on any given day, they will be lying sleeping, then get up, go for a wander, come back to exactly the same spot and lie down again for another sleep.

Or maybe they will do a random sniff around the room.

Or change sleeping locations.

Or wander up to their drink bowl, decide they don't want a drink after all, and wander off again.

It all seems very restless and without purpose.


The LBD's Perspective

Humans are the funniest creatures. If you have a chance to watch them on cleaning day, they will be working in one room, then go for a wander and pick something up, come back to exactly the same spot and put the thing they just picked up in some cupboard.

Or maybe they will do a random shuffle of stuff around the room.

Or change dusting locations.

Or wander into the kitchen, decide they forgot to pick up the water glass from another room, and wander off again.

It all seems very restless and without purpose.


And the chance that I don't appreciate the humour of this situation?

... Approximatley None!

Remembering Chair Grandma

I have been incredibly blessed in my life that I not only had a full set of 4 grandparents for most of my primary school years, but that I can remember three of my great-grandparents as well. Family is important to me, and I find the cross-generational stuff wonderful.

And given the fact that I had four Grandmas for my earliest years, it was not unexpected that I would have special names for each of them:

I had Horsey Grandma (my Dad's Mum) who used to bounce me on her leg and sing the "Horsey, Horsey clippety clop" rhyme for me. (Someone had to give the Hippomanic gene a start in life!) She used to object to being called that, until she heard that I used to call my other grandmother...

Cuckoo Grandma (my Mum's Mum) because she had a cuckoo clock. She was the one who sent me letters. She was not in anyway mentally unbalanced.

Then there was Little Grandma (my Mum's Mum's Mum) who was not precisely tall.
And there was Chair Grandma (my Dad's Mum's Mum) because she was pretty much chair bound when I knew her.

It is amazing that I remember Chair Grandma. Firstly, it's amazing that she lived long enough to marry and procreate (particularly as my Grandma was her youngest). Then it's amazing that she lived long enough to see her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Then it is amazing that I have any memory of her, given the fact that she died a few months before my second birthday.

You see, she was from a reasonably well-to-do family on the Northern side of Sydney. As a single young lady she once went for a job, and stipulated that she would not be available on Thursday nights, because she wouldn't miss prayer meeting. The lady doing the interview laughed, because girls who went to prayer meetings didn't usually do the sort of evening work that was on offer. Innocence is not always bliss.

She (and her sisters) were devout in their expression of their Christian faith. They used to visit the slums as part of their charity work, and Chair Grandma contracted TB from exposure to this environment.

The good thing from my perspective was that she was sent to family in the country to get all the clean air, fresh food and all that (which was about all you could do for TB back then). This was where she met my great-grandfather. She was a good horse woman and they used to get lost together to enjoy more time with each other as they courted.

She had three children out of about (I think) 13 pregnancies. This must have been heart-breaking. My Grandmother was the post World War One bub (yet another chance for me not to exist if my great-grandad hadn't got through the war) and the end of the family.

Chair Grandma had really bad anaemia, and all that could be done for it at that time was for her to eat mushed up raw liver. Blerrchh!

But she was a survivor.

Mum and I used to visit her at the home very frequently when I was little. I remember her shadowy figure sitting in her armchair beside a window. I couldn't describe her features, but I remember her. Apparently, when we visited the staff had a game to see if they could distract me as I single-mindedly waddled towards her room, shrugging them off with "I'se busy".

The strange thing is that although I couldn't describe her features I remember taking my Grandma (Horsey Grandma, if you needed reminding) to visit her older sister in her nursing home. When I walked into the room, my aunt was sitting in an arm chair beside a window. I got goosebumps. When we left, I had to ask Grandma whether her sister looked like Chair Grandma, or was my memory faulty? Yep. Spitting image. No wonder I was freaked out.

I also remember her lying in her bed (on the other side of the window). This image is vaguely troubling to me. Mum says the only time that Chair Grandma was in her bed was the week she died. I was so troubled that Mum decided not to take me back, but how was she going to explain that to me? Chair Grandma died before it was time for our next visit.

When Chair Grandma died, my great-aunt suggested to my Grandmother that she should keep Chair Grandma's good watch for Jennifer. So the once I was all grown up Grandma had the watch cleaned and gave it to me. It is a lovely cheery ticking watch (you know, has to be wound up each morning) that I've worn for good ever since. And occasionally, when my other watch ran out of batteries or the strap broke, I'd wear all the time.






I like that it's delicate and elegant. Dainty. Classic. Timeless. I like it because it has a bright, cheery tick, even when life wasn't going well in one part of my life or another. And I like it because it reminds me of Chair Grandma.



The sad part of the story happened yesterday. A couple of weeks ago it stopped. I could coax it to start again temporarily by some gentle tapping, but the tick was loose, not the crisp, cheery tick it should have been. I took it down to the local watchmaker to get a quote to make it tick merrily once more.



Yesterday the girl at the shop told me that the balance is broken, and it is so old that they don't make them anymore. It can't be replaced.



I asked her if it was possible to get whatever it needed machined especially. She checked with the watchmaker, and yes, it could be done, but it would cost in excess of $400 because it would be a once off. It could cost even more.



So today I went down to the shop to pick it up. I felt a little like I was going to the Vet to pick up my dead pet for decent burial. It' s only a thing, and it doesn't mean my memories are gone. I couldn't put it in my handbag, I had to hold it as I walked back to the car.



And the chance I wasn't repeating, "it's only a thing, it's only a thing" to myself?



... mmm.

So, so tired

I've been trying to keep up my exercise, and as things are starting up again, this means getting up earlier.

Then yesterday we had a girls' day out in Brisbane with Nan, Mum and me from here and my aunt and two cousins from Brisbane. We hit the DFO and the coffee shops and talked a little. And shopped a little. And got depressed about the fact that so few stores in the DFO have clothes that fit anyone who hasn't got a figure like a straw broom.

But it was a good day.

And I didn't buy the tempting shoes that were not what I needed at all.

Came home, then had to be out for a meeting last night that went late and then I couldn't sleep. Early start, big day of driving, walking and talking, then an intense meeting - And I couldn't sleep.

Got up at about 1.30 and did some stuff for an hour, then tried again.

And of course I woke early this morning with only about 4 hours of sleep (max).

Big day today. Rowed, made heaps of phone calls, had a meeting, ended up filling in a Meals on Wheels roster at the last moment and turning into a grease spit in the heat, then handed over some work to the new victim (I mean, volunteer) and came home, cooked and ate dinner and it is 7.30 and I'm falling asleep at the computer.

Problem is, going to bed that early will result in waking up in the middle of the night. Always does. But the chance of me being able to stay awake until a decent bed time?

... Approxxak timatley NOteaneeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

We didn't do too badly, really

Passport photos are notorious, aren't they?

My last passport I made the mistake of getting the photo taken while wearing a cream blouse, which resulted in beige background, cream blouse, washed-out pale skin with dark hair, eyebrows and irises the only relieving features. I should have worn brighter lippy. At least back

then you were permitted to smile.

We really haven't done too badly this time, though. Both appear to have colour in our faces and whilst I made certain I wore a coloured shirt this time it doesn't seem to matter so much these days, because you can hardly see any of it.

My Beloved looks like he's up to mischief, though. The chance they'll let him into a foreign country?

... Let's hope they do! Because how much would I like to go without him?

... Approximately None!

It's all Mum's fault, really...

You might recall that about 12 months ago I commented that I was having some vision difficulty and probably needed to go to an optometrist.

I also want new frames because I'm needing my glasses more and more often, and they really aren't fashionable anymore, and I need them in public now rather than just at my desk.

Well I decided I'd go on Tuesday of this week.

Vanity is an excellent motivator.

First appointment at a new optometrist they ask you about all the family history and what you know about your eyesight problems, then they start the actual examination.

I knew that I have three basic problems:
1. I need glasses for reading (can never remember which is long-sight and which short-sight)
2. I have astigmatism in my left eye (this is my Mother's fault, but she blames her Dad.)
3. I have a convergence problem



Lately I've been needing glasses more and more often for further and further distances. So it was time to go, and I was excited that I could get new frames, having had these since 1997 when I first got glasses. It's time. Well past time, actually, but moving on from my innate miserly tendencies...

So the young bloke finished his examination and then asked me if I'd ever been recommended eye exercises for my convergence problem?

The answer to that is 'yes' from some optometrists, but others say that you can waste your time if you like, but they don't help. So, my natural disinclination for any form of exercise has won the day and I haven't been doing any.

Possibly a mistake, because there's absolutely nothing that glasses can do to help a convergence problem.

And I have a spectacular, off-the-scale convergence problem for close work. This means that each eye contributes the image it sees, but can't reduce it to one, focussed image. Hence I can't see well unless I close one eye. Which might be a bit distracting for the congregation when I'm reading sermon notes.

It does help if things are in focus, though.

... So I need to wear my glasses for preaching and meetings and stuff (at least still my eye muscles decide to behave again due to enough time spent cross-eyed).

... But they are ugly.

... But the fact of the matter is that there is absolutely no change in my prescription.

... So there is no reason to get new frames.


And while they kindly offered to sell me new glasses anyway, my aforementioned innate miserliness will not allow me to buy new glasses for no reason.

... And my parents always told me to be a good steward of this world's resources, and that means taking care of things.

... So my existing frames are still in really good condition, and there's no discernable scratches on the lenses (then again, could I see them if there were?).

... So there is no reason to get new frames.

... And it's all my Mum's fault.

By the way, if I happen to see any of you who are my friends or relatives and you happened to, say, sit on my glasses, my level of unhappiness would be...

...Approximately None!!!

In fact, don't be surprised if I see you about to sit down and I throw my glasses across the room onto your chair.

The problem is that those of us with convergence problems see two images of things partially superimposed, so the chance that I'll hit the right chair?

... *sigh*

Happy Birthday Kate me Mate!

I decided that I would throw a virtual birthday party for my good mate Kate (aka Givinya). So please drop a message in the comments to wish her a happy birthday, or even slip over to Killing a Fly to visit her.

We have known each other for years now, in fact since 1994 when she came to share a college with me and we realised that we were similarly endowed with nuttyness.

I could share heaps of great stories about her, but I won't because she knows just as many (if not more) about me, and I have to maintain a position of respect in my community (*laugh uproariously now*).

But I did want to wish her a happy birthday, because I've noticed that mums don't always get the recognition of special days that they deserve. So I hope that she gets to:
1. sleep in
2. go for a long swim with no kids
3. doesn't need to cook unless she wants to
4. and that everyone in her family spoils her rotten for one day.

Happy Birthday, Kate.

The chance that I would ever forget such an important date?

Approximately None! (but only approximately)

Dear Big Brother,

Very exciting things are planned for this year, one of which is that my Mum and Dad are taking my brother and I, our respective spice (spouses?), and my niece to Asia for a week's holiday. My sister-in-law is originally from Malaysia, so they're sticking around to catch up with her family and friends and we're going to add an extra week to our trip. I'm looking forward to it immensely.

One of the essential jobs to do was to put in our passport applications. Mine had been in my maiden name and expired years ago, and my Beloved has never had one, so I've been collecting his birth certificate, a registered marriage certificate and the photos we needed, got all the paperwork filled out and found a guarantor. Then we waited til my Beloved was on holidays and went last Monday to have our interview and lodge them. Exciting.

They say to expect it to take 7 weeks. That's fine, we've plenty of time.

You can imagine my surprise to receive an email last Thursday (i.e. three days later) to say that my Beloved's passport had been processed and was being sent via registered mail. I didn't think that Snail Mail could have got the application forms to Canberra in that amount of time! And Monday the postie rang the doorbell to get my signature to recieve one passport. It took a week. Howzat!?!*

So, my Beloved is definitely going on the family holiday.

Now, I was expecting to wait seven weeks to get our passports. I was happy to wait seven weeks to get out passports. The only problem now is that my Beloved has his that was lodged at the same place, on the same date, at the same time as mine.

The photos were taken at the same place by the same bloke, so surely if the Aussie government accepts his pic, mine should be fine too. (although I won't be able to explain to them the flat straight hair phenomenon whereby they don't need to take off very much hair to get to where my skull actually is - the photo is not too small).

I would have thought mine would be easier given the fact I've previously held a passport.

I'm just hoping that the chance that they've found my post about having an assassination list when I was at college is...

Approximately None!

I swear I didn't mean it. I wouldn't ever really do that!

*For my US readers 'Howzat!' is a jubilant exclamation and appeal to the umpire in cricket when you think you've just got a member of the opposing team out. In this case I'm jubilantly appealing to you, my readers, to compliment my government on extraordinarily efficient processing.