I was awake for a couple of hours last night second-guessing my misguided desire to do more study.
I have always wanted to do more God-related study. I don't know if I really should say "more" because I've really done very little, but I've always thought when I hear of someone studying Theology, "you are so lucky!".
I've finally managed to separate studying theology and becoming a minister in my mind, which means that I can study without feeling guilty if I don't actually do anything with it. I know that I work as a Pastor (which may mean Minister to some of you anyway), but my role has very set boundaries and I'm qualified for the parts of the pastoral work that are in my job description. But I'm feeling that I need more knowledge and some different perspectives to be better at this role, even if I never want to do all the stuff that a regular minister does.
So, a Bachelor of Theology sounds like a wonderful idea and I love the sound of some of the units on offer. BUT 24 subjects is a big committment. I don't see how I could fit more than one subject at a time into my life without neglecting my Beloved, my work, or the state of cleanliness in my abode. This means that for the next 12 years I lose my nights and weekends. Hang on, I already lose nights and weekends in my work. How is that going to work?!
I could knock it off in 6 years if I could manage 2 subjects at a time. But that's a huge comittment of time over a significant period. I don't know how people manage it.
But I'd love to have the opportunity to study.
And the Federal Government will help fund the subjects if I do them as part of a course, rather than picking off one-off subjects. That's very nice of them.
But it is a very long time comittment. I will miss much television. Oh, that's right, there's very little worth watching on it anyway, so maybe not really a sacrifice.
But I want to learn more.
But I like having time to spend hanging out with my Beloved.
But there's some really good units that sound interesting.
But there are weeks when I entirely lose my drive, or I get a cold and don't feel like doing anything much.
And I need to make a decision this weekend if I want to do a subject this coming semester.
The chance that I'm certain about what I should do?
And when I reflect, odd combinations of things end up in the same post.
Computers drive me nuts. They spend all the time I'm not working here at my desk in trying to come up with new ways to stymie me.
And then, when they do what they're told it can drive me nuts because I want it to do what I WANT it to do, not necessarily what I TOLD it to do.
The LBD on the other hand proved on Monday night that he is nothing like a computer.
We had guests for dinner and he was beginning to be a pain. What I wanted him to do was find a spot out of the way and drop and stay there so that our guests could finish their meals in peace.
We have never established the command, "leave these poor people alone, they don't WANT you right now, and by the way, neither do I". Such a command would possibly be a little longer than suggested at dog obedience classes.
We do, however, have access to the command, "on your mat", whereupon the LBD sighs, gets a look of great resignation on his face, and reluctantly heads for the nearest mat. It is also useful at the vets when they want to weigh him.
On Monday he just headed for the corner and dropped down. Not on a mat of any description. He did precisely what I WANTED him to do, but not what I had ASKED him to do.
A better mother than I would have made him get on his mat.
I did not.
There are probably reasons that it is better that we don't have children.
The chance that anyone makes a 'dog' chip for a computer, though?
The tele weatherman said it would turn cold last night.
He was right.
Now how come cold is easier to forecast than rain?
Now, hold on to your hats, people, you're about to get a Jen-jump to an entirely different subject.
Years ago my Beloved and I got married. Many people gave us wonderful house-oriented presents like stock pots and towels and platters and towels and sheets and towels, which was wonderful because my Beloved and I both had the 'usual' stuff, but not pretty things.
We were both single bed dwellers. Me, because I always knew that if I allowed my sleeping body to take over the whole of a Queen sized mattress there would never be room to add in a husband one day if I found the right candidate. And him probably because he had a single bed and why would you bother to buy a new bigger bed when you had a perfectly good single one with sheets and blankets and everything?
So a few months before we wed, we went big bed shopping, and had it delivered to my Beloved's house where we would be living once the knot was tied.
Many people gave us sheets and stuff, so that we then had bed clothes for our new bed, which was pretty spectacular because it meant that we'd be able to sleep on it. Neither of us had Queen bed sheets.
But at that time we were living in Central Queensland, and no-one thought to give us flannelette sheets, because you don't need flannelette sheets in a location where you can get married in July and not need long sleeves.
Then we moved here.
It is good to have cuddly flannelette sheets here.
And the weatherman said that the winter was going to come in last night, so I broke out the new flannelette sheets.
I say the new ones, because I've learnt this rule about manchester. You get what you pay for. Don't bother with the cheap ones because if you get one winter out of them, you're doing well.
So two years ago when we were on holidays and went to a factory outlet, I bought a set of Sheridan flannelette sheets to replace the ones we had. Then last year I managed by using the flat sheets out of the two sets of sheets where we'd worn through the fitted sheet.
But for this year, I broke out the Sheridan.
Mmmmm. Thick, smooth and cuddly.
The chance that I'm not going to enjoy my cuddly sheets this winter?
... Approximately None (oh, and sorry to any potential visitors who won't be getting cuddly sheets because, well, we're using them.)
Although it was my official day off, I'd got heaps done.
I had chaired a meeting. (8am meetings are not my favourites, particularly when it's supposed to be my day off, but sometimes you've got to do these things)
I had done two loads of washing.
I had organised the music for Sunday's services and got it off to the organist (Friday is pushing it, but I had a funeral to take yesterday which took precedence).
After getting my order of service down I decided to watch a chick flick, then rang a friend for coffee for afternoon tea time.
I came home, intent on getting the washing in and watering the dog, I mean plants, then think about what would be good for dinner. It had been a sufficiently restful day and yet I had got some stuff done as well. Good on me!
As I went to go out the back sliding door to the washing line I was momentarily confused. The washing basket was not sitting under the washing line. I always put the basket up-side-down over the peg bucket under the washing line when I've hung out the last load...
Nevermind, I've got it now.
The chance that the clothes in the washing machine got dry, despite excellent weather for washing day?
I recently purchased one of your products to try in my never-ending search for a shampoo that will get oily hair clean.
I mistakenly believed that a product entitled "Oily Roots & Dry Ends" would have been formulated for someone who has oily roots and (by reason of the length of the hair belonging to the individual in question) has some need for moisture application to the ends.
What I didn't realise is that the label of the product was to highlight the desired results! Silly me!
Would you permit me to suggest a more appropriate name for this product? I believe "Olive oil roots and ends like straw" would be far more descriptive of the results I achieved after a few weeks of use.
Fortunately I am blessed with a non-descriminating husband who is finishing the bottle while I move on to try other products.
Yours Faithfully, No longer your customer.
And the chance that blogging isn't the preferred weapon for the passive-aggressive among us? ... Approximately None!
Trying madly to remember where the song I've adapted comes from. I'm guessing "Carosel".
So, I might have not met my exercise goals and best eating patterns in the crazy time leading up to Easter.
And I might have pretty much indulged in the "Food Tour of Malaysia" while overseas.
But although I refusing to get on the scales for three weeks after my return, there are some indicators that I'd better get cracking on the exercise programme.
So here is my little secret.
I have had three sets of clothes fail in the belly department.
Yep. Three (and that doesn't count for the 3/4 pants that split in the sideseam in the vicinity of my thighs).
1. A pair of new 3/4 pants where the stitching beside the fly began to let go and I had to sew it up. I tell you, those pants would have gone back to the shop (it was about the 2nd time I wore them) if it hadn't been in Toowoomba and I needed them to wear on holidays. I was cranky, because it was obviously woeful manufacture and not that I am getting a bit porky.
2. I busted the zip on my board shorts when I went swimming with elephants in the Genting Highlands. I blame the fact that when the elephant rolled over and I hit the water I must have contorted somehow in a strange way and that was the reason the zip broke - Definitely not that I am getting a little porky!
3. When I got home I was wearing an old favourite pair of suede-finished pants and the stitching beside the zip let go. Of course, they are getting on a bit, so it is probably not that I'm getting a bit porky.
Chance that I've not gained a few centimeters?
... I neither confirm or deny! (Basically because I haven't measured and don't want to know!)
In marriage there are many moments that you stare at your spouse in utter bewilderment at how they could be so different and still be part of the same species.
I like to have new clothes. I like having things that give me some variety and choice. I prefer it if they are flattering in style and colour. I like them to fit nicely. I like to know that they don't gape at the neck or produce peepholes where they button up. It's nice to know that they aren't pilled, pulled or too thin from wear. They have no stains, no repairs are necessary to the buttons or seams yet.
I like having new clothes.
My Beloved on the other hand doesn't really care. If I suggest he needs a new shirt for church he looks at me blankly and says, "why?". When it comes to his normal week he's in work uniform each day, so only really feels he needs a couple of shirts and a pair of jeans for the rest of the week, and some old grungy clothes for working in the yard.
So when we were going on holidays I insisted that he needed some new clothes. He would be wearing 'civvies' for 15 days and a couple of sets of clothes were not going to cover it (particularly once the ones that I wouldn't let him take were removed from his options). So I dragged him to the shopping centre, then he reluctantly used a Christmas gift voucher he'd been given, and we got him some new clothes and they were, "all right".
This morning I was hardly awake when he came in saying he was going to have to use his oldest work shirt to work around the yard in, because he had run out of suitable old clothes. In my half asleep grogginess I managed to list off about three other shirts I could think of that were not longer suitable (in his wife's humble opinion) for wearing as casual clothes. He dug around and found them, then did a little happy dance around the bedroom, "I've got lots of old clothes, I've got old clothes!"
And the chance I haven't worked out that in the future I can sell him on the idea of buying new clothes on the basis that the old ones can be worn around the garden?
I am 30-mumble, married, and I work from home.
We have approximately no children which is the biggest conversation killer for meeting new people. A dog just doesn't seem to cut it for the purpose of mutual child-related bragging.
I was always mad-keen on horses, although I haven't ridden for years. I also have a masochistic desire to learn ancient Greek. One of the few words I can remember is that for a passion for horses, hence the name.