Freaky Friday

So...

I've been looking for work now that I'm back in Australia after the trip of a lifetime and only studying part time.  I had sent off a few applications for jobs around the place as I saw advertisements, but hadn't really focussed on the job hunt as yet.  Last week I had two to submit: one by noon Wednesday and a second that closed Friday.

I can't now remember if it was Wednesday night or Thursday that I received a phone call to come in for an interview for the first, but the interview was scheduled for 2pm Friday afternoon.  So I handed in one application on the way down for the interview for the other.

It's a bit freaky when your job interview is in the Deputy Principal's office.  Not just any Deputy Principal's office, but the very office that the Deputy Principal of your own High School years worked in.

Anyway, did the interview, went home and about 1.5 hours later was offered the job.  That in itself was freaky enough, and I had to request some "breathing space" before giving them a final "yes" because it was just too quick for my brain to compute and because God had basically had to yell pretty loudly to get me to even consider applying for the other job that I'd just applied for that afternoon.

Anyway, they were keen for me to start ASAP as the lady currently doing the job is leaving Wednesday and it's such a procedure intensive position that a couple of days of handover is a really good idea.

So I started 8.30 this morning.  When taken up to the office I work from I recognised the old Maths staffroom from my days.  My debating teacher used to work from here (there were about 6 teachers in a space that now holds 2 people).  The old Graphics block that was pretty much the end of the universe before you hit the top oval is now quite central with all the buildings that have sprung up on the aforementioned oval.  I get to use the staff toilets, which were always off limits as a student (and don't have any graffiti).

I'm working in a role to organise work experience placements and school based traineeships and apprenticeships.  A role to use my brain, but is only 4 days a week to leave me some study time.  I also get school holidays.  Bonus.

The chance that this will feel normal any time soon?

Just for professional interest

Every now and then I go to other churches or listen to podcasts just to see how other people go about delivering a sermon.

I have just listened to 45 mins (and finally lost ability to continue to listen) of one from a young and vibrant church down in the "big smoke". I thought I might learn a thing or two about being relevant and communicating to younger audiences in the modern world.

It seems that it is perfectly natural to introduce your main point at least 35 mins into your sermon.

It seems that it is perfectly okay to bring in the scripture you want to focus on after 45 mins.

I also need to cultivate a whiny voice that can be raised continually until I reach a crescendo every 10 mins or so, possibly to make certain my audience are still with me.

Oh, and "if you agree with me, say YES!" falls quite flat on the podcast when there is no microphone for the congregation. In fact, if you need to stir them up, it's probably not genuine response anyway.

I reckon in the 45 mins I listened to there was about 10 mins of material, the rest was just waffle. And there could have been quite a bit to come, given the fact he'd just got his Bible out.

Now, don't get me wrong. I've listened to sermons that were over the 30 min mark and I was sad that they finished ("where did the time GO?"), but this guy wasn't one of them. Unfortunately I've heard plenty more in the same style.

I realise, too, that there are people who have a 10 minute message that seem like an hour.

I guess I try to have a solid structure, solid research behind it, and make the presentation as interesting as I can. There's also much to be said for allowing the good ol' Holy Spirit to have a chance at moving you during both preparation and presentation. but I generally try to aim for about 6 hours preparation for a 15 minute talk, rather than the opposite.

Once I was presenting a professional seminar at a series of development courses and surprised one of the organisers by saying, "I generally try to stop talking when I've said everything that has to be said."

Chance that I'm going to email that pastor with some constructive criticism?

...no ... I'm way too passive aggressive for that!

Sometimes being a Pastor isn't all it's cracked up to be...

Or, at least, there are those who think I should be proof against cracking up.

I was at a service yesterday for the commissioning of a new pastor in a church not so very far away.

I had been invited to preach, which was an honour and a privilege, but does make one rather conspicuous when one sees an unfortunate typo during one of the hymns.

We were "Lifting high the cross" gustily and "praising his sacred name". I had not realised that among all the titles to which Jesus is entitled is included "the Sod of God".

Don't you hate how spelling checkers only highlight typos that are not real words in themselves?

How much success did I have in keeping a straight face?

And how much help was my Beloved at this point?

So I now have a current resume...

Which is a good thing. And thanks to Emily Sue who has given me tips to make it beautiful as well as being to the point.

I've even applied for my first job, which is an even better thing.

I've had my first 24 hour spac-attack about not having set plans for 2012, which is not really a good thing at all, but I'm over it now. (Sort of. For this five minutes at any rate.)

And, as you would expect things have changed for our holiday. Mum and I got our information back for what we're doing on Crete, Dad saw it and decided that he really didn't need to get straight back to his business after all. We were going to have too much fun without him!

So now he's going to come with us to Crete, then he'll get an earlier plane, while we have a final wander around Heraklion, then head to Athens for our Paul Tour later in the day.

Now, if only I knew what's going to be happening with the beginning part of the year. But how much of an idea do I have?

Exciting Things...

There are a few.

And I haven't been blogging, time has been the factor.

So, a few things that are happening around here:-

1a. Our church can't afford a part-time pastor for next year.

1b. And we as a church really want to look at getting a pastor's job description that really fits the direction that we think God wants us to head for the future.

1c. And I've been feeling that I really need more opportunity to study.

1d. So I don't have a job for next year.

Interesting Times, hey?

2. I need to find a job, so I've been working on my resume (thanks to Emily Sue who is good at that stuff), and looking for jobs to apply for. There are a couple of options coming up. It's hard to know which way to go, but I figure if I apply for everything possible, I might get something.

3. This leaves study in an odd position. I've enrolled in one subject per semester, but am hoping that with a part-time job I may be able to do 2 or even 3 subjects a semester (still distance ed.), depending on the number of hours required.

And the best and most exciting thing is:-

4. In June/July 2012 I will be doing my absolute dream overseas trip that I never really thought I would be able to do. My Beloved is not really interested, can't get time off work, and we can't afford it anyway, but I've convinced my Mum that it would be great, and Dad thought it sounded great too so they will be coming (Dad only for part of it before leaving Mum and I to get lost all by ourselves).

Oh, you want to know where to?

Well then, I'll humour you!

Starting with 5 days in Jerusalem and surrounds, going to some of the usual sites of interest to Christians and tourists; Temple Mount, Western Wall & tunnel, Jewish Quarter, Temple ruins, pools of Bethesda, Via Dolorosa and Holy Sepulchre, Qumran, Masada, Bethlehem, and the Herodium.

Then 14 days at an archeological dig at Bethsaida on the sea of Galilee. Digging in the mornings, recovering in the afternoons before pottery reading late pm and lectures in the evenings. The weekend is free, and I understand that the various lecturers on tour pick an interesting location to go to visit.

Then 5 nights in Southern Israel and Jordan, going to Petra, the Dead Sea, Negev desert, Mt Nebo.

Then Dad comes home and Mum and I board a plane to Athens. Or rather, we board a flight to Athens, then Dad goes home. I've always loved ancient Greek history, architecture, art etc, particularly Bronze Age. So whilst the tour we're doing is Pauline sites, there are a few days to spare between tours and so we get off the plane from Athens, and get straight onto a plane for Heraklion.

What? You don't know where that is? Crete. Minoan civilisation and beautiful artwork. I was initially depressed that the Aegean Cruise that we get to go on as part of the tour doesn't go to Crete (it used to), but we now get three days there between tours and that will be SO much better than a half-day wander about.

So we will see Knossos (Palace that was reputed to be home of the Minotaur and one of two places that I have ALWAYS wanted to go since I studied Bronze Age Greece - despite bad, bad, bad early archeology) Phaestos, Gortys, and spend time in the Heraklion Archaeological Museum which has some of the best examples of Minoan art and objects.

Then we go back to Athens to start a tour that is "In the footsteps of the Apostle Paul" And does Athens, Philippi, Thessalonika, Meteora, Veria, Corinth, Mykonos, Ephesus, Kusadasi, Patmos, Santorini (3 day cruise around the Aegean).

Then we have booked a day trip to Mycenae (yes, I have inconsistent Greek K/ Latin C use) so that I can see the Lion Gate, which is the other of the two places in Greece that I've always wanted to see.

We fly out in the afternoon of the next day, so that leaves us a morning to walk around Athens (rioting crowds permitting).

So how excited am I?

... approximately LOTS AND LOTS!!!!

The difference of fifteen.

This year I have been teaching a grade 2 Religious Instruction class.

Last year I took my first go at RI and had a grade 2 class. I decided to stick with grade 2 because I'd made so many mistakes that I MUST be able to do a better job this year.

Last year my RI class finished at about 23 students (although it started at about 20 - there was some accumulation during the year).

This year the school changed from an opt-out system (you have to write a letter saying that you don't want your child taught RI), to an opt-in system (where you have to write a letter saying that you do want your child taught RI). This meant a bit of a drop in numbers. You'd think my class would have been smaller.

But no, because they needed somewhere to put all the students who weren't doing RI, they took the smallest two classes, joined them together and gave them to me.

I started the year with 29 students.

I am not, and never have been a teacher.

It was hard.

Then I acquired an extra couple of students.

I recorded my plea in church, and found a willing and able helper to assist with crowd control.

Then we acquired a couple of extra students.

I started planning a 20 minute lesson, knowing that the first 10 minutes of the half-hour lesson would be taken up with getting chairs from next door for the extras. I also had to leave out anything exciting because there simply wasn't enough room in the classroom for movement of any kind.

I was struggling. Seriously struggling. And while I've always found taking RI hard, I wasn't able to make the individual connection with students that makes it rewarding.

One of the other teachers offered me her class for second semester. Then we found that we now had 35 students, so I took her up on it.

Today I had 20 grade three students (four from my class last year).

The classroom is big enough.

There is no-one coming from next door so that I have to find chairs.

They are a whole heap more capable in reading and puzzles and understanding instructions, and we can do fun games again.

I can't believe the difference made by fifteen.

P.S. The classroom teacher of my original class complained, they've now taken five students out of my old class to go to the other grade 2 class, and two students have changed schools. And the chance that would have happened if I hadn't changed classes? Yep.

Greek Geek

So last week I would have went, saw, and conquered, but as that is more commonly rendered in Latin, it wouldn't really be appropriate to my trip.

I went on a residential school for New Testament Greek in our nation's capital.

Three days of intense language learning, sandwiched between travel. It was really good (very intense, very full, very mind-filling and not always easy - but good). The preparation work I'd done was sufficient to keep me in the same ball park as the lecturer, which enabled me to get much more out of it than if I'd been struggling with how to sound out Greek letters and a total incapability to understand grammatical case (thanks, Education Queensland).

I was pretty bushed by the time I got home at 8.30 Saturday evening, then had to preach Sunday morning, then go to a Seminar in a neighbouring town, followed by a meeting with my supervisor and a hospital visit, rushed Officeworks trip and home in time for music group.

Then madly preparing for my RI class Tuesday lunchtime.

Then the taking of the class (I have 28 grade 2s - that is WAY too many for a non-teacher to keep under control all at once), followed by child protection seminar.

Thankfully today had nothing down in my diary until Ministry Team meeting late this afternoon. I slept reasonably well secure in the knowledge that I didn't really have to get up and prepare for anything. I could get some essential housework done, get out tax stuff together and make a few phonecalls to organise some things.

The chance I appreciated the 8.05am phone call from the church wondering whether I was coming for the Pastoral Carers meeting? (which I chair - oops)

After today I think I've confirmed everyone's suspicions that I'm a bit air-headed...

It has been one of those days.

7.30am - Prayer breakfast

8.45am - Get home and take a picture as a background for our church's new website banner (for September - yep, right in time for the new month). Download it. Put the necessary writing on it. Get onto the admin site and upload the image. Realise that it has a typo. Not an important one, or anything. Just the name of the town the church is located in.

10.20am - Frustrated at not getting the website update finished, but take the LBD to the vet to get his dressing changed and for the vet to make sure that everything is looking good. It is, he's walking on it, but doesn't like the sticky bandage coming off. Pushes against me so hard that his good back leg falls off the table and he tries to take all his weight on the bad one.

10.55am - Put dog in the laundry because I have to go out soon. Madly work on the computer to fix the typo, re-upload September's website banner and fix it. Try to insert a new news article, that doesn't end up showing on the public site, but I have to go out again...

11.30am - Meeting with one of our music ladies about a potential solo for Sunday. Words of song are perfect for the service. Can't get onto Sunday's organist. Have a bit of a discussion about deep theological stuff. Get fuel, pick up the hospital pastoral care phone on the way home.

12.45pm - Get home, put some soup in the microwave to defrost. Check dog. He has managed to eat or in other ways get rid of half his bandage. Ring vet. I can bring him straight down. Great.

1pm - try to lift resisting dog out of the back of the car. Drag him into the vet. Vet fixes new bandage. Buy pigs ears to try to keep the LBD entertained while I'm gone.

1.15pm - Put soup on to reheat. Find the LBDs bucket-collar in the back of the top shelf of the cupboard so that he can't eat his bandage. Gather materials for 2pm meeting, remembering the letter I have to post, and the CD to leave for someone at the office.

1.30pm - eat lunch quickly. Burn tongue.

1.45pm - Grab dog. Put on bucket collar, grab pig ear in other hand, then pick up the dog to carry him downstairs to the laundry. Try to push him into the laundry, despite his unwillingness and the fact that the bucket collar gets stuck on the door, which can't open fully because he's rearranged all his bedding. Run upstairs and grab handbag and stuff I need.

1.50pm - Realise that my car/house keys are not in my handbag. They are not on my desk. They are not in the kitchen. They are not in the bedroom. Put everything down and check each of these places three times. Stop and think about what I did when I first got home. Check the shelves in the cupboard where the bucket-collar was. Grab keys. Grab stuff.

2.03pm - Apologise for being late to the meeting. Have meeting to organise Sunday's service. Find out that our organist is away and is not due back til the end of the week. Scrap potential solo.

3.30pm - pack up stuff after meeting. Decide to have a quick run-through of a new song for Sunday (to be accompanied by guitar). Realise that I've lost the CD I had to leave in the office for someone to pick up. Go through all the stuff I have with me. It isn't there. Check the car, my path between the car and the church hall, the office and the meeting room three times each.

3.40pm - Decide that I really need to get home to my Little Black Dog.

3.47pm - Find CD and letter I was going to post on my desk. Ring the lady who was going to pick up the CD. Get her husband. She's just left for the church. Leave message. Ring church. Leave message.

Just now - get new email with the minutes of last week's meeting to plan the Spring Fair. Realise that I should have been there and wasn't because it had entirely slipped my mind.

What amount of respect am I going to have from my church after today's little effort?

... Approximately None!

Perils of Speedy RE Preparation

Trying to get everything done for my Religious Education class for this morning. I take a grade 2 class and they are lovely. Noisy and never still, but lovely.

Just quickly trying to copy and then highlight some verses I need them to read out. Quickly grabbed one - Jeremiah 31:3 "... Israel, I will always love you; that's why I have been so patient and kind."

Lovely thought for the day. God is patient and kind and loving. Great.

Onto the next one I read quickly Jeremiah 3:2 "Just try to find one hilltop where you haven't gone to worship other gods by having sex."

What!?! That can't be right! Definitely not age-appropriate. Check the reference.

Jeremiah 3:12 "... Israel, I am your Lord - come back to me! You were unfaithful and made me furious, but I am merciful, and so I will forgive you."

That's more like it.

How funny would it have been if I hadn't actually read the selections, then given them out to my unsuspecting 8 year olds?

... Approximately NONE!!!

Things I'm not certain I want to do...

I've just come back from our church's statewide gathering/conference/meeting.

I feel challenged to do some study.

I've spent the day looking at a few options.

I think Charles Sturt is the pick of them, because they have distance mode.

You need a qualification in information technology to find information.

It will require work.

Over about 12 years.

Or 8 years if I were to do a subject in the summer session as well.

Which would be stupid because in the church game Christmas is pretty darn busy.

But then, so is Easter.

So that leaves me with one semester a year for 24 years.

I think it is one of those things that sounds wonderful in theory, and I would like to do, but is going to take way too much time.

But I have to make a decision before the 1st June, or I miss next Semester.

The chance that I'll ever get it finished if I never even start?

... Hmmmm.

Don't you hate it when your Mother is right?

I work in a church.

I've been doing that for 12 months now.

As a result I had some annual leave ready to be taken, so I took three weeks off, 15 days of which were spent overseas.

I needed the rest of those days because the house is a mess and I needed to see if there was still a desk in my office under about 3 months worth of study books, commentaries, miscellaneous paperwork and puppet prop creation paraphernalia.

There is. I can see parts of it now.

The extra days are also useful for the de-jet-lag-ation. I didn't think there would be anything much when you've come back from the equivalent of Western Australia (Malaysia and Singapore are only 2 hours behind). Maybe its just the whole deciding to watch movies on the plane thing, or maybe I just acclimatised really well to the sleeping in an extra two hours every day thing while we were away.

My mother has commented since I've been working in the church that you just can't take holidays at home when you work in the church, because people know you're there. You have to go away.

However, in my innocence I thought that I would be able to quietly slip home and get a whole lot of stuff done before anyone had realised that I was actually back in town.

But...

My partner in crime in the church knew we were getting back early this week, and she's been telling everyone that we'd be back, and organising meetings for this week. Grrrr.

I went to one of the meetings, and organised name tags for another thing, but was a bit cranky about it.

The chance that I'm going to do anything else until next week?

... APPROXIMATELY NONE!!!

Elbows

I was invited to participate in a school speech day on Friday. Really enjoyed some parts like the dance troop and seeing the little preppies get their encouragement awards, and the fact that there seemed to be so many lovely young men and women ready to go out and make their mark on the world.

I also puzzled over the fact that in a pipe band you can have some trouble picking a pre-pubescent boy from a pre-pubescent girl, unless the girls ALL have long hair. Kilts will do that.

But the main block from total enjoyment was the heat. There is nothing worse than being dressed up in your good clothes and then feeling the sweat trickle down between your shoulder blades (yes, "sweat" - it was definitely not as refined as "perspiration" and even further from the "glowing" that apparently ladies are supposed to do when warm).

Unless it's the feeling of sweat running down your thighs under a lined skirt.

Or the slimy feeling you get at the point you neatly cross your ankles so that your knees can stay together because you're in the front row, wearing a suit skirt and very visible to the assembled parents, friends, special guests and students.

Anyway it was hot, but I was priviledged to sit in the special section with the college council, which meant that we had comfy seats and a bottle of water provided just beside the leg of each chair.

It also meant that I was sitting next to a couple of men who were built on generous lines. I don't mean fat, I mean they had the bulk to match their height. Which meant that they needed the additional room for their arms that was above our mutual armrests.

Which would have been fine, except that I'm not as little as I used to be. And the need to keep my arms by my sides began to make me wonder how much colour difference my royal blue blouse would show if for some reason it were to become moist. Which was definitely going to be the case.

I made a mental note to keep my arms by my sides after the event was over.

Then remembered that I was giving the Benediction at the end of the proceedings.

It is usual in my church for the appointed God-person to raise their arms to pronounce the Benediction.

But the appointed God-person would usually be a proper minister wearing an alb, which would be white and not show the change in colour (mind you any minister wearing an alb on this particular occasion would have passed out with heat exhaustion by this point, so it ends up being moot).

So how much did anyone care if I had dark circles under my arms?

... Approximately None, because everyone was in exactly the same boat!

Remember Me?

G'day, everybody. I'm back for a quick chat.

October for me is very busy and it will continue while the boss is on long-service leave until the end of the year, when she conveniently retires (and we're working like crazy to get her a replacement). This of course would not have been for my own business that's almost non-existent at the moment, but for the church that currently employs me full-time rather than part-time because our minister is on long-service leave.

Now that I'm thinking about it, my job description is probably not what I want to mention in the post I was planning to write. So can you just forget that I told you WHY I'm busy and just accept that I am.

Thanks.

When I was at University I had a mental assasination list. It was never on paper, and these days could get one in heaps of trouble what with the threat of terrorism and all, but I had a list of people who irritated me and my life would have been so much better if they were no longer on this planet. Some of them would definitely be headed for heaven, so to actually ACT on my list might have resulted in me not having to be irritated by them in the afterlife either!

Yeah, my theology could use a little work here.

Anyway, if I was wiping out irritating individuals and therefore likely to spend this life behind bars and the next 'consigned to a place of great heat' (bonus points if you guess the author, and more if you can remind me which book it comes from) I might as well get rid of those who irritate my friends as well. Yep, that's the kind of friend I am. So the list ended up quite lengthy, and my plan was to start with the most irritating and work down until I was caught or I got through it, whichever came first.

For the last few months the two tiny yappy dogs next door have been driving me nutty. Neither me, nor my Little Black Dog is allowed to roam in the 4 metres adjacent to their fence without being yapped at. I have considered getting an outdoor lie-low, an umbrella, good book, a supply of snacks, earplugs and setting myself up near the fence at about 5am on New Years Day. Then the little yappy dogs can drive the neighbours nutty for a change.

Then again, I could put them on my list.

I was catching up with some reading on Graze and came across this little gem. If I were to re-establish my assassination list I would need to make certain to add whoever it was who invented the idea of sending a toy home to have pictures taken doing something with appropriate captions.

The chance that I'm not singing that song from Mikado in my head and wishing for the poetic ability to do a parody?

... approximately none!

they'd none of 'em be missed!


As some day it may happen that a victim must be found,
I've got a little list — I've got a little list
Of society offenders who might well be underground,
And who never would be missed — who never would be missed!
There's the pestilential nuisances who write for autographs --
All people who have flabby hands and irritating laughs —
All children who are up in dates, and floor you with 'em flat —
All persons who in shaking hands, shake hands with you like that —
And all third persons who on spoiling tête-á-têtes insist —
They'd none of 'em be missed — they'd none of 'em be missed!

Chorus.
He's got 'em on the list — he's got 'em on the list;
And they'll none of 'em be missed — they'll none of 'em be missed.

Ko-Ko.
There's the banjo serenader, and the others of his race,
And the piano-organist — I've got him on the list!
And the people who eat peppermint and puff it in your face,
They never would be missed — they never would be missed!
Then the idiot who praises, with enthusiastic tone,
All centuries but this, and every country but his own;
And the lady from the provinces, who dresses like a guy,
And who "doesn't think she dances, but would rather like to try";
And that singular anomaly, the lady novelist —
I don't think she'd be missed — I'm sure she'd not he missed!

Chorus.
He's got her on the list — he's got her on the list;
And I don't think she'll be missed — I'm sure she'll not be missed!

Ko-Ko.
And that Nisi Prius nuisance, who just now is rather rife,
The Judicial humorist — I've got him on the list!
All funny fellows, comic men, and clowns of private life —
They'd none of 'em be missed — they'd none of 'em be missed.
And apologetic statesmen of a compromising kind,Such as —
What d'ye call him — Thing'em-bob, and likewise — Never-mind,
And 'St— 'st— 'st— and What's-his-name, and also You-know-who —
The task of filling up the blanks I'd rather leave to you.
But it really doesn't matter whom you put upon the list,
For they'd none of 'em be missed — they'd none of 'em be missed!

Chorus.
You may put 'em on the list — you may put 'em on the list;
And they'll none of 'em be missed — they'll none of 'em be missed!

You can choose your friends, but...

you can't choose your family, so they say.

And more importantly, you can't choose the occupations that your family members take up.

I love my family, and this is really good because my Mum was one of 6 children and my Dad was one of 4. This means that I have a good helping of aunts and uncles and scores of cousins littered all over the place (Actually, they don't quite make a single score - but 19 is lots still, right?).

And while a couple of these cousins I might not recognise if I bumped into them up the street one day, most of them I have a reasonable amount of contact with from time to time. And even those I might not recognise I still keep up with the big events of their lives via the family telegraph.

But it was a bit of a shock to get a phone call from one of my cousins this morning. He's a producer for our regional ABC radio station. I had the privilege of being the only town planner that he knew (or at least had the phone number to get a hold of at 8am) when he was seeking a short interview about the Southeast Queensland Regional Plan (the new version of which was released last night) and how it might impact on the local area.

And I hadn't read any of it at all.

In fact, I hadn't even watched the news to get the dodgy media version of what changes had been made.

But that's okay, because he only wanted to do an interview at 8.30, so I had plenty of time to educate myself.

Fortunately it was a hospital morning, so I wasn't available to be on the air at that time.

Unfortunately he had the technology to pre-record it.

Fortunately he also had the technology to edit out my waffle as necessary (you might have noticed that I can tend to get a tad verbose at times? Particularly when I have lost my point, or am not exactly certain of my facts).

I know that I had an audience of at least my Beloved and my parents, so what is the chance that I've launched a new career in the media?

... Approximately None!

My Apologies for the World Wide Biro Shortage

Do you have a habit of going to meetings and grabbing a pen to go with your paperwork, then putting the pen in your handbag after the meeting?

Do you find that (despite the fact you work from home. Alone.) you seem to be losing biros at a world land-speed record-breaking rate?

Every now and then do you decide to clean out your handbag?

Do you then discover that you could lend a pen to every man, woman, and child living in your whole town if they happened to go to a community meeting without one?

Does it then prey upon your mind that if you were arrested on suspicion of shop-lifting at the local newsagent that you wouldn't be able to explain the logic of why you actually have about 25,000 Staedtler medium point blue biros in your bag?

... Me neither.

How much do I doubt that publicising this fact is grounds for locking me away?

... Approximately None

Is it Beer O'Clock Yet?

It's Friday afternoon and I don't feel like concentrating anymore. I feel dozy and lazy and certainly not like working.

It's got to be getting close to that time of the day some of my work colleagues used to call "Beer O'Clock". Knock off time when you can go, sit around the lunch room table with a beverage of your choice and simply enjoy each other's company.

But - I don't drink beer. Can I call it "Ginger Beer O'Clock"?

But - I work from home and there's only the LBD for company. Then again, that's got to be okay because dogs are some of the best company there is. I won't have to listen to how his week has gone, nor will he be likely to get more and more inappropriate as the beers go down.

But - it's not quite time yet. (It would be if I took a half hour's drive south of here into New South Wales where they are inflicted with Daylight Saving.)

So I think that as boss of my business I'm going to give myself an early mark, pack up and go home (i.e. out of my office) - because realistically how much work am I going to get done in the next 55 minutes?

... Approximately None.

His Achy, Breaky Heart

I broke my LBD's heart one morning this week.

I had to go out on a site visit for work. The site is in the back of beyond in very rough country. Not knowing what situation I'd find myself in I made certain that I was wearing my walking boots, just on the off-chance that I had to scramble up granite outcrops or walk any paths.

As I arrived through the door to the garage, the LBD was so excited to see me in walking boots, hat in hand.

Then I shut him outside, got into the car and left.

Remarkably, how much resentment did he hold this afternoon when I returned?

...Approximately None

The Playful Professional

I'm working. Honestly.

I was just reviewing a section of a report I'm currently writing, and found this accidentally alliterative gem in my heading (did you know that there is no synonym for 'gem' that starts with 'a' ? Is it scarier that I actually checked, or that I actually wrote that down to be published? *sigh*) -

"Rebuttal of Reasons for Refusal as Recommended by Officers"

What a pity that I didn't call the officers "Representatives". Lost opportunity.

It's a good job I remembered the computer's Thesaurus because the only alternative I could think of starting with 'r' was neither nice, nor politically correct (although it would have expressed my current frustration precisely).

Chances that the heading is NOT going to be severely reworked?

... Approximately None, and I'd better get back to it.

Town Planning CSI

I'm a Town Planner and we are held to be a boring lot. There was a survey done years ago that indicated that the populace thought us quite dangerous - but we’re not worth writing about.

So there will never be a Town Planning version of CSI. But can’t you picture it…

Some salubrious coastal resort town where all the Council staff are svelte and tanned with big hair (except for maybe one token beer-swilling, meat pie eating, balding employee to make wise cracks and maintain ‘authenticity’ within the local government context).

The cast of the Planning Department could start with the Manager. A wise family man of mature years - but with full head of hair and a god-like ability of knowing how to work the politics to get a great outcome every time. He has the ability to work a 60+ hour week, but still have his priorities right to maintain that perfectly balanced family life, an intriguing hobby, and, should occasion require him to remove his shirt, a six-pack.

The rest of the team could comprise young professionals, wonderfully attractive young women (at least one of whom is blonde). They would have to be the sort of plastic women who could do a round of site inspections at a piggery, test for acid sulfate soil out on the windy salt plains amongst the mangroves, then make it back to the office without a hair out of place, smelling like roses and without one speck of mud (or worse) on their expensive heels.

Of course at least one of the team would have to be a mischievous, (almost) male-chauvinist. But how could you blame him when he’s just so cute, and everything he says is so funny. He’d have to be a surfer so that there’d be plenty of shots of him coming into the office after his morning ride, ready for a shower and a 10 hour day.

Can’t you see those dedicated young professionals working all hours to crack that case… Does that relative’s apartment really actually house… a relative? Carefully compiling their evidence against the clock, and maintaining the admissibility of it.

Or the Strategic Planning team working all hours to get the new Planning Scheme signed off before the next template hits the deck, or the Minister goes into caretaker mode for an up-coming State Government election.

Then, at the end of each episode, the good planning outcome is achieved and the enemies of order and amenity slink off back to the Gold Coast. Ahhhh! What a way to capture some much-needed new recruits within the planning profession.

Alas, what chance is there that my vision will eventuate?

... Appoximately None.

In which I walk down memory lane, and take it to a ridiculous length

From time to time I toy with creative writing. I wrote this a couple of years ago with the thought that I might send it in to the Queensland Planner. I've never got around to it, and it's probably not what they are looking for. I apologise for all the town planning in-jokes.

The following is entirely fictitious. Any resemblance to persons, places, or local governments living or dead is entirely accidental, and/or the product of their own guilty conscience. None of this would happen in real life!

There are days in local government planning when I forget one of my fundamental laws of planning. These are a series of 22 laws that I have built up over my years of experience, and I should know better than to break them by now.

I have come a long way since I first started, when I thought ‘Banana Shire’ was a fictitious entity, much like ‘John’ and ‘Jane Citizen’ and my lecturer’s favourite site on ‘Street Road’. I made some humorous comment to a colleague, before discovering my error.

But back to the point - Rule Number 1: Listen before speaking – or regret it.

I first made this a rule very early on in my career when I was called to the counter to answer a query and thought I was speaking to the proponent of, not the submitter to, an application. Enough said.

Today’s mess was more funny than worrying, but indicated the usefulness of Rule number 1.

I was called to the counter. Mrs Thompson, a little old lady who reminded me greatly of my great-grandmother, was somewhat hesitant and unwilling to come to the point. Her question involved the growing of vegetables in a residential area, and was it O.K? To make her feel more at home, I allowed my verbal diarrohea to take over, and assured her that growing vegetables in her yard was fine, ancillary to the residential use of the site, etc etc.

Mrs Thompson looked crest-fallen, and I stumbled to a halt before asking for more information. It seems that some people in her area have some difficulties with a neighbour who is growing vegetables. She stopped, unable to articulate her precise concern.

Still not having remembered Rule Number 1, I once again launched forth (with a picture of Tom & Barbara Good’s garden from the old series ‘The Good Life’ firmly entrenched in my mind). I was a little more circumspect as I said we could investigate if they were undertaking commercial market gardens at the site, and went on about amenity issues regarding visual pollution, fertiliser odour, pest spraying, machinery operating at odd hours.

As I threw these suggestions forward she was still looking at me blankly, and I began to panic and draw even more ridiculous possibilities for how a vege patch could be causing concern to the neighbours. I think the most ridiculous one was the idea of big lights all over the yard to make the plants grow more quickly, but an increasingly large part of my mind was trying to work out how much of an idiot I was going to make of myself before managing to palm the complaint onto one of the Environmental Health Officers.

Finally I ran out of words, and asked her to explain what the problem was. (A sentence that would have saved a whole heap of embarrassment if I had used it at the beginning of this episode.)

It seems that Mr Jordan from number 45 lost his wife a few years ago, and tends to spend his time in the garden to cope with his loss. The problem was not that he was operating a commercial operation, quite the reverse.

It seems that the garden has become bigger and bigger each year, and he gives the neighbours all the produce that he can’t use himself (which is heaps, because there is only one of him). At first, they all enjoyed the occasional veges and used to compliment him on the size, taste, and freshness as a way to start conversations to see how he was going. Unfortunately, some of the neighbours complemented veges that they didn’t actually like, and now don’t know what to do with such huge amounts of them. Mrs Thompson can’t eat the amount of produce that he is giving her, and like all the rest, doesn’t want to hurt his feelings.

Hmmm, and getting the Council to do something about it wouldn’t hurt his feelings? I tried to explain that that wasn’t really a Council problem. By the time I was finished, I could feel the not-quite-hidden smiles of the Customer Service girls from behind me. Can anyone explain to me why is it that Customer Service are never busy when the planner makes a fool of herself?

Maybe that should be Rule Number 23.

Ways to get out of this situation without embarrassment?
... Approximately None