Category: Ramble Page 37 of 57

Happy Birthday, Bill Pullman!

I get up later than planned, but just about manage to start my morning shift by 7am. I’m really getting stuck into my current story, and am not a little frustrated by the need to stop and get ready for work. Rachel arrives at 8am to watch the kids, which gives me a rare opportunity to get to work early.

I get to the office and immediately start writing up a review of the incident from yesterday. The review ends up taking up most of my day. I walk up late to get my morning coffee–on my own because my usual coffee partner is off work with a work-related injury incurred the previous day. It is FREEZING outside, but at least the coffee is good. My favourite coffee place was shut last week and I’m delighted to have it back today.

I get home and find the Elderbeast ready to head to his friend’s house for a sleepover. He misses out on shepherd’s pie made with the leftover slow-cooked lamb from Sunday, and the leftover pastie filling from Saturday: it’s exactly as tasty as you’re thinking it is. I need wine, so I drink wine. And then I drink tea in an eternally futile bid to stay warm.

In bed, I read several more chapters of Ocean At The End Of The Lane and decide I’m definitely enjoying it. I attempt to sleep, but am thwarted by the cold despite being clad in two long-sleeved tops, a flannelette sheet, a winter duvet and a sherpa throw.

It’s Fucken Monday. I wake up feeling grim, headachy and snotty nosed. After brief consideration I decide to call in sick; if nothing else it means I’m not spreading my germs around. It’s the first day of the school holidays, and Rachel is coming over to look after the Kinderbesten. I’m not up to taking over for the day, but I message Rachel to let her know she doesn’t need to get here as early as planned (she turns up at 9am instead with a fresh pack of Lemsip for me). I use the time to have a bonus morning shift.

Later in the morning, I manage to catch sight of a too-tempting offer on my favourite internet deal site and end up spending $80 that I probably didn’t need to spend on wine that I probably didn’t need to own. But it’s eight bottles of pretty damn good wine for the price, and it will inevitably be drunk and enjoyed, so I’m not kicking myself too hard about it. That said, I had silently pledged to avoid all unnecessary expenses during July so I can get my financial safety net back into four figures. I view this as a future saving: it’ll save me having to buy wine at $15-20 per bottle in the future. For a while, at least.

We all enjoy a game of Exploding Kittens, before Rachel takes the kinderbesten away to Garden City so I can rest. I shut myself in the bedroom with the heater on, and continue to work on my story.

Around midday I get distracted by a work issue. Someone has complained because a request wasn’t fulfilled quickly enough. It destroys my writing mojo. I decide I may as well turn my attention to work, and do what I can to resolve the issue. Not long after that, Rachel comes back with the kinderbesten. With little else to do, we spend some time doing a long-overdue sort out of the Kinderbeast’s old clothes, while I also bake some banana bread with the wealth of ageing bananas I seem to have accumulated.

I had planned to start watching The Night Manager this evening, but the Kinderbeast ends up settling later than planned, which wipes out my TV viewing window. As a fallback I invite the Elderbeast to join me for a bit of Rise Of The Tomb Raider. Between us we manage to get past the first few levels before I decree it to be bed time. I’m quite excited about this because I finally put my brand new flannelette sheets on the bed earlier in the day. They are are comfy as expected, but I’m still damn cold. I have two layers of pajamas on, the flannelette sheets, a winter duvet, and a sherpa throw … but I’m still damn cold.

I’ve decided it’s time for me to start reading again (as in novels, not internet articles). I put some thought into rereading It, one of my favourite Stephen King novels, but instead opt to use my fading memory to my advantage and be at least a little but surprised by the impending film adaptation. I also consider rereading The Stand (yet again) but am less excited by this prospect than the book deserves. Finally I remember I’ve yet to read The Ocean At The End Of The Lane, a Neil Gaiman book, and settle down to that. I only get one chapter down, but it’s a start.

We have a friend staying over, which offers the perfect opportunity to cook a huge breakfast and then enjoy a viewing of Spider-Man 2. I’ve only seen the film once or twice since it came out, despite thinking of it as one of the top two or three superhero movies ever made. It doesn’t disappoint on this viewing either, though I’m surprised at how long it takes to get going.

I also take some time to get to grips with Pocketbook, in an effort to ensure that I don’t bankrupt myself as primary carer of two kids and relatively fresh mortgage. It’s pretty good–it identifies my regular bill payments, lets me enjoy a brief OCD spell of categorising my expenses, and then I leave it to do its thing. Having done my sums a few months back, I’m not overly worried about my financial situation, but something like Pocketbook will hopefully help me make sure I’m keeping an eye on where the cash is going.

Dinner is slow-cooked lamb (again: the Elderbeast having become quite the fan). The three of us play a tense round of Exploding Kittens, and then it’s time for the season finale of Doctor Who. I ask the Kinderbeast if he wants to go to bed or stay up and watch Doctor Who with us: he makes the right choice and goes for the latter. It’s a good finale, and there’s no better way to end the week than watching my favourite show with my two favourite people.

It’s a fun-packed Saturday! Or at least it promises to be. We have some friends coming over before 10am, so we’re up and out early for the Weekend Family Shop, then back just in time for our guests. The Kinderbeast has a Kindererbeast to play with for a couple of hours, and they obsess over dump trucks and other toys while us grown-ups chat about adult affairs such as movie posters and how bad we both are at playing guitar lately. I also make use of the visit to pass on some of the Kinderbeast’s old clothes: he has grown out of many awesome clothes, but the Kindererbeast is just youngerer enough to fit into many of them. It’s win-win.

After our guests leave we settle down for Saturday Morning(ish) Film Club. This weekend we make the excellent decision to watch The Incredibles. I make the less excellent decision to sit down, which does nothing to ease my burgeoning headache, and does everything to make me not want to get up again for the rest of the weekend.

Which is unfortunate because I have baking to get done. When my wife and I were still an actual living-together married couple (instead of a not living-together couple who still have to remain married for another 10 months because family law is ass-backwards) we hosted an annual Piejama Party. This is a party where you eat pies and wear pajamas. Much as the title suggests. This event would traditionally happen around this time of year. Officially, Piejama Party died with the marriage. However, myself and my friends do like to eat pie … so …

I have elected to make cornish pasties, which naturally I have never made before. I’m actually making vegetarian cornish pasties (they were almost gluten-free too but I have it on good authority that gluten-free pastry tastes like week-old elephant pants … that’s possibly not the exact description that was provided…). I make the filling, cut the frozen pastry squares into triangles, and start assembling. I think I’m about to make some nice little bite-sized pasties, but it appears I need some remedial geometry as I need up with three trays full of huge meal-sized pasties. I get the first tray in the oven as my guests arrived (serenaded by James Bond themes, because that’s the sort of thing that happens when you watch The Incredibles).

The pasties are a great success, and the best part is all the other pies we get to eat as well. When we’re not filling our faces, we enjoy some games of Exploding Kittens and Pandemic Cthulhu (which I particularly like).

It’s a good evening, and further proof of the adage that you really can’t go wrong when there’s pie and board games in the mix.

After the week I’ve had I’ve never been more pleased to see Friday. No doubt the Kinderbesten are equally delighted as it’s the last day of school before a two-week holiday. My weekend officially begins by taking Beryl home, then the kinderbesten and I return to await the Arrival of Seb. The Elderbeast is allowed to play on his iPad all evening, as a rare holiday treat, while Seb and I enjoy the remake of The Blob (which remains a whole bunch of fun every time I watch it).

I have a terrible night’s sleep. The Elderbeast managed to install himself in my bed the previous evening, and go to sleep, before I could do anything about it. Usually he’s a relatively benign presence, but this time he tosses and turns all night. I take ages to get to sleep, probably still consumed by residual stress from the day.

I eventually manage to get to sleep, but then wake up to the sound of the Kinderbeast crying for me at 2am. I go in and he tells me he can’t sleep. I calm him down, tuck him in again, and then get myself back to bed. Minutes later, he’s crying for me again: he wants his music on to help him sleep. I stick on Moana and return to bed. I get my head down and am summoned yet again. This time he wants me to get a cuddly toy for him. He gets his cuddly toy, but I’m getting cold now and somewhat less amused. I get back to bed, trying to wrap the covers tight enough around me to get warm again and get back to sleep; but inevitably with one ear listening out for the Kinderbeast.

Naturally, I don’t get up in the morning to write. However, in the last few days I have managed to come up with ideas for two new stories. This comes as something of a relief given I’ve not had any fresh story ideas since the breakup of my marriage. Sure, I have plenty of material to be working on for now, but the idea of inspiration failing me long-term was definitely never part of my plan.

After the events of yesterday I need to write an incident report, but I do the right thing upon getting to work and head straight for my coffee without even switching on the PC. After that, I get the report done, but I spend all morning in a haze of angst: I’m overtired; I’m probably still stressed from yesterday; and I’m apprehensive about heading to the Family Court to file my papers. I’m nervous about whether I’ll take a wrong turn again, or if there’ll be parking, or if I’ll get turned away for forgetting one critical document. I head out for a second coffee during the morning, because why the hell not, and then it’s time to drive into the city.

I do not get lost, and there’s a parking spot waiting for me right at the entrance to the car park. I take it as a good sign. I end up waiting about 30 minutes in the Family Court, but they sort all the papers, stamp them, charge me the filing fee, and it’s done.

It feels good to get this one big step out of the way.

Wednesday. I get up and write some more diary entries, as I’m still not quite in the right mood for story writing. Then I get a text message that the website at work is down, and looks like it might have been down for a while. So this means I need to get the kids ready and get myself ready, all while trying to coordinate some diagnosis and remedial action–mostly over SMS–and then get to work as quickly as possible. Of course I’m late leaving, because I’ve been focusing on trying to sort things out at work instead of getting ready, and of course the Elderbeast picks up on the stress and picks this particular morning to give me a hard time as I’m trying to all but abandon him by the school gates.

I arrive at work and go right into crisis mode: I need to coordinate things with my team (who are brilliant), two separate external parties, and our internal management. There’s no time to get coffee, but one of my awesome colleagues goes out and brings me one back. We get the site up and running again almost within an hour, but the rest day gets swallowed up by reports, communications, further remedial actions, and all sorts of things that only really happen when you’re part of an organisation so big that one side is barely aware the other even exists. It’s an energising and frustrating day. I’m drained by the end of it but pleased with my efforts and those of my team; and, for the most part, pleasantly impressed by the support given by those around us towards resolving the issue. My emails run well into the hundreds over the course of the day and are still coming in when I get home.

I get home, grateful that I thought to buy some pasta and sauce over the weekend to use as a potential emergency dinner, for tonight we dine on Emergency Dinner! I knock it all together and pour myself a very large glass of wine as soon as I can get to the bottle. I have every intention of collapsing into bed almost as soon as the kinderbesten are despatched to sleep, but I’ve also planned to file my consent papers at the Family Court tomorrow afternoon  and I need some time to make sure I’ve got everything I need. There are multiple documents, and numerous copies required of each: some only need a photocopy; some need two copies plus the original; one document needs an additional FIVE copies. I’ve got most of it, but I still find I’m missing four items. I email myself a list of what I need to print out the next day.

And then, somehow, I’m still up and staring at my PC at 10pm. I get myself to bed, but manage to spend yet another hour being drawn into a black hole of internet articles covering various aspects of Doctor Who production: it’s exactly the sort of minutiae that I find oddly compelling.

Finally, I turn the light out. The day has certainly been an experience.

I manage to turf myself out of bed just before 7am and write some more diary entries. I end up getting stuck right in and am late getting the kids ready for school. The day seems in jeopardy when the Kinderbeast wakes with a cough, but he claims to feel fine and, despite the disrupted morning, we still get to school on time.

I’ve been rediscovering Snow Patrol’s Final Straw album, which I used to play constantly when it came out. I’d all but forgotten about it until I unpacked my CDs, and am now enjoying playing it constantly all over again. It accompanies me on my drive to work. On which note, I’m finding that I’m really getting back into the work mode again at last: it’s been a bit of a haul, but it’s another one of those days where I feel like I can get in there and beat the job, and not the other way around.

In lesser news, my single serve of soup proves to be a predictably inadequate lunch.

I come home to a peaceful house: the Elderbeast is at a friend’s house; the Kinderbeast is out with his mother and Beryl, seeing his grandparents. The Elderbeast returns home in time for dinner, but we grow tired of waiting for the others and start eating (yes: soup, again!) Of course, just as we sit down they all arrive.

Beryl has clearly enjoyed a wine during her family outing, as she asks if she can open a bottle and then insists–absolutely demands–that I also have a glass. I just can’t bring myself to disappoint her and say no.

I spend some time finalising the documents I need to file with the court: superannuation statements; numerous bits of paper that I double check have been signed and witnessed; copies of signed bits of paper. It’s endless. Once that’s taken care of I have a fairly awesome, chilled out time with my glass of wine listening to The The (I am currently obsessed with Uncertain Smile) and searching up playlist of other songs that feature awesome piano solos. It’s a good evening.

It’s Fucken Monday. I don’t have a story I feel like working on at the moment, so I use my morning shift to catch up with some diary entries. I get to work and face a day of many, many meetings–not helped by the realisation that my favourite coffee place is closed for the week. Backup coffee place is ok, but it’s not the same. I’ve also been lax in my food preparations: my lunch is described as a “sad looking bit of chicken” by a colleague. She’s not wrong.

The highlight at the end of the day is a seminar entitled “What schools need to know about autism”, which is being delivered by two friends of mine who have done an incredible job of raising their two autistic children and are exactly the sort of people who should be out there telling everyone how it’s done. I’ve been wanting to attend one of their presentations for a long time, and it just so happens that they’ve scheduled this one at the University where I work. It’s a tremendous presentation: moving, enlightening, inspiring. I’m so proud to know these people.

I get home late. The kinderbesten have already eaten, courtesy of their mother. I make soup and tuck in once bedtime has been taken care of. I entertain idle thoughts about watching TV, but once again fail to do it, opting for an early night instead.

It’s Pathfinder day. I’m thinking that I don’t have to arrive until midday, which gives me time to get a few things done, but a quick check of both the Facebook invite and the Google Calendar entry confirms that things actually kick off at 11am. I need to shower, get chicken in the slow cooker, have some damn breakfast (it’s “damn breakfast” because I’m “damn hungry”) and leave by 10:30am.

I allow myself a lie in until 7am, and then get an hour’s writing in: managing to finish the second draft of my new short story, which feels pretty good. It still needs some work here and there, but things are on the right track. The rest of the morning goes pretty smoothly. I get the chicken cooking, I make myself some eggs, and I’m out of the door in good time. I do, in fact, arrive for Pathfinder almost on the dot of 11am.

Which is when I learn that the start time is midday after all …

No worries. I get a bonus hour of chatting, snacking and drinking tea.

Once the game is done I get home to await the return of the kinderbesten. I need to make sure dinner is ready, get tomorrow’s lunches done, and put away all the cocaine and sharp objects. They get back, we have dinner, everyone’s had a fine weekend. However, I look around and the dishwasher has only just gone on, the sink is piled up with pots and pans that I really can’t be bothered to wash, and there is washing airing up in the craft room that has been there since Friday. I wonder where the weekend went.

Naturally, we end the weekend with Doctor Who as well as bonus (yet disappointing) Brie. Doctor Who is exceptionally good this week, which is very welcome given how excited I’ve been about seeing the original cybermen making a reappearance. The show has done a superb job of matching up the aesthetic of the overall episode to the original cybermen design, making it seem entirely appropriate that something designed in 1966 would look perfectly appropriate in an episode filmed over 50 years later.

Bring on next week’s finale!