The Perils of Facebook

There seems to be a distinct lack of blogging enthusiasm across the blogosphere and I for one have fallen victim to the virus. I blame facebook. It is too easy to stick up a one sentence status update and cover just about everything I want to say without having to compose a well written and thoughtful post (when was the last time I did THAT?). Even the photos load faster on facebook. *sigh*

Mind you, facebook has also proven to have some pitfalls. Today in class, one of my more er.... problematic students, waltzed in positively crowing about the photos she'd seen on my facebook profile! >:-(
What the....? She isn't a 'friend' of mine (in ANY way , shape or form)!
Turns out one of my real life friends has some of the school students as facebook 'friends' which, unbeknownst to me, enables them to see photos I have posted! grrrr

Don't worry. I have been in and changed my privacy settings but I was stunned by my friend's foolishness. I mean, having seen my Bestie lose her job over a blog in the past, I can't believe she would be so casual about the internet. Of course, according to the student in question, pictures of my friend dancing around the pool in her bathers have 'become' pictures of her in her underwear! >:-(

It's a slippery facebook slope out there. Beware....

The Post Where I Catch Up On Everything.....

First of all there was New Year's Eve; hot, with very good company, swimming and some of this:




Then there was the January Ugly; a party by our pool where we started off with this:


followed up with a bit of this:


moved on to this:
decided it was the right occasion to finally open this:


(21 Year aged Chivas Regal, bottled in honour of the Queen's Coronation in 1954(?))
which resulted in faces like these:


and the pool looking like this:

!!

After that there was a whole Sunday in recovery mode.

Then I started sewing again.
This is one is for Himself and once more a closer look at the print is in order.


And finally, there is THIS!Whew.

The holidays are roaring rapidly towards their inevitable fragmentation and conclusion. Next week the teachers are back for two days and, realistically, probably three. We then have a four day weekend in celebration of Australia Day and it's back to the frontlines on Wednesday the 27th :-(

We also have to cross the bridge that is the Baby Angel's new school. She gets back from Sydney on Friday and then there will be time for the nerves and dread to set in. I'm hoping Grandma and Grandad will take her on her first day to smooth the road.

Meanwhile, I am making the most of my time with Mum and Dad. I had better start doing some school prep though; I have started having those 'back at school in front of the class and having never looked at the text book before' dreams!

In Praise of Contact Lenses

I wandered around the house, biting my bottom lip in confusion. Where had I put my glasses? I checked the usual spots, retraced my steps in my head. I'd been up to the pool for a swim...perhaps I 'd taken them off there? Braving the blast furnace that greeted me as I swung open the back screen, I scampered up the grey stone stairs to the pool area, unwilling to pause or even glance around as radiated heat assaulted me from every surface. I reached the relative safety of the market umbrella over the rickety wooden picnic table and peered through the sudden shadow with my less than efficient eyesight, patting the warm wooden surface for good measure.

No glasses.


Sighing, I glanced back towards the house. Something in the bottom of the pool caught my attention. Leaves? No. There was something both vaguely familiar and disturbing about the shape.

Can't see it? Look closely.



Please tell me I did not dive into the pool wearing my glasses.

OK. Don't bother.

The tricky bit of course was getting them out. You see apart from the diving in thing, I don't put my head under the water. I know; stupid, illogical, whatever! I can do it with diving goggles on but even then I can't get all the way down to the bottom of the deep end and stay there long enough to grab something. I have tried on numerous occasions but after one or two strokes I explode upwards in an explosion of silver bubbles and emerge with a tortured gasp for air.

My family find it quite amusing. Ask Himself about the time I tried to scrub the sides of the pool whilst wearing a snorkel.

Anyway. I got them out with the long handled leaf scooper thing. And collected a few of those leaf babies while I was there!

I am nothing if not resourceful.

Because Size Matters

I am enjoying my holiday slug time and I am enjoying my new overlocker. Here's my latest projects, a shirt for my oldest stepson and one for my nephew in the UK. I loved this fabric. It says 'men' to me.....because after all, size does matter!

Only A Hippopotamus Will Do

Christmas.

Along with all the good cheer, peace on earth and general cosiness, there is a nasty, prickly side to this, arguably our favourite, western holiday.

The expectations built up by Christmas consumerism are immense and destructive. For the last three years I have battled with Himself, carving a trail of misery through our lives with his anger at the guilt and inadequacy spawned by his inability to buy everything he perceives is expected of him. It is a rod made for his own back but fueled by the behaviour of his father decades ago, who filled the parenting hole left by his frequent business absences with large gifts of cash every Christmas. And I mean large.

For three years now I have tried to reason with him on the subject of moderation at Christmas; living within our means; the true meaning of the season and the general ill advisedness of always getting the kids exactly what they want ( the possibility of this resulting in spoiled, ungrateful children was not a link he had made himself). I have described to him some of my most memorable Christmases where, for one reason or another, there was not as much to go around as usual. I described the joy of making things, of making do, to no avail.

"I understand everything you are saying logically," he explained,"but it doesn't change how I feel. I feel that I am unable to provide for my family. I feel like a failure."

I have tried to point out the values lessons which are imparted at Christmas: the joy of giving as well as receiving; value for money; the messages we send in the types of presents we give: personal, educational, things that stimulate family interaction. I have tried to explain to him that sometimes it isn't the cost of the present which is key but rather knowing what it is that your kids want, demonstrating an understanding of their interests and showing that you have listened (this is especially true in the case of older kids).

I have discussed the issue of quality replacing quantity as children get older.

But I am a hypocrite. When I looked at this photo I felt we hadn't done enough.



This Christmas, I watched my 14 year old search in vain for something she had specifically requested which wasn't there.

I didn't 'approve' of it. She didn't cry, she is too old for that, but the disappointment was palpable. Most of the things she received she already knew about

and the 'surprises' were things I valued, not things she values.

Her step brother received just about everything he had put on his list and if he didn't get it from dad then he got it from mum.


But she didn't say a thing and when I hugged her and asked if she was ok she just smiled and said 'of course'. I guess I've taught her to be gracious? Why then did I still feel so bad that I went on ebay and found the rotten 'Gossip Girl' Season 1 dvd set and won it at auction for $19.50?????? She will get it late but she will get it. At least I didn't pay $69.00 for the rubbishy thing!

We are imperfect but we are together.


And these pictures were taken before she knew I'd caved in!

Carols By Candlelight or Babysitting 4 Teenagers

A quilt, a novel, a reindeer songbook and two 'safelight' candles. What do these four items have in common I ask you? Well, here in beautiful Adelaide we have a 65 year old tradition called 'Carols By Candlelight'; held on the banks of the River Torrens, in the shadow of our Festival Theatre, in the heart of the city.

Many years ago there was a permanent 'Sound Shell' on the site and every year the local choirs would mass together to perform parts of Handel's Messiah as well as beautiful renditions of traditional carols. My own mother was part of the Philharmonic Choir which performed annually for several years when I was a pre-schooler. I remember carefully holding the thick white candle inside its wax paper cup as the crowd sang along to 'Oh Little Town of Bethlehem' on the hot December nights.

I haven't been to a Carols evening for many, many years; early 1980s I'd guess! The tradition decrees you get there early and park your blanket to reserve a spot on the riverbank, in view of the stage. Although the show starts at 8pm, we got there at 4.30pm. This is why.You can just see the stage there in the upper right hand corner.

This one is taken looking to my right.




And this is the reason I was there at all.

Yes, I was once more chaperoning the teenagers! This was one of the first outings to a public gathering that the gang had undertaken and two of the other mothers were very glad I was going to sit on my own blanket a metre away from the kids and be thoroughly ignored by them :-) As for the lad's parents....who knows. There seem to be different rules for boys.

The sun was blazing down when we arrived and apart from insisting on (and facilitating in) the wearing of sunscreen by all parties, I had 3 hours to kill virtually on my own. What to do for entertainment?

Don't worry mum, I had a MUCH bigger hat on but the Baby Angel decided I needed a festive hat for the photos.



Gradually the sun sank.
The safeflame candles were lit.

The concert commenced.

And a good time was had by all.

Retail Cheer

How about this?

Himself goes to buy a basketball at a well known sports retail store. He carefully selects a mid range ball suitable to our needs and reasonably priced at $36.99. At the checkout the cashier announces that the ball is $90.00!
"There seems to be a mistake," says Himself, "this ball was marked at $36.99."
"Oh, no," says an arrogant young man behind the counter, "this is a $90.00 ball."

Himself took the young man to the shelf and pointed out the 4 identical balls still in the rack, fronted by a card that read G534 $36.99 (or some such number.. I don't know...it's a basketball!). He pointed out the matchnig serial number on the balls.

"I'm sorry sir, I'm afraid this is a $90.00 ball."

"Look," says my incredibly patient husband (hahahahahahahahahha), "these balls are clearly marked at this price, if you have made a mistake, that's really your problem. It says $36.99 and that's what I'm going to pay for it!"

At this point the young man snatched, you read me right, snatched the ball out of Himself's hands and announced,
"Oh no you're not!"

Himself told him in typically colourful language where he could put his ball and what he could go and do with himself in the meantime and left.

He got a perfectly good ball from K Mart for $20.00. And everyone smiled at him!

Now, I like to ensure that youngsters are aware and educated in the art of life. I think someone needs to have a word with this young man, for his own edification of course. Therefore I went to the internet to try and find a way to send a message to the company. On the webpage I tried 'customer service' and went down several links before reaching a dead end. Then I tried' contact us', which only gave me the option 'orders@....', in frustration I typed 'complaints' into the site's search box.

This is the message I received:

Unfortunately an error has occured on the site. The Rebel Sport technical team are aware of this and are working to fix the problem. We apologise for any inconvenience this may cause.

Do you think there is a programmer somewhere having a bit of a laugh???????