Zombie bride

The Photobook arrived, all our photos glossy against the black shiny pages.  It all looks good, apart from the photo on the last page, a big portrait of the two of us smiling at the camera.  For some reason the colour on the printing is off, and my lips are a blue grey colour – zombie bride.  If it was all through the book I’d be annoyed, but on the last page I think it adds an amusing finishing touch.

This week has been enjoyably busy at work, and mostly fun.  I had forgotten how much I enjoy being busy, having plenty of different tasks lined up, and a pile of different files to work on.  And being thanked at the end of the week for all the work I’ve done and being told I’ve done a great job was the icing on the week.  God, how long has it been since someone complimented my work?  Too bloody long.

Outsourcing

Almost exactly one year after… our wedding (the Prince gets miffed when I refer to it as my wedding, which I do occasionally), I have finally finished editing and putting together the Photobook my dear uncle gave us as a present. It is now grinding away uploading to the printer, apparently, and soon I will have a glossy record of me attempting to hit a cricket ball in my wedding dress.

We had a very social weekend, fitting in a set of grandparents, an aunt, some of the Prince’s friends, and then had dinner with Pink Lawyer and family. Pink Lawyer’s son cruelly waved his iTouch in front of me and showed me the ebook function and the keypad. I want one. And then he told us all about the new iPhone. The Prince wants one. Everytime I go near that boy he tells me about some new gadget and convinces me that I need to buy it. Seriously, Apple, employ the kid – he needs to be paid for all that hard work.

The Photobook is still uploading. Grind, grind, grind.

I began to get my first pieces of work back last week, with signatures and approving comments. Scary stuff. I’m used to my boss stomping all over my work and re-writing it to suit his particular written quirks, (like putting even vaguely “colloquial expressions” in inverted commas, argh!) which I have probably internalised now, god help me. It’s therefore been a pleasant change to have something just be sent after I’ve drafted it. Now I’m just waiting for my first, “No, no, no!” response to something I’ve written, sort of like Bernard in Black Books.

Uploading complete! Somewhere a little machine is printing my wedding album. And after that brilliant piece of outsourcing, I’m off to bed.

All I can see from my windows

My new office is beautiful.  All sleek and modern and good looking, with two huge windows on the two walls hugging my desk.  I have a little desk lamp, and some flowers from my recruiter, and it’s really a vast improvement on my little corridor office where I was hemmed in with shelving.

New big firm is intimidating.  Everyone is nice and welcoming, of course, but there are so many of them.  What seems like vast corridors of offices, on several floors, and a maze of doors that have to be opened with my little blippy card I keep clipped to my clothing.

Today was mostly occupied by training-type things, but I actually did a little bit of work at the end of the day, which was a headache-inducing combination of enjoyable and stressful.  My level of confidence in my work doesn’t fit this new place yet.  I don’t know what they expect, the style I’m supposed to emulate, the speed at which I’m supposed to work.  I know I’ll figure it out, and that they’re not expecting me to know everything on my first day, but it’s going to take me a little while to find my groove here.

I miss being able to pop in and chat to Pink Lawyer.  I want to recruit her so I can have her company every day again, because I’m completely not selfish and just have her best interests at heart.  Well, maybe I’ll settle for encouraging her to seek out a shiny new office of her own, wherever that might be.  She’s so good at her job, and gets so little encouragement where she is now.  A new woman lawyer starts in my section next week, so I’ll have a fellow newbie to bleat at – I’m hoping to discover a kindred spirit.

Off the beaten track

We are off camping for the weekend! The trailer is packed, the mattress is tucked into the back of the ute. I have a bag of clothes and books (a new Maisie Dobbs! A new trashy vampire series! A new Ruth Rendell!), and both cameras. The firewood is packed, as are the matches (in a little waterproof box). And as I’m technically not currently employed, until next Wednesday, there is no possibility of thoughts of work drifting in my vicinity. OK, there may be a couple of “Oh my god, I’m starting a new job next week, holy crap” moments – but they’re always a mixture of joy and nerves.

I headed into the city today for my farewell lunch (organised before I was shown the door earlier in the week). Apparently my boss enquired why it was still on, given that I’d already left. Awww, it’s nice when people actually enjoy your company. Poor boss, I guess he doesn’t know what it feels like.

Letting go of all that now. Camping, here we come. Crickets, stars in the sky, and hopefully a little rain, pattering down on the ute canopy while we sleep.

Free days

Apparently seeing my smiling face in my office during my last week at work was too much for my boss to bear, so he gave me my payout and asked me to leave early. So that I could have a paid holiday before I start my new job. Mmm, what a way to run a business. It’s reassuring to know that there were no personal grudges involved in that decision at all. Although I find it oddly pleasing that I am so unbearable in my soon-to-start-a-new-job jollity.

I have been puttering around the house feeling very relaxed – tidying and packing in preparation for our camping trip this weekend, painting my nails, and wandering around with my camera. After telling my mother that nothing was in flower at this time of year I discovered this weed bursting out with red blooms in the front garden – it’s a tremendously ugly plant most of the time, so I was surprised that it has such delicate little bell-like flowers.

It would be much easier to write this if Abigail didn’t keep rubbing her head up against my hands, my head, and the laptop. I get the feeling she wants a bit of attention. Oh, what a chore – off to cuddle my cat.

(I forgot to mention that Horace’s op was a complete anti-climax – not stitches, and he was soon galloping around, back to his usual self the neddo90/
l;y [helpful editing by Abigail]… the next day.)

Unless you like pickled cabbage leaves

I really hate it when the umbrella that has spent several months stored in a cupboard looking perfectly functional reveals itself to have several broken spokes, and dumps rain on your head during unseasonal winter weather. It has been depressingly dark today under the overcast sky. I don’t usually mind working in a little fluoro-lit box when it’s a nice day outside and crows occasionally land outside my window, but when it’s so dimly lit outside it feels like the end of the day and exiting-the-office time, it’s difficult to settle down to work.

I took the Prince off to a big fruit and veggie store last weekend, which is attached to a truly enormous butcher that is open every day from 4am. God knows why – for shift workers, perhaps? Or insomniacs? I have never felt the urge to go out and buy meat at 4am. The fruit and veggie store was equally large and stocked all sorts of things I hadn’t seen before, including crazy imported groceries like huge bottles of pickled cabbage leaves. They also had taro, which I’ve never seen stocked down here before – Mum grew taro and cooked it into chips for us when I was little. I must confess that I never actually liked the floury texture much, but I was tickled to see both fresh taro on the shelves and then frozen taro in the freezer section. For those moments when you don’t have any fresh taro available, I guess. I bought some garlic shoots, which I suppose are the things that grow on top of garlic bulbs? They’re sort of like tiny tops of spring onions, but very garlicky – delicious in a potato salad.

Self distraction

Horace is being desexed tomorrow, so we have been coddling him all week in preparation for his enraged return to the house, yowling and full of stitches. He has actually been in an odd mood all week, trotting around our feet crying up at us, wanting to be picked up then wiggling to be put down, then whinging away again. I am putting it down to hormones, as I’ve left it past the recommended 7 months to have him desexed, and all his other systems seem to be functioning well. So hopefully he will be less discontented when he’s had his balls seen to.

***

My last weeks at work are grinding away slowly (slowly being the operative word) and I am trying to make the most of these stress-free days – I imagine that my new office will be rather mentally consuming at first as I learn new systems and ways of doing things. I am actually trying not to think too much about it, as my mind starts worrying away at the idea of a new workplace – not only those looming spectres of new people to get to know, but the level of work expected and how my work will stand up in comparison. “What if I am really dreadful at what I do, and I’ve just been working with people who are similarly dreadful all these years?” my brain mutters away to itself. “But god, it’s going to be so cool. New people! New files! Wee!” My brain is ridiculous and indecisive. Hence I am trying to keep it distracted until a little closer to my start date.

***

While I am very much enjoying “The Inimitable Jeeves”, it is difficult to read on the train – not only do I have to keep repressing my laughter, but I keep wanting to quote passages aloud to someone, and I think it would probably annoy my fellow travellers if I began reading Wodehouse at them.

Conversation with my brother

“Yeah, Dad was going on about George Orwell, but I’d never heard of him.”

“Well, he wrote a book called ’1984′ about this very depressing future where everyone sits in little rooms in front of big TV screens and books don’t exist – that’s where the phrase ‘Big Brother’ comes from. And he wrote ‘Animal Farm’ – did you read that at school?”

“No, I don’t think so. ‘Animal Farm’ – is it about bestiality?”

“Please remind me never to look at your bookshelves, brother dear.”

I think my brother should get a job as the person who thinks up the names for those adult films that are entitled with puns based on a popular movie or book. Um, I’m sure you know the ones I mean.

Well, they both start with “A”

A highlight from my interviews over the past few weeks -

Me: “Well, as a hardcore atheist, I…” (like to sacrifice goats? I’m not sure how I ended that sentence, why on earth I decided to start it, nor how it came up in conversation. I wasn’t asked about religion, of course, I just obviously felt the urge to volunteer it. In an overly dramatic fashion. I’m not really sure that I would describe myself as a hardcore atheist when in a normal frame of mind – as opposed to my manic interviewing state of mind, apparently.)

Prospective Boss: “Oooh, an atheist. I’m not sure we’ve got one of those. Oh wait, yes we do – isn’t Mary from Accounting an atheist?”

Prospective Co-Worker: “Um, no Boss – she’s an Anglican.”

Prospective Boss: “Aaah, right – no atheists then.”

Early morning

A cool weekend morning, and the house is surrounded by mist. I grabbed the camera and took a few shots from the back verandah of the eucalypts looming out of the grey, for Exposaroonie’s “Nature’s Softer Side” challenge. It’s been edited in Photoshop for colour – the original was rather soft and grey, and I wanted the colours to stand out a bit more, and make the light coming in at the top of the photo a little more vibrant.