happy halloween

Happy Halloween, and to those who practice the Craft, Happy Beltaine!

I love this time of year.  We live in a neighbourhood full of nice kids who trick or treat.  They all have great costumes and makeup, and they all say ‘thank you’ when I give them lollies.  As the afternoon wanes into evening, the sugar consumption makes itself felt, as is evidenced by the hysterical screaming of the mob.  I love it.  Plus, I love the fact that none of the screamers are anything to do with me.

And I love spring.  Beltaine is a festival of the earth renewing itself, fertility, and young love.  It’s clear what’s happening – birds have babies in the nest, everything’s flowering, the days are longer, and people are starting to have barbeques.  It’s just a beautiful time of year.

Yeah, I know, happyhappyjoyjoy blahblahblah.  So what if I’m happy?  It’s a nice change.

sunday update

Hoo boy.  I’ve just sat down for what feels like the first time all day, and I thought I’d better start typing on my laptop before I fall asleep and start drooling on it instead.

I had a bad night’s sleep.  SO had to go in to work in the middle of the night, so I woke up just after 2am and didn’t get back to sleep until just before 6.  I woke up at 9am and started running around doing stuff – amongst other things, I got some keys cut for one of our tenants.  By the time I got home, it was 1pm, and I was tired.  I could’ve so easily gone to sleep.  But I kept looking over at the kitchen, where there was a container full of scraps from the week that needed to be buried.  Stuff like vegie scrapings, offcuts, dead mushrooms, that kind of thing.  So I thought, okay, I’ll just bury that in the garden, then I’ll have a sleep.

Well.  So much for good intentions.  I buried the scraps, then weeded the front garden beds.  Then I decided I’d plant out our last remaining empty bed.  This required digging up a bird of paradise from our backyard which is over six foot tall, and dragging it out to the front, then planting it.  This took a while – it probably took me about half an hour to dig it up, let alone the rest.

After this, I divided a diete plant into eight (yes, it needed to be divided some time ago) and planted the eight babies into the garden bed around the bird of paradise.  Finally, I watered everything in, mulched with cow poo, and watered everything again.  It looks good, I have to admit.  But man, I’m tired now.

For those of you not familiar with birds of paradise, here’s an example:

I have to admit that they’re not really my favourite plants.  However, it does look nice in the garden bed out the front.  Maybe it’ll grow on me.  And the dietes it’s surrounded by look like this:

dietes

I like these more than the bird of paradise.  I prefer the colours, and the foliage.

But the absolute best thing about both the bird of paradise and the dietes, is that they could grow in the Sahara.  They’re low maintenance, which at our place, is an essential criterion.  (It drives SO’s stepmum nuts.  She’s an avid gardener and keeps telling me I need to buy this or that plant.  I just say, ‘Does it need water? Does it need fertiliser? If it does, it’s not going to survive at our place’.)  A great example is the bougainvillea we have growing over one of our side fences.  Give it mulch, fertiliser and lots of water, and it sulks.  Put it in dry sand, no water, no fertiliser, no nothing, and it flowers like the masochist it is.

An example of a bougainvillea:

In fact this is pretty similar to how ours looks, coming over the fence, and menacing passersby.  (The thorns on it are an inch long, and if you get scratched by one you get an infection. I love a plant that fights back.)

Anyhow, enough of horticulture.  I’m going to hit the sack.

cooking. taxes.

Every so often, I actually cook dinner.  Hard to believe, I know, but it’s true.  Today when I was doing the food shopping, I decided that I’d do roast beef for tonight’s dinner.  Amazingly, it was a success.

I’d bought a 1.2kg blade cut, with a nice slab of fat over the top.  I cooked it for an hour in the pan, with alfoil loosely covering it, at 210 Celsius.  I then dropped the temp to 190 C, whacked it on a draining rack, added all the vegies (leaving the alfoil off) and cooked it for another hour and a half.  It was sooo good.  SO loved the crispy outside bits, and the inside was so tender that you would have thought it was lamb, if the flavour didn’t give it away.  The vegies were perfectly done as well.  And as a bonus, there was enough meat left for sandwiches for a couple of days.  This is definitely one I’ll have to do again.

I’ve been pretty busy doing the final work on our taxes.  I’m hoping by the end of the weekend that I can send it all off to our magician, er, sorry, tax accountant.  It’s been an absolute education, I have to say.  Ask me anything about depreciation, and I’ll be able to tell you.  Effective life of a motor vehicle? Eight years.  I could go on, but I’ll spare you.

It’s also brought two separate but connected realisations: 1) that we have spent a huge amount of actual cash on these investments over the financial year, and 2) we will be getting some of it back, but the next few years are going to be tough.  This isn’t necessarily a bad thing; I personally am happier if I know exactly how tough things will be, because then I am mentally prepared for it.  However, SO isn’t coping so well.  He’s the kind of person who isn’t happy unless he has no credit card debt, and at least $500 in his savings account.  I have no idea why, as his family have always done it tough, but hey.  Maybe it’s a security thing.  However, he’ll just have to readjust his ideas of what constitutes financial security.

In a similar vein, the state of the world economy and various share markets across the world has been – well, I don’t really know how to describe it.  I don’t know how people are coping.  It’s scary to think of how very badly so many people have been affected.  It hasn’t touched SO and I, yet at least.  But every time I hear the news I say a little prayer to the gods that we didn’t go down the shares route.  People always need a place to live, but stocks are optional.

good day

Today, as you may have guessed, was a good day.  My friend M paid a flying visit to Perth, and we got to catch up.

M lives in the eastern states, with her three adorable children under four, her parents down the road, and her raving maniac ex-husband always lurking in the periphery of her life.  She finally split up with him at the end of last year, when she was three months’ pregnant with their third child.  Since then, her ex has done so many really awful things that I can’t list them here.  Suffice it to say that she has been advised by three separate professionals in the Family Court system to go to a women’s shelter, with the kids, so that she was safe.  Despite all this, she is happier and more at peace than I have ever seen her before.  The kids are happy and feel safe at home now, and she’s doing really well as a single mother of three.

We picked her up at 11am, and brought her back here for a deluxe barbeque lunch.  I also invited my little brother over, so it was just the four of us.  My brother was meant to leave at 1:30 but ended up staying an hour longer, he was enjoying himself so much.  I must say, the food was so good - steak and sausages, garlic potato bake, garden salad and bean salad.  Add in a delicious butter cake with chocolate icing, and it was just fantastic.

So basically, between 11am and 4pm, we ate, drank, reminisced, and had a great time.  It was like she’d never left.  I know that she’s better off near her parents, especially with the kids being so little, but I do miss her, and she misses Perth. 

I’m so glad that her life is on a more even keel now.  She’s a lovely person, and so optimistic, despite all she’s been through.  But I miss her so much.

tax matters

I got a nice little surprise this morning when I checked my email.  Whenever we buy a unit and clean it up, we get a quantity surveyor in.  S/he writes up a schedule of everything in the unit (fixtures, fittings, furniture, appliances, you name it) which can then be used as a tax break.  Everything listed can be depreciated over time, which decreases the tax you pay.

Anyhow, I’d received the schedule for our neverending reno.  When we had it done, it took about two hours, because the guy liked a chat.  (As a comparison, when we had our 2-bed unit done, it took about 35 minutes.  The neverending reno is a 1-bedroom unit.)  It didn’t particularly worry me, as I wasn’t in a rush to be anywhere, and he seemed like a nice guy.  I didn’t think any more about it at the time.

Well, after having a look at the schedule, it appears that he’s done us some ‘favours’.  So, instead of listing the vinyl flooring (lookalike floorboards) as vinyl, he’s listed it as floating floorboards, which are worth a hell of a lot more.  There are a few little things like this scattered throughout.  Essentially, he’s ‘talked up’ the value of the stuff we’ve added to the property, which will increase our tax break.  Niiiiiiiiice!!

The funny thing is, I never would’ve picked it up normally.  It’s just that when I saw the email in my inbox, I thought I’d have a quick look through.

What’s the lesson from this, I wonder?  You catch more flies with honey than vinegar? Fortune favours the brave?  There’s no such thing as a free lunch?  Who knows.  I just know that for two hours of my life, we’ve been given what amounts to about $1000.  Not bad.

gardening, continued

I’m noticing a disturbing trend that has developed.

Every day after work this week, SO’s got home, got changed into work gear, and headed out into the garden.  I’ve ended up a part of this, as he really doesn’t like to be out there alone (he works better with company), and I don’t want to discourage this unprecedented interest in doing stuff around the house.  So for the last three afternoons after work, we’ve been weeding.  Our house is starting to look better than presentable – it’s looking cared-for.  I don’t think it’s looked like this since we bought it, nearly three years ago.

I’m not quite sure where this newfound interest has come from.  Maybe it’s a result of starting the cleanup process over the weekend - he does like it to be neat.  Perhaps it’s because he’s used to doing stuff, from the renovations we’ve done over the last twelve months or so (on all three units we’ve had to do work).  Who knows?  In any case, I’m liking it.  It’s actually pretty relaxing, and it does look nice. 

We’re currently working on the backyard, so every morning when we eat breakfast, we can see how neat it’s starting to look.  I’ve been scraping out the weeds in the paving, and SO has been weeding the garden beds.  Overall, the difference is impressive.  And the good thing is, a friend of ours will be over this weekend, and she hasn’t seen it for ages, so it’ll be nice to have it looking decent while she’s visiting.

In other news, I’m finding a coworker very difficult to put up with.  She’s only been with the organisation about a year, and she gets 12 weeks’ holidays per year (and a correspondingly lower salary as a trade-off, but still).  She has all the school holidays off, to care for her brood of spawn.  She does very little work, and has an unpleasant habit of passing others’ work off as her own.  On top of all this, she wanders around making comments that are designed to piss off the rest of us. 

For example, she was back yesterday after two weeks off work.  I poked my head around her door and asked how her leave was.  Her reply? ‘Good.  I wish I wasn’t here though.’  Well, with an attitude like that, I wish you weren’t, too. 

Later in the day, she said to my friend and coworker P, ‘Only nine weeks ’til school holidays!’ (when she is next on leave).  I said to P, ‘Did you deck her?!’

And she’s grumpy at the moment, because she’s come back and is actually expected to do some work.  The indignity!  This afternoon she plunked herself down next to my desk and announced (in relation to a due date for some work), ‘I don’t care, that’s not til December.  I’ll have left here by then’.  She actually said this twice, in case I hadn’t heard her the first time.  I just responded, ‘Mm-hmm’, nodding my head sagely.  I suspect the desired response was more along the lines of, ‘Noooo! You can’t leave!!!’ but I’m a crap liar.  Plus, I just don’t care enough.

random ramblings

I’m exhausted, and it’s only Monday.  I think it’s going to be a long week.

We had a good weekend.  We spent all of Saturday in the garden.  SO mowed, whipper-snippered, and edged the lawn, and I weeded the lawn and planted out a garden bed.  It doesn’t sound like much, but we were completely worn out at the end of the day.

On Sunday we had a cooked breakfast at SO’s dad and stepmum’s place, which was delicious.  I could handle that every week.  Or every day, even.  However, I think we were still feeling the effects of the gardening.  We came home, and slept pretty much all afternoon.  It was great!  Not a lot accomplished, but a good day nonetheless.

Today was full on at work.  I spent all day in a VIC (Very Important Conference) defending my organisation’s approach to some critical issues.  (I think we won.)  Afterwards, we had a debrief with the executive, and I had various bits and pieces to organise in relation to the conference outcomes.  I was in before 7am and left at 4pm, worn out.  After stopping by the shops, I thought I’d just kick back and recline in the bedroom with some reading.  I woke up after 8pm.  Whoops. <blush>

However, I did make dinner, which included green vegetative matter.  We’ve been existing on a horribly bad diet.  We don’t eat much takeaway, so that’s a good thing.  What we do tend to eat for dinner is stuff like cereal, toast, poached eggs, more cereal, and baked beans.  Straight from the tin.  I love baked beans.  I think it’s the unique combination of salt and carbs, in that order.  So when I cooked dinner tonight, and included (gasp!) a salad, of all things, I felt very virtuous that we had managed to stave off scurvy for so long.  And SO really enjoyed it, which is a bonus.  He tends to be a picky eater, so it’s nice when he appreciates the food I prepare.

Anyhow, this has been a long boring entry about nothing much.  Sorry folks, I’ll try to be more entertaining next time.  

Off to bed now for this little chickadee.  Sweet dreams, everybody.

wtf?!

I was randomly clicking through WordPress blogs this morning, when a tag on one post caught my eye: Christian debt help. My jaw dropped, and the ol’ brain started working overtime.

Wha……?! Christian debt help?? I had no idea that Christians could access help with their debt that heathens couldn’t. Is there some kind of religious discrimination going on here?? Perhaps the Mother of All Christian Religions, the Roman Catholic Church, is lending money through interest-free loans to Christians who have managed to end up in a financial pickle. (I do recall from my Economic History lectures, in first year uni, that charging interest in the Middle Ages in England was called usury and considered a sinful practice.)

Honestly, unless you’re talking something along the lines of, ‘Decrease your tithe to the poor and unfortunate from 10% to 5%’, I had no idea that anybody could even link the idea of Christianity (or any religion, for that matter) and reduction of debt.

I dunno, maybe it’s just me, but the whole connection of Christianity and debt reduction is incredibly ridiculous.  A non sequiter, if you will.  The concepts don’t even vaguely go together.  It’s like, well, Christian elephant riding.  Or Christian gas heater usage.  Unbelievable, and stupid.  (Yeah, go on, flame me.  Flame me!  Flame me!  Have I mentioned I’m Roman Catholic??)

Ugh.  The whole concept leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

tgif

Oh yes, it’s my all-time favourite day of the week. Friday nights have the prospect of a fulfilling weekend ahead, with endless possibilities of doing lots around the house, while simultaneously having three-hour afternoon naps.

Now that the weather is warming up, I’m looking at our windows. They really need a wash. And while on the house/garden theme, SO has said that he will actually mow the lawns. Combined with my massive weeding efforts, this will hopefully raise our profile in the neighbourhood. (And possibly the house values also. Yes, it is that bad.)

This week has been full on at work, and as a result of critical staff absences, I’ve been drawn into my previous role of miraculous curer of all disasters. This isn’t the proper title of the job, but it should be. I’ll be representing my organisation in a tribunal conference on Monday, so that should be interesting. I actually love the work, but it’s incredibly draining and stressful. Still, I guess I just have to sweat it out for a few months, then I’ll be gettin’ the hell outta Dodge. Yay for the new job!

Weekend forecast: fine. Looks like gardening and window cleaning are on the menu. Plus, it doubles as therapy, and is cheaper than alcohol.

flashback: final year university

Sometimes, when I think about my life pre-depression, it’s like another life. Or someone else’s.

I had an interrupted uni career. After falling madly in love with a succession of Mr Wrongs, I had the foresight to withdraw from my course about thirty seconds before I failed out. After a few years of living in sin with the BF, renting an apartment for the first time, getting my first full time job, getting engaged, buying a house, then getting un-engaged (six weeks after settlement for the house went through – not the best time of my life), I took stock. I moved back with my parents (that was tough), went back to uni full time while working full time, and started to get some (to quote the parents) ‘direction’ in my life. I did have direction previously, but I think they saw it as the wrong direction.

Anyhow, I got to my final year with things going swimmingly. I’d managed to drag my grade averages up to the level whereby I was offered an honours place in both my majors, one of which I took up. I was heavily involved in ballroom dancing – four to five practices a week, with competitions on the weekend. I was asked to tutor undergrad classes in the major I was doing my honours in.

Things continued well. My dancing partner and I danced our backsides off, winning competitions all year; I was the only person in my group to get first class honours. I tutored at two universities, getting fantastic feedback from my students. I ended up co-authoring an article in the top-rated journal in my subject area in Australia. Yep, life was sweet.

It seems almost incredible that that was my life. I didn’t collapse under stress; I thrived under it. Every time a challenge presented itself, I exceeded expectations. My dissertation was due in November, I had the first draft to my supervisor in May. Sure, it was only 10,000 words and a first draft, but it was something. It ended up being just over 25,000 words, and received fantastic reviews by the academics who marked it.

I was happy, I was fit, and apart from major anaemia, I was incredibly healthy. Life was unbelievably good.

Now, I come home from a moderately stressful day at work, and I collapse into a little puddle of comatose desperation. I wake up in the morning and it’s a struggle to get out of bed. On weekends, if I don’t have a nap, I become unbearable. Don’t interrupt my sleep, or I become feral. This is not an exaggeration – ask my husband. If I take my antidepressants late, my brain chemistry is fucked for the next few days from the unexpected drought of happy chemicals. I forget things. I don’t have the energy to care about things. Including myself.

How did I go from that overachieving person, to this?