Boy oh boy, Uni’s getting busy! Six deliverables in three weeks! And drafts spread across Hubby’s Toshiba dinosaur and my gorgeous Macbook Pro which still has an unreliable internet connection. Arrgghh!!!
I’m so glad my life’s not boring…
Today is going to be HUGE. Really, really, really HUGE! You know, one of those days that you’ve already invested so much of your time and effort in, even though it hasn’t yet arrived, kind of huge.
Today is photo day.
My new(ish?! Started Feb 14 this year) job is marketing St Paul’s Lutheran Primary School, Caboolture. And I ABSOLUTELY love it – it’s the best job in the world! And today is photo day. Today’s the day we get a Library of shots done by the best photographer I know. So I’ve been planning this thing for what feels like non-stop, for what feels like ages. (But is actually instead more like for several hours per day for the last three weeks.)
So we have a cast of close to 60, from 4 year olds to those well into their 50’s (actually, more like 60’s but I’m not entirely sure). We have close to 20 locations. We have props. We have costume changes (which in reality will look more like uniform changes, but that image doesn’t fit with my metaphor here, okay?!). And of course we have cameras and all their associated paraphenalia. And we have a LOT of work to do in a very constrained time period. So…
It’s Monday, 28th of March, and I’m off and running on what is quite likely going to be a strong contender for the prize of ‘Busiest Day of My Year’. Running as fast as I can with no thought to my technique or my looks – running with my pride to the winds.
Wish me luck – it’s a distinct possibility that I’m going to be needing it!
Bit the bullet yesterday afternoon and (hopefully!) bought my last purchase on credit for a while. (With a paycheck on the imminent horizon, it was time to spoil myself one last time!)
You see, one of the problems with my internet-capability over the last 18 months has been the intermittent mobile broadband signal I get out where I live. Forget ADSL or normal broadband – out here, we don’t even get town water. We have rubbish bins and mail delivery, and that’s it. (Not that that stops my local council for charging me for ‘public transport’. Ha! There’s no bus , train etc for miles!!!) We don’t even have a local shop – our closest is 15 minutes drive. Which I LOVE because it’s SO peaceful and quiet (well, when my kids are asleep that is) but I can’t stand when it comes to technology, because my internet has been just so darn unreliable. Especially when there’s any hint of rain in the air.
18 months ago, I bought myself a Vodafone broadband stick. It was going to be cheaper than the others, and I figured that the coverage would be fairly similar to the other networks. D’Oh! Bad move.
So yesterday, in preparation for my NEW COMPUTER that I’m counting the days til (can you tell I’m just a little bit excited about this?!!) I went out and got myself (and I’m quoting the side of the box here) a “Telstra Ultimate Mobile Broadband USB Modem”.
Woohoo! I’m set now! Bring on the computer I can attach it to! LOL
I’ve just recently started seeing the value in long term commitments. You see, I suffered (and sometimes still do, to be truthful) from pretty major depression as a teenager, and quite literally believed that I would never see January 1, 2000. I had worked out that I would be 26 years old, and, as I could never imagine myself EVER being ‘that old’ (“HA!” my brain is saying now,) I just assumed that I wouldn’t be around. That I’d be dead by then.
So, seeing 2000 was pretty momentous for me. But not enough to make the list I’m starting today: the six most momentous events in my life (to date). And the first would HAVE to be the day I commenced the long-distance “marathon” I hope to finish only on the day I die. (Which will hopefully be many, many, MANY years from now! I’ve kinda gotten used to this whole ‘living’ bit!)
The 18th of November, 1995 dawned just as the day before it had, and the day after it would. Nothing momentous there. I was up early, full of adrenalin and my brain working overtime with those “last minute” things which absolutely HAD to be done. Then it was a quick dash (no, I didn’t speed!) from the family home at Eight Mile Plains to the Stradbroke Ferries Water Taxi at Cleveland. Arriving with a couple of friends with a few minutes to spare, we clambered aboard the 6am Taxi and spent twenty minutes being jolted across to Dunwich. Once there, we made our way to the first of three destinations for the day. Meanwhile, up the hill, in the green house with the stupendous view overlooking the whole of the Bay, and the mainland from Coolangatta to Coolum, more people were busy, getting ready for the day’s activities. An informal bus service was set up, from the house down to the Water Taxi terminal, to collect the many visitors that would be arriving, and bring them either back to the house or take them to the second destination. Which itself was also a hive of activity – being decorated with flowers, ribbons, and candles, ready for the midday celebrations.
By 8am it was starting to heat up. So much so that by 9.30, it was raining. Enough to dampen the spirits of others, but not mine. I was determined that nothing could spoil this day for me… and sure enough, the rain stopped well before 11, leaving a cooler day and enough time to dry out the ground prior to the big event.
By midday, everyone had arrived that was meant to, and all had been transported to the second destination. St Marks Anglican Church – a tiny wooden building on the road north. It had louvres for windows, and each louvre was a different colour. “Perhaps the Australian version of stained glass windows?” I joked later. Still, everyone was there, milling around, catching up with old friends and acquaintances, and meeting new ones. By 12.10 Pastor John Geoghegan could be seen checking his watch. He then started pacing from the altar to the front door, looking earnestly. He was there, ushering the last of the stragglers inside, when he caught sight of the car. He happily turned to the church and announced, ‘Well – Ceridwyn IS here’ and then took his place back at the altar.
Steeping out of the car in my dress and heels, veil over my face, I remember I couldn’t stop grinning from ear to ear. My father took my arm, and as the flower girl and bridesmaid walked ahead, I thought to myself, “Well – this is it!”
It’s now over fifteen years later. I’m 36, and on the 18th of November 2010, my husband and I celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary. No, it hasn’t always been easy. Some of it’s been downright TOUGH. But without that first day, I wouldn’t be sitting here now, on the 18th of January 2010, proud of the longest commitment I’ve ever had. (Well, with the exception of being alive, that is.) Without that first day, I wonder if I would indeed lived to see January 1 2000, even. Looking back, I’m very glad I DID live to see it – and glad that I’ve seen every day since then, too!
Well that’s it. The most momentous event in my life. My wedding to the man of my dreams (yes, literally!) on the 18th of November, 1995. A brilliant event. One I’m so appreciative I’ve experienced. And I hope you don’t mind my sharing it with you today.
So – any thoughts on YOUR most momentous event?
I’d say that today’s offering is the one word most people use to describe me. Organised. Which can be a good thing – if kept in moderation. If taken to its anal-retentive extremes however, as I admit to sometimes, it can (I’m sure!) be pretty bloody annoying for those around me – especially my poor long-suffering hubby and three kids!
Let’s focus on the positives, though. Being organised can mean that your life, (and others too, don’t forget!) runs more smoothly. At least, that’s what I like to think. And I’m always wanting to be helpful! Hehe.
I mentioned in an earlier post all I was involved in last semester. I ran myself ragged, and lived on adrenalin. (And chocolate!) But I survived, as did my children and (amazingly enough!) my marriage – just – due to my organisational abilities. Which I guess I’m pretty proud of, even though I sometimes dwell on the negative and berate myself for how badly I let things, relationship-wise, slip on the home front.
So yes, I guess any list of seven ‘Important Words in my Life’ probably wouldn’t be complete without including this one. But I guess it’s not something I’m particularly proud of, as this seems (to me, anyway) to be turning into a pretty blah post. Sorry about that.
Anyway, I’m exhausted from a VERY long day, so shall leave this for now and tomorrow regale you with my notions of bi-polar disorder…
Stay safe, dear readers!
Today marks Day Two in my aim to discover seven ‘Important Words in my Life’, inspired by the American Dialect Society’s ‘Word of the Year’. This list reflects the person I think myself to be. (But I’m happy to be proved wrong, as for each character trait I tend to see the negative outweigh the positive!) So each day I’ll be explaining why I believe each word to be important enough for me to include in my list. So. My word for today? Restless.
I fully identify with some people’s difficulty in just ‘stopping’. I don’t think that I actually can. Looking back on my life post-school, it would be easy to mistake me for a Gen Y, as I’ve changed direction every few years! (Yes, I realise that this seems to contradict the ‘commitment’ inherent in yesterday’s important word “Integrity”, but all will become clear…)
I graduated High School in 1991. I then started my Bachelor of Education at Griffith University the following year, but left mid-third year to lead the cult I had joined about six months earlier. (That’s another huge story for another post though!) Fortunately, I had left the cult by the following February, so I enrolled in 12 courses in my fourth year, to finish the degree with the rest of my cohort at the end of 1995, the same week of my wedding. From being a teacher in 1996, by mid 1998 I was a Subject Area Cordinator and by 2002 a Head of Department. I became a mother in 2005 and then a Head of Middle School in mid 2006. In 2008 I became a mother of two, and then had my final child in 2009, the same year I founded goodoldtalk.com – the site I run with my own mother. In 2010, I ventured into the world of Primary teaching, and also started my Masters mid-year, with a view to qualify myself as a Teacher Librarian by mid-2012.
So when you boil it all down, it would seem that I lack commitment to seeing things through. Not true though, in my opinion. When commencing each position, there was a steep learning curve initially. But I endeavoured to master the ins-and-outs of each job quickly, developing each department under my care to the fullest of my ability, before moving on to my next challenge, leaving each position better for my being there. (I think that one of my words for later in the week should be ‘conceited’, too!) So regarding being ‘committed’, ask any of my employers. I doubt I would have been promoted as quickly through my career if they hadn’t seen my potential. So rather than being a non-committal employee, I would say I am the opposite. I give 110 percent to any job I have. (And there’s my pathetic maths skills showing themselves again!)
But in my own opinion, after I’ve ‘been there, done that’, and conquered that particular challenge, I’m ready for the next one. I think it’s because I want to ‘suck the marrow out of life’ – after al, we only get one of them! Or maybe I’m trying to find my ‘limits’, or something. Came pretty close to finding them in Semester Two of 2010, too! (Teaching three days a week at two different schools, running a website and the Mosquito Magnet business with my husband, studying 38CP’s worth of my Masters – and getting 2 HD’s and a D, which I’m quite proud of! – and being a wife and mum to three children aged 5, 2 and 1.) That was pretty insane, I must admit. Not going to do that one again!
Anyway, I’ve blabbed on enough. Have a lovely rest-of-the-day, and I’ll meet you here, same time, same place, tomorrow!
I love that slogan. It’s just so picturesque. And it’s certainly got me hooked. I want to see it for myself, which is why the Daintree Rainforest and Cape Tribulation area (apparently now all just called ‘the Daintree’, to encourage tourism) is number three on the list of four ‘places I want to visit prior to death or rapture’.
And the good bit is – unlike the Kimberley’s, which was number two on the list – it’s (apparently…) accessible by caravan! (Yesterday’s post described how enamoured I am with my caravan, if you missed it.) Although, having travelled that far, up to the Daintree from all the way down here in S.E.Qld, I’d probably want to keep on going and end up right at the northern tip of our country. Just to experience it, and be able to gloat that I’d been. But apparently, taking caravans further north than the Daintree is just foolhardy. Again – a pity. But that’s okay… I’ll get there one day! (Hopefully I have a lot of time left before my death /rapture…)
So I have the caravan, the 4WD, and the road to get all the way to the Daintree. Which means that the only thing holding me back is ‘time’. Cos I have absolutely NO idea on exactly how long it would take to drive that far. And once we got there, how long would we want to spend exploring the area? A week? Two? A month? More? And how about exploring the areas on the way up / the way back? (To date, we’ve ‘seen’ as far as Yeppoon, with the exception of when we flew into Proserpine and bussed to Airlie Beach on the way to the Whitsundays for a pre-kid holiday.)
Which brings me to my dilemma. I’d like to spend at least 3 weeks there, I’d say. Minimum. Plus a week up(-ish?) and about a similar time back. Around 6 weeks or so. Which is tricky to find when hubby only gets 4 weeks off a year. But I’ll manage something, I’m sure. Stay tuned… I’ll blog our adventures one day, I promise! But not tomorrow. No – tomorrow we head overseas again. Destination Number Four, last on my list, promises to be one to fill the senses. Intrigued? Well, have a lovely day and I’ll see you same time, same place, tomorrow!
PS Some more piccies – again, taken by others. Unfortunately.
CC Images courtesy:
Daintree rivers
from thiery49
Cape Tribulation, where the rainforest meets the ocean By dirk huijssoon
River in the Daintree
from Mozzer
I was one of those kids, growing up in the early eighties, addicted to the Leyland Brothers. What a brilliant show it was! What a sense of adventure it instilled in me, together with the desire to see as much of this wonderful country as I possibly can.
Here I am though, a few decades later, and still barely left Queensland except to do short trips just on the other side of the border. Fartherest south to date? Melbourne. (But that was too cold for me. I’m a sun lover, and probably always will be.)
But all that will change. I’m determined. I am recently the proud owner of a gorgeous, brand-new Montana Hastings caravan, and plan on using it as much as I possibly can to see as much of this extraordinary country as possible! It’s a pretty tiny thing, especially when the three kids are underfoot as was the case just the other week when we were stuck on the ‘island’ of 1770, unable to travel due to the 6+metres of water covering both access roads. (By the way, if you were planning on using the Baffle Creek road any time in the next four months, don’t. It’ll be out for at LEAST that long, they’re saying. The bridge will need complete replacement. Sorry about that, being the bearer of bad news an’ all.) Anyway… back to my caravan…
Yes, I LOVE it. The kids do too. And hubby doesn’t mind it either, which is pretty good seeing as he does all the organising of maintainence, all the driving (to date, anyway! I think he’s a little worried I’ll roll it…) and understands all the ins and outs of the fridge workings and the tuning in of the TV antenna. (Both extremely important, I’ve discovered!) So we’ll be getting away whenever we can, and ‘seeing’ Australia for ourselves.
Well, as much as we can, anyway. Unfortunately, there are a number of places I’d like to take it, but it’s just not going to happen. And today’s post, (which was meant to be the second of four on ‘places I want to visit prior to death or rapture’, but kinda got sidetracked onto ‘my caravan’,) is on one of those places. It’s the Kimberleys, over there in WA. A gorgeous spot, judging by all I’ve heard, but not particularly kind to caravans. Pity. I could spend ages just looking at photos taken from that region of our great land. (Could, but don’t. Too darn busy.) But just looking isn’t going to cut it for me. I want to SEE those places with my own eyes. So once the younger two are out of nappies, I’ll be planning it. Maybe I’ll still be blogging then, and take you all with me in my laptop bag?! LOL!
Til tomorrow, when we meet Destination Three…
Ceridwyn
PS Just thought I’d share some (other people’s) photos that inspire me…
CC Images courtesy:
Kimberley Ranger Forum 2010
from KimberleyLandCouncil
Bell Gorge
from Chip_2904
Hiking through the Bungle Bungles
from David Busch Aus
Palm Spring S32663
from yaruman5
I can’t recall coming across many sarcastic songs. But I think I’ve just realised, at the age of 36, that “The Twelve Days of Christmas” which I had always thought of as a beautiful love song, is one such song. Over the past twelve days, I’ve looked at each and every gift, making comment on the meaning behind the gift, and the possible intention of the giver – the so-called ‘True Love’.
Initially, I was impressed at his pragmatism. He gave gifts that showed his understanding of the real world. That relationships need practicality too. The partridge and pear tree, both edible, came before the two turtle doves – symbols of devoted love. Hens and more edible birds followed.
As the days went past, the ‘True Love’s organisational skills impressed me. Not only was he able to source some pretty interesting gifts (geese that always laid, swans known for their singing ability) but he also managed to get a LOT of them. Six geese per day, since Day 6, means (let’s see my maths skills in action again, shall we…) that today we now stand at 42 geese. Seven swans per day since day 7 means 42 of them too. That’s a lot, in my opinion. Finding them, purchasing them and organising them all to arrive on the exact day that they were needed, would have been a task-and-a-half as well, I’d say.
But then the sheer enormity of her household started making more and more of an impression. By Day 8 we were adding people. Milkmaids (with cows, I’m assuming), then ladies dancing, then leaping lords (which again would have been a difficult find!). And finally yesterday, we added musicians. Eleven bagpipers would certainly add to the cacophony.
All of which led to my change in opinion. From incredulity, to suspicion. (Okay, I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed, I’ll admit it. Took me til Day 11.) With that much noise, I’m now of the opinion that his intentions may actually have been the opposite of what I had originally thought. I’m starting to think that he may not have been particularly fond of the singer – rather, he wanted to give her a mental breakdown. My proof? Circumstantial, I admit it, but still. Today’s gift is drummers. Twelve of them. All drumming. What’s the bet that they don’t just perform one song?! So by now, we have… 12 drummers, 22 bagpipers, 30 lords flirting with 27 dancing ladies and 40 milkmaids (and I’m guessing, at LEAST 40 cows), 42 swans, 42 geese, 40 pheasants, 36 blackbirds, 30 hens, 22 turtle doves, 12 partridges and 12 pear trees (well… at least they’re quiet!)
Now I don’t know about you, but that to me sounds as though he has had a bit of an agenda, and disguised it with supposed kindness. Sneaky. Underhanded. Not the nicest person you’d want to be your ‘True Love’. So all in all, I’m left feeling rather disappointed. I hadn’t expected that this process would end up as a bit of a downer. Sorry, folks.
On a happier note though, I must admit that I’m very glad I joined in this #blog12daysxmas challenge. I had expected it to be a more difficult task, blogging each day, than it was. Maybe it was easier due to holidays, or something, but now that I’ve started, I’ve decided to continue blogging. And I like the idea of using a ‘list’ on which to structure my writing. @haikugirlOz gave me the idea, actually, tweeting about Wilsons Promenade – a place I’d love to go to, but haven’t. (Yet!) So that’s my plan. Starting tomorrow, I’ll work through the Top 4 places I’d like to visit one day, and why. Stand tuned for Ancient Rome, this time tomorrow! Have a lovely rest-of-the-day, dear readers!!!
A bit of a disclaimer for starters: I am NOT a Maths teacher. In fact, I’m pretty hopeless at Maths, failing it as a subject from Semester Two of Year Ten, onwards. So, although it is rather embarrassing to admit the error in my tally yesterday (there should have been 16 milkmaids by Day Nine, not 8!) it’s no surprise. Expect more of the same, when it comes to anything numerical. And sorry about that, folks!
Still an’ all – the idea I was trying to get across was just how insanely full the singers house was getting. I postulated that the sheer number of birdlife, plus the milkmaids and their accompanying cows, was the reason behind not only the ladies needing to dance (quickstep around the others!) but also why the ten Lords today (and the ten tomorrow, and then the ten of the final day’s worth of gift) all need to be gifted in leaping. Let’s face it – there’s probably very little floor space left!
But back to today’s gift; ten Lords a-leaping. I’m not sure what the word ‘Lord‘ conjures up in your mind. In mine, (besides the ‘LORD’, as in, the one whose birthday season we’re blogging about!) I think of a Lord from dear Old England. One of those sedate, stately figures who are seen to always be ‘in control’ of their expression, their behaviour, even their thoughts. Austen’s ‘Mr Darcy‘ springs to mind, and others of his ilk. So when I try to picture even just ONE of these Lordly figures leaping, the incongruity jumps up and slaps me in the face. I mean – seriously – when EVER would you catch sight of a Lord ‘leaping’? Hmmm…???! (Let alone TEN of them! And don’t forget there’s going to be 30 by the end of the gift!)
So now I’m thinking that today’s gift is a truly remarkable one in its rarity. I’m thinking that it must have been incredibly difficult for the True Love to find. A very difficult challenge he set himself, to prove his love. Wow. I’m a little taken aback, aren’t you? Surprised by the depth of his commitment. Heck – I’m brand new to this ‘blogging’ bit, using #blog12daysxmas as my incentive, and I can’t even blog for ten days straight without submitting yesterday’s just before bed. And here he is sourcing all these birds, cows, people (and rare ones, too!) every single day?!! (And I thought I was organised. He must have been planning this for about a year! He had probably bought out all the swans in Europe by now!)
Anyway, just thought I’d share with you my incredulity today. Have a lovely one, and I’ll meet you back here tomorrow, same time, same place, ready for Day 11’s gift…