Yeah, it’s not going to win me any photographic awards, but I kinda like the dark foreground.  Me and Miss Kit Tern this arvo.

Also today – The Story Of The Printer.  Which Mr Beloved is writing up has written and he tells is much better than I do – I shall just say KNOW YOUR RIGHTS! And don’t buy a Kodak ESP-3 All in One multifunction printer. They suck.

For the purposes of where Mr Beloved originally sent the story, Caity is referred to as The Evil Vicar’s Wife (TEVW) and Mr Beloved is known as The Goat or as The Irreverent Mr Black.

Probably best not to ask why….

It came to pass, in those days, that TEVW did purchase a new printer for her photography and fiddly stuff, and behold, it was made by the Yellow Box Photo Stuff People. Here is its likeness.

(image: http://photography-mag.com)

It printeth not upon the square, and its rectangles were sort-of trapezoids with some curvature. Lo, its suckage was great. TEVW looketh upon the sites and forums, and crieth: “Bugger. Lots of people are having trouble with these. I shall send it back for a refund”.

She calleth upon the Children of Off-Us-Jerks. Verily, they sendeth her on telephone tag round their encampment, even unto the whole goddamn twelve tribes, until her call pitcheth forth at the tent of Tech Guy.

“Alas, O Tech Guy. My printer functioneth not as a printer, but melteth my images as if the demon Salvador Dali tormenteth it. This is a curse upon its kind, as written in the chronicles of the prophet Intarwub, and I wish to get my shekels back.”

The Tech Guy maketh the sound of the Hrumph, and reciteth he from a scroll by the phone, saying: “We refundeth not, nor giveth we credit. No, there are no exceptions to this rule, and we don’t care nyah nyah nyah. We sendeth thy piddly little piece of equipment to its makers beyond the sea and they fixeth it, for no fault attacheth to us and it is all out of our teflon-coated hands, so there.”

TEVW saith, “But surely the Fair Trading Act 1989, Section 40…”

But behold, he cutteth her off, saying that there are no exceptions to policy.

A certain Goat was close by, and heareth the woe of TEVW. He waxed, both wroth and the tips of his straggly moustache.

He strideth to the phone, and dialleth the tribe of Jerks, specifically Off-Us. His tone was as honey, and his pronunciation was as precise as an old-time ABC newsreader, for a very angry Goat must constantly remember to be polite.

“Good morrow, entry-level staffer. I am sorry, but I must speak with a manager, as our last call has been largely disappointing.” (words have been changed for archaic effect, but the tone is similar.)

And in due time, cometh the manager to the telephone.

The Goat, who was Black, recited the Litany Of Crappy Results, and brought the tidings that the tribe of ESP-3 was cursed by the peoples of Forum.

“We expected a printer”, he saith. “A distorter of images was not what we paid for.”

And lo, the Manager beginneth to read from the Scroll Of Store Policy.

Quoth the Goat: “Does the policy override Consumer Law, or is it the other way? Please remind me as I am a very forgetful Goat, and would not like to need to ask the Office Of Fair Trading which was more powerful.”

And behold, the Manager’s eyes were opened. Fucking wide.

And so it was that a refund was issued.

The moral of today’s sermon is to know your consumer rights. How the hell it is, that a store can have a “policy” which encourages staff to flout the law, and can continue to promote such a policy, is a mystery which is not to be unravelled this side of the grave.

(Note: Good service was given at the same store, and many of its staff are great help. It’s the policy that sucks donkey-spheres.)

So there you have it.  Good Triumphed over Evil and they All Lived Happily Ever After. What more could you want from a story?

No related posts.

“Doctors are up in arms over official Queensland Health Department guidelines which urge weary medics to drink six cups of coffee a day to fight off fatigue.”

Say WHAT? So, now not only are we likely to be treated in hospital for emergency care by some poor bugger who’s been up for 72 hours, they’ll be jittery on caffeine as well? Oh please tell me that this is someone’s idea of a joke… not more doctors, shorter shifts, nooooo, MORE DRUGS, that’s the answer! Why not just give them those Sooper Sekrit combat drugs that I’m sure various armies have developed and let them go until they COLLAPSE IN A SCREAMING JIBBERING HEAP, huh, Queensland Dept of Health?

You know, I’ve been pretty lucky with health care – touch wood – I’ve been able to go to hospital when I needed to.  And when I’ve been there, I’ve had excellent care.  But WHY would anyone WANT to be a doctor, knowing these are the conditions you will be forced to work under, at least while you complete the hospital part of your training? Is there ANY other profession that treats (ha!) people like this?

I am shaking my head in wonderment.

And considering not reading the news anymore, it’s just FREAKIN’ ME OUT.

3 of 365 – not something that needed hospital care, just a slight burn to my inner right arm from hugging a hot water bottle.

Related posts:

1. 11 & 12 of 365, a journal page, and what I’m reading
2. Sad News…
3. More positive news!

Seriously, every bookbinding/journaling technique I am reading now recommends this, and assumes it’s easy to get.

BUT IT’S NOT.

Not a single supermarket in town even STOCKS waxed paper anymore.  You used to be able to buy rolls of it, or packets of precut sheets, but NOOOOOO, not now!  Mr Beloved and I think it’s because those little zip-lock sandwich bags have become ubiquitous.

And no, silicone coated baking paper/”parchment” does NOT work as well.  *sigh*

Can anyone help me in locating and buying some? PLEASE?

Related posts:

1. Frustration….

For all that, it was still Another Bed Day.  *sigh* And our solar hot water didn’t get installed yesterday because – THE PLUMBER WAS SICK! We’ve rescheduled for next Wednesday, just gotta hope that the weather doesn’t work against us.

Ricë wrote a post today about the intrusiveness of muzak.  I started a rant in reply in my comment on her post, but here’s some more rant:

I’ve been rabbiting on at various In Real Life friends about the new growth industry (no, Dustin, it’s not PLASTICS) – it’s audiology.  Seriously, every time I go to the shops there seems to be a new one offering hearing tests and ever smaller hearing aids.  I think Toowoomba is up to about 20, for a population of 90,000.  And do you know why?

I’LL TELL YOU WHY.

It’s because almost nobody can stand SILENCE any more. When and how did we become a culture that feels the need to be constantly immersed in man made sound?  Waiting rooms are drenched in either overly loud muzak or blaring televisions.  Supermarkets and shopping centres play their identifying jingles over and over and over.  We get in cars and immediately turn on the radio or a CD.  Those ubiquitous white dangly cords drape from ears to iPods, cocooning each wearer in their own world of individualised sound.

Our house is near the local railway yards, and surrounded by train tracks.  We expect a certain amount of noise each day from the coal trains and maintenance vehicles, and most nights we can hear the chiropractic clunks and crashes of carriages being shunted. Some of the train drivers are artists, echoing the horn of their diesel engine around the valley as they pass by the yards.

On clear  nights I can hear the “ping… Ping… Ping… pokpokpokpokpokpokpok” of the traffic signals over 150 metres away across the creek.  Some nights we are visited by the local owl (mo POKE! mo POKE!) and some nights the plovers scream from the vacant, weedy blocks.

Some nights we are woken by domestic quarrels; by neighbours who think that chopping wood after midnight is a perfectly reasonable thing to do; by dog fights, screeching engines and tyres sliding on the bitumen.  Or the ever-so-charming individual who believes that by renting a nearby industrial unit he has the right to super-amplified music at any time day or night.  I don’t think in the 5 years I’ve lived here there has been a single night without hearing at least one set of emergency service vehicles dopplering by on one of the main roads.

Oh, and I mustn’t forget to mention Bung Lung – one of the new neighbours who, although appearing to be in his mid 20s, has the emphysemal lungs and bronchial function of a 50 a day pensioner.  (We’ve started referring to their household as The Brueghels – because they’re phlegmish. (groan!)  Nothing like hearing a lugey hawked up outside your window at 3am to jolt you out of a dream. (The cigarette stench is a subject for another post…)

All of those are noises which are beyond my control.  When I can choose my audio surroundings, more often than not I’ll choose silence. Because it’s rare and I enjoy it.  I have quite enough trouble fighting with my head to get anything done, without inviting more noise in.

I’ll listen to Radio National, if there’s something good on.  My CD collection is almost exclusively female singers (loving the new Lily Allen album, and I never get tired of Kirsty MacColl)but I really only listen to music if I’m sewing or at the gym.

But Mr Beloved lives in a music centred world.  Where I find it VERY difficult to process two audio signals at once (especially if one of them is voice), he thrives on audio complexity.  (Not suprisingly, he’s a long time fan of Brian Eno.) I can’t read if there is competing audio – my brain just gets frustrated.  My Dad  can listen to radio, watch TV, AND read the newspaper all at once – I have no idea how he does it and even THINKING about it makes me feel quite ill.

My ideal world would have a soundproof room, possibly with squishy walls, and maybe a coat with arms long enough to actually fit me…

And now I’m off to take my medications.  Night!

Related posts:

1. Ugh. Three weeks Post-Hysterectomy
2. And the fun never stops….
3. It had to happen eventually…

Had another bed day today

Not much going on.

I did go to a Pfaff day at the local Pfaff shop yesterday.  I was disappointed that the new couching feet being demonstrated weren’t available for my very expensive machine – at only 5 years old, I expect better support than that on such a pricey item.  Guess who’s not going to be buying that brand next time??

I did enjoy the ruffler foot demo – but at $144, I won’t be buying one of those, either.  It would be nice, but I already have ruffler feet for my century old Singers!!

Ok – off to see who I can find online….

No related posts.

Usually I’d go on and on about the way the super-amplified bass and drums drive right up the creek and into our house; then I’d have a rant about the way that the entire Queens Park is shut off from the people it’s meant to be there for (pardon grammar) and finish with the fact that the organisers of the event don’t give a shit about noise complaints and in fact won’t even supply the correct number for the regional council to register a proper complaint.

But I’m really tired, have spent a lot of the weekend sleeping (to get away from the noise, and because I’m just feeling like a wrung out dishcloth these days) so we’ll just leave it at that, yeah?

I’m popping into Lincraft tomorrow (not sure how they got dispensation to be open when just about every other shop will be closed – I don’t understand Toowoomba’s trading attitude at all) to pick up two Simplicity patterns for just $7.50 each, plus one Vogue pattern for only $12.  Yay!

Simplicity 4014

Then I really have to sew my little heart out this week. I have to have a decent black dress for Friday (a funeral to go to) and my previous funeral outfits are now way too big.

(I’m just working out what to do with the seam finishes on this unlined dress and jacket -  I can do Hong Kong bindings (like Sue just did) on the straight seams, not quite sure how I’ll finish the princess seams.. maybe just hand overcast? Hmmm…. suggestions welcome!)

Oh yeah – I have to buy black shoes, too – I don’t know about you, but I cannot wear red shoes to a funeral.  Nuh uh.

AND – I fell off the food plan in a bigggg way over the last week or so.  And I didn’t even eat any Easter eggs!  Never mind, I’ll climb back on… unfortunately my plans for attending BodyStep this arvo were hijacked by my overwhelming need for sleep.  THe gym re-opens Tuesday, so I’ll be back into it then…

Related posts:

1. It had to happen eventually…
2. I am a big fat WUSS.

Now THAT’S What I call a chick flick!

• Funny movie with lots of laugh out loud moments – check.
• Cute boy? Uh huh.
• Enjoyable minor characters? Yep! Especially Kristen Scott Thomas’s fash mag editor with her outrrrrrrrrrrrageous French accent, (which is doubly hilarious because she does speak perfect French)… and debt collector Derek Smeath is perfect, just PERFECT!
• FABULOUS clothes? You betcha! The shoes!  The iconic green scarf! The plaid cloak!
• Unexpected quirks? Oh yeah! (store mannequins that tempt, I’m sure I’ve seen those….)
• Happy ending? OF COURSE!

What more could you possibly want from a Saturday afternoon at the movies?

And to anyone who has been swayed by the critics telling us that the heroines of recent chick flicks are “… brainless idiots, you know, with nothing more on their minds than, you know, getting a man or shopping” (thanks, Margaret Pomeranz – NOT!) Nope.  In denial about her out of control spending – yes, and I certainly can relate to that.

I didn’t get myself into quite as much debt as she did – but then, I don’t have access to the luxury outlets she did, nor did I have multiple credit cards.  Not for want of the big banks trying – the rotters just sent me another “you have been pre-approved for a credit increase” letter this week, which would have taken my credit limit to substantially more than my annual income – now, how STUPID is that?

(Mr Beloved insists that When He Comes To Power, any banks or financial institutions offering credit cards to those who clearly can’t afford them will be deemed to have given a GIFT of that amount to the offer-ee.  Fair enough!)

And to those who say that the film  is inappropriate during the Global Financial Crisis, I say: HELLLLLLOOO? Surely if we’d all been less shopaholic and not been living way beyond our means there wouldn’t BE a GFC?

And now, since we have just had a brief rain shower, my sinuses are acting up and insisting that all my top teeth are about to be shot out of my jaw, and that someone has punched me in the nose.  I’m off to lie down.

Related posts:

1. Movie Happiness, birthday, and a fitness rant
2. Confessions of a Coat Pattern Addict

Threads April/May 2009

OMFSM!!*  This latest issue of Threads magazine, issue 142, has got to be the BEST EVER!!  And I have every single issue from issue 53, June /July 1994. So that’s really saying something!

(and no, you can’t borrow them.  Unless I really really trust you and value our friendship. And know where you live.)

You know how sometimes you get the latest mag (not just Threads, any magazine) and flick through going “Ho hum same-o same-o yawn blah”? And then sometimes you get an issue and every turn of the page IS EXACTLY SOMETHING YOU NEED RIGHT NOW?

Yep.

It’s not just that this is a fitting special – although obviously, given my changing shape and my desire to actually wear clothes that show I have a waist (YAY!) I’m getting a lot out of that; no, it’s also got a super groovy article on splicing knits (swoon!)…

Connie Long's article on splicing knits looks like fun...

(you don’t think they could look too star-trekky, do you?  I mean, that’s the appeal of CURVES over straight lines, but still…)

… and another neat article on various hem finishes .  As well as the usual gorgeous image on the back cover of a divine vintage garment.  Oh, and the Quick to make wrap…. and the gallery of winners of the Threads/ Association of Sewing and Design Professionals challenge… and oooh, the article on making fabric roses, I always like new techniques for those, and….

Well. I’m kinda keen, as you can tell.

No brown paper bags or affils, yada yada – I’m obviously just a huge fan of the mag and the consistently clear photos and instructions.

Now I’m off for a quick cuppa with my bestest sewing buddy (yay!) and then some more sewing on the “MacFractured” wrap skirt before Pilates class.  Whew!

*oh My Flying Spaghetti Monster.

Related posts:

1. Ever had one of those projects?
2. They call it…
3. Well this just made me giggle!

I have made a lot of changes in the last year.  Losing weight, starting exercise;  the TAHBSO (Total Abdominal Hysterectomy and Bilateral Salpingo-Oopherectomy and ensuing surgical menopause; taking better care of my skin, wearing make-up more; and getting more interested in clothing and fashion again after years of hiding in shapeless oversized clothes.

Not to mention actually getting real help with my mental illness(es?!), being in a stable and loving relationship (*mwah!* to the Teabot5000) and working towards not only getting out of debt but STAYING out of debt.

Most of these changes have been difficult, and especially so for the poor old Teabot5000 – He. Does. Not. Like. Change.

I mean, it would be hard enough for most men – but throw in the Asperger’s and you could have a disaster.

So far, we’ve managed to keep sailing. Mostly.  We’ve had a few instances where we’ve both had to bail water out of the bottom of the boat, so to speak…

But then today I was soooooo ANGRY!!!

Not really at himself. Just at  – well, EVERYTHING!  I’m tired of being broke.  I’m REALLY tired of that.  I’m tired of having to watch every single cent as it briefly transits through our bank account into someone else’s pocket.

I’m tired of being TIRED.  Still.  (although some of that may be due to not getting enough iron – see “watching every bloody cent” above…)

I’m tired of feeling like my life has no meaning.

Yes, I know we’re well off compared to many – we have the house, we have the car, we have each other, we’re not starving, we have clean water etc etc.  I know I should be grateful for all that and I am – but I am feeling whiney and miserable and I just want to know WHY IS IT ALL SO HARD?!?!

There are some luxuries in my life, after all – the gym membership is expensive (but nowhere near as expensive as staying fat and inactive); and I generally get help to see the medical professionals I need to see.  We have the internet, for gawd’s sake.

And I am fully aware that my former spending habits (and a few episodes of uncontrolled mania) are largely to blame for our current situation.

Maybe if I sell a kidney, I could afford some fripperies?

(you know I’m joking about the kidney, right?  But if you’re interested in second hand sewing machines, let’s make a DEAL!)

BUT – I would like to be well enough to work.  At something meaningful.  Is that too much to ask?  (Probably, given the economy – with so many able bodied/non-mentally-ill/more recently employed potential employees out there, who on earth is going to “spare a shekel for an old ex leper?”, to slightly misquote The Pythons.)

They all want the one advertised job...

Congrats if you’ve managed to read this far without my whine turning into the noise Charlie Brown’s teachers make:

Wah Wah Wah

Related posts:

1. The Utter Awfulness Of Mirrors
2. Blah.
3. *sobs* His beautiful HAIR!

“You are hiding too much.”

Such complaint from her. It is enough to drive a Møøse into hiding again.

But, for Caity, the pleasures of the chase are introduced. (After all, my way is subtle.)

Is picture of Hjørse in hiding:

And I am øver here… can you see me?

Dø yøu think Caity will post when she has finished løøking? Mayhap!

Related posts:

1. Møøse is Disgruntled
2. Apparitions and Non-Appearance
3. Møøse may be near yøu even nøw…