catsidhe: (Default)
So, last Friday — Friday the thirteenth — was sufficient to make Richard Dawkins superstitious.

First, I hear that there was a burst water main on Punt rd, and traffic was likely to be horrible.
Then, I am passed by a police car on its way to a car accident just up the road (and on my way), where a car had gone into a front yard over a brick wall, and ended up on its roof. This was not long before I passed it, and Hatzolah (the Jewish ambulance service) already had the driver on the lawn. That's all I saw as I passed, and I know no more of the matter.

Then, at work, I find there's a small crisis. The previous day I had investigated the troubles of one of my users, who had trouble with her roaming profile. (A common situation when the users go over quota and don't realise, which they don't with roaming profiles until it's too late.) As part of this problem, there was a directory which shouldn't have been there, where her profile was being put, which means she had two copies of her profile, which made her that much more over quota, and in my efforts to figure out what was going on, I made her account unusable. I asked the sysad what was going on, and he got curious and fiddled (with a very old, very complicated, very brittle Samba v2 (!) installation, and managed to break it, and several people were unable to log in. And for about a year, that Samba install has been broken, such that we couldn't actually join any computers to it, which means we could fix those users until the other problem was fixed. Luckily, he did, and fixed the other problem too. But the morning was written off. And the afternoon was given over to a machine with (I think) a virus which made the machine unusable, and while it did work in safe mode, the virus checker didn't, and and and arrgh.

And there was Drama in a certain list.

And I thought that was that.

Then on Saturday morning, I got a phone call from my Grandmother.

It seems that while I was having a dies horribilis, my Grandfather's ashes were being interred, and my family hadn't even bothered to tell me. Neither did my mother know about it until Friday evening. And my Grandmother was very upset when she discovered that I wasn't there because no-one had told me, which is why she called.

Leaving out any other family drama on that front, it feels very much like that branch of the family is writing us (my mother, sister and myself) out of it. And it seems that they aren't extending the favour to the third branch either. My cousin only found out and was able to attend because he coincidentally asked his mother the night before what she was doing that day.

I don't even know where he is interred, beyond ‘Eltham’.

Yes, I'm upset. But what really is pissing me off is that this isn't an isolated incident of forgetfulness: I had to chase them up to find out when the bloody funeral was, and when there, discovered that they had divvied it up between themselves. I wasn't even asked if there was anything I'd like to say. Only the children of that branch of the family got to speak.

I was willing to overlook it then, give the benefit of the doubt. But this just pisses me off. And I have had no contact from them since, either.

I intend to have a quiet word at Christmas. Let's see what they say.
catsidhe: (Default)
Back from Adelaide. Several days with Mum and K.

The drive there and the drive back were exhausting, as they always are. The return today was made more interesting by a burst of heat, which looks to continue tomorrow. Looks like an inside day until the change...

We went to the Adelaide Zoo on Friday, which fits a lot into its postage-stamp acreage. The girls loved everything, and were particularly impressed by feeding time for the hippopotamuses.

Swimming on Saturday, which left us all sunburnt to some degree or other. The sun really is hotter over there. The girls loved paddling, going out as deep as they dared, and walking along the beach looking for shells.

Port Adelaide on Sunday, to visit the Seahorse Farm (the girls patted a Port Jackson shark), and then to the Port Adelaide Market. Like Camberwell Market, but under cover. Antiques, second-hand, new, treasures, tschotschkes, craft, stuff. Lots of stuff.

Quick trip to McLaren Vale on Monday, got some mead, dropped into the Olive Grove.

Written down like that, it doesn't sound like much. But there was lots of chasing (and carrying) of girls, of being with mum and K, of hanging out, of chatting, of being quiet, of threatening physical violence against my sister in retaliation for her buying a bamboo sort-of-recorder, each in sort-of-tune, which they both went around the house blowing the one note in the rhythm of “twinkle twinkle little star”, until we put on a DVD to shut them up. Lots of “Auntie Kat, can we have a practice on your ‘tuba’?” Lots of snuggles. Lots and lots of Farmers' Union Iced Coffee.

When we were driving away, Abi asked, “why are we going home? I'm going to miss Nanna and Auntie Kat.”
We convinced her that she would appreciate her own bed (and I know [livejournal.com profile] mimdancer and I will appreciate our own beds tonight), and that she would also miss Ninna (her other grandmother) and her other Auntie.

It is always hard to drive away, though. It's just too hard to do this any more often.
catsidhe: (Default)
Had a fortnight's leave, including a drive to and from Adelaide for the weekend in the middle.

I've meant to write, but every time I sat down to put words into ones and zeros, I faced a big "This Brain intentionally left blank" sign. That, and every time I though I had enough time to gather and organise my outrage on a given subject, something even more outrageous would happen. Gah.

Sick.

Which you don't need to hear, but I'm whingeing. )

Walk in the Hills

In which we introduce the girls to more greenery than they knew what to do with. )

Adelaide

In which we travel for hours over miles of bugger-all to reintroduce the girls with their other grandmother and aunt. )

Politics to follow when I get my head together a little.
catsidhe: (Default)
Hah! I was right:
Indeed, there have already been calls for sanctification. Good Gods, he's barely cold!


Furthermore, this turned out not to have been so speculative after all, but to have been more or less what actually happened. feh.



In other news, my sister-in-law gave birth last night by c-section to a girl; Kiara Anne.

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