Author: ThirdCat

Saturday night

Because I was out last night, it’s the mister’s turn to go to the party (one day we’ll go out together again, won’t we?) so I am at home sorting my photographs. My digital photographs. My camera(s) download the photos in singularly-dated folders which is really a very awkward way to have photographs organised.

I have created a small number of large-ish folders and transferred the photos appropriately.

This is a most satisfying exercise. I highly recommend it. Now, I am backing the up onto CD-Rs. Whatever they might be. Round shiny things. That’s all I need to know, isn’t it?

All in all, it’s been a rather emotional day, and I’m quite enjoying the satisfaction of all this sifting and sorting.

One thing I’m wondering though: are we supposed to be printing out all these photographs, or will it be enough to have them on these-here CD-Rs?

PS In today’s The Advertiser there was a list of this state’s 150 most important people – I think because The Advertiser is 150 years old or some such. I’m not that great at counting (Amazing Race in-joke there, hilarious, no?), but on my calculations, there are 20 women and 2 Aboriginal people in that list. I know, what else should I expect? But really.

I can’t do the washing, because the dog is in the laundry with a bone

So, I was reading genevieve, who has been reading locus who was (or perhaps were), from what I gather, reading angela, who, has, in turn, been reading krissy who made me think that I think too much and write too little (and not to say that she thinks too little, just to say that her writing discipline inspired me to do more with my thoughts than just think them).

So, I started writing again. Just a little something while the boys watched ABC Kids.

Other delights of the day

Probably at around the time, Ampersand Duck was enjoying sushi, I had a plastic bag around my hand, retreiving the sock which had fallen into the toilet bowl. I had to do this after the poo had been done, but before the paper had been used. Other things about this incident you might be interested to know: I was not in my own house.

Solidarity forever

So, the teachers went on strike, we met some friends in the park, there was an uneven number of children wanting to play soccer, I didn’t like the look of the ensuing conversation about who would have to sit out, so I said ‘how about if I play’.

‘Yay! Yay! ThirdCat’s gonna play.’ The two big girls jumped around.

My boys looked at each other. I’m almost certain they raised their eyebrows. ‘She can be in your team,’ they said.

‘You go in goals,’ the big girls said, ‘cos we’re really good at attack.’

After my eldest boy had scored three goals against us and I had scored one own-goal, the tallest of the tall girls said ‘maybe I’ll go in goals’.

Halfway down the field, my left foot tripped my right foot over. I am a grown up, so must laugh such things off, but fuck, it hurt (and would for days to come).

I scored a goal!

And then, I had to go in time out, because there was a boy, crying on his mother’s lap, his face etched with the etchings of a ball kicked by an inaccurate foot, and his words ‘I don’t want ThirdCat to play any more’ and my boys ‘she’s hopeless, our mum’.

The moral of the story is: pay teachers more.