catchmyfancy: (eeexcellent)
My brother-in-law Steve is one of those Men of Few Words. Also, something of a Rough Diamond.

He always needs to have something to DO. I have always thought of him as a modern incarnation of one of those men from the turn of the century who could turn their hand to pretty much anything. He and my sister are about to put an extension on their little house up in Bemboka, and thank goodness, because I looked around their perfect house and garden when I visited the family at Christmas (Steve is at home and working part-time, my sister works full-time) and said to my sister: "now that Beatrice is at school, this is a man who needs a project before he ends up adding a mezzanine level with spa to the chook run or something."

He recently took up restoring old mantel clocks. And after I was web-browsing with him one time and said "oh this one is pretty" or "that one is kind of cute" he paid attention and has just now delivered my Christmas present!

It goes bingley-bong every quarter-hour but I can turn that off at night.
bingely bongely )
catchmyfancy: (Default)


<a href="" target="_blank"><img src="" border="0" /></a>
\ROOTH\ , noun;
1.Compassion or pity for another.
2.Sorrow or misery about one's own misdeeds or flaws.
3.In the Bible, a Moabite woman who married Boaz and became an ancestor of David: the daughter-in-law of Naomi.
4.Book of the Bible bearing her name.
5.A female given name.

From here.

Yes, the parental units had a reading from the Book of Ruth at their wedding ceremony.   Yes, I am directly named for that.

(My brother and father (and one of the ex-boyfriends) will use this name more often than my first name (Alexandra).  They claim it's more efficient.  Nyaaw.  So Australian!)

Although we later found it was a family name, including Ruth Armstrong, the fire-breathing-Baptist-great-grandmother who stopped my grandfather from becoming a monologue-ist because that was *gasp* going on the stage - damnation to follow, film at 11; and poor little Lois Ruth, my aunt cut for possibly sad-making stuff )

They have all sorts of interesting reference information about the name.  The biblical story has always been a favourite story (and heh - just realised it passes the Bechdel test) - two women thrown together in a traditionally-emotionally-dodgy relationship and finding friendship and love that endured grief, loss and relocation: all excellent stuff.  My friend Elley had this sort of relationship with her mother-in-law, who sounded like a fairly awesome lady.

And then there's this little gem, which has made me so very glad that language evolves, or else one would wonder if someone was actually saying your name or just randomly clearing their throat:

Distinct from the Biblical figure, ruth is a descendent of the Middle English ruthe, from Old Norse hrygdh.
catchmyfancy: (happy sun smiley cupcake)
She's very nearly five, and I had the pleasure of spending some time with Miss Beatrice this Christmas, once her sisters had been whisked off to Albury with their grandparents and her cousin and aunt and uncle had gone home. Then it was just her parents and me.

She's very much herself, a burbling pixie of a kid that bounces around the place (I call her Miss Twinkle-toes), full of the life force, and the delightful certainty that the Universe is there mostly to have fun with. She was at great pains to let me know (when I started to join in) that her imaginary game of an endless tea-party was only imaginary - not that this was going to stop her playing it with gusto, just so I knew, and we were all on the same page. Hee hee hee.

Here are some photos where I managed to catch her at rest (sorta) over Christmas -

(A) Picking shasta daisies by the roadside on Brown Mountain overlooking the Bemboka Valley. She really LIKED the daisies. As they were neither native nor protected, we were okay with it - until she tried for the record of how many she could shove in one hand. Heh. She looks so very much like my sister as a little kid here that I feel myself being catapaulted back about thirty-some years.

Beatrice with daisies

(B) A portrait on the front verandah of her family home. I think here we see a glimpse of Bea-of-the-future. She'll be a force to be reckoned with, methinks, and people will go along with the sparkling eyes and big grin, right up until it's too late. (Heh x 2).

Beatrice at nearly-five
catchmyfancy: Caroline Dhavernas as Jaye in Wonderfalls and the text "I surrender to Destiny" (Destiny)
My name is Alexandra and I am an Events Manager.  And there's no 12-step program for THAT.

However, today I was glad for the myriad and bizarre screw-ups and *situations* (as in "Alexandra, we have a *situation*") I've had to deal with in the past, because today was a perfect event, and it was the one I wanted to get right: my parents' 50th wedding anniversary celebration. 

They wanted something low-key, just the family.....and not having to DO anything.  It took some pretty fast talking to get them in the right mindset on only having to spend dollars on (a) petrol to get down to the venue and/or (b) outfits to wear....and between my sibs and I, we delivered, with just enough nice surprises to keep them guessing.

We've been saving for two years plus  - three siblings, $20 a week each, it all adds up - and have had enough to book rooms for everyone at the very very nice Lindenwarrah (I've been regaling people on Facebook with updates about my room with the vineyard 20 feet away, and fountain just outside, the lovely appointments, the free wifi....); with dinner and breakfasts thrown in; and have spa treatments for the ladies this morning, lunch at the wonderful Brown Bros Epicurean Centre which was a 100-metre stroll up the road; and in between a presentation of a quilt to which we all contributed (I let my sister manage that little side project), and a photo session with the photographer Juliet Morris and some nice little keepsakes, plus a very short  and lovely speech from my brother which ended with..."..and this is not so much a celebration of the fifty, as it is of your marriage" and we ALL had to dive for the tissues and mother's mascara ran for the third time in as many hours and she was saying things like "waterproof? I don't bloody think so!" as she blotted yet again.

Yes, my family drive me crazy, and I know many people have had more grief than love from theirs - but I am glad for each and every one of them, economy-sized dags though they may be.

Below: this is what a very relieved event manager looks like in the quiet of her lovely room after an event that really really matters comes off okay.

catchmyfancy: (Default)

Look what I got in my Christmas bon-bon - an adorable little cloisonne birdie.

It's quite heavy and sits very sweetly in the palm of my hand.

According to my mother (who always makes up the bon-bons herself and puts in "little trinkets"(!!) like this along with the obligatory Vile Punning Joke and Malfunctioning Paper Hat) this is my official Bluebird of Happiness.

And indeed, no reason said Bluebird shouldn't come in a Christmas bon-bon and also be a handy-dandy place to keep earrings and similar.

Day Three with the family and no urge to commit violence yet.  Nieces continue adorable.  Woke up to sunshine. 

And when out walking with my sister I saw TWO PLATYPUSES IN A CREEK.  Wow. 

catchmyfancy: (Default)

1. My sister and her family are moving to Bega.

Since her smug, manipulative email announcement yesterday, we are Not Speaking because I am Peeved at her and the brother-in-law for how they've done this.  

There's hurt feelings and people driving off in vintage 1957 Snits.....and there's a million other things I could say - so I won't!

Those of you equipped with the faciltiy for logic: this is an Oke thing - just don't go there.  It will only hurt your brain in the end.

2. Am getting addicted to Torchwood.  

It's Dr Who only all angsty and grown up and having sex - a lot of sex, in a variety of genders and orientations ("my last snog?  Hmm. Does it have to be human or does alien count?") and combinations - in Cardiff.  Apparently the Welsh are mad for aliens and the shagging thereof.  TV critics either love it, or hate it, or are "puzzled".  Or all three.  The show could have done with a decent script editor in more than one clunky-creaky episode, or a director with better pace.  But like the little girl with the little curl, when it's good, it's very very good.  Still finding its identity, which of course is never a problem that plagued the writers for the new Dr Who serieses.

3. Am celebrating Australia Day in traditional manner - I am going to sleep in and really not give a fat rat's arse.  

This weekend I have to re-hang all my pictures now that Dad has painted the living room and kitchen.  This will eventually do my head in and I won't have the time to cope with national identity issues.


catchmyfancy: (Default)

August 2017

131415161718 19


RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Oct. 21st, 2017 07:12 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios