Monday, September 26, 2022
Sunday, September 25, 2022
We headed up to the hills, out into the Dandenongs for the day. We did a 3 kilometre walk in nature, me, Sam and Bruno. Just a gentle Sunday walk. It was nice. It was really busy. Where it was once our quiet, tranquil place to walk in the hills, it has now becomes really popular and much more crowded with people. We've never had to fight for a car park before. People ruin everything, now don't they.
Saturday, September 24, 2022
How's this little beauty in a clothes warehouse near home. There was a classic Camaro, a black 911 and a Ferrari, in red, of course, but this was my choice a highly modified 356.
We walked Bruno. The sun shone. We bought gelato. I asked for one scoop, I got much more, not that I am complaining. We met a friend when we were nearly home, who looked at Bruno after which she casually asked where Buddy was with a smile. She teared up when we told her. Everybody loved Bud. We had to comfort her, as she comforted us.
Sad Face. I miss him, the way he'd gently lay his head on my thigh, the way he'd crawl into my lap when I'm sitting on the floor at the coffee table, the way he'd tap me with his paw if he wanted my attention, oh, so many ways. I feel like there is a physical piece of me missing, not sure if that makes any sense?
Friday, September 23, 2022
We have a friend with a couple of French Bulldogs that have always been kind of aggressive and have bitten, or attempted to bite, Buddy and Bruno on many occasions.
I call them Jekyll & Hyde.
Buddy was the master of turning away always with the oh-for-goodness-sake look on his face. He could manage to turn his whole body away from them and just walk away. (I so miss Bud)
Bruno is pretty laid back more, or less, like Buddy.
We have met up with the French Bull dogs twice since Buddy died, and on both occasions Bruno has turned into the Tasmanian Devil, growling and trying to get to the two of them as if to say, "I hate you guys! I hate you guys!" Turning into a bundle of anger at my feet.
It is really strange and so out of character for Bruno.
Of course, for years we have all just ignored the French Bulldogs aggression. I worry that Bruno might now be thought of as the aggressive one.
It's an odd change. I don't know if Bruno feels more vulnerable now that Bud is gone? I don't know.
He only does it with the two French Bulldogs, but then, the two French Bulldogs are the only ones that have treated him with aggression.
Thursday, September 22, 2022
Later in the day...
We got a good park, 4 hours whats more on Beaconsfield Parade. We walked along the foreshore, with all the other people waking along the foreshore. The sun shone, the sky was blue. It wasn't, actually, that hot, 20 degrees, but warm enough when you were in the sun, but the day sparkled none the less. Ah Spring
There was lots of people with dogs, no other English Bulldogs, however, plenty of Frenchies. (none of which Bruno had a problem with, just his normal happy disposition, it is only Jekyll & Hyde that gets him going)
Ah, the bike riders, yelling and cursing and ringing their bells at people wandering onto the bike track, next to the walking track, the only thing the bike riders never seem to think to do is slow down.
We ate dumplings in Fitzroy Street. The adjacent table had a very smiley Rottweiler. Two hot boys were his handlers for the day.
We walked back along the sand, with our shoes off and in our hands. The ball obsessed Bruno found a ball as soon as we hit the beach, so he was very happy all the way back to the car, as we continually threw the ball up ahead for him. The magic of the sea enveloped us with the blue stretching out to the horizon, the fine white sand glinted in the afternoon sun, like crystals. Oh crystals is such a tired analogy, the sun glinted under the sun's rays
We were home late afternoon.
National day of mourning, hey? Good onya, Liz, you were a good stick.
And then what? The day before the Grand Final public holiday on Friday.
Two public holidays in a row. I don't work Thursdays and Fridays anyway so it doesn't make much a of difference to my life.
But Sam has the two days off, of course.
We can't just sit here on our arses, though, time to get out and enjoy the world.
The sun is shining, the sky is blue, it is a beautiful day. We're off to St Kilda Beach to run on the sand with Bruno. Dogs are allowed off lead on all the beaches until Sept 30th, best we get going.
Must be time for a spot of lunch too, of course.
Wednesday, September 21, 2022
We had some last minute changes that had to be done. Unforeseen. Sure, they were big dollars. So, I got to and made the changes first thing.
I sent them off to one of the desk jockeys higher up the food chain to me with an explanatory not in email form of what I had done.
The last line I wrote was, "other than that [the qualifier in the previous sentence] everything should be good" then I just couldn't help myself and I put, "cross your fingers, smiley face emoji."
Chief Financial Accountants do not have a sense of humour, I know that, really, I do, what was I thinking? Sheesh!
Back came a questioning email, along the lines, either it was all now correct, or did I need some more time to go through it all again to double check?
No dickwad, it is called humour. I know it was early in the day, but seriously learn a joke, watch something funny, lighten up. *
* actually, that didn't happen at all, not letting the truth get in the way of a good story and all that. I imagined it to be true, and it is true of the awful black law firm for which I used to work and the she-bitch psychopath chief financial accountant who used to, and from all accounts still does, haunt that firm like a poltergeist, or some tormented demon.
Truthfully, the guys I work with now find my funny asides endearing.
Tuesday, September 20, 2022
They want us back in the office, Boris told me the other day.
"They want to go back to how it was before the pandemic," said Boris.
We want to go back that far, I think?
But, what about the discoveries we have made? What about the preferable way to work that we have learned? They want to wipe that away? Seriously? That was significant.
But I don't want to go back to the office, I have been given a whole new way to work and I love it. I don't want to go back. I never want to go back. It is a waste of time.
I get up at 6am, just because I do now a days, have a shower, iron a shirt (is that the most boring, fucking thing in the world, I ask you?), eat my breakfast, walk to the office, - I can not fathom the people who live an hour, or more, commute wanting to head back to the office - and I am in the office by about 7.30am. By the time I stop crying (well, I will be if this is my future), and get coffee, it is 7.45... I can do a huge amount of work in that time at home.
I don't care you are providing breakfast and coffee, big deal. I can make my own at home at my leisure whenever I feel like it.
No. That is a firm no from me.
(Of course, I am getting an arse like the fat girl next door from the lack of exercise, but surely I'll be able to counteract that at some point in the future with a pill, or something) *
So, I'm ignoring it, for long as I can. What can they do? I'm not a manager, I'm not in charge of anybody, what does it matter where I work? Shake of the head. No.
I wonder how long I can get away with it? (I'm planning to get away with it indefinitely)
Sam is going to visit his family for most of October, and I'm planning a boys smoking month, so I don't want to be back in the office for that.
And, apparently, I have to look after Charlie, so I can't possibly go back to the office because of that, I'll have dependants. I'll practically be a working mother. And it is so difficult, they grow up so fast. Yeah, sure he's 19 and at uni but they still need guidance at any age.
No, I am just not going back. I ask you again, what can they do? In this era of staff shortages?
I had a cooked lunch at 1pm. I had a shower at 1.30pm, just to brighten up the afternoon, I can't do any of that in the office.
* of course Travis lives next door now, and seriously, if I had an arse like his, I'd be a happy man.