Unfortunately, it has a winkle.
Category: Spawn
There’s so much more to it than I ever thought possible.
ztxduvig
Im mean really. Aren’t 4 characters enough for spam prevention?
Most of the blogs I comment on are on Blogger, and an EIGHT character spam bot prevention code is just taking the piss. I’ve never been diagnosed, but I believe that I am slightly dislexic, and these bloody things drive me up the wall. Even when I concentrate, it sometimes takes me 3 or 4 goes to get it right.
Surely three characters, or maybe 4 is enough to stop the bots? Eight is far to many for my mental health, and if it goes to nine I will have to give up commenting on blogger blogs.
Ok, enough rant.
Ampersand is at 20 weeks today, and I finally had a call from my old boss, asking me to come back to work when I am ready, in a year or so.
It’s a…
…recalcitrant brat.
Bloody umbilical cord wrapped as snug as a bug around the pink bits, despite over three hours of being poked with an ultrasound wand (not as bad as a pap smear, but still not very fun), with a full bladder (they need that to help see the baby).
So I had a wee hissy fit yesterday afternoon, until I heard from the vendors solicitor that they would like the documents from me asap. I decided that buying a house was more important than feeling sorry for myself, so drove to Strathfield to meet with young David.
I gave him the amended sewer diagram that the lovely Bex had procured for me, and also the “Standard Requisitions” (a list of questions about the property that the vendor has to answer, like “has the property ever been used as a meth lab” etc). Apparently they have already moved out, so I asked if they might consider an early settlement – and it looks like they might!
I then drove to Chatswood to return the new mobile phone I had picked up the day before (the Nokia 6300 doesn’t play nice with the mac, and lord knows when the iPhone will hit our shores). I’ve decied to swap it for the Sony Ericsson Z610i, which will play nicely with Blue Phone Elite (the software I use to avoid typing out long text messages on the tiny keypad, and manage other phone stuff).
No, I don’t need a new mobile phone, and yes, I am getting the pink one. Mark’s work was paying for his phone, so he had it switched over to their account. Now the new company is taking over, they won’t pay for the phone, so he’s had to switch the billing back to us. While doing so, he decided to switch my bill onto a cap plan, which entitles me to a new phone. Having only got a new phone about a year ago, I feel that this is needlessly indulgent, but at my heart I am a gadget freak, and it is beyond my powers to say no.
We signed
With half an hour to go till the open for inspection, we signed the contract. There are a few anomalies, but hopefully nothing we can’t overcome.
We then went to the open, where quite a few people had shown up, and were very disappointed to hear that the house was off the market. In retrospect, we were thrilled that we had taken the risk of paying the deposit – we’re pretty sure that if we hadn’t paid the deposit then we would have been gazumped.
As Lien pointed out, there are no guarantees that the vendor and the agent will behave in an ethical manner, but after having a long chat with Theresa (the vendor), we were much calmer and happier about the whole situation.
The valuation was done early this morning, so we should have an answer back from the credit union by wednesday at the latest. So please keep everything crossed for us.
In the meantime, I think it’s safe to show you the house.
PS. Yesterday, we booked in to Hornsby Hospital. We chose to see the student midwife team, and I’m booked in for a doctors visit next wed, then friday I will have the 18-20 week ultrasound (I’ll be 19 weeks next friday). So by this time next week, we will hopefully know whether Ampersand is a boy or a girl, and where we’ll be living when he/she is born. Exciting times.
PPS. A huge thank you to David for all the advice and hand holding. We definitely felt a lot better about this after speaking to him!
I feel a bit woozy
Yesterday, Mark and I offered someone a couple of hundred thousand dollars (that we don’t have) for a house that we have only seen once.
We’ve been looking for weeks, and have mainly seen “fixer uppers” in our price bracket (which is well below the average Sydney house price) because we need both a large-ish house (for the impending spawn) and a good sized yard (for the Disco Divas of Denistone, AKA the chooks). So the house we saw on saturday afternoon was somewhat of a revelation.
It is one street away from another property we have looked at, but technically in a different suburb that we hadn’t considered before. It has a manicured garden, new cladding, a security alarm system, “sparkling” floorboards (I kid you not, the real estate brochure described them that way), a new-ish kitchen, a huge living area, three big bedrooms, a spa bath, a second bathroom in the rather large laundry, a ducted air conditioning system, a lock up storage shed, and a stained glass panel with kookaburras on the front door.
And a price tag in the ballpark of what we can afford.
Unbelievable.
We wondered why it was so cheap – apparently it’s because the area is zoned as flood prone. Except that a storm water drain was put in a few years ago just behind the property, and the house is on the high side of the drain. Even with the heavy rains we’ve been having lately, the water was still many meters away from the height of the back door. We won’t be able to get flood insurance, but that is a risk I am prepared to take.
We haven’t offered the asking price, but we have offered only $10k less. We saw the house at 1pm Saturday, and by 11am Sunday when I rang the agent, there were already two other offers on the place. Saturday was it’s first showing, so we know that others are as impressed with this house as we are.
So chances are our offer won’t be accepted, but what the hell. We lose nothing by trying, right?
More news
I took Custard to the vet this morning for his post surgery checkup. THe antibiotics seem to be disturbing his tummy a little, so he has a shaved butt to avoid getting his rear wet. Not a very dignified look, and he isn’t happy. Matthew the wonder vet is pretty happy with the results of the surgery, but his other (right) eye has been a bit weepy, so we may have another issue to deal with. I am to continue the injections and keep a close eye on him. If he gets any worse we’ll put him on another antibiotic as well. Poor baby.
Hornsby Hospital rang at about 11.30am to cancel my appointment for 4pm this afternoon. The appointment I booked about six fucking weeks ago. No apologies for the language, I am really pissed off. The next available appointment was for tomorrow morning, which I can’t do as I am helping Adam and Sarah move house (and I’m not about to add to their stress levels by cancelling on them!), so I have rescheduled for the 22nd, tomorrow week. It’s not really a big deal, and I am probably just being a drama queen, but I was really looking forward to starting to get to know the midwives, and forming a connection with the team that is going to be there when I give birth. Humph.
I woke up a bit snotty this morning (blamed it on the cheese I’ve had in the last week), but now I have also developed lung oysters. I think a cold may be coming to stay.
In happy news, I found a tiny weed growing out of my car this morning. No pictures, as it is now raining (yay! just what NSW needs, NOT!), but I will attempt a pic if it clears up a little. (No, this isn’t really happy news, and I will kill it as soon as possible, and yet it did make me smile).
And in even happier news, last week Mum and Dad also offered to help us with a significant chunk of cash. So we’re meeting with the guy from the credit union next Wednesday and will be putting in an application form. We’ve also found a house that we like enough to have a builder look at, so the next few weeks look like being exciting ones!
Epping Knitters Guild
Despite the fact that they meet at the unholy hour of 10am on a MONDAY morning, they are quite a lovely and welcoming bunch. If only I had given up working years ago!
The ATM ate my credit card after I got the pin wrong three times, and I had to queue at Medicare so I had enough money to buy lunch, which made me a few minutes late for my appointment with the social worker at the hospital. Which wouldn’t have been a major disaster if they hadn’t HIDDEN THE DOOR TO THE BLOODY BUILDING.
I was actually in tears when I found the right place, after a full TWENTY minutes of asking polite questions of random hospital staff, who were all rendered clueless by the renovations. Eventually, someone rang another department in the same building to ask about the hidden entrance – which could only be accessed through a the old psych building, and down a covered walkway. In a locked cupboard in a dark basement behind a door with a sign saying “beware of the tiger”. Insert profanity here.
Anyway, apparently I am not in imminent danger of self harm. It is perfectly normal to feel isolated, afraid, miserable and out of control when your body has been taken over by a parasite, you can’t breathe without gagging, getting out of bed has you rushing for the toilet, and your idea of a fabulous meal is a baked potato, hold the flavour. Apparently, there is a normal period of adjustment, and a certain amount of helpless weeping and self pity is completely normal and healthy. But do try to get out a bit more when you can.
So I went straight to mum & dad’s after the hospital, and passed out in my old bed. Had intense, visceral dreams about eating smoked salmon, and woke up gagging. Does this mean my body wants it, or not? A question for another day, when the thought of eating flesh isn’t repulsive again.
So if you made it that far, you deserve a treat. Check out Andrea‘s answer to the 7 thing meme – a cracking read.
Rebellion in Epping!
SX News is has reported that CAAH (Community Action Against Homophobia) and Rebellion are joining forces to form a group on the Northside.
The launch is at the Eastwood Hotel, this monday night (4th June) at 7.30pm. We won’t be there till a bit later, but if you’re in the area, and you’d like to show your support, you’d be very welcome.
In Lara news, I finally made it to a knitting group this afternoon. The Courthouse group has apparently been thriving without me, which is wonderful, but it was even more wonderful to be there and be part of it. Despite feeling green.
Update
Custard had a very long surgery, and it took him a long while to recover his appetite afterwards. He’s now doing really well – eating like a voracious wildebeest, and acting like he isn’t missing half his face. He had his first antibiotic shot yesterday, and I honestly think it was harder for me than it was for him. I have never been good with needles, the fact that I am able to do it at all is testament to my love for this little guy.
Tuesday night wasn’t a good one for me. More explosive spewing, but thankfully it was all over within half an hour, and I didn’t need to go to hospital. I wasn’t able to take the anti nausea medication though, and yesterday was horrible. I was wondering whether the Restavit was actually working, as I still feel nauseous after taking it, but yesterday proved that it does work – I could barely get out of bed yesterday after skipping a dose. Horrible.
I have received a few packages in the post in the last week – and I haven’t even opened two of them! One because the smell of the plastic absolutely kills me (I also have a magazine I can’t read because of the smell!), and the other mainly because I am a crappy secret pal.
I joined the knitters treat exchange as a test to see if I could handle a “light” version of the secret pal idea. I quickly gathered a variety of treats for my pal, and was pretty happy that I had a parcel of stuff she would love. Then I started to see other packages on blogs, and started to worry that my package was a bit lame. So I didn’t send it, thinking that I should add a few more things.
And then I got sick.
And then, I got my package from my spoiler, and felt too guilty to open it until I had at least posted the package to my spoilee.
So, to both my pals, a HUGE sorry. My mission for today is to have a shower, and drag myself off to the post office. I’ll wrap everything properly and write some little notes, AND GET THE DAMN THING POSTED. It may not be the best package ever, but each item was chosen with care and the very best of intentions. And I think I know my new pal well enough to know that she will appreciate the sentiment behind it. And I’m going to have to learn that perfection isn’t possible – being a parent will surely teach me that!
WTF?!
What does this mean?
My take is that the (UK) government is putting the frighteners on pregnant women.
“The Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists says there is no evidence that a couple of units once or twice a week will do any harm to the baby.”
Now, I am hardly advocating that pregnant women should get on the sauce, but it would seem to me that this is an unwarranted level of control over women’s bodies. I dare say that most of our mothers had a shandy or two while pregnant, and worse still, cigarettes!
I haven’t touched a drop since before I learned I was pregnant, but I drank far to much on my wedding anniversary (when I was pregnant but didn’t know it). I am also open to the idea of a white wine spritzer later in my pregnancy (when and if the idea stops making me gag), and I resent that this is being done in such a heavy handed manner. What might be more intelligent, is tackling a problem that is a massive health threat – like smoking.
In Ampersand news, I saw my GP yesterday, and got the results of the blood test from the hospital last week. Elevated liver enzymes (from puking so much), and an elevated white blood cell count. GP suspected an infection, and sent me off to the SAN clinic to speak to an obstetrician.
I’ve been given a new drug called Restavit – it’s an over the counter insomnia medication, which is apparently very effective for nausea of pregnancy (I refuse to call it morning sickness if it won’t confine itself to mornings). I fell asleep before I could take it last night, and have had another rotten day today, but I am hopeful for tomorrow.
He reckons that 14 weeks is the magic number for feeling better – not 12 as popular opinion would have it. I also spoke to the midwife at the clinic, who agreed with the doctor about the 14 week thing. She has also given me a phone number for the social worker at Hornsby Hospital, so that I can call and make an appointment before I book in to the hospital (which is not until the 14th of June).
Thursday night we did a tour of the birthing unit, and were pretty happy with the facility, but for one small detail. They like you to check out 24 hours after giving birth. They will extend it to 48 hours, but no more unless there are exceptional circumstances. I’m no fan of hospitals, and thought I would be keen to get out, but that sounds just a we bit harsh….
