Sunday, 31 August 2014

Well this is awkward

I was working through our holiday itinerary the other day - yes we have an itinary 1) catch plane 2) get off in holiday-land - and I realised that the date that we arrived reminded me of something. Hmmmm. Now - what was that. We're away for ten days so there's a few things happening? The election? No - that's a different date and we've made arrangements for that anyway. Our rental car? Well, yes but I'm sure there was something... something else...

Oh, that's right. On the same date that we go on holiday my giveaway on Goodreads ends. The same date that I'm meant to autograph, address, wrap, and post five books out to complete strangers is the day we also have to be at the airport at 4.10am (yes AM that's not a misprint.)

So one of those things is not going to happen, right? Can you guess which one?

Never even crossed my mind to check the end date. I waited until the books arrived because I didn't want to look like a dick if I listed them and then they took the full eight weeks possible to get to me so I was late sending them and made a very bad first impression with the readers who (some at least) I very much hope are going to take the time at some point to tell the rest of the Goodreads community what they thought and I don't want to skew that the wrong way.

On the bright side I'm soon going to be on holiday for two weeks in what I think is the nicest place on earth (after Christchurch of course) - Mission Beach, Tropical North Queensland, Australia.

I'll stress out about it when I get back home. I'm sure I'll be able to deal with it better then.

Saturday, 30 August 2014

Readers' Choice 5 Star Reviews

It's started to freak me out how much it freaks me out to hand over my debut baby to some stranger and then wait to find out what they thought via review. I understand that it's important that reader's be able to review the book with their actual opinion otherwise the review is worthless; but likewise if they don't like it then the review is useless to me.

So I was very please when two of the first of seventeen potential reviews that I've asked, begged, funded and plead for came through with a positive response.

I still had fear tingles while I was reading them through. I'd already seen the rating so I knew there shouldn't be anything bad in there, but I did worry until I'd gotten to the last word and then read it out to my partner to make sure that I hadn't misinterpreted anything because I was still strung out and shaking.

Yeah, this is my life now. I put my pride and joy out into the world and it's turned me into a nervous wreck. I should get back on my SSRIs and let THEM ride the storm but who can be bothered with the three weeks of side effects until they start to work.

Still, why am I complaining when I have two, count them TWO, 5 star reviews back and a nice wee silver star that I can stick (electronically) to my book cover in an effort to attract more views (sales). You can read both of them below if you'd like. That saves me having to type any more tonight!

Reviewed By Anne-Marie Reynolds for Readers’ Favorite

Found, Near Water by Katherine Hayton is a tale of suspense. Christine has recently lost her daughter and runs a Victim Support unit. Having been a psychiatrist for many years, she also now works as a Victim Support officer with the police. One day she is asked to visit Rena, a woman in hospital who was involved in a car accident. Rena seems to be saying that she has a daughter who is missing, but when they talk to her ex-husband, he doesn’t mention the child. Christine has to determine if Rena is telling the truth or not. The ex-husband is not an easy man to talk to; a paedophile is on the loose in the area, having just been released from prison on parole, and a psychic who knows perhaps more than she should. The story is intertwined with 6 other stories – women who have all lost a daughter and with a crime that has been committed across many generations.

Found, Near Water by Katherine Hayton was a great read. Full of surprising twists, a great storyline and some very good characters all mixed up to be a thrilling read. Once I picked it up, I couldn’t put it down until it was over and even then, it wasn’t really over. I was left wanting more than the story offered – and that is not a criticism of Ms Hayton. That is the mark of a great storyteller to make someone want more when they finish a book rather than just being glad they finished it!

Reviewed By Mamta Madhavan for Readers’ Favorite

Found, Near Water by Katherine Hayton is a compelling story that will keep readers glued to it with its intrigue and mystery. Rena Sutherland's daughter, four-year-old Chloe, is missing. No one knows since when because no one knew she had gone missing in the first place. Rena notices it first when she wakes up from her coma. Christine Emmett has enough problems of her own, but as a victim support officer, she tries to help Rena. A lot of other people make the search tougher; Rena's ex-husband, a paedophile and a psychic. And beneath all this ongoing confusion is a crime that adds to the intrigue and mystery of the story. Will Rena be able to find her daughter?

The plot is mysterious and intriguing and will keep readers riveted. The plot takes you through many twists and turns that enhance the plot. Rena lying in the hospital bed is the main character in the story and her character portrayal has been executed well. The victim support officer, Christine, is another character in the story that will remain etched in your memory once you put the book down. I liked the manner in which the characters get introduced in different chapters. Whether it is Tina, Ilene or Kendra, the author has managed to weave their parts into the main plot with great expertise. The crime angle in the story is what will blow the minds of readers with its suspense and intrigue.

And if you're interested you can buy it here and write your own opinion.

Friday, 29 August 2014

Distant relatives

A few years ago I was convinced that I was doing any number of things that were about to lead me into straight into the face of death. Without even knowing it. It was going to be one of those things that seemed fairly innocent - I'd already given up drinking and smoking after all - but something in my genetic makeup was going to surprise me and I was going to find out that if only I'd known beforehand I wouldn't be dying horribly from... whatever it was.

Torn between purchasing the hypochondriacs handbook and never going to see a doctor ever again, I instead invested in a little tube that I spat into and then posted overseas (after declaring that it was perfectly fine to post even though it was classed as a biological hazard.)

A few weeks later data poured into my membership page. At last, at my fingertips, I had the keys to my genetic code and I could fathom the full depths of all diseases to see which ones I was likely to die of. Unless the genetic testing attached to them was separately patented. Like, you know, BRCA1 & 2. Which I kinda wanted to know. And kinda thought I would.

Not to worry though, I still got to give myself a few good scares. The ones you really, really don't want to have are carefully hidden away and you have to verify that you understand the consequences that will result if you open them and find out you have a high risk of dying of it, because you can't unsee that s**t. Ever.

There weren't too many horrible surprises. I have triple normal risk for psoriasis (big tick), double normal risk for Alzheimers (and it was at a higher prevalence than I'd realised so that was a double double-shock) and Bi-polar (I'm not), and I was a carrier for alpha-1 antitrypsin deficiency with increased risk of liver and lung disease.

Which did explain a few things about attacks of dry pleurisy that kept being noted down as idiopathic. And made me glad I'd already given up drinking and smoking because that, oddly, would've been harder if I had to because it was going to kill me. It would've really felt like giving something up, instead of just stopping something I didn't like doing and something that felt like it was killing me. Especially the bits of me I liked.

It was all very interesting, and I keep checking back on the site to see which information has been updated because new discoveries are made all the time in genetics. Some solid. Most tenuous.

Another service offered, which I didn't really need or care about, was an ancestry overview that told me which matriarchal lines I was descended from, where my genetics groups had moved from and were most populous in (Basque region anyone?), and which members of the site had the most similar genetics to mine - indicating a relationship.

This section also, not surprisingly, had a large opt-out question that you had to go through before you found out the information. There have been at least one, and possibly a few more unreported, cases in which someone discovered they were adopted and their real family was suddenly available to be contacted at the click of a button.

Once again, these are things that you can't unsee.

But I didn't have any drama. There's been a constant stream of 3rd to 6th cousins noted in my file since joining, and every few months the tally jumps up a couple of notches. I've exchanged DNA information with a few, but never actually pinpointed a common ancestor.

Until today. I researched a name that a contact provided to me, and discovered that we share a great-great-grandfather, which makes us 4th cousins. It was really quite exciting. I looked up my account to trace back the family tree and see if I could work out which other child her lineage may have sprung from, but our common ancestor having had ten children all with the highly distinctive name of Mitchell, and naming them exotic things like John, Edward, Elizabeth, makes it all a bit hard to know if you've got the right person, or even the right generation.

Well, at least I'll have someone to look after me as I live into my disease-free old age. I'll let her know.

Thursday, 28 August 2014

Office Aches and Pains

Lunch-time talk today didn't take it's usual turn down ebola-update avenue. Instead, we categorised our own list of woes. Myself, I've woken up with a headache for the past two days. I usually get stabbing in my right eye headaches, but this was a new one. Pulsing back of the head headache, and I found out pretty quickly that you don't want to bend forward with this one clanging in the back of your brain.

But that's okay. I have access to Panadol and Nurofen and if it gets any worse I think the opioid caress of Codeine might need to make a stopover.

Truth be told I probably wouldn't have dragged myself into work today, but having been sick only last week I feel somewhat obliged to try to actually do some work in return for my living.

Meanwhile, this headache seems to be catching. Opposite me was the image of death warmed up, with aches and pains so uncomfortable that even a cat-nap during a lunch-break was out of the question.

And sitting right next to me was a pain-filled half-face. Jaw pain - one side only; Sinuses blocked - one side only; Nose running - one side only. Still, could be worse.

Usually people only walk off to meetings looking like they're about to land on the beaches of Gallipoli when there's some genuine problem, but today there were grim faces everywhere when people just went for a coffee and a catch-up.

Even the wholesome win when the side I was on managed to produce evidence (not by my hand I'm far too lazy) direct from the manufacturer to prove that on Chocolate Thins the chocolate is ON THE BOTTOM was not enough to cheer people up. Especially if you were on the losing side.

Thanks be to the Gods of Labour that we only have a 40 hour working week (or 37.5 hours to be exact because some of us are more equal than others) so that tomorrow is the last day I have to drag my sorry carcass into the office. I wonder who else will make it.

Wednesday, 27 August 2014

Thanks for improving my life Orcon

I received an unsolicited message from Orcon yesterday. They cheerfully announced that due to demand (not from me) they had auto-enabled Global Mode so that I could surf the web uninhibited by the fact that I am a foreign person and live in an inferior country (or so Cards for Humanity would have me believe.)

No more would I need to use Borat-proxy (my all-time favourite) to surf into places I probably shouldn't go while pretending to the gullible computers on the other end that I was Big American Person.

No more tunnel-bear (my second favourite and far more useful) to dig deep into the core of the computer network and pretend that I'm from the UK or US or Canada or half a dozen others (including My Closest Tunnel which turns out to be Japan - well done Japan).

No more.

Now I'm a real citizen of the web and I can go anywhere and do anything and sign up and pay for everything I want (as long as I'm morally okay about fibbing about my home address and making up a phone number.)

So I try to create an account on Netflix - and discover that this would be easier if I could actually get onto their site. Never mind. Can't be bothered to be available when I want you - there are other options out there you know. Hello! Or rather, hello 'Problem loading page'.com. Well, maybe crackle? Maybe not. Nope.


Nice one Orcon. You scored another slum-dunk.

Ahhhhh Borat. So good to see you again.

Tuesday, 26 August 2014

Cramp and whimpers

I've been quite enjoying the rivalry in the latest series of The Amazing Race Australia, not least of all because it's actually the Amazing Race Australia vs New Zealand, and to date we had been beating their asses.

There was the first challenge when we beat the Aussies in the tug-of-war despite them having Tyson - the largest guy in the world - on their team. New Zealanders know how to plant their feet and tug.

Then the end of the first episode saw the elimination of the first Aussie team. Oh, poor things. They can't help it that their country's stupid.

This was followed in the second episode by another Aussie elimination. As is now the custom.

There was a slight hitch in the next episode as they eliminated a NZ couple for the first time. It hurt too as they were the ones I was really enjoying because they displayed my same level of physical fitness. Very little, and only for short periods of time.

On the other hand it made it acceptable for them to go. They would never have won. Which is why I'd never enter one of these competitions. Failure is hard. Acceptance is also hard, but easier than failure.

But then tonight... I almost couldn't watch.

It seemed certain that things would go back to their usual stance. The beautiful and clever Aussie ICU nurses went to the wrong university campus. The one that was really, really far away instead of the one that was right by the airport. There was no way they'd be able to catch back up with that sort of start. Meanwhile back at the roadblock a guy out of one of the NZ teams decided it was a great idea to not drink any water. In Namibia. In the heat of the day. He really didn't understand why he started to feel quite bad and faint and crampy until he actually collapsed.

The NZ team member who was now his nemesis even stopped to help him up and get him going. But we never saw him drink any water. And he kept getting cramps. And complaining with whiny repetition about how much his cramps hurt, and how he couldn't see.

In the end the NZ team completed their challenge quicker, but couldn't get to the mat before the Aussies because he was lying down on the track with cramp and whimpers.

Now I'm only watching under suffering. I'm also appreciating the Amazing Race Canada instead. It's sometimes nice not to have skin in the game.

Monday, 25 August 2014

As if it wasn't hard enough...

trying to navigate the multitude of sites of Playstation Network and Playstation Plus and Sony Entertainment Network and whatever else they've managed to erect as a barrier to me finding out what the current free line-up is on my Instant Game Collection (because everything is interesting when you're meant to be working,) but now a DOS attack on the site and a bomb scare for a Sony executive? Come on people.

Sure, they handed all my private information out with their insecure systems so I had to change all of my passwords and still can't quite get the hang of them so I hit on the "forgot password" link as often as I type one in - but so did Hell's Pizza and no one's toppling their website. That may have something to do with Satan's protection of course, but lets not go there.

And yes, they don't care about the repeated error messages I get from their systems saying that they can't connect to my wireless network and in lieu of fixing AN OBVIOUS PROBLEM AT THEIR END keep saying I need to update the router I bought brand-new a couple of weeks ago and which every other piece of electronica in my household has no problem connecting to no matter how old or how few bars display on their decrepit equipment screens.

So I understand you're annoyed, but this is what social media is for. Go out trolling for an evening and stop phoning in bomb threats.

And if anyone has worked out an easy way to navigate the tangled and slow network of awkward websites that have built up in "support" of my beautiful PS4 please let me know.

Sunday, 24 August 2014

Casual lapses in memory

I was sitting on the couch. Involved in watching the welcome return of Doctor Who, and the chance to see Peter Capaldi in a role that doesn't involve non-stop swearing (though I imagine that would also be quite awesome and something that Stephen Moffat should definitely consider - an after-the-watershed version of Doctor Who in consultation with Armando Ionnucci would be a thing of wonder and no I don't mind cast-typing if it gets me what I want.)

I knew it was Sunday. Minutes earlier I'd made my office lunch for Monday, and then realised I didn't need it because we have an off-site lunch tomorrow and therefore I'd been super-organised and prepared an office lunch for Tuesday, something that I usually only manage on a Tuesday morning.

And then a dreadful thing happened. I thought for a couple of minutes of how nice it would be to sleep in tomorrow because I'm still feeling quite knackered, and the joy of not having to get up in time for early-morning Saturday shopping would be great.

Except I do have to get up tomorrow because it's Monday.

What happened? Why did my usual time-keeping and day-keeping ability get out of synch so that I thought that tomorrow was going to be a wonderful day instead of the hell it will be? Not that I hate my job, I love it quite a lot in fact, but having to get up early, having to shower and dress according to a timetable, having to get to the office and realise that no matter what I do I'm probably going to be there for more waking hours than I'll be at home with my loved one is not something to put joy into my heart.

The feeling when I work up to the normal time-stream was akin to stepping onto a level pavement and finding out that you've actually started down a staircase (though without the teeth-snapping and bubble of laughter to show you've made an ass of yourself - which occurs whether there are people around or not, why is that? - and the pain in the back of your heel.)

It led me to consider which is the worse situation; thinking it's Saturday and realising it's Sunday and your weekend is over; or thinking it's Friday and realising it's Thursday and your weekend is postponed by a FULL day?

Does anyone ever get the conviction that it's a day it isn't and the real day is MORE than a day out?

Many things to ponder. Comments welcome below.

Saturday, 23 August 2014 - Kindle Countdown Deal Now On

I have been mucho distracted today while trying to work out when my Kindle Countdown Deal on would actually be starting. My previous attempt to align advertising and suchlike on the Kindle Countdown Deal on was a miserable failure as I only realised when I updated my ads that they then get resubmitted for approval - a process that mysteriously takes the full 48 hours on a weekend, whereas it usually pops back as approved within six hours on a weekday. I mean, what are they doing?

So this time I had my ads pre-approved, and paused ready-to-go. I set up a reminder to check that the deal had in actuality started when it was meant to start (so that I didn't start advertising something that then pinged back to me as not happening) and it was there that the trouble and the tedium set in.

Now I know that these are websites, and as such they're not strictly on the same time zone as the country they're meant to represent, but really? Nine-thirty in the morning is when you think the day starts, Amazon? What are you? A teenager?

Don't get me started on teenagers again.

So I spent the better part of the day unable to write, or play computer games, or pay attention to the three TV series that I've been enjoying immensely for six, eight and ten weeks respectively which all came to a halt today - why TV God? Why? - because I felt compelled to keep checking to see whether or not Amazon had woken up in the UK.

I think that in order to stop authors going stir-crazy, and losing full days which could be better spent writing (not that I would spend them that way, but still) there should be an immediate consensus that everywhere on the Internet is now set to the same time-zone - Internetland time or ILT - and just to keep things nice and crisp and fresh that could just happen to align with New Zealand time. I mean, we're pretty much first in the world anyway - sorry Samoa but if you insist on changing time-zones willy-nilly you are going to be overlooked - and so it all just makes sense.

Then all I need is a watch, and I come equipped with one of those already.

Start a petition now ('cause I'm too lazy) and get it done Internet peeps.

Oh, and if you happen to live in the UK you may be interested to know there's a Kindle Countdown Deal on an excellent debut novel by a wonderful writer that I can personally recommend. Only 99p at the moment, but be warned - the deal's counting down and it's going to run out soon so be in quick to make sure it doesn't slip away.

Click here for Kindle Countdown Deal

Friday, 22 August 2014

... it's begun

Today we had computer problems at work. Saying it like that makes it seem less annoying than it was. It makes it seem inconsequential, when instead it was so irritating that it felt at times as though my eyes were about to pop out of my head with the suppressed rage and frustration.

I spent most of the day writing an accounts manual. About an hour of work done altogther (which means I'll have the joy of its company again on Monday) with the rest of the time spent attempting to get screenshots from a system that would crash, start-up, crash, start-up, crash, start-up and then grudgingly allow me to take a snip of the screen, and referring to documents that were hosted on drives that no longer existed, existed, no longer existed, opened, disappeared, opened but greyed out with the whirly circle of never-ending doom and a helpful message saying 'Not responding' - no kidding, really? - and then would allow me to search through the document for the paragraph I needed only to realise that I'd opened the wrong one and had to start again.

A few years ago I was having trouble with Excel - in a similar vein to today's constant aggravation - and joked to a colleague that this was the start of Terminator: rise of the machines.

Doesn't seem like a laughing matter anymore, does it?

Thursday, 21 August 2014

Teenage girls are not right

I'm trying to get my protagonist places that she needs to be in the first draft of my current novel. That sounds easy enough, right. I know where she needs to go. I have a pretty good idea of what's going to happen once she gets there. But will she go there. Will she hell.

This chick is fourteen years old. And do you know how she's acting? Like she's fourteen years old. I want her to go somewhere and I want her to do something, she won't do it. Just strops off on some tangent or other and mucks up all my plot-lines. Why? Why? Why? If I'm honest I'd quite like to chuck her in and start off again with a nice older woman. Maybe someone aged around - oh, I don't know - forty-one. A decent age for a woman to be. A decent woman doing decent things in a decent manner. Someone I can understand and work together with.

The whole book would fall apart of course, but at least I'd make a nice friend with a decent protagonist.

Promise to self: no more teenagers. Ever. Even as children of main characters. You are out. Banned. You had one chance and you blew it.

No. Don't look at me like that. Don't give me your sad eyes, and your hang-dog look, and your grim stories about your short-lived life. Don't tell me that I have to let people know what happened to you. That there's no one else to tell your story through. That I'm your one chance. No. I said no.

Fine. Whatever. Go ahead. But this is the last time, you hear me? Pretty sure this is the last time.

Wednesday, 20 August 2014

The joys of not feeling sick

My anti-emetics kicked in yesterday afternoon, and today I spent a glorious day not retching or feeling like the world was spinning out of control. I don't understand why I don't appreciate from day-to-day how wonderful it is just to feel well. Except, I do and I suppose that you do too. You only know what happiness is when it's forcibly ripped from your hands as you scream in protest. Until that moment it's just you bumbling around complaining about things that don't really matter because it's quite a good feeling to have something to complain about and it's only by having first-world problems that we can compare them to third-world problems and let them win. Good on them. It's great the majority world can win at something. Having really, really awful problems. That, and ebola.

I'm still harbour hope that the current ebola outbreak is going to spin into a full-scale apocalyptic nightmare. Today twelve hundred, tomorrow seven billion. Hmmmmm. That sounds like the plot of an excellent novel. I could call it something like, oh I don't know, Survivors. Or maybe, The Last of Us. I'll think on that a little tonight instead of writing the plot points that I should be writing. That'll be a nice change.

Monday, 18 August 2014

Words that are scary when Doctors say them

Like... just a moment I'd like to get a second opinion

Like... I'm not sure what to do now

Like... has anyone ever told you you have a hole in your eardrum?

Today I went to see my fine doctor because my ear is still blocked up, I have vertigo that is getting worse by the day, and the nasal spray I was recommended to use was doing nothing except cause a horrendous-tasting drip down the back of my throat.

I was expecting that she would pick up her ear-peery thingy and look into my eardrum and tell me there was fluid in my middle ear (as the hearing clinic had done). Instead she said the above things then started calling out to her colleagues to see if any of them were free to take a look as well.

For a good thirty seconds I was sure that someone was about to mention the words ear-cancer, and my life would change forever.

I don't know if there is such a thing as ear-cancer but if it exists I don't have it. Instead I have a retraction pocket in my ear-drum that has, for some still unknown reason, started to cause trouble despite being a chronic condition rather than an acute one. A referral to an ENT and a vertigo-combatting prescription later, and I'm now on my third diagnosis. And the first one in which I have any sort of confidence.

So yes. I should have gone to my doctor's office to start off with, thus saving myself six days, an appointment fee, and the $12 nasal spray that is of absolutely no use to me (nor anybody else now I've used it twice - shudder).

And also another lesson that when someone in a clinic who isn't a doctor says 'you don't need to see a doctor' ignore them with all your strength because a little knowledge is a harmful thing. Even when you have a lot of very detailed and very specific little knowledge. If you see what I mean. I'd usually say 'you hear me' instead of 'if you see what I mean' but my language has moved to reflect my current circumstances. Wonderful thing language.

Except in the mouths of doctors.


Well, I no longer have impacted ear-wax in my right ear. Yah. That's because I didn't have it to start with. Boo. Having put olive oil into my ear for the last four nights - yuck - I discovered today that instead of a timely reward of hearing, balance and remission of nausea, I instead have earned fluid in my middle ear, vertigo and nasal spray. That should fix it right up. Nasal spray. Not that I'm congested in any way, except for my middle ear, and not that nasal spray seems to do a lot except get my heart rate up. I know it's going to fix it up though, because no one at the hearing clinic knew anything else to try. And what's the deal with not having any OTC anti-emetics in New Zealand? What do they think I'm going to do? Go off on a nausea-inducing spree? Thanks people. Now I can either grin and bear it, try to pretend that ginger has far more curative powers than it does, or pay my lovely doctor another expensive visit which may or may not result in a prescription. The world would work so much better if I ran it. (go on - let me)

Saturday, 16 August 2014

Tiny body-parts cause large miseries

I am trying very hard at the moment not to claw my ear out. The stupid thing is still blocked up, the olive oil progressively worsening this state of affairs, and since it's still another 24 hours until I can have it suctioned and hear blessed sounds out of it again I am a bit tense.

I keep thinking back to the scene on Girls where the earbud is pushed just a little bit too far. Although my motivation wouldn't be the same I SO want to do that. Just shove it in there and pop the damn drum. That would bring me some relief!

My rational mind is saying that instead, it would bring further horror and a needless amount of pain. Possible loss of hearing and it would for sure make my current discomfort look like a holiday in the sun, but I still want to do it. I've started to dream of it just before I fall asleep at night, or when I'm lazing on the couch playing farm heroes.

Twenty-four hours and then it should all be over and I can go back to never thinking about my ears at all. And then I can get back to thinking on all my other little miseries that I've been neglecting.

The last of us

Video games are a great way to avoid doing the things in life you should really be doing. The last of us remastered for PS4 is a way to do that with beautiful scenery, harrowing murders, nightmare inducing clicking sounds, and an emotionally rich storyline.

I spent most of the day fighting my way through a hotel, gunning down and letting my little companion gun down hoodlums in a small shopping centre, getting around the back of an armoured truck-tank hybrid, and then I met a friend.

I haven't had one since Tess made the painful decision to go down in a hail of bullets rather than turn - and no, Bill doesn't count as a friend when he's so overly fond of tripwires - and there was even a little companion for my little companion which is also nice to see.

However, I have a feeling this will end in tears.

Actually, I'm sure this will end in tears because I played through this game over a year ago when it came out for PS3. Although I'd forgotten all about them until I started to beat the hell out of the father and then Elle drew my attention to the son. He was pointing a gun at me.

Nice to make friends.

I was forced to stop playing when a warning message appeared on-screen telling me that my controller was out of juice. It reminded me that there'd been a message a half-hour earlier saying it was probably a fine idea to plug it in and re-charge it.

I wish the same thing happened when internet browsing, which is where I immediately turned when the PS4 was no longer an option. Five hours in and I'm still happily looking up rubbish and following links to more rubbish. Or, learning as I generously call it.

Anything other than what I should be doing. Will-power much?

Thursday, 14 August 2014

Giveaway - now on Goodreads

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Found, near water by Katherine Hayton

Found, near water

by Katherine Hayton

Giveaway ends September 14, 2014.

See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

Enter to win

Ears and olive oil

So I finally got sick of not being able to hear properly out of my right ear and made an appointment to have it examined and suctioned. The good nurse on duty helpfully said that she did have appointments today - thank goodness it's driving me crazy - but that she wouldn't be able to book me one because I needed to drop olive oil into my ear at night for at least three nights before they could do anything.


So another weekend of blockages to look forward to. I can at least be grateful that the TV is on my left-hand side so I can hear it very well.

The olive oil was a bit of a revelation. A few tiny wee drops directly down the good old ear-hole. What harm could this possibly do?

Well - it's made it very clear that the blockage driving me crazy since Saturday is hardly interfering with my hearing at all. In fact, it's almost nothing compared to... compared to... well - compared to having an ear canal SWIMMING IN OLIVE OIL for instance. Ugh. Memories of glue ear as a kid abound.

Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday. Odd to be looking forward to a Monday.

Wednesday, 13 August 2014

The joys of cheese

I arrived home this evening to find over three kilos of cheese waiting on my couch. I wish all arrivals home could be as wonderful as this. Even though I had ordered and paid for it, I rather appreciated the uncertainty of when it would arrive, thankfully not elongated into annoyance that it hadn't.

Now, I could always use the time I'll save in meal preparation (which is now cutting off a wedge and adding a celery stick for fibre) to write another couple of hundred words, but I feel this is probably the wrong thing to do. Instead, I think I'll use them to savour the taste, the texture, and the scent of these wonderful cheeses.


I think that's the right thing to do.

Tuesday, 12 August 2014

Goodbye Google Glass

... hello money in my bank account.

With a long sigh and a tug at my heart, my latest trip into the future has just been sold and picked up (by someone at least twenty five years younger than me - way to make me feel old!).

Ah Google Glass, what fond memories I have of you adorning my face as I walked around the office pretending to be unable to see people because they were "living in the past". Gone, leaving me only with the memory of saying "OK Glass."

And then a few seconds later and a few decibels louder "OK GLASS."

How well I remember the day that I asked you for a recipe for lemon meringue pie. How well I remember working out after eighteen attempts that you were racist and only understood North American accents. I laughed it off and used your big brother, but it still hurts a little bit Glass.

Still, all things must pass. It's time to stop being a Glasshole, and start paying my bills again.

You were okay Glass.  

Monday, 11 August 2014

Supermoon over Christchurch

Tonight there's a beautiful yellow Supermoon hanging over Christchurch (and probably other places as well). I'd love to post a photo but unfortunately my camera doesn't see exactly what I do - not really into the optical illusion that my mind is currently grooving on. Keeps taking a picture of a tiny flat white satellite. Not. Even. Trying.

Apparently it's going to be twenty years or so until the moon is orbiting this close to the planet again - my partner keeps gleefully referring to this as my "last chance to see it in my lifetime" opportunity. Considering he's nine years older I intend to have the last laugh on that one.

So in summary, instead of writing today I've been staring out the window at the moon. Because, science.

Sunday, 10 August 2014

First post. Better than last post. Or first past the post.

Hey world. Today, rather than writing, I have done the following:
 - Played "The Last of Us" PS4 Remastered Edition
 - Eaten
 - Cooked up some Corned Beef and Custard (like I'm living in the 1900s right?)
 - Put together my lunch for tomorrow
 - Finished reading 'Sharp Objects' (does that count as research?)
 - Eaten some more
 - Invented an awesome dessert consisting of heavy cream, peanut butter, dutch cocoa and Splenda
 - Eaten dessert
 - Watched a "documentary" on TWA800 which may as well have been labelled "My Conspiracy Theory"
 - Blankly stared at the corner of the room while trying to decide what to watch next
 - Got some free advertising for a Trade Me listing which I still haven't managed to sell
 - Unsubscribed from every bulk email listing I've managed to add myself onto (so I have more time for writing)

Come back tomorrow. Those remaining 45,000 words ain't gonna write themselves you know. (Pity, because at this rate neither am I)