You can see that’s what’s on my ancient mind, yes ?
Not on Lui’s: he has no idea what ghastliness awaits him tomorrow. I do, alas ! – and I hate it all beyond words … He detests so much being put into his carry-case that we always end up having a fight about it (I come off worst every time). Still, once he’s in there it’s not so bad. Besides, I mean to pop him the contents of a capsule in his brekkie; and that might work in an hour or two to make him a bit calmer. Chasing my beautiful moggy around the house is not my idea of fun. :(
Back to the philosophical thingy … One must get one’s act together for this – and I should know, having done it five times already since first arriving in Geelong, at the end of April 2016 ! It is completely loathesome, moving (I must be the worst masochist alive !), so the adoption of a calm and serene attitude is necessary.
I wish I knew how to do that.
So this quote from a blog by someone called ‘Mon Arce’ is both right and wrong: for me there is never a door left half-open – it’s simply goodbye. Am I brave ? – in this case, perhaps a little.
That’s all, she wrote …
I’m packing death.
Have just realized that I don’t know if anyone other than an Aussie understands that phrase … Well, it means that I am shit-scared, basically.
Nothing to fear about moving (next Wednesday) into an absolutely delightful unit – roomy, bright, full of gardening promise, ditto cooking – how could there be ?
No nerves regarding future living in a place where I can walk for 3 or 4 minutes to a cafe (on my premises) that sells exactly the kind of edibles that appeal – cheese & salad rolls, arancini and all that kind of stuff.
No anxiety re being able to go to a gym whenever I want, or join a choir, or do a daily walk (dream on !) of exactly one kilometre …
What causes the sweat on the brow and the sinking feeling in the pit of the stomach is actually simple: this is my last move. I must acknowledge that I really do fall into the “elderly” category, regardless of how I see myself as a person. Forget the jeans and the runners and the clipper job on the hair. I’ve reached the stage where I have to step over a line – and it’s a vital one.
It’s the line between being sufficiently carefree as to be able to look around and think how many people there are who are so much older than I; and reality. The line between offering my seat on a bus to an old person; and not doing that. The line between telling myself I will, one day, find somewhere to live that I can be happy with; and knowing that if I’m not happy where I’m about to move to, then it’s tough shit.
This is it.
I think most people don’t have to face a step like this: by the time they’re in their mid-70s they’re well settled into whatever is their lifestyle. Of course there are many who have to go into care places – but when they’re still healthy and … erhmm … ambulatory ?
It’s the very reason I look on this offer as a gift from the gods that causes fear.
Right now it’s the devil’s own job working with my WordPress profile within Chrome.
I use Chrome because of its various Google apps: you know, Translate and Maps, and stuff like that. In my second-last job (1996 – 2002) one of my colleagues came across the earliest Google and we all started using it. Then the Google Empire slowly started taking over the world and Chrome arrived as one little part of that. And even though my younger sister (who detests them even more than I do) has spent ages setting herself up to avoid using anything the conglomerate owns, I can’t be bothered. I just run Ad-Block and Privacy Badger and I’m OK, I reckon.
I’m totally unable to ‘Like’ anyone’s posts, or their Comments within my own, if I have Chrome open. The business of opening up Firefox and doing it there may seem pathetically easy, but it’s a matter of principle: I SHOULD be able to do everything in Chrome that I can in Firefox, and I’ve only just been able to get the issue before the WordPress Support people by email. Deo gratias.
Trying to ‘Chat’ about an issue of this nature is a nightmare: I’m typing away like mad and the Support person suddenly decides to ask if I’m still there. Drives me bonkers. I mean, I have to sit waiting for æons for them … See, the issue isn’t that of not being able to ‘Like’ things, it’s that my profile is somehow-or-other basically stuffed. And trying to convince a WordPress Support person of that was, in a ‘Chat’, very surreal indeed. In fact, almost Dali-esque …
I think that particular version of Gala is about the most appropriate to my current headspace. (I’m perfectly sure I’m not supposed to use things like that. I find all that rights business hideously confusing. Besides, who cares about one grumpy old person’s blog ?!)
So it’s all now being addressed by WP Support by email, and I hope to get a solution from them.
You may pray … ;)
HOLD THE PHONE !
WordPress Support have solved the problem. It’s not me, but it’s not Chrome either: it’s one of the above-mentioned extensions, Privacy Badger. I’ve disabled it on my site, and now everything is working fine. Whew ! If Chic were around I’d lay odds he would’ve worked that out; but his wife is her usual thick-headed twit about solving problems by eliminating aspects of them one by one. Just as well that the WordPress Support people are nothing like me …
Basically, it renders a total waste of time anything one does to make one’s blog appealing: everyone might as well be running the same theme, within WordPress.com.
Why go to the trouble of removing certain functions from your page when the Reader reinstates them ?
I would like it not to exist.
It makes post-reading a matter of a quick glance-through and perhaps a “Like” – or not. As for Comments ! – sure, you can make one, but that isn’t actively encouraged … meaning, as I know for a fact, that there are some people who give that quick glance at the Reader’s version and decide they won’t bother clicking through; thus avoiding both finishing the post and leaving a comment.
Probably the WordPress people intend that one has to make one’s post openings so bloody rivetting that the Reader’s version will always be clicked through: whose nose ? :\
In my opinion – always readily given ! [grin] – all it succeeds in is a sort of LCD effect for bloggers who haven’t been around long enough to’ve racked up hundreds or thousands of followers.
I shall again, one day – if I live long enough. Meanwhile, I detest the Reader ! Oh … except when I’m looking for more blogs, that is: yes, it’s ace for doing that !
I’m trialling a gingham crochet pattern, using inexpensive wool while on the experimental upslopes.
You can barely see the second colour being carried through, at this distance. But !
Here it’s quite clear – certainly seeing the medium pink inside the plum … Oh, and also the light pink inside the medium ! Bother !
So the question is: does it matter at all ? Would a person given a lapghan made thus say to herself “Oh, but look ! – I can see the colours going through !” ?