![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
A Beggar Wished (A Rainbow to Heaven)
May. 7th, 2017 08:52 pmWeekly knitting update: None. I've been writing an essay this week.
Said essay, oh. My subject this term is Strategic Project Management, and of all the subjects I've done for this MBA, this is the one that is hitting home. The set up of the new company last year was really a succession of different projects, and everything I read I find something else we did wrong. But things were so chaotic last year I don't think we could have done any better. Oh well. Water under the bridge now.
Other than that, it's been a busy week. We had the heaters cleaned for winter. (I said busy, not exciting.) Also, there is action on the tree front, as the fourth tree-trimmer my mother called came round to do a quote. He (a) called back when he got her message and (b) came round for the quote when he said he would, so it seems hopeful that he will be back as promised in two weeks to actually trim the trees. While I was meeting with the tree man, my mother was off signing documents to do with John's will. I haven't mentioned the will much, but eighteen months after he died, the will is still not finalised. Not from any controversy; just the solicitors dragging their feet.
On Tuesday my mother said, "Do you remember if I was wearing my good reading glasses when you left this morning?" Actually, I had noticed her glasses. She had them folded into the neck of her cardigan, which was unusual. So unusual she lost them. Anyway, knowing that she'd had her glasses when I left at ten, she retraced her steps after that. No glasses. I retraced her steps. No glasses. Nowhere. No glasses to be found. On Thursday, I dug over the vegetable patch and covered it with sugar cane straw. On Friday morning, my mother went and picked out some new reading glasses. On Friday afternoon, I found the old glasses on top of the vegetable patch. Dry, while the ground was wet. So that's very strange. Maybe a bird picked them up and they fell out of the tree?
One of my old work colleagues, Merryn, emailed me about a personal thing she's doing. I had to think about the response, so I left it while I went out to do the shopping, where, wouldn't you know it, I saw Merryn walking down the street towards where I know she parks her car. I swerved into the nearest park, jumped out of my car, and (not stopping to put money in the meter, tsk), ran half a block. I knocked on her window just as she started the ignition and she shrieked, so we spent half a minute laughing at each other: me at her for how she jumped, and her at me because I had to lean against the car, puffing. I am no sprinter.
Halfway through typing this, Alistair brought in a live mouse, let it go, then went out again. Thanks, cat. His first ever mouse though.
Said essay, oh. My subject this term is Strategic Project Management, and of all the subjects I've done for this MBA, this is the one that is hitting home. The set up of the new company last year was really a succession of different projects, and everything I read I find something else we did wrong. But things were so chaotic last year I don't think we could have done any better. Oh well. Water under the bridge now.
Other than that, it's been a busy week. We had the heaters cleaned for winter. (I said busy, not exciting.) Also, there is action on the tree front, as the fourth tree-trimmer my mother called came round to do a quote. He (a) called back when he got her message and (b) came round for the quote when he said he would, so it seems hopeful that he will be back as promised in two weeks to actually trim the trees. While I was meeting with the tree man, my mother was off signing documents to do with John's will. I haven't mentioned the will much, but eighteen months after he died, the will is still not finalised. Not from any controversy; just the solicitors dragging their feet.
On Tuesday my mother said, "Do you remember if I was wearing my good reading glasses when you left this morning?" Actually, I had noticed her glasses. She had them folded into the neck of her cardigan, which was unusual. So unusual she lost them. Anyway, knowing that she'd had her glasses when I left at ten, she retraced her steps after that. No glasses. I retraced her steps. No glasses. Nowhere. No glasses to be found. On Thursday, I dug over the vegetable patch and covered it with sugar cane straw. On Friday morning, my mother went and picked out some new reading glasses. On Friday afternoon, I found the old glasses on top of the vegetable patch. Dry, while the ground was wet. So that's very strange. Maybe a bird picked them up and they fell out of the tree?
One of my old work colleagues, Merryn, emailed me about a personal thing she's doing. I had to think about the response, so I left it while I went out to do the shopping, where, wouldn't you know it, I saw Merryn walking down the street towards where I know she parks her car. I swerved into the nearest park, jumped out of my car, and (not stopping to put money in the meter, tsk), ran half a block. I knocked on her window just as she started the ignition and she shrieked, so we spent half a minute laughing at each other: me at her for how she jumped, and her at me because I had to lean against the car, puffing. I am no sprinter.
Halfway through typing this, Alistair brought in a live mouse, let it go, then went out again. Thanks, cat. His first ever mouse though.