Ooof squared.
Well, that was a week.
Mum's birthday last weekend, and by tradition not only do I visit, I do the cooking. Which is easier if she hasn't just had an anti-allergy injection (periodic treatment she does to reduce her progressive arthritis. I'm agnostic about its efficacy, but have to live with it anyway). Key result: must avoid eating anything which she is even slightly sensitive to for a fortnight. Mum is sensitive to (among other things): beef, wheat, chocolate, cow's milk, corn, sugar, alcohol, tomatoes, citrus fruit, pork, chilli, seafood... We have a modus operandi, which means faintly exotic meats with a lot of root veg. But it makes festive food a touch tricky; and cake is totally impossible. What is a birthday without cake?
Work has been trying to drive me to a frazzle too. I have a rather bitty job, essentially being a jack of all trades to deliver extra capacity at pinch points. It's usually interesting, as I need to be on top of everything while not always being the one to do it all. But this week it all came at once, and I have (as part of a team, sometimes):
- delivered a new official policy to the printers, with full admin-type clearances from four seperate ministries (and the juggling that goes on with that you would not believe)
- had the final meeting of the independent panel which supports a grant scheme I run; accordingly let all our applicants know the outcome of their applications. Mixed stuff: half now adore me; half see me as having crushed their dreams. Produced all the paperwork and contracts etc accordingly. Done the feedback to the unsuccessful (woe)
- finalised the content for our e-newsletter, including emergency extra photos from external people
- done an email interview for the BBC (huge stress, even if our press office runs interference)
- agreed to review all my dept's web content in the next fortnight (before my new boss arrives; no idea what her thoughts will be)
- run a conference (the practical stuff running around with flipcharts and sandwiches, not the actual speaking. Hard on the feet, numbing on the brain)
- participated in a big dept bust-up about what some of our more specialist staff are contributing to the wider team. Or more to the point, what they're not contributing
- set myself up for a speaking engagement first thing Monday
- and got a bottle of sloe gin from the big boss for all this. He's a treasure, sometimes.
ETA: oh yeah, and a leaving do last night. Not unconnected with tiredness mentioned below...
But I'm very sleepy now. I *have* to buy the bulk of my Christmas presents this weekend as I can't face December weekend crowds, plus I need a couple of birthday presents before that and I have 30% off at East which will solve a lot of that, at big cost to my bank balance. Next work week, the policy goes through its public formalities (many, many emails), and I'm out of the office for two full days which always leads to a buildup in the inbox anyway. Urk.
Zzzz. I had slight chilli residue on one finger after making dinner and have intelligently rubbed it into my eye. Ow.
I want to write the legless-Buffy-fic (can't think of it any other way), with lashings of angst, and a Faith POV for a change. I want to be inspired for Yuletide, instead of vaguely contemplating a competent 1000-word duty turn.
I think I'm going to bed instead.
Mum's birthday last weekend, and by tradition not only do I visit, I do the cooking. Which is easier if she hasn't just had an anti-allergy injection (periodic treatment she does to reduce her progressive arthritis. I'm agnostic about its efficacy, but have to live with it anyway). Key result: must avoid eating anything which she is even slightly sensitive to for a fortnight. Mum is sensitive to (among other things): beef, wheat, chocolate, cow's milk, corn, sugar, alcohol, tomatoes, citrus fruit, pork, chilli, seafood... We have a modus operandi, which means faintly exotic meats with a lot of root veg. But it makes festive food a touch tricky; and cake is totally impossible. What is a birthday without cake?
Work has been trying to drive me to a frazzle too. I have a rather bitty job, essentially being a jack of all trades to deliver extra capacity at pinch points. It's usually interesting, as I need to be on top of everything while not always being the one to do it all. But this week it all came at once, and I have (as part of a team, sometimes):
- delivered a new official policy to the printers, with full admin-type clearances from four seperate ministries (and the juggling that goes on with that you would not believe)
- had the final meeting of the independent panel which supports a grant scheme I run; accordingly let all our applicants know the outcome of their applications. Mixed stuff: half now adore me; half see me as having crushed their dreams. Produced all the paperwork and contracts etc accordingly. Done the feedback to the unsuccessful (woe)
- finalised the content for our e-newsletter, including emergency extra photos from external people
- done an email interview for the BBC (huge stress, even if our press office runs interference)
- agreed to review all my dept's web content in the next fortnight (before my new boss arrives; no idea what her thoughts will be)
- run a conference (the practical stuff running around with flipcharts and sandwiches, not the actual speaking. Hard on the feet, numbing on the brain)
- participated in a big dept bust-up about what some of our more specialist staff are contributing to the wider team. Or more to the point, what they're not contributing
- set myself up for a speaking engagement first thing Monday
- and got a bottle of sloe gin from the big boss for all this. He's a treasure, sometimes.
ETA: oh yeah, and a leaving do last night. Not unconnected with tiredness mentioned below...
But I'm very sleepy now. I *have* to buy the bulk of my Christmas presents this weekend as I can't face December weekend crowds, plus I need a couple of birthday presents before that and I have 30% off at East which will solve a lot of that, at big cost to my bank balance. Next work week, the policy goes through its public formalities (many, many emails), and I'm out of the office for two full days which always leads to a buildup in the inbox anyway. Urk.
Zzzz. I had slight chilli residue on one finger after making dinner and have intelligently rubbed it into my eye. Ow.
I want to write the legless-Buffy-fic (can't think of it any other way), with lashings of angst, and a Faith POV for a change. I want to be inspired for Yuletide, instead of vaguely contemplating a competent 1000-word duty turn.
I think I'm going to bed instead.