So I was just sending an email to a friend detailing to her the virtues of ignoring things. I told her I was ignoring a situation with a friend and she said she was ignoring one with her friend and both are working out beautifully.
Today saw the start of my new role as key teacher at school. It alludes to the fact that my role in the school is pivotal and without me the place would fall apart. Lies. All lies. Basically I'm an underpaid data collection service. I got off to a flying start. I was under the impression there was a meeting today. Wrong. It's next Monday. Luckily for me I only shamed myself in front of my admin, not the whole of district office by showing up a week early. Oh and the organising lady who I emailed to say I'd be there today...
The the principal says to me "Kathryn, got confirmation of data download, have been requested to recheck our results on Corporate Data Warehouse. Can you do that for me?" Me: "Sure, no worries, I'll do it today!" all the while thinking what the? In English? PLEASE!?! So I head over to our HOC and ask him "where do I find the warehouse? The one with data in it?" He speaks fluent Kathryn and understands immediately what it is I require, hooks me up with the website I need and the username and password. In his office, on his computer. The pressure...
So he toodles off to do HOCey things, comes back 5 minutes later and there is me. Still staring at the same screen. Still wondering what sort of warehouse is on a computer. Still wondering how exactly I'm meant to find it. So he looks at me like the moron I am and says very slowly, just in case my last brain cell is dying, "try searching for it" and points to the search box. I then had what I believe Oprah would call a lightbulb moment. So I search, and after clicking lots of links and not getting where I needed to be, I decided to stop taking the long road and clicked on the very first link that I'd been diligently ignoring. Because it seemed to easy. And lo and behold, there was this elusive warehouse. Let me give you the heads up though....IT'S NOT A WAREHOUSE!!! It's a screen full of stuff! Warehouses are sheds with concrete floors, are cold all year round and have little men wearing steel capped boots, helmets that make them look like a lego man, and forklifts whizzing everywhere with lights flashing and sirens blazing.
Now before you think I'm a total lost cause, I knew all along that at the end of my yellow brick road I was not going to find a warehouse, but why do they try and make it sound cool? Why not just call it what it is? "Kathryn can you go check the very confusing website with no clear links, for information that doesn't exists, that no one but you cares about for me please?" That's what Mr Principal should have said.
Sadly for you, I am not at the end of my story. Cause after all this, I'm still too blonde/stupid/young/of feeble mind to work out how to check what it is I need to check.
And now friends, I am coming to the end of my tale. So I decided to do what I have so recently discovered to be a truly successful stress management technique...

I ignored it. I clicked on the little red cross in the top right corner, smiled prettily at both men and walked out. Do either of them know I haven't actually checked it yet? No. Do either of them care? No. Will either of them ask me in a weeks time if I really did check it? No. So I'm ignoring it. I suggest you try it....

ooooh long time no speaky... So we moved. We have a house. It's big. And I moved everything I need to the kitchen table so I dont have to leave the little bubble that is the kitchen and lounge room. Just like before. I have monster big clay play area now and as such I made stuff...

Heather from http://www.humblebeads.com/ makes these cuffs. They're her idea and I in no way shape or form pretend that it's anything other than hers. I did make the bead myself though and that was something I wasn't skilled enough to copy.....So I didn't even bother and just went big and bright. I so don't condone copying, hate copy catters, so I'm trying my bestest to make sure Heather gets the credit she's due.

Then I had an episode with the buffing wheel. It scares me. The grinder on the other side of the buffing wheel spins at the same time...it scares the crappers out of me and I keep waiting for some monster bad thing to happen. Usually in my head it involves something making me loose my balance...usually an earthquake and I stumble and put my hand out and grind my hand off. Or rip a whole lot of skin off. Alternatively, I have visions of me vauging out, cause I do that, and getting my finger caught on the nut that holds the buffing wheel on....

So. Picture this. I'm holding a wittle wittle bead the size of...well....hmmm...ok, we'll say my little finger - cept it's a little shorter and a bit fatter, and nothing like the size of my little finger. Right so, I'm trying to very timidly hold this bead and buff it on the super fast spinning wheel thats the size of....um....ok a small pizza. If you hold the bead on it's edge and hold it in the wrong spot, the wheel bites it and rips it violently from your hand and flings it into regions unknown. If you get your fingies too close it burns them. Overall it's a tense and unplesant experience. However...the beads look so purty when they're buffed that I go through that whole process rather frequently.

And now we come to reason for today's post. The cuff...