It’s amazing sometimes how something long kept secret comes out, even if it is by one’s own hand. The other night I was around at Mum and Dad’s having dinner and over a quiet glass of red or two, Dad and I got around to discussing cars. There’s a not so secret project brewing for me to acquire an early model 911 and it was part in due to discussion of this that the top of Dad’s Triumph Spitfire came up.
Dad referenced the fact that I’d told him about the time that I’d taken the car for a spin and only very much later had ever told him about it. I think it had something to do with the fact that I said if I ever actually owned the Porsche, the keys would travel with me everywhere to prevent my boys from doing the same thing. It was only part way through that conversation that it became apparent that the time that he was referencing was a different time to the one that I was. Oops. The direct result of that of course was that I had to tell him all about ‘the other time’ that I’d taken the Spitfire (and admittedly there really are only two occasions that I recall doing so).
The time he referenced was an uneventful affair when I took Caroline for a spin up to Belair National Park only briefly fearing that perhaps the hills were a bit much for the 1960’s ailing little car.
The ‘other time’ that I had to reveal on this occasion was the day that Ron and I decided to take the car down to the beach. Ron wasn’t so keen, the car only being a 2 seater and the fact that Ally was with us for the ride, but I assured him we’d squeeze him in behind the seats and we’d be all set. Ron insisted that he’d only do so if he could do a ‘Ferris’. Thus, we took off for the beach, Ally and I in the front, Ron in the back. As we cruised down Oaklands road, he sat up on the back of the car all Ferris like.
All was good until we went around the corner onto Diagonal road. As I came out of the corner, I eased off on the clutch and dressed the accelerator only to have the car completely die.
I rolled to the curb and started having a bit of an ‘oh shit’ moment. Let’s face it, I knew less about cars then than I do now and there’s still no way in hell I could ever do much to get it going if the same thing happened today. I decided to do one of the more technical things that I could manage and popped the hatch on the fuel lid. ON the spitfire, fuel is poured in just behind the seating compartment, at the top and in the middle of the car. I peered down and all I could see was bare metal. Not a hint of fluid of any kind. Fortunately we’d stopped directly across the road from a petrol station and so I ran across and grabbed a small tin’s worth of gas.
With that in the tank, I held my breath as I turned the key and uttered a small prayer of thanks when the car roared to life. With the clouds closing in and the weather not perhaps looking quiet as beach worthy as when we’d set out, I took the whole thing as a sign and drove us straight home again, putting the car back in the garage where it belonged and never saying anything of it again. Well, not until a couple of wines and 20 odd years later at least!
One of these days, I’m now going to have to get a copy of Ferris Bueller’s Day off and watch it with Dad. At least we didn’t have an elevated, glass walled garage!
Dec 20, 2011
Nov 28, 2011
13 and 11
Somewhere back in time I started to write posts for each of the kid’s birthdays. This year I’ve been somewhat slack and for some time haven’t written anything at all. It’s one of those odd things where sometimes things happen and scream at you to be written about and other times, life quite simply takes over and you’re too busy enjoying it to stop and write about it.
So what was once almost a weekly endeavour on my part has slipped to be something less than that. I don’t want to stop, it’s probably more about not writing just for the sake of filling space, but continuing to do so when there’s something I want to write about.
The other influencing factor is a widening audience. When I started this thing up in its original form back in about 2001 or so I had no audience in mind. It was somewhat random, full of whatever happened to appeal to me at the time and it was probably only ready by about 3 people. Hell, I don’t even know how many people still read when I post now. The fact is though, that with the advent of facebook there’s a new avenue for keeping in touch with people. It has supplanted a small piece of what this started out as. Casual observation in short form fits very well in the facebook space even though I find myself doing less of that as well. The fact that I now advise of updates via that medium as well as through the list of ‘subscribers’ that I collated before we left for Canada means that all sorts of people have access to what I write – kids, friends of kids, extended family, work colleagues … the list goes on. Being aware of that audience and quite possibly a more mature approach to what I write certainly has limited me some times when I’ve felt like bashing out an expletive laden rant about something that has riled me.
Anyway, none of that was actually the point of why I put fingers to keys. What I realised was that both Sam and Thomas had birthdays back in October and some sad neglecting parent didn’t even mark the occasion. Well not here at least.
So Sam has turned 13, entering the teenage years whilst Tom turned 11 and begins to navigate those in between times, not yet a teenager, but working through double figures.
Sam continues to be himself, pursuing interests that he chooses and not really being influenced by others as to what he should or should not be interested in. He’s mostly a generous spirit, though he seems to reserve a special little criticism for the little sister that knows just how to push his buttons. He’s popular with his peers and more often than not when the phone rings its someone asking Sam over for a play. Despite dropping money on his ‘own PS3’ after the influx of wealth that followed his birthday, he’s not become obsessed with it to the extent that his older brother has. His personal obsession at this time appears to be mine craft. If you don’t find him in his bedroom with a book, he’s likely behind the computer exploring the world that is mine craft and experimenting with what can be done. He’s continued to play tennis this summer, though again, not on a competitive basis. He enjoys it if the two of us can get around to the park and have a hit, especially if no one else decides to come and he doesn’t have to share the court. I think it’s still something of a not wanting to be seen to fail thing that keeps him from playing competitively and perhaps with some coaching we can get him to a point of competence that will see him participate at another level.
Thomas remains the joker. It’s hard to see that changing as he really does like a good laugh. This year he’s been diagnosed with dyslexia, which whilst disappointing, is at least something that can be worked with. When I consider all the problems that people go through in life, this is one that many people have overcome, lived with, conquered etc and I know that Thomas will do the same. He retains his hard work ethic in that regard which is something I’ll always be proud of him for. It means that he works longer and harder to achieve less of an outcome than perhaps his older brothers, but he retains pride in his accomplishments and we’re certainly very proud of them ourselves. He’s played soccer through the winter and is now the last Temby to be playing cricket this summer. I hope that he continues to do so. He’s not been the star of the team, but he continues to improve. He’s bowling less wides (down to about one an over now) and he’s really taken to fielding which has been great to see. Maintaining enthusiasm for that part of the game can be tough, but he seems to love nothing more than an excuse to sling himself across the ground in a slide to stop the ball. Now we just need to teach him that he doesn’t need to slide every time he gets near it. His batting needs work, but mainly on the run-scoring front. He’s been not out in two innings so far, so it will be interesting to see if he can maintain the trend!
So what was once almost a weekly endeavour on my part has slipped to be something less than that. I don’t want to stop, it’s probably more about not writing just for the sake of filling space, but continuing to do so when there’s something I want to write about.
The other influencing factor is a widening audience. When I started this thing up in its original form back in about 2001 or so I had no audience in mind. It was somewhat random, full of whatever happened to appeal to me at the time and it was probably only ready by about 3 people. Hell, I don’t even know how many people still read when I post now. The fact is though, that with the advent of facebook there’s a new avenue for keeping in touch with people. It has supplanted a small piece of what this started out as. Casual observation in short form fits very well in the facebook space even though I find myself doing less of that as well. The fact that I now advise of updates via that medium as well as through the list of ‘subscribers’ that I collated before we left for Canada means that all sorts of people have access to what I write – kids, friends of kids, extended family, work colleagues … the list goes on. Being aware of that audience and quite possibly a more mature approach to what I write certainly has limited me some times when I’ve felt like bashing out an expletive laden rant about something that has riled me.
Anyway, none of that was actually the point of why I put fingers to keys. What I realised was that both Sam and Thomas had birthdays back in October and some sad neglecting parent didn’t even mark the occasion. Well not here at least.
So Sam has turned 13, entering the teenage years whilst Tom turned 11 and begins to navigate those in between times, not yet a teenager, but working through double figures.
Sam continues to be himself, pursuing interests that he chooses and not really being influenced by others as to what he should or should not be interested in. He’s mostly a generous spirit, though he seems to reserve a special little criticism for the little sister that knows just how to push his buttons. He’s popular with his peers and more often than not when the phone rings its someone asking Sam over for a play. Despite dropping money on his ‘own PS3’ after the influx of wealth that followed his birthday, he’s not become obsessed with it to the extent that his older brother has. His personal obsession at this time appears to be mine craft. If you don’t find him in his bedroom with a book, he’s likely behind the computer exploring the world that is mine craft and experimenting with what can be done. He’s continued to play tennis this summer, though again, not on a competitive basis. He enjoys it if the two of us can get around to the park and have a hit, especially if no one else decides to come and he doesn’t have to share the court. I think it’s still something of a not wanting to be seen to fail thing that keeps him from playing competitively and perhaps with some coaching we can get him to a point of competence that will see him participate at another level.
Thomas remains the joker. It’s hard to see that changing as he really does like a good laugh. This year he’s been diagnosed with dyslexia, which whilst disappointing, is at least something that can be worked with. When I consider all the problems that people go through in life, this is one that many people have overcome, lived with, conquered etc and I know that Thomas will do the same. He retains his hard work ethic in that regard which is something I’ll always be proud of him for. It means that he works longer and harder to achieve less of an outcome than perhaps his older brothers, but he retains pride in his accomplishments and we’re certainly very proud of them ourselves. He’s played soccer through the winter and is now the last Temby to be playing cricket this summer. I hope that he continues to do so. He’s not been the star of the team, but he continues to improve. He’s bowling less wides (down to about one an over now) and he’s really taken to fielding which has been great to see. Maintaining enthusiasm for that part of the game can be tough, but he seems to love nothing more than an excuse to sling himself across the ground in a slide to stop the ball. Now we just need to teach him that he doesn’t need to slide every time he gets near it. His batting needs work, but mainly on the run-scoring front. He’s been not out in two innings so far, so it will be interesting to see if he can maintain the trend!
Oct 19, 2011
Wired for Sound
Earlier this year, the family gave me some outdoor speakers to go with the stereo that we’d bought in Canada. It’s been something of a long held dream of mine to be able to take advantage of the feature of the stereo that enables you to listen to two sources of sound in different areas of the house from the one system. In particular, to have speakers for the back of the house so that for events like Spit and Swallow and New Years Eve, I can pump out the tunes.
It’s one of those things that in theory should be a simple process. Buy the speakers, buy the amp that’s required, buy the remote control that’s required, wire it all up and go. We did all of those things except the go bit didn’t happen.
I read instructions, I searched on line, I read internet forums and eventually I even called the company to ask them about it. There was one nagging suspicion that I had regarding the set up that I had to ask them about. You see, the remote control rather than being infrared, works on radio frequency. I bought the system in Canada, the remote in Australia. Could they possibly be different? The answer was yes.
So that meant that I had a ridiculously expensive remote control in my possession that had the potential to be nothing more than a dust collector. Fortunately the store that I bought it from took it back. Now I just had to buy one from the US. Should be simple enough; go online and shop! Except that the online shopping function didn’t allow for delivery outside the US. So I organised for delivery to a friend in the US. Except then the billing address (which had to be a US address) didn’t match my Aussie credit card address so they cancelled the order. So I rang them and finally managed to pay with my Australian card for delivery to the US.
And yesterday I received my new remote control. And you know what? It bloody works! Huzzah!
It’s one of those things that in theory should be a simple process. Buy the speakers, buy the amp that’s required, buy the remote control that’s required, wire it all up and go. We did all of those things except the go bit didn’t happen.
I read instructions, I searched on line, I read internet forums and eventually I even called the company to ask them about it. There was one nagging suspicion that I had regarding the set up that I had to ask them about. You see, the remote control rather than being infrared, works on radio frequency. I bought the system in Canada, the remote in Australia. Could they possibly be different? The answer was yes.
So that meant that I had a ridiculously expensive remote control in my possession that had the potential to be nothing more than a dust collector. Fortunately the store that I bought it from took it back. Now I just had to buy one from the US. Should be simple enough; go online and shop! Except that the online shopping function didn’t allow for delivery outside the US. So I organised for delivery to a friend in the US. Except then the billing address (which had to be a US address) didn’t match my Aussie credit card address so they cancelled the order. So I rang them and finally managed to pay with my Australian card for delivery to the US.
And yesterday I received my new remote control. And you know what? It bloody works! Huzzah!
The Shrinking Family
Ok for some time its been more than obvious to us that by having 4 kids, we don’t fit into the normal family demographic. You know the one, the one where if you buy a family ticket to the zoo you can cover 2 kids and 2 adults. The one where if you win a holiday, you can take 2 kids and 2 adults.
But recently on the radio, with school holidays coming up, one of the local cinemas was advertising a family ticket special. Other than the fact that it still sounded quite expensive, the real shocker in the ad was the announcement that this ‘family’ ticket would entitle 2 kids and ONE ADULT to go to the movies. WTF?
I know that divorce rates are high and that there’s probably a lot of people who may actually fit that demographic, but … well I just don’t think it’s right dammit.
But recently on the radio, with school holidays coming up, one of the local cinemas was advertising a family ticket special. Other than the fact that it still sounded quite expensive, the real shocker in the ad was the announcement that this ‘family’ ticket would entitle 2 kids and ONE ADULT to go to the movies. WTF?
I know that divorce rates are high and that there’s probably a lot of people who may actually fit that demographic, but … well I just don’t think it’s right dammit.
Sep 22, 2011
What came first - the rabbit or the egg?
For some time now we’ve been waiting for the chickens to lay eggs. I’ve been away with work for a couple of days, but as far as I know, we’re still waiting.
In other Temby Menagerie news, following the passing of the little rabbit Grace, we’ve been diligently keeping the replacement, Pepper away from the randy little clutches of the boy rabbit Ginger. On Monday night though as we were headed for bed, Pepper was acting just a little oddly compared to normal and I made comment to Caroline that it appeared she was either trying to dig her way out of the hutch (which was going to prove difficult through the wooden board it sits on) or she was collecting all the straw and other loose material from the main part of the hutch into the sleeping area.
I believe I may have even made comment that it appeared that she was nesting. I though no more of it and went off to work.
Yesterday whilst out and about in remote areas of NSW I received a rather patchy call from Caroline but was able to make out enough to hear that following the potential nesting behaviour, Pepper had been making some strange noises during the day. I can’t say I’m acutely aware of the time line but at some point during the day Caroline put Pepper outside for a bit of R&R and subsequently inspected the hutch only to see something move in there. Pepper was quickly returned to the hutch on the basis that the four little rabbits within might need their mother!
I spoke to an extremely excited Emily last night, but the immaculate conception still remains a little blurry. What we do know is that at times when Pepper has proven to be difficult to locate in the back yard (something about a black rabbit hiding in dark places in fading light in the garden) Emily has brought Ginger out and relies on his base desires to drive him to locate Pepper. I witnessed one such occasion where this occurred and Emily interrupted their brief visit mid-celebration so to speak.
Apparently on at least one occasion, one of these celebrations mustn’t have been interrupted early enough!
In other Temby Menagerie news, following the passing of the little rabbit Grace, we’ve been diligently keeping the replacement, Pepper away from the randy little clutches of the boy rabbit Ginger. On Monday night though as we were headed for bed, Pepper was acting just a little oddly compared to normal and I made comment to Caroline that it appeared she was either trying to dig her way out of the hutch (which was going to prove difficult through the wooden board it sits on) or she was collecting all the straw and other loose material from the main part of the hutch into the sleeping area.
I believe I may have even made comment that it appeared that she was nesting. I though no more of it and went off to work.
Yesterday whilst out and about in remote areas of NSW I received a rather patchy call from Caroline but was able to make out enough to hear that following the potential nesting behaviour, Pepper had been making some strange noises during the day. I can’t say I’m acutely aware of the time line but at some point during the day Caroline put Pepper outside for a bit of R&R and subsequently inspected the hutch only to see something move in there. Pepper was quickly returned to the hutch on the basis that the four little rabbits within might need their mother!
I spoke to an extremely excited Emily last night, but the immaculate conception still remains a little blurry. What we do know is that at times when Pepper has proven to be difficult to locate in the back yard (something about a black rabbit hiding in dark places in fading light in the garden) Emily has brought Ginger out and relies on his base desires to drive him to locate Pepper. I witnessed one such occasion where this occurred and Emily interrupted their brief visit mid-celebration so to speak.
Apparently on at least one occasion, one of these celebrations mustn’t have been interrupted early enough!
Sep 21, 2011
City to Bay
City to Bay
At some point in time this year one of our clients suggested that we might like to get involved with them in the corporate cup. The event consists of 8 runs each of 4.5km length over a period of 16 weeks. With the soccer season getting close to a close I thought it would be a good thing to do and so I signed up for it.
I then promptly managed to be away travelling for the first two of them but did get to the third. With a total of one training run under my belt, I wasn’t really all that sure as to what sort of a time I’d be running. I’d kind of rationalised that something around the 25 minute mark would be reasonable for a first effort and set off with the guys that I’d joined up with. I let them run off ahead of me after the first one and a half kilometres or so and was surprised when I finished with a time of 22 minutes and 2 seconds.
Not too long after that, someone suggested that we should do the City to Bay as well. Now that’s a 12km run. I had actually been considering running it anyway and at one point even thought that I would get Michael to come along. Then I realised just how close the event was (it was under 4 weeks at this stage) and decided that that would probably be silly. Not so silly however that I didn’t get talked into doing it anyway, just silly enough to let Mikey off the hook.
That left me facing the task alone. I did manage to get one more short training run in and one more of the 4.5km corporate cup runs (I even managed to improve my time!).
So on a Sunday morning where the temperature promised to hit close to the 30C mark, I made my way into town to join 30,000 or so ‘close friends’ for a quiet run to the sea.
The first thing that was noticeable was the number of people that were busy running around before the event started. Here I was ever so slightly worried about minor things like potential heart failure and there they were running. Running TO the event! Bloody lunatics I say.
The time came to take up position and I ran off with the crowd, watching some people disappear ahead of me, others disappear behind me, but at a pace that turned out to be pretty quick. I had decided that there were two targets for me. Under 75 minutes would have been acceptable. Under 65 would be the point at which I was truly secretly pleased with my efforts.
I had had a theory at the start of the even that all I would really need was some attractive woman running at about the same pace as me that I could follow to the end. The problem was that it just didn’t work like that. Either they were too quick or not quick enough and so I was left to simply run my own race and see what I could do.
At about the 3km mark there was a bunch of cheerleaders giving everyone a rev up to help propel them along the way. Call me wrong, but there was a minor temptation to simply stop and watch! At 3kms I had surprised myself with my pace as I was at about 15 minutes and 30 seconds. By the time that I had made it to 6kms, I wasn’t ticking along quite so quickly but was still on time to run sub 65 minutes. It was also further than I’d run in any of those very few training runs.
By the time that I managed to get to the 9km part, things were really starting to hurt. At that point I had run for longer than any run I’d undertaken in the last …I don’t know … 10 years or so? The time had slipped a bit further, but I was really starting to want to beat that 65 minute goal. It was around that time that a young girl slowly started to overtake me. She wasn’t zooming past, but inching past. She was the tipping point for me. I was able to say to myself, “No, she’s not going to beat me.” I stepped things up just enough to keep up with her and I have to thank her for that, because for the next 2 kms I paced myself against her, running a couple of metres away, just keeping pace. At least up until the last km that is, because it was around that point that I found that she was dropping off. I worked my way down Jetty Road, which for the record had never seemed so long, dodging around the thickening crowd and pushing through to the end. When I turned the last corner I stepped things up again, pushing hard and running at as close as I could manage to a sprint at that point.
As I hit the button on my stop watch, I was thrilled to see the digital read out frozen at 63 minutes and 41 seconds! I was indeed ecstatic. It turns out that my official time was slightly better than that at 63 minutes and 37 seconds. This translates to 4663rd position overall or 98th out of male 41 year olds. There were174 in the category so I didn’t quite crack the top half, but far from disgraced myself too.
After some recovery that predominantly consisted of very slow walking and some agonized moaning, I walked back up Jetty Road to catch the tram back home. I wsa happy to be there, but did have to wonder whether the air conditioning of the tram had really been designed to cope with the rather powerful smell of a packed tram full of fun runners?
I really felt sorry for the girl that squeezed on at stop 3 from departure, obviously dressed up for a day in town. Boy did she pick the wrong day to get on the tram. As a contributor to the BO of the occasion I could only wonder what it must have been like for her to step into a tram full of it!
At some point in time this year one of our clients suggested that we might like to get involved with them in the corporate cup. The event consists of 8 runs each of 4.5km length over a period of 16 weeks. With the soccer season getting close to a close I thought it would be a good thing to do and so I signed up for it.
I then promptly managed to be away travelling for the first two of them but did get to the third. With a total of one training run under my belt, I wasn’t really all that sure as to what sort of a time I’d be running. I’d kind of rationalised that something around the 25 minute mark would be reasonable for a first effort and set off with the guys that I’d joined up with. I let them run off ahead of me after the first one and a half kilometres or so and was surprised when I finished with a time of 22 minutes and 2 seconds.
Not too long after that, someone suggested that we should do the City to Bay as well. Now that’s a 12km run. I had actually been considering running it anyway and at one point even thought that I would get Michael to come along. Then I realised just how close the event was (it was under 4 weeks at this stage) and decided that that would probably be silly. Not so silly however that I didn’t get talked into doing it anyway, just silly enough to let Mikey off the hook.
That left me facing the task alone. I did manage to get one more short training run in and one more of the 4.5km corporate cup runs (I even managed to improve my time!).
So on a Sunday morning where the temperature promised to hit close to the 30C mark, I made my way into town to join 30,000 or so ‘close friends’ for a quiet run to the sea.
The first thing that was noticeable was the number of people that were busy running around before the event started. Here I was ever so slightly worried about minor things like potential heart failure and there they were running. Running TO the event! Bloody lunatics I say.
The time came to take up position and I ran off with the crowd, watching some people disappear ahead of me, others disappear behind me, but at a pace that turned out to be pretty quick. I had decided that there were two targets for me. Under 75 minutes would have been acceptable. Under 65 would be the point at which I was truly secretly pleased with my efforts.
I had had a theory at the start of the even that all I would really need was some attractive woman running at about the same pace as me that I could follow to the end. The problem was that it just didn’t work like that. Either they were too quick or not quick enough and so I was left to simply run my own race and see what I could do.
At about the 3km mark there was a bunch of cheerleaders giving everyone a rev up to help propel them along the way. Call me wrong, but there was a minor temptation to simply stop and watch! At 3kms I had surprised myself with my pace as I was at about 15 minutes and 30 seconds. By the time that I had made it to 6kms, I wasn’t ticking along quite so quickly but was still on time to run sub 65 minutes. It was also further than I’d run in any of those very few training runs.
By the time that I managed to get to the 9km part, things were really starting to hurt. At that point I had run for longer than any run I’d undertaken in the last …I don’t know … 10 years or so? The time had slipped a bit further, but I was really starting to want to beat that 65 minute goal. It was around that time that a young girl slowly started to overtake me. She wasn’t zooming past, but inching past. She was the tipping point for me. I was able to say to myself, “No, she’s not going to beat me.” I stepped things up just enough to keep up with her and I have to thank her for that, because for the next 2 kms I paced myself against her, running a couple of metres away, just keeping pace. At least up until the last km that is, because it was around that point that I found that she was dropping off. I worked my way down Jetty Road, which for the record had never seemed so long, dodging around the thickening crowd and pushing through to the end. When I turned the last corner I stepped things up again, pushing hard and running at as close as I could manage to a sprint at that point.
As I hit the button on my stop watch, I was thrilled to see the digital read out frozen at 63 minutes and 41 seconds! I was indeed ecstatic. It turns out that my official time was slightly better than that at 63 minutes and 37 seconds. This translates to 4663rd position overall or 98th out of male 41 year olds. There were174 in the category so I didn’t quite crack the top half, but far from disgraced myself too.
After some recovery that predominantly consisted of very slow walking and some agonized moaning, I walked back up Jetty Road to catch the tram back home. I wsa happy to be there, but did have to wonder whether the air conditioning of the tram had really been designed to cope with the rather powerful smell of a packed tram full of fun runners?
I really felt sorry for the girl that squeezed on at stop 3 from departure, obviously dressed up for a day in town. Boy did she pick the wrong day to get on the tram. As a contributor to the BO of the occasion I could only wonder what it must have been like for her to step into a tram full of it!
Sep 3, 2011
The Daisy Duke Theory
Ok, so for those not familiar, a little pop culture reference is probably a good place to start:
Daisy Dukes are form-fitting denim short shorts first popularized by actress Catherine Bach in the late 1970s. Bach played the role of Daisy Duke, the beautiful cousin of lead characters Bo and Luke Duke in the television series Dukes of Hazzard. Daisy Duke routinely appeared in a pair of cut-off denim jeans fashioned into shorts, along with other tailored hot pants and short skirts. These skimpy costumes served primarily to show off Bach's well-toned legs, which were rumored to be insured for at least one million US Dollars.
If you’re not sure what I am on about, then google, it. Google it carefully though and don’t say you weren’t warned!
Right with that out of the way, the next point of interest is that I was at the Royal Adelaide show yesterday. Quite possibly worth a post of its own, but regardless of that fact, the inspiration for the following.
If you’re in Alberta, think Calgary Stampede, if you’re in Elizabeth, think Mum probably wore these.
Regardless of where you live, consider the following theory:
If x = the width of one leg of your daisy dukes and y = the length of your daisy dukes (waistband to bottom of the leg), then if x>y, quite simply put, you probably shouldn’t be wearing them.
Daisy Dukes are form-fitting denim short shorts first popularized by actress Catherine Bach in the late 1970s. Bach played the role of Daisy Duke, the beautiful cousin of lead characters Bo and Luke Duke in the television series Dukes of Hazzard. Daisy Duke routinely appeared in a pair of cut-off denim jeans fashioned into shorts, along with other tailored hot pants and short skirts. These skimpy costumes served primarily to show off Bach's well-toned legs, which were rumored to be insured for at least one million US Dollars.
If you’re not sure what I am on about, then google, it. Google it carefully though and don’t say you weren’t warned!
Right with that out of the way, the next point of interest is that I was at the Royal Adelaide show yesterday. Quite possibly worth a post of its own, but regardless of that fact, the inspiration for the following.
If you’re in Alberta, think Calgary Stampede, if you’re in Elizabeth, think Mum probably wore these.
Regardless of where you live, consider the following theory:
If x = the width of one leg of your daisy dukes and y = the length of your daisy dukes (waistband to bottom of the leg), then if x>y, quite simply put, you probably shouldn’t be wearing them.
Aug 30, 2011
The Hidden Cost of Canada
At the time that you set off on a little adventure to the other side of the world for a couple of years, you understand that there’s going to be some sacrifices. You also understand that some of those things are readily identifiable. The absence of family and friends, departure from sporting clubs, changes of schools amongst what is a much longer list.
You also understand that there’s going to be hidden costs that can’t be predicted when you return and its also understood that they won’t all be immediately apparent.
Whilst we were in Canada, we tried to keep the boys in touch with cricket a little bit by occasionally getting out in the park and entertaining the locals with our crazy antics. Michael and Thomas were the two most keen to play, but then that was true before we left as well.
Michael was very excited when we returned to be able to finally take up cricket again. Unfortunately a couple of things changed in his absence. With the age progression that he went through the game changed. The ball went from a semi hard ball to a true cricket ball complete with all the padding that accompanies it. The pitch stretched out to a full length, taking away some of the menace from his bowling as he had to loop it a little more to get it to a decent length.
Even more telling, he went from being of average height to seemingly a foot shorter than most of his contemporaries. That foot proved to quite possibly be the single most telling fact as when he went in to bat, the ball was harder, coming faster and often, bouncing up around the rib cage of a reasonable length. It meant that when he went in to bat he felt incompetent and with his bowling not being as threatening, he was more often than not bowling fourth change or so and hence fielding whilst only being rewarded with 2 overs when the captain thought he could afford it.
It’s meant that he’s now declared that he no longer wants to play cricket. I completely understand, but it rips out a little piece of my heart. The hardest thing for me is not so much that he doesn’t want to play cricket, its that by playing soccer all year round in Canada, he’s been limited in his exposure to other sports. I don’t really mind what he chooses to play, I just really really want him outside and exercising and deriving all the benefits that come from working with a team to achieve a goal and simply socialising with ones peers outside of the immediate school environment.
For now, all we can do is encourage his participation and offer what ever support he needs when he decides to go down a new path.
You also understand that there’s going to be hidden costs that can’t be predicted when you return and its also understood that they won’t all be immediately apparent.
Whilst we were in Canada, we tried to keep the boys in touch with cricket a little bit by occasionally getting out in the park and entertaining the locals with our crazy antics. Michael and Thomas were the two most keen to play, but then that was true before we left as well.
Michael was very excited when we returned to be able to finally take up cricket again. Unfortunately a couple of things changed in his absence. With the age progression that he went through the game changed. The ball went from a semi hard ball to a true cricket ball complete with all the padding that accompanies it. The pitch stretched out to a full length, taking away some of the menace from his bowling as he had to loop it a little more to get it to a decent length.
Even more telling, he went from being of average height to seemingly a foot shorter than most of his contemporaries. That foot proved to quite possibly be the single most telling fact as when he went in to bat, the ball was harder, coming faster and often, bouncing up around the rib cage of a reasonable length. It meant that when he went in to bat he felt incompetent and with his bowling not being as threatening, he was more often than not bowling fourth change or so and hence fielding whilst only being rewarded with 2 overs when the captain thought he could afford it.
It’s meant that he’s now declared that he no longer wants to play cricket. I completely understand, but it rips out a little piece of my heart. The hardest thing for me is not so much that he doesn’t want to play cricket, its that by playing soccer all year round in Canada, he’s been limited in his exposure to other sports. I don’t really mind what he chooses to play, I just really really want him outside and exercising and deriving all the benefits that come from working with a team to achieve a goal and simply socialising with ones peers outside of the immediate school environment.
For now, all we can do is encourage his participation and offer what ever support he needs when he decides to go down a new path.
Aug 22, 2011
Three Chooks Forward, Two Chooks Back
Last night I came home to be told that we had three new chickens; that and the fact that there had been something of a disaster. I wasn’t quite sure exactly what the disaster was likely to be and all sorts of things went through my mind not even related to the chickens.
It turned out that it was actually chicken related. When I put the chicken pen together, I put an outdoor roost in place as I’d read somewhere that the chickens liked that but that it should be lower than the inside roost. It was about a foot off the ground, which happened to put it about 3 feet below the top of the fence. Apparently when Caroline went in to introduce the three new chickens, Breakfast Lunch and Dinner took various levels of offence which resulted in two of them leaping first to the outdoor roost and subsequently they flapped their way to the fence.
Caroline had Thomas with her and sent him running around to try and scare them back to our side and home where they belonged. Thomas, doing the right thing, rather than run straight around, went to the door to ask permission. By the time that he go there, things had progressed and one of the chickens not only jumped the fence between our properties, but also managed to get over the fence out the back of the neighbours as well. That would be the house with the pool. Of course, this is the same house that also has a dog.
Caroline and Thomas jumped in the car and raced around to the next street to see if there was any chance of a rescue. Caroline sent Thomas in whilst she waited out the front, worried that someone might think that she was trying to break in seeing that no one was home.
Thomas came back after a bit of reconnaissance and shook his head.
“Is it dead?” Caroline asked. Thomas just nodded. “How did you know?” she asked. Apparently it had something to do with the fact that it wasn’t moving at all and there was a dog standing over it. Thomas said that he did take an extra step or two, but the dog started to take a bit more interest in him that he thought was desirable and at the point that it moved toward him he gave the chicken up for dead and high tailed it out of there. For reference, it was in fact Dinner.
The following day after having heard this story I came home and went out the back to check on the chickens after work and was just ever so slightly surprised when one of the newbies was gawking at me from the roof of the aviary. After a couple of seconds consideration, I whipped around to the neighbours, grabbed a big stick and was sure to scare it back off the aviary and into the safety of the chicken pen. Returning home I then spent the next five minutes chasing the little buggers around the pen until I had them all safely locked up back in the aviary.
Caroline did some research and finally got around to clipping those flight feathers after that episode. Thus, there were five. Three guaranteed females, one suspected female and one suspected Rooster.
The rooster has gone to the farm (literally) leaving us with four. And for the record, we’re still waiting for the first egg!
It turned out that it was actually chicken related. When I put the chicken pen together, I put an outdoor roost in place as I’d read somewhere that the chickens liked that but that it should be lower than the inside roost. It was about a foot off the ground, which happened to put it about 3 feet below the top of the fence. Apparently when Caroline went in to introduce the three new chickens, Breakfast Lunch and Dinner took various levels of offence which resulted in two of them leaping first to the outdoor roost and subsequently they flapped their way to the fence.
Caroline had Thomas with her and sent him running around to try and scare them back to our side and home where they belonged. Thomas, doing the right thing, rather than run straight around, went to the door to ask permission. By the time that he go there, things had progressed and one of the chickens not only jumped the fence between our properties, but also managed to get over the fence out the back of the neighbours as well. That would be the house with the pool. Of course, this is the same house that also has a dog.
Caroline and Thomas jumped in the car and raced around to the next street to see if there was any chance of a rescue. Caroline sent Thomas in whilst she waited out the front, worried that someone might think that she was trying to break in seeing that no one was home.
Thomas came back after a bit of reconnaissance and shook his head.
“Is it dead?” Caroline asked. Thomas just nodded. “How did you know?” she asked. Apparently it had something to do with the fact that it wasn’t moving at all and there was a dog standing over it. Thomas said that he did take an extra step or two, but the dog started to take a bit more interest in him that he thought was desirable and at the point that it moved toward him he gave the chicken up for dead and high tailed it out of there. For reference, it was in fact Dinner.
The following day after having heard this story I came home and went out the back to check on the chickens after work and was just ever so slightly surprised when one of the newbies was gawking at me from the roof of the aviary. After a couple of seconds consideration, I whipped around to the neighbours, grabbed a big stick and was sure to scare it back off the aviary and into the safety of the chicken pen. Returning home I then spent the next five minutes chasing the little buggers around the pen until I had them all safely locked up back in the aviary.
Caroline did some research and finally got around to clipping those flight feathers after that episode. Thus, there were five. Three guaranteed females, one suspected female and one suspected Rooster.
The rooster has gone to the farm (literally) leaving us with four. And for the record, we’re still waiting for the first egg!
Jul 19, 2011
Ménage a Chook
I thought that I’d mentioned the chickens here, but maybe that was over on Facebook. Some time in the last 8 weeks or so we added three chickens to the burgeoning menagerie that is Chateau Temby. Caroline’s wanted them for quite some time and we finally managed to get around to building a coop and fencing etc and even putting some chooks in it in the hope of one day extracting some eggy goodness.
The local kindergarten had them from chicks and we picked them up for free when they were about 6-8 weeks old or so. Two white, one black that I lovingly refer to as Breakfast, lunch and dinner (I’ve got the names for the next two picked out – first comes fried, then Kentucky).
Now the only problem with free chickens is that no one has been able to tell us if we got the sort that will grow up to be hens or the sort that will grow up to be roosters. Not being much of a chicken sexer myself, I’ve opted for the wait and see approach. If it crows, its off to the zoo for dinner (for something lucky) otherwise, if it lays an egg, it stays.
As they grow, we keep looking for signs. No crowing yet, but the two white ones seem to do a lot of posturing and might just have slightly pronounced combs coming up. The black one doesn’t seem to have that development going on and doesn’t quite seem to be doing the posturing.
Every time that one goes out at night to shut them back in the coop, there the three of them are, up on the roost. White, black white. I think we’ve got a couple of roosters.
Ménage a chook.
The local kindergarten had them from chicks and we picked them up for free when they were about 6-8 weeks old or so. Two white, one black that I lovingly refer to as Breakfast, lunch and dinner (I’ve got the names for the next two picked out – first comes fried, then Kentucky).
Now the only problem with free chickens is that no one has been able to tell us if we got the sort that will grow up to be hens or the sort that will grow up to be roosters. Not being much of a chicken sexer myself, I’ve opted for the wait and see approach. If it crows, its off to the zoo for dinner (for something lucky) otherwise, if it lays an egg, it stays.
As they grow, we keep looking for signs. No crowing yet, but the two white ones seem to do a lot of posturing and might just have slightly pronounced combs coming up. The black one doesn’t seem to have that development going on and doesn’t quite seem to be doing the posturing.
Every time that one goes out at night to shut them back in the coop, there the three of them are, up on the roost. White, black white. I think we’ve got a couple of roosters.
Ménage a chook.
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