Beware the Plate Detective

Just stumbled across a license plate collectors website - specifically his page of FAKES. Its quite a business, and man, does he take it seriously. Plate counterfeiting is a dark, murky sinister world. Just as well this guy is on the job.

EVIDENCE - An interesting QUOTE from the seller to long-time collector Dave Stratton at a Silver State Regional plate meet in Reno in the mid 1980's. I've included the exact text as I received it from Dave. Dave Stratton is ALPCA number 3445 , and at the time, I'm sure he was still a registered ALPCA member, although he's since dropped out to avoid becoming a SUSPENDED ALPCA member. Here's the text....

Original email from Dave S.
[...]it was at Little Joe Korosa's house coupled with the first Silver State Reno meet (1984---1986?) The conversation went like this:
Dave: "...the business of these bizarre countries you've been getting lately (North Korea....Afghanistan) is it true you use religion to get them out of there?"
Seller: "Sure [...] I don't get that many anyway, and if I run out, I make 'em up. I fulfill dreams..."
Dave: "Well, I wouldn't be attending any plate meets with that philosophy, because the word is already out on that subject."

With all the info I've been working on to prove that this guy was faking plates, I really would never have thought that he would just come out and admit that he's made up plates. Sometimes it just drops in your lap - Ed.

Here are a few of his collection of fake plates. I don't care what he says, I think they're pretty ace.

Recent google searches that found me

footballers with cheese names
eel whisperer hodgman
condom machines for sale
cheese zebras
are toothaches punishment
portable pigeon bathing apparatus
ocobo domination
sinus toothache when walking

Kelly's Trousers

Kelly's Steps are a reasonably famous olde time feature of Hobart, connecting the rabbit-warren streets of Battery Point to Salamanca Place. They are named after whaler, harbourmaster and explorer Captain James Kelly. I just learned that his brother-in-law was eaten by Maoris, after which he killed a number in reprisal.

He came to mind because I was reading an old newspaper article from 1987 written by Christopher Koch, who wrote The Year of Living Dangerously, Highways to a War and Out of Ireland among other things. He grew up here. He says of Battery Point;

It used to be 'bad', in my Depression infancy: a district of grim old poverty, it's cottages built for dwarfs. Now its an expansive historical filmset, full of tasteful paint and coach lamps: a real-estate man's dream. Here are the stone steps built especially for that Homeric whaling master, Captain James Kelly, whose trousers, in response to a bet, were proved to hold five bushels of wheat. Kelly's Steps take me down from the ridge on Salamanca Place as they once took him: and here is Hobart of the 1840s.

I have just added the bit about his capacious pants to his Wikipedia entry. Heavens, sometimes the 21st Century is just so much fun.

Currently sitting pretty: Iran and Tinker Bell

Just did a quick Google search to check who is currently "sitting pretty". According to the Internet;

'Ugly Betty' is sitting pretty
Delaware is sitting pretty compared to property tax elsewhere
Alonzo Mourning is sitting pretty
Furniture manufacturer is sitting pretty on its water savings
Hot and sexy Danielle Bux is sitting pretty
Prity Bhutani is sitting pretty
Buckeyes sitting pretty after West Virginia, Missouri losses
Cailin Alainn is sitting pretty for Fairyhouse
Sichuan's ancient Buddha is sitting pretty
The Australian end of the (Chrysler) operation is sitting pretty
Jelimo is sitting pretty for gold in Beijing
Moen bath sink faucet is sitting pretty
Tinker Bell is sitting pretty on a little flower
Iran is sitting pretty in Central Asia at the moment
Sky Blue Vicar is sitting pretty
Suzanne Kasler is sitting pretty with her new line of chairs
Sri Lanka is sitting pretty after 20 years of test cricket
Felicity Huffman is sitting pretty
Rovers Cruz is sitting pretty - but he's not just a pin-up
TV is sitting pretty with quiz mania
Forgotten man Alex is sitting pretty in pink
George Strait's 38th album is sitting pretty on top of both the country and all-genre album charts today

X is the new Y

Quotes, titles of articles, books, songs and albums, 2001-2009.

Big is the new small
Quiet Is the New Loud
Gay is the new black
Twelve is the new eleven
Random is the new order
Economizing is the new black
Awake Is the New Sleep
Gay cowboys are now the new penguins
Black is the new green
Black is the new white
This Is The New That
Down Is the New Up
Humans are the new dinosaurs
Hogs are the new deer - (Field & Stream magazine article)
Saving is the new spending

There's such a lot to tell

The boys always have a lot to tell us. Often with me it's when I am trying to listen to a poignant story on the radio, or trying to put in a big finish on the exercise bike, or when I am busting and just on my way to the toilet. It will always be something like this.

Marcus: Dad - what would happen if you burned ink?

or

Michael: In the centre of this galaxy is steam. Outside that is water vapour. Outside that is smoke. Then outside THAT is a kind of ... flamey stuff.

2009 AFL Grand Final : Geelong 12.8 (80) d St Kilda 9.14 (68)

Last Friday night's preliminary final between St Kilda and the Western Bulldogs was so gripping, I fell asleep. Seriously, the two sides just had each other in a death grip like a couple of soldier crabs, and for minute after minute nothing happened. I had to keep shaking myself awake. St Kilda finally prevailed by seven points.

The Grand Final yesterday was a similar story, but I was wide awake for every bit of it. I was backing St Kilda. They had such a fantastic season that I thought they deserved to take the flag at the end of it. Geelong missed one they should have got last year, and were in danger of being labelled "under-performers" if they lost again. Ed came over to watch. Marcus and Michael were invited next door and left us to it for the first half.

The Saints had most of it from the start but didn't take their chances. Adam Schneider was right in front 15m out and tried to launch the ball out of the ground, rather than just do the natural thing. Raph Clarke looked out of his league - he conceded the first goal of the game, lumbering like a stegosaurus and caught with the ball on the edge of his own 50m. Geelong had few opportunities but converted each one. St Kilda finished the quarter strongly, and were tackling like ravenous beasts. Riewoldt was doing suicidal leaps in conditions that didn't suit him. Landed on his head once but was up and running in no time.

The second quarter was really Geelong's - they were 2 goals up with a minute left to half time. St Kilda goaled, then goaled again from the restart. Milburn made a big fuss about having touched the 2nd goal off the boot - so much so that before the ball was bounced St Kilda were awarded a free kick in the goal square.
Milburn: Fuggin muggin touched it mugging fug.
Ump McBurney: Free kick against Milburn for remonstrating with a goal umpire.
Milburn: I just bloody asked him...
Ump McBurney: You were demonstrative.

So, three goals in a minute to the Saints. At half time they were up 7.7 to 7.1. Not much of a lead but surely they just needed to start kicking straight. The boys came back at half time and brought Adrian and Cameron from next door with them. I can't abide pointless chatter during an important footy game, and Michael and Adrian did the right thing and stayed outside for most of the second half. Marcus and Cameron were pretty good, I didn't have to gag anyone.

In the third quarter things slowed down a bit. Jimmy Bartel started to come into the game for the Cats. He blanketed Lenny Hayes, and laid 16 tackles for the game, an amazing stat. One of Geelong's main sparks, Steve Johnson, was being suffocated by Steven Baker, and hardly saw the ball all day. The Saints players that most caught my eye during the game were Baker, Riewoldt, Hayes, Gram and Goddard. Baker and Goddard clashed heads, and Goddard went off to return later with the full curse-of-the-mummy look. For Geelong, I thought Taylor and Scarlett were brilliant down back, curbing Riewoldt and Kosi. Ablett gradually came into it after Clinton Jones had limited him early. My favourite player Joel Selwood was inspirational. He's only 21 but he had the confidence to make a speech at half time, and his teammates had the respect for him to listen. Paul Chapman shrugged off a hamstring strain to keep bobbing up, kicking a goal each time one was really needed.

And so it was in the last quarter. It started with Geelong still seven points down. Goal to Hawkins, one point the difference. A few behinds at either end. Rooke kicked what looked like the winner - Baker chased and just got there to touch it through, before crashing his shoulder into the base of the post. Selwood kicked another point, scores level.

The defining moment was a Dawson spoil on Ablett right in the centre. The ball bobbled loose, Scarlett toe-poked it to Ablett, he hoisted it to the goalsquare, Varcoe got his one good touch for the day and handpassed to Chapman who bent it around the corner for a goal. A minute later Rooke soccered a point. Still not over as under pressure Scarlett conceded a behind to make it an even goal the difference. Milburn took the kickout, Taylor took a towering mark and the Cats were home.

Immediately after I thought the Cats had been lucky to pinch it, and St Kilda unlucky. But luck only applies to things outside your control, and only if they had kicked straight would it be fair to say the Saints deserved this one. Its still the one skill in football that most affects the result, and they just didn't bring it with them to the MCG yesterday.

Historic fridge magnets

Hey, Bombers fans. Wanting to commemorate your outstanding premiership success of 1897, but not sure how? Hey, Swannies. Having trouble remembering your victory in 1918? Well, let WegArt help! These fridge magnets date back to before the actual invention of the fridge.

Levi Stubbs Tears by Billy Bragg.

You can look at my nose and say "Billy Bragg,what is the answer to all the world's problems". Now, it's impossible to have one song that answers all the problems of all the world - except this next song I'm going to play for you now...which answers every single problem in your life whatever that problem may be. It may be that someone here's building a nuclear power station at the end of your road or it may be that when you get up in the morning and go for a piss it hurts. Whatever your problem is, this is the answer to it. All you have to do, all you have to do boys and girls is go home, put a kettle on, make yourself a nice cup of tea, sit down, put on a record by The Four Tops - everything is going to be alright.

Billy Bragg, Malmo, Sweden

10th October 1986.

Small world etc

Last night was the Amnesty International fundraising quiz night. I could not persuade any of my so-called friends to join my quiz team, so I turned up at the event alone. I felt obliged to go as I had helped with the promotions, and had assured everyone involved at the time that I'd be there with bells on, with all my mates, being quite a popular fellow y'know.

The thing was a sellout, despite clashing with a big footy match on TV, and I was only able to squeak in when some ticketholders didn't show. By necessity I joined their team, as there was just nowhere else to sit. I knew one of the team slightly but they were all very nice. Smart too - after three rounds we were leading the pack.

One of the team was a lively sixty-something chap called Pat. After one question ("Who was the last Tasmanian to win the Archibald Prize for Portraiture?" [A: Geoff Dyer]) - Pat asked "And whose brother did he paint?" I was a bit flummoxed. The sitter for the portrait was author Richard Flanagan. His brother Martin is quite well known, but I know he also has 3 or 4 other siblings. Anyway - turned out the answer Pat was looking for was himself - he's another brother.

I was very pleased with this, as although I think very highly of Richard, Martin is actually one of my very favourite writers. Richard is mates with my boss and pops up everywhere, while Martin is based in Melbourne and much more retiring. So I earbashed Pat for some time about how great Martin is and he said he would pass it on.

Martin's last book 'The Line' was written with and about their father Arch, a WW2 veteran in his nineties. I was pleased to hear that he's still with us, and going pretty well. He was a prisoner of war on the Burma Railway with Weary Dunlop.

So, I had a good night, was very pleased to meet Pat Flanagan and we even won the quiz, so I staggered home laden with bottles of wine, each with a big label spruiking the politician who donated it.

Basic vulcanology explained

Some of Michael's work from our holiday. He studies his various illustrated planets 'n' asteroids books so thoroughly, that he can recreate the diagrams at will. This is a cross-section of Earth (Crust, Mantle, Inner Core, Outer Core).


This one asks and answers the question "How does a volcano work?"
.

Slime King

If I was a snail, and I found out there was a snail named "Slime King", and it wasn't me, I'd be furious.

Return of the kangaroo-paw tongs

The other night the ABC showed a good doco about the old TV show Skippy the Bush Kangaroo. There was a lot of the usual farcical dramatic recreations, using the old "there happened to be an out of focus camera on the scene at the time, pointing not quite in the right direction" technique. Apparently the creators of Skippy were drinking scotch, smoking, laughing heartily and slapping each other on the back at all times.

The best bits were the actual Skippy clips. We found about 12 episodes on DVD some time back, but in fact there were 91 episodes. 91! There were a lot of laugh-out-loud moments as some of the cast and crew would describe some outrageous production detail, then a series of clips would demonstrate the point.

For example, first the kangaroo-paw tongs were demonstrated by the one of the surviving production crew. Then a montage of clips where a tight close up on "Skippy's paws" showed her operating the radio, opening a screen door, typing etc etc. A marsupial specialist was on hand to confirm that kangaroos never, ever go "tsk tsk tsk".

I knew even when I was a kid that there were nine different kangaroos that played Skippy. I think once when we were in Sydney on holiday we went to Waratah Park where the series was shot, and met "Skippy". We were much more interested in the trampolines. At that time if there were any trampolines in Tasmania, we certainly hadn't see them.

What I did not know then was that the various Skippies spent most of their time on set in a hessian bag. When the shot was all set up she would be released. Kangaroos are quite happy in a hessian bag but are dazed and dopey for a few seconds when they emerge, before hopping off into the nearest scrub at top speed. This show revealed that every bit of footage of Skippy not hopping away was obtained in these short intervals after de-bagging. They then showed what happened after the director called "cut", which was usually Skippy going at quite a lick while the crew chased her with the hessian bag.

I was laughing my head off and turned to explain why to Elf who was reading and not listening to the TV, when, I swear to God, a wallaby bounced up onto our deck, up the steps and across the backyard.

According to Wikipedia its still being shown in Iran.

2009 TSL Grand Final: Clarence 15.11 (101) d Glenorchy 14.11 (95)

This year statewide football has come back. Marcus and I went to the inaugural Tasmanian Statewide League grand final yesterday with our mate Rob. Glenorchy Magpies were favourites to beat the traditional rivals Clarence Roos, having won the last two SFL flags. There was over 7000 at the Bellerive Oval for the big day.

As usual at any high-profile sporting event in Tasmania, organisation was farcical. The two sides lined up for the national anthem. This is the moment when the big crowd falls silent, and each team links arms down the line, all of the players trying to contain their emotions and focus on the job at hand. Time passed. Someone in front started singing the anthem (badly) to fill the silence. Players looked restless, unlinked and started stretching and bouncing. Finally the Clarence playing-coach pulled his players out and off they ran. A sheepish official came on the PA to say due to a technical hitch there would be no anthem. Someone didn't put the record back in the sleeve, perhaps.

The conditions were blustery and wet but the standard of footy was still pretty good. After an even first quarter Clarence jumped out to a good lead at halftime, and shortly after extended it to seven goals. Or so I heard. I waited until 10 minutes into the third to head to the shop for sustenance - usually a good time to go for short queues. There were about 500 people lined up down there. That seems incredible but believe me, I had plenty of time to count them while I waited to get to the front of my particular queue. I waited five minutes before I saw anyone depart with actual food.

When I did get back [to the relief of the rest of the party], the Pies were clawing back into it. Incredibly they got within 2 points, but Clarence had enough left in the tank to surge again. A Glenorchy kick-out landed right in Jerome Webberley's lap about 55 out. Without stopping to think he just bombed it back the way it came, and it sailed through post high for a goal. [Look out for him in the AFL next year.] The Pies took it forward and had a couple of chances at goal but they sprayed both wide. Clarence ran out winners by 6 points, despite Glenorchy winning three of the quarters.

The desperation and endeavour at the end was just wonderful to witness. The skill level, fitness and professionalism of Tasmanian footy will not often match that of the AFL, but there is no question the commitment of the players yesterday was no less than that at the top level.

Marcus and I had a kick on the [slightly] hallowed turf at quarter and half time, along with about three hundred other mostly men and boys. It is a kind of joyful mayhem that I always love. There are balls of all sizes going in all directions. Fortunately my catlike reflexes came to my rescue a few times when someone else's big 60 metre bomb was zeroing in on the side of my head.

Rob had parked the car at his mum's place near the ground. We walked back, popped in our heads to say hi to Mrs B, then tried to get out of the driveway. It was hell, but we finally managed to wriggle out, and get down to the T-junction without hitting any of the drunken pedestrians weaving across the road.

Then, there was one last golden moment for the afternoon. After a long wait to turn right, we were let in by legendary Test batsman David Stumpy Boon. Does it get better than that?

3 mirrors: 2 too many

On our recent jaunt one of our hosts gave up their bedroom and ensuite for us. In the ensuite they have that 3-mirrors setup so you see yourself in the round. Its unavoidable. As a result Elf and I are now on diets and are recommitting to the exercise bike regime.

It turns out that our mirror at home is quite flattering. I am pretty comfortable with my width but I am a now alarmed by my depth. I go way back - and leaving my shirt untucked does not, after all, make any difference.

Overheard 2

Marcus: Only the special marbles have names.
Michael: What's the black one called?
Marcus: Deathro.
Michael: Jethro?
Marcus: No, DEATHro.
[pause]
Michael: That's a great name!

Overheard 1

Marcus: I'll give you a massage Michael!
Michael: Great!
[Marcus squeezes parts of Michael randomly]
Michael: Mmm - thats great! Now I'll give you a massage!
Marcus: OK
[Michael squeezes and twists parts of Marcus.
Marcus: Hmm - that's not really a massage. That's a chinese burn.

Obsolete Scottish Units Of Measurement

This is my new favourite wikipedia page.

Oxgang
Ploughgate
Daugh
Chalder
Boll
Fubdy
Firlot
Lippie
Stane
Joog
Forpet
Mutchkin
Poon

Spot the made up one.

Back on the South Island

We are home again. Elf and I are back at work, but the boys still have a week of school holidays - they are hanging out with their cousins at Kingston.

The trip went really well, we enjoyed the travel and the boys were excellent. Thanks to Jacki and Tim, Felicity and Bill, and Vincent and Andy for putting us up and rearranging their lives for us. (Not forgetting the Golden Chain Motel at Seymour - with the least enticing swimming pool on the Hume Hwy).

As usual, photos and stories from the trip will dribble out as I get time.

A stumblebum kind of day

Just a quick note from the inner suburbs of Melbourne. Elf and the kids and I have lurched all over town today, with various public transport problems and toilet issues dogging us. At last we are home at our downtown pad, staying with Vincent and Andy and the twins Alastair and Isabelle. There are kiddie gates everywhere as they live on 3 levels. I have just spilled a beer downstairs across level 2 and parts of level 1, while grappling with a kiddie gate. A fitting postscript to a difficult day. Saw following graffiti near Burnley train station: SLOTH FRESH.

Random notes from the Lower Mid North Coast

Quoting the main story on the back page of Jacki's local paper, the Great Lakes Advocate:

The Old Bar Clams are worthy rugby union champions of the Lower Mid North Coast, having won a thrilling grand final 29-22, from the Forster Tuncurry Dolphins at an unforgiving Old Bar Reserve on Saturday. Too physical up front and too penetrative out wide, the Clams led 29-0 after just 53 minutes...

Slept at Jacki's in the "green room" - meshed-in sleep out that runs right across the back of the house. The first night was warm but windy. There is a small forest outside and the crashing trees in the wind woke us up periodically though the night. The dawn chorus was volcanic - the fauna may as well have been sitting on my shoulder. After that I went off to sleep. Was finally woken for good when I realised Marcus and Malachy had hit it off brilliantly, and were playing soccer in the green room with me as one of the goals.

I walked to the corner shop in Smiths Lake a few times while we were there. On my last visit I noticed at the back of the dairy fridge, a keg of Heineken and a few scattered stubbies.

Jacki and Tim both work at the Pacific Palms Recreation Club, a licensed gaming venue. In the pokies room, there is a large glass cabinet of odd things. Curling tongs, champagne flutes, sheet and pillowcase sets, coffee machines. If you win on the pokies you are entitled to a certain number of stamps. For 210 stamps, you can have a coffee machine etc. Jacki had been keen to get the sheets (100% cotton) but someone beat her to it.

Brin is 17. He was the youngest for many years until Malachy (6) came along. He has a marvellously strange sense of humour, which is welcome or not depending on how tired everyone else is feeling. It was he that named the rabbit "Frederick the Octopus That Lost 4 Legs In A Car Crash". Tim sent him to bed one night because he wouldn't stop saying "Hazam El-Masri" (famous bald rugby player with an addictively sonorous name).

Jacki's is a "TV on" household. They have Pay TV and are frequently pausing, forwarding and rewinding what seems to be live TV. Quite often the Weather Channel is on with no-one in the room. I sat and watched it for ten minutes - amazed that the hosts could perkily repeat themselves over and over: going around the Golden West one more time, having another little peek at the Northern Rivers, and here's a photo of fluffy clouds (again) sent in by Greg McBiscuit of Orange - thanks Greg!

Jacki drove us to Taree to catch the train to Canberra. On the way we were passed by a large police van and two 4WDs, all with Riot and Public Disorder Unit signage. Sometimes the mainland is just scary.

Drink, Drive: Die In A Ditch

The above is an actual public education billboard by a major road in Canberra, where we are now. We came by train from Taree via Sydney. Taree was all sunshine and palm trees and the promise of spring - when we arrived at 10.30 at night, Canberra was a cold, damp and grimly floodlit series of roundabouts.

We are staying with Elf's parents, Bill and Felicity, in suburban Weetangera. Marcus has had some kind of bug, actually threw up in the car between the 13th and 14th roundabouts on the way here from the train. He is much better now but for a couple of days we took it slow. The four of us plus Bill went to Questacon, the Science and Technology Activity Centre, yesterday. Poor Marcus dragged himself around but wasn't able to really enjoy it.

Late last night Elf's brother Fred arrived for a couple of days. He is a science and technology activity centre in himself. He delighted the boys and the rest of us too with some experiments this morning. He made a loudspeaker out of a short plastic tube and a bit of balloon; made a water jet out of a bit of glass tubing that he heated and stretched, with water forced into it by gravity feed from a bucket upstairs; focussed the water jet on the stretched rubber and the most amazing howl arose. He has a small lab in the garage dating back to his years growing up here. Among his bottles and jars is a large container of mercury, amazingly hefty. Given to him by Grandpa Ware, retired dentist. We'll be catching up with him in a few days.

Also last night Elf's sister Imp arrived for one night, in town on business. She reported from the soccer trophy day (that we missed) that Miah, on receipt of trophy, had a good look all over it and then exclaimed "the people in China know my name!!"

The tapwater here is quite chlorinated. Deep in my smell cortex this sets off memories of travelling to Peru - I don't think I have been anywhere else where the water fairly shouts "For your safety I have been disinfected by the government".

There's a poster of the principal Egyptian gods on the wall in the kitchen. Michael impressed all by pointing and saying "that's the crown of Upper Egypt and THAT's the crown of Lower Egypt". Marcus, remembering the same book from the library, went along saying blithely "he's God of the Sun, he's God of the Dead, she's God of the Sky, he's God of... er..." Michael: "Liberty?"

Michael dreams amid the palm trees

Yesterday morning Michael told us that he dreamed he and Hatty [our cat] got married. "But we had fish in our hands instead of flowers". He just came to ask me what I was typing. I asked if he could remember anything else. "Then we had kittens."

We are still on the mid-north coast. Yesterday we explored further. To get to where Jac and Tim live you have to drive along a narrow strip of land that is part of the Booti Booti National Park. The road is hemmed in with greenery so you don't really get a feel for where you are, but yesterday we went up to a lookout and saw this.



Then we went to the supermarket in Tuncurry. While Jac did the shopping we roamed through the shopping centre. Next to the Wiggles ride for kids ($2 a try) were some massage chairs for adults ($2 a try).

On the way home we dropped in to look at Jac and Tim's actual local beach, Cellito Beach. Pretty nice.

A post from the coast

The mid-north coast that is. That's right, we are actually in New South Wales, at Smiths Lake, nearest large town Tuncurry. This area is generally called Pacific Palms, which sounds like a casino but is actually the name of a plant endemic here, the pacific palm. My nephew Malachy goes to Pacific Palms Public School. We dropped in for a look at it while touring the district today - across the road from the school is a pumping surf beach.

Its technically winter for one more day after today, but we have caught the end of a bona fide heatwave. It was warm enough to have a dip in Smiths Lake this morning, but only just. From there we drove around to Elizabeth Beach, pictured above. We went into a cafe this morning with furniture made out of surfboards - its that kind of place.

The tropicality of it all blows me away. Big palms and flowers and stuff fruiting all over the place - the only places I have been like this are the lowlands of Ecuador and a stopover once in Tahiti.

Travel scrabble

We are scrabbling to get stuff packed and organised as we are off in two days to the steamy subtropics - to visit my big sister and her family in New South Wales. Its five hours by train north of Sydney. To my stunted Tasmanian mind that would put it about in Queensland, but its only about a third of the way up to the border. NSW is big. After five days there we will entrain to Canberra for another five, then four in Melbourne before flying home.

I have been very busy ticking off Fogbugz cases at work. We use a job tracking system called Fogbugz, and no, this is not adequately zany or charming enough to make slogging through a list of jobs any easier.

I have also had a run of outs with QuickTime movie player and everything related to it. Apple send out software updates that you really need to install if you want to keep using QuickTime, but every now and then one of them will break everything else you need to use. If you Google the problem you will find dozens of helpful bits of advice about workarounds and hacks to solve the problem. This advice never comes from Apple, who prefer stony silence at such times.

So today I did a clean install on my work Mac. It is now (in theory) as pristine as when it came out of the crate. Yet the problem persists.

So the blog may have seemed quiet for a bit and will be quieter still over the next little while. If I can blog on the road I will, but no promises. It was 32° at Jacki's today, so we are going to be stunned mullets for the first day or two.

Envelopes of the veldt

Marcus is reading a series of books with titles like Dolphins at Daybreak, Tigers at Twilight and Buffaloes at Breakfast Time. We were all discussing these in the car the other day, and making up new silly ones. Narwhals at Noon, Egrets at Easter. Michael suggested Envelopes in the Evening, which I thought took things in new and edgy direction, into stationery. Then he said "No - what are those things called? ANTelopes, Antelopes in the Evening."

Lunchtime on Mercury

Just watched a very good 100% CGI documentary on the Solar System, with Elf and the boys. The voice over was an Englishman with a very serious, almost metallic voice. We have a DVD about tigers that is also gravely narrated by this fellow. He had just spoken about the wild extremes of temperature on Mercury: −183 °C at night to 427 °C during the day, I believe. Marcus said "Hmm, it would be fairly nice at lunchtime".

EmphaSIS

Michael was reading something aloud, and he said a word with all the sounds correct, but the emphasis wrong. I can't remember the word, so let's pretend it was "remember". Marcus pounced (as he usually does when Michael makes a slight mistake).

Marcus: No, its not "REmember" its "reMEMber".

Me: That's OK, you got the word right but the emphasis was different. Emphasis is when you say one part of the word more strongly. With a lot of words you can say them more than one way. Like recess at school - you guys say "REcess" and I say "reCESS".

Michael: Oh yeah, and I say "lunch" but a lot of people say "looonch".

Me: Come on, no-one actually says "looonch"!

Marcus: Yeah, a few people do.

English pessimism

England are totally on top in the final Test match. They have set Australia 546 to win, an impossible task. To survive for a draw Australia has to bat for two days, when in their last innings they lost all ten wickets in 2 and a half hours.

Yet Andrew Miller still felt able to write an article called "Is there cause for English pessimism?"

This is beautiful

World Science Festival 2009: Bobby McFerrin Demonstrates the Power of the Pentatonic Scale from World Science Festival on Vimeo.

Music Channel

I have just started a tumblr page, just for music videos. The videos don't even have to be all that great, its really about the music. Please pop across to Lost Cassettes and tell me what you think.

Jonathan Coulton on having his first kid

Oh, wow, I get it. Now I'm a dad, my dad just became a grandfather and my grandfather is dead. I see where this is going.

Dictator online auctions

Subzero rodent

The other night Elf was on the exercise bike, fighting the good fight, when she saw a rat stroll across to the top of the stairs and head down. By the time she had regained her composure and dismounted, it had vanished.

We got the men in with some bait stations, deployed inside and out. One afternoon we heard some shuffling and snuffling near the one in the "dishwasher hole" under the sink. We guessed that was him taking the bait.

All was quiet for a few days. Then we notice Marcus was wearing a pair of tracksuit pants that had been partly eaten. So rattus rattus has just been wandering the house chewing on stuff? Ee-ew.

Early Wednesday morning I heard some scratching in the hall. Cardinal Ratzinger was in a bad way, hunkered under the little bureau and obviously on his last legs. We closed all the doors and Elf blocked them with towels. I seized his tail with a plastic bag and flipped him into it, then into a strong shopping bag. 3am and we had a hissed debate about how to despatch him. I had prepared a shovel to whack him with but chickened out, thinking I would find it hard to get a first time clean shot when he was double-bagged. So I put him in the freezer. Where he remains, until bin night.

Stories for your ears

One of the podcasts I am into is the New Yorker magazine Fiction Podcast. Each week an author reads one of their favourite short stories by another author, living or dead. It was here that I first heard the amazing story The Lottery by Shirley Jackson - a brilliant piece of writing. Apparently it has long been a standard in English Lit classes in the US but I had never heard of it.

I am prompted to mention it here by the latest story, Adams by George Saunders. I had never heard of him either, but I am now going to seek out what I can and read it.

After each reading, the reader and the fiction editor of the New Yorker chat about the story. My reaction is always "bloody hell - I didn't realise THAT was going on in there". Suffice to say Adams is a near-anagram of Saddam, and the narrator of the story ends up breaking into Adams' house and taking away all his pool chemicals.

Reports

The boys had their mid-year reports last week, both very good.

This is Marcus's 4th year at the school, and the staff are generally aware of his phenomenal appetite for mathematics. By now the novelty has worn off a little and his report is pretty matter-of-fact about what he can do and what he should do next - which is what you want.

His general comment starts "Marcus shows an excellent attitude towards school and learning. He has been able to set himself goals and shown pride in reaching them". The report picks up a couple of things that he can build on, and a couple of things that need work - eg "he is a reluctant writer and needs constant prompting to complete writing tasks". I know he has an amazing recall for all the details of a soccer match, so I am trying to use this as leverage to get him to write match reports for me.

I should note for fans of advanced educational administration theory that Marcus is at level P5 in Standard 2 at English, and level P7 in Standard 3 in Maths. (It all reminds me of when Homer bought an obscure Eastern Bloc car 2nd hand. As he bunny-hopped down the road in it the previous owner ran after him yelling "Put it in H!!".)

Michael's still a new kid on the block, and his report reflects that - the comments have an element of bemusement about them. In literacy "his skills are of an extremely high level" and "Michael displays incredible numeracy skills". Michael also finds writing sentences a chore. He "has the skills to create written pieces but he can become very distracted by the social aspect of the classroom".

We are delighted with how they are going, and the way their teachers seem to have a pretty good handle on them. We (and they) are very lucky to have everything going so swimmingly at school.

Restaurant reviews

Elf I and do not dine out very often. We have had a bit of a purple patch in the last week or so, with two dinners out on the town. I am also going to roll into this another dinner back in June because it was so ridiculous. But first;

Pasha's, Elizabeth Street, Hobart.
Each year we dine out for our pal Anna's birthday. In recent years we have gone to this Turkish restaurant and had a banquet in a room upstairs. The extremely steep stairs (with bit of pipe for handrail) are heritage listed, like most of inner Hobart. The room has a huge square table and everyone sits around it, at shouting distance from each other. The food is excellent. My only grizzle would be that as we have a banquet each year, which is a little-bit-of-everything deal, I don't get to gorge myself on great chunks of lamb which is my main preoccupation when I get out to dinner these days. Menu: sensible and comprehensible.

The Boathouse, Queens Walk, Cornelian Bay.
We had our wedding reception here in 2001. The location is terrific, right by the water with a nice river view. The building used to be a seaside toilet block, dating back to the days when people swam at the little beach. It's too silty and yuck these days, but still looks pretty, and the ducks like it. It is still run by the very nice lady who we dealt with back then, and she always remembers us - which is good business but gives you warm fuzzies all the same. It's not as though we are in and out all the time.

This time it was Sally's birthday. We had martinis at the new house up the road a little, then strolled down to the waters edge for dinner. I have never had a martini in my life, being more of a beer/wine guy, so that was something. Gin and an olive, basically, although the mystique around them does make you feel somehow sophisticated as you sip. Olives on little plastic swords.

But back to the restaurant. Besides us there were about a dozen of Sal's friends, many from the cutting edge contemporary art scene. They are all very nice people. I was expecting the talk to be all residencies and grants and curatorships and the thematic nexus between sex and death but there was none of that, in my earshot at least.

The food is all pretty innovative, with plenty of jus and coulis and the like on the menu. You always want the serves to be bigger. Mains are around $30 and entrees $15-$20. You can order oysters one at a time, so I had 4 oysters as a cheapish entree. For main I had a little lamb fillet the size of my two thumbs, accompanied by a hockey puck of shredded lamb brisket. The lamb with lamb approach was new to me. It came with a wodge of mashed potato, which most of the other blokes eyed hungrily. I had panna cotta for dessert, three little units about thumbnail size, with a cone of creamy something.

In summary it is a lovely experience dining at The Boathouse, but you might want to grab a curry on your way home. The menu is quite fluid, and I always learn something new. This time I was taken aback by the Mushi of Tasmanian Scallops. I asked, and a mushi is basically a savoury custard.

Das Zimmer Wine Bar, Salamanca Square, Hobart
After Anna's exhibition opening in June, we went upstairs above the Bar Celona to this place. Anna had booked it for dinner, and we went in on the assumption that dinner would be available. The menu was hilarious - I wish I had been able to take notes. Unfortunately the only term I can recall is "microherbs". Those of us who didn't just give up ordered the ravioli. It arrived as five tiny discs on a large stark white plate. The wine list was very very long, and I don't remember seeing a single Tasmanian wine on it. The beers available were exotic and priced accordingly. The doof doof from downstairs kept conversation to a minimum. We mostly just pointed to our ravioli and the prices in the wine list and laughed and laughed.

Bus ticket wisdom

For some reason, Hobart buses have started using tickets from the Adelaide metro system. They advise you to call an Adelaide number for timetable information, which is probably not to going to do you much good here. Apart from that the main difference from the old green tickets is the nuggets of wisdom now printed on them. I imagine thoughtful commuters pondering "Fear is the parent of cruelty" all the way into town.

Here is some real-world advice I would like to see.

Always back the topweight
Never run on a misfield
Never tip Fremantle
Blutak - get some
The bolivian stumpy duck migrates by train
and
Stay upwind of billygoats

Uncategorisable

Michael: I'm trying to make a slug out of magnets.
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Marcus: Your mum is a sock and your dad is a pickle.

Soccer roundup

On Friday night my indoor team continued our good form from last week, with a fighting 7-4 win over the talented but lazy Deviants. Our passing was fluent and our finishing was tidy. Last week we had a 7-7 draw with a young and fit team who should have cleaned us up, so we are quite pleased with the way we're going.

Marcus's under 7s went three down very quickly yesterday, and he started to get a bit tearful. He and his team recovered well and got on top, finally winning 6-4. He played terrifically well, doing a lot of hard work in defence as well as kicking two goals from long range. It was a good hard game and everyone went home happy.

Last week we had one officious and neurotic parent on the other team who spoiled the occasion for the rest of the adults - I don't think the kids were bothered at all. The rest of her team's supporters were embarrassed and I suspect they are long-suffering. She stepped onto the field while our coach Robert was refereeing, and started disputing his decisions. He handled it perfectly, refusing to get ruffled, and insisting on his right to be the sole arbiter. Her son is an excellent player and hopefully will not have his enjoyment of soccer sullied by his mum getting into slanging matches.

Coordinators

On Saturday morning Elf's debut as Soccer Barbecue Coordinator finally arrived, after weeks of postponements as home games were shifted elsewehere on account of mud.

The previous holder of the post decided this season not to continue, after several years of early frosty starts and late pack-ups and not enough help. After a month or so the peasants were revolting over the lack of burgers and coffee which had become part of the landscape. Elf and another mum named Gina put their hands up, and now are the proud custodians of the ceremonial tongs.

Elf was nervous about keys, alarms, lighting the ancient gas barbecue etc etc, but it all went off very well. They decided to keep it very simple and only offer sausages in bread, tea and coffee. If you want more excitement there is tomato sauce. Other offerings might be gradually re-introduced.

I have recently taken on a coordinating role of my own, doing the Chess Club at school at lunchtime on Fridays. I set up the boards and trestle tables then prowl around helping when asked and occasionally venturing some advice when a game is going in circles. I didn't have many customers at my first meetings, and I started packing up early so i could get away back to work promptly when the bell went. Cue about a dozen grade 2s and 3s to arrive and mill about, eager for board-based combat.

I am actually a chess player of no great ability, and several of the kids (including Marcus) are easily better players than I provided they concentrate. The chess sets they have at school come with three queens of each colour, to allow for promoted pawns. (Usually with a basic set one takes back a captured rook and stands it upside down to be a queen). I would be interested to know what is the largest number of queens charging about on the board at one time in a serious chess game.

Choose one

[Note - this is an artist's impression of a real questionnaire. You can't really click on the buttons.]

"The world's best selection of Ferret Rubber Stamps"

It's quite a claim, but these guys deliver the goods.

Waterproof

Our dependants

Moonset

The moon setting behind Mt Wellington one morning a few weeks back. As I ate my breakfast the planet spun towards the east, and our only natural satellite appeared to slide behind this mountain to the west. Note: people have been there in rockets.

Denied

We used to have a cat named Claude, who was usually called the Softy Soft. Compared to our other, older and spikier cat he was like a purry cloud. He was also quite flat and floppy like a bean bag with legs. During the Claude era we once convinced my sister Sally that it was the International Year of Softness.

I'm sure when Marcus was little we also went on about how soft he was. Little kids are extremely soft and then you tend to wrap them in layers of other soft things.

The designation "soft" has also attached to Michael. We will have to make a big effort to shake it some time before he becomes a Test opening batsman, Minister for Defence or drill sergeant.

Anyway, I was making up a song as you do, about how soft he was. He did not agree and his dismissal was pithy and memorable.

Me: He's got soft arms and he's got soft legs / he eats soft bacon and soft boiled eggs.

Michael: I haven't and I dont.

My travels - haven't left Australia since 2001

visited 8 states (3.55%)
Create your own visited map of The World



visited 4 states (11.4%)
Create your own visited map of India

On footballers names, with particular emphasis on "Alan".

My vow to put less about football on the blog is failing miserably. My only excuse is that this is probably the finest season of footy in living memory and its hard not to be excited about it. I hope everyone in Qatar will bear with me - blogs coming soon on oil, dates, camels and your 2016 Olympic bid.

First: Alans. I have long had an interest in historical Alans. "The written sources suggest that from the end of the 1st century to the second half of the 4th century the Alans had supremacy over the tribal union and created a powerful confederation of Sarmatian tribes."

Then at some point in the 1930s they began playing football. I have nutted out a team, in position, of all the greatest Alans.
Many were called Alan, but few were chosen. Sorry Alan Mangels. I did find room for promising young Alan Obst on the bench. Alans have excelled over the decades particularly as rovers and goalkickers - I had to fill the key defensive positions with ruck rovers and the like. I don't want anyone to think this was easy, or that there is some AFL database on the net of Alans. THIS is the database of Alans.

Next subject - trends in footballers names. When I was a kid they were all Shanes and Waynes. Like me, you may have noticed that now they are all Danes and Kanes, with a few Zanes thrown in. In addition I am concerned about Brady, Brody, Cody, Cale, Cade, Jaiden and Chance. Where are the Ians? Where are the Steves? Every club should have a mandated minimum of one Colin, one Barry and two Kevins. I must stress I am welcoming of Setanta, Jarrhan, Andrejs and Alipate who have come on board in recent seasons. Diversity. But I am really concerned about Sharrod, Jamason and Ayce.

And Ayce brings me to my third point - footballer's sons. Footballers seem to give their sons shocking names. Ayce Cordy, Steele Sidebottom and Jaxson Barham come to mind. Jobe Watson. Dustin Fletcher. Gary Ablett got around it by naming his son Gary Ablett.

Finally - while searching for Alans I came across a very early Greg. Greg Stockdale of Essendon, carbon-dated to 1929. How hard would it have been to be a Greg in the 20s? All the basic Greg accoutrements (bodyshirt, suntan, flappy jeans, medallion) weren't invented until the seventies. Can anyone find an earlier example, or have I stumbled upon the Invention of Greg?

Michael writes a song on the way to soccer

Beautiful Magpie by Michael Rees

Beautiful magpie
In the hot sun
Beautiful magpie
Wipe the sweat off with your wing.

Buzz Aldrin

We have to be very careful talking about the Moon landings here at work. We have a hard-core denier, who will happily stop working and start shouting for ten to twenty when the subject comes up. I have proposed the ladies toilet (which has fairly light traffic) as the venue for any such discussions, at which time it will be referred to as the Moon Room.

Now - I was just checking on Buzz (2nd person to walk on the moon) on Wikipedia. I can't say any of this out loud without going to the Moon Room so I will share it with you instead, internet. Here are some discussion points.

His mother's maiden name was Marion Moon

The other astronauts nicknamed him Dr Rendezvous

He actually gave himself communion on the moon. He was a Presbyterian church elder, and took a Home Communion Kit with him, given to him by Reverend Woodruff.

He played the role of Reverend Woodruff in the 1996 TV movie Apollo 11 - he himself was played by Xander Berkeley.

He made a rap single with Snoop Dogg, Quincy Jones, Talib Kweli, and Soulja Boy called "Rocket Experience".

Finished at last

This is part of a big drawing commissioned by my mother-in-law Felicity. I finished it earlier this month - started in January. What a grind! It's drawn on a large map of Flinders Island. After I had already started I found out that Bill and Felicity went there for their honeymoon.

I really enjoyed bits of it. I wish I was better at likenesses, the two boys are the right size but otherwise don't look much like ours. If only they were bookcases, I feel like I've mastered those. Some detail pics are here.


This is an earlier stage.

On a pirate ship with a chicken

Michael is still crook. He had a quiet day yesterday with lots of snoozing but he had a high temperature overnight and didn't sleep well. Elf is coming down with something too, and couldn't sleep, so she bore the brunt of the nursing.

We visited Michael's classmate Mungo and his family up the road today. Since we were last there they have finished their fort and added a pirate ship. It began as a deck and grew. It now has a mast, a helm, a bowsprit, and a few things I don't know the names of. Mungo has a nine-year-old hen called Hetty who he carries around under his arm. She digs it.

As we walked down the hill toward the ship, Marcus was yelling "take the chicken on the pirate ship! Take the chicken on the pirate ship!" We did and she was fine with that too. I never knew how much I would love being on a pirate ship with a chicken.

Mungo's parents Menna and Leon are biologists. They have set up their garden to encourage wildlife as much as possible. They have a pond for frogs, and this is encouraging copperhead snakes to come by. Which is great and all, except for their extreme poisonosity. The Don Burkes and Peter Cundalls who are encouraging everyone to make a snuggly spot for frogs usually don't mention the snakes.
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Did 12km on the exercise bike in 23:55. Felt all wobbly (but victorious) afterwards.
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Richmond played North Melbourne this afternoon. Marcus has had it lined up for a week at least as a must-see. Both clubs' coaches resigned mid-season and they are playing under caretakers, and hoping to land recently retired champion player Natahn Buckley as next year's coach. As the game started Dennis Cometti said "This game is a Nathan Buckley mating dance". In the top 5 all-time Comettis I think.

1. If loving Fraser Gehrig is wrong, then I don't want to be right
2. Brent (Guerra) hates losing and that extends to his hair.
3. And the umpire says "Hey, you, get off of McLeod"
4. When it comes to hard nuts, he's right up there with Macadamias and Courtney Love.

Cometti trivia: He is still the youngest Test cricket commentator in ABC history, (debut in 1973 aged 23). Apart from a year in Melbourne during his playing career, he has lived in the same house in Perth all his life.

Eucalyptus dreams

Michael acquired a heavy cold last night. He was chirpy enough going off to school this morning, but at lunchtime I got the call to take him home. We walked home and now he is dozing.

To try to help clear his nose I have put a tissue soaked in eucalyptus oil where he will breathe in the fumes. Having done that, I now wonder if he is dreaming that he's a koala.

Eddie Izzard v Lego

This is, in my humble opinion, superfunny. Old recordings of British stand-up comedian Eddie Izzard, added to stop motion lego animations. Does get a little sweary.

(There were several attached here but they were playing havoc with the dial-up at home, so, if you want more, just search for izzard+lego).

Mashed Potatoes

Years ago Matt K lent me James Brown's autobiography The Godfather of Soul. It was pretty hilarious. No-one has ever given himself more self-important nicknames since perhaps Mussolini. Minister of New New Super Heavy Funk, The Original Disco Man, Soul Brother Number One, Mr. Dynamite and The Hardest Working Man in Show Business. According to himself he invented soul, disco, funk and rap. My favourite line is from a story about bandits making off with the box office takings at one of his shows. From the stage James saw someone with a gun menacing the front-of-house guy. Without stopping the show, he danced over to his bandleader Bobby Byrd to tell him to play something slow, and then saved the day in some way I can't recall. The dance was called the "mashed potatoes".

"So I mashed potatoes over to Bobby..."

According to Wikipedia:

The dance begins by stepping backward with one foot with that heel tilted inward. The foot is positioned slightly behind the other (stationary) foot. With the weight on the ball of the starting foot, the heel is then swiveled outward. The same process is repeated with the other foot: step back and behind with heel inward, pivot heel out, and so on. The pattern is continued for as many repetitions as desired. The step may be incorporated in various dances either as a separate routine or as a styling of standard steps.

Try it!

Lets look at - Western Australia!

Sorry, this might sound boring, but it just occurred to me, looking at a world map, that Western Australia is bloody big. We all know it takes up a third of Australia, but in world terms, it's a major chunk of land.

I have just checked the numbers, and if it seceded* and became independent, it would be the tenth largest country in the world. Smaller than Kazakhstan but bigger than Sudan. It's bigger than any country in Africa. Fact buffs will be thrilled to learn that Australia (6th) has such a big lead over India (7th) in area that if WA left, it wouldn't make any difference to their rankings.

*In 1933 68% of Western Australians did vote to secede. This failed to go through when everyone else pretty much just ignored them.

National Public Radio snippet

Brian said Tony would be a minute, because its a bit of a walk from the Dangerous and Severe Personality Disorder Unit. I looked at Brian. "Is Tony in the part of Broadmoor that houses the most dangerous people?" I asked. "Crazy, isn't it?" laughed Brian.

- from This American Life, ep. 385

Today's subjects: "the kookaburra", and "uncontrollable bleeding"

Michael drew this beautiful kookaburra this morning. They are members of the kingfisher family, with a very long and powerful beak.


These are pages from a first aid booklet for staff at GP clinics, which came home from Elf's work as scrap paper. Michael has interpreted the contents in interesting ways. There is a speech balloon with "greeked" text in each drawing. I'm not sure how the glamorous woman relates to "post op problems". I probably need to debrief Michael more fully before I blog these things.

Misc. diary notes

Rode 12 km on the exercise bike in 26:10, previous best was 27:30.

Last week I did roast chicken stuffed with an orange - didn't twig that I was supposed to cut orange into quarters. Poor chicken. Very tasty but. I haven't roasted anythingfor a couple of years.

Michael has been coming out with "I wish you were dead!" etc when he doesn't get his way. It doesn't bother me although no-one has ever wished me dead before. Nice change at the market yesterday - boys and Elf were returning home leaving me on the Amnesty stall. Michael grumbling "why isn't Dad coming? It's no fun without you Dad". So I'll treasure that for when he is next calling for my termination.

For the first time I have seen footage of myself playing soccer. Am now on a diet.

Little family reunion

My big sister Jacki and Mum and Dad stayed with us this weekend. Jacki lives in northern NSW, and gave herself the week off from work and kids to visit Mum and Dad, then drive down with them to visit us.

We hadn't seen Jacki for over two years - she paid us a flying visit while this house was being built, when we were down at Kingston Beach. We are planning to return the visit later this year, and see for ourselves the semi-tropical wonderland where they live. Jacki, Tim, Malachy and Brinley live in Smiths Lake, but the town up the road where Jacki's little boy Malachy goes to school is called Pacific Palms - which for me has "concrete flamingo" written all over it. But I have now seen the home movie DVD - Pacific Palms Public School is so crowded with palms there is hardly room for the kids.

All three visitors and Marcus came along to the indoor soccer semi final on Friday night, rugged up to the maximum. The indoor centre is basically a draughty shed. For a while it looked like we might oblige them with a win, but we went down 4-3.

Yesterday we continued the theme, with Mum and Dad coming along to Marcus's soccer match, while Jacki explored South Hobart on foot (rugged up to the maximum). South Hobart under 7 also had a titanic struggle, coming back from three goals down for a 4-4 draw. Marcus was magnificent and a true sportsman - it warmed the cockles. Robert the coach spent a solid five to ten minutes just with Marcus after the game, going over all the good things he did. He took the praise graciously.

Last night my little sister Sally and husband Matt came over for dinner, and Mum and Dad and all their children were in the same spot for the first time since Michael was tiny. Of course it turned into a photofest. I think everyone had a good time - it was hard to stop laughing long enough for the photos. They were all taken by the others, so I will have to wait until I am sent some to post them here.

The boys don't see much of Sal and Matt and virtually nothing of Jacki, so it was terrific to see them going around giving everyone warm hugs at bedtime.

Today Mum, Dad and Jacki headed back north - Mum to spend the day looking at galleries and Dad and Jacki to go to the Hawthorn v North Melbourne game at York Park (rugged up to the maximum).

I have to keep remembering to lead

Lead my followers that is. As the traditional means of welcoming Kittibee and AvigailsMommy to the blog, I have slaughtered an apple crumble slice from the bakery and divined the following from its entrails.

Kittibee: your lucky soil type is Myakka fine sand (the state soil of Florida) and your lucky spoon is the tablespoon.

AvigailsMommy: your lucky language is Flemish and your lucky grain is maize.

Enjoy!

The sunflower oil lady

Whenever I see her I think of Hunky Dory.

I am trying SO hard to keep up

Today, Prep Blue did "teeth". Michael came home after school and executed this fact-filled A4 sheet of wonderment. Also a fab diagram of a single tooth that we can't find just at the minute. I haven't interviewed him about this at length but I think "M. I. B." might be Molar. Incisor. Biter.

Yesterday Michael asked me "how do I open my mouth?" I said his brain told his jaw muscles to move and that opened his mouth. That might explain the drawing of the man holding possibly an apple, whose brain has just told his mouth to open. He is looking askance at his brain as if to say "WHAT???"

I think I possibly love this drawing most of all.

Michael gallery

Some of Michael's recent output.
Map of the school and a list of the streets around it. Note fish in the rivulet.


A game Michael made up called Mrs Cat's Mieouw Money™. I asked him what the ™ means and he said he had seen it on logos and things.

Crazy Frog Hops. When he writes little letters in among the capitals that is a guide to pronouncing it the way people do on TV (ie an American accent).
Plenty going on here: Spy Killer Rader, only kills badies.
Some more Scorpion Island inspired bizzo. Total Drama Island is a terrible more-grown-up kids show than came on after it.

Michael must have heard about Michael Jackson at school. Oh! He wouldn't tell me what the crossed out bit meant.
Alien juice recipe - the green splash on the right is some prepared alien juice.
Another potion recipe. Two lizard / tails, one oc/topus eye. a dr/op of chili / sauce. boil all together. / cool in the moonlight.


No robbers aloud. Money is aloud.

Michael is a cockatoo

Keeping up is impossible but I do my best

When I started this blog Michael had just turned 1 and Marcus wasn't even 3 yet. It was quite easy to find snippets of life that were easily bloggable. I'm finding it a lot harder now, I have to say. Perhaps its simply that parenting is all-consuming at that stage - I certainly don't think I was reading a lot of books, for instance. You almost have nothing else to write about.

If I spent all my time now writing down what Michael said and did, it would make a very entertaining blog. But there is just too much of it. He never stops generating ideas, drawings, new games, dances, songs - (except when he is watching TV, when he is as creative and outgoing as a barnacle). He loves to entertain an audience, and I feel like when he grows up entertaining will be a big part of his life.

My memory is failing me a lot lately, and although I want the blog to be interesting, I can't quite bring myself to carry around a notebook and record juicy bits in shorthand. And I am not really a Twitter type, packing the right technology 24/7 to comment LIVE.

Marcus is a more serious kid, like I was. He is extremely focused and intense when he is involved in something. He kicked four goals at the soccer match yesterday, and the look on his face after each one was kind of frightening. He is going to be a very fine soccer player, and his intensity could be the thing that separates him from equally talented ball players. But on display in the under sevens it's pretty unnerving.

He was getting grabbed and roughed up by a couple of the other team, and retaliated with his elbows. When he was subbed off for a break I spoke to him about it, and he was very emotional but buckled down and was in control again by the time he had to go back on. At one stage he kicked the ball accidentally straight into the face of one of the culprits. I was highly impressed that he straight away went over and checked he was alright, and hung around concerned until the kid got his composure back. He played really, really well, and despite losing it on the sidelines on balance he had a good day.

The iPod is a huge hit. It has three games on it (we did NOT know that when we bought it as a relaxation tool), and Marcus has spent most of his time playing with those so far. I am sure he'll get sick of them pretty soon. He has about thirty songs on it, and I have used it to introduce him to some old faves of mine like The Muttonbirds and Crowded House.

Scrolling through my iTunes at work trying to find calming music is an interesting experience. I've got 3 or 4 thousand songs and podcasts, but picking something for the seven-year-old audience is tricky. I will try to get some audiobooks perhaps. Any suggestions?