Welcome to the Dark Side. Now when I say "Dark Side" I am not implying that you are evil, or that I am evil, or that reading this blog in any way endorses evil. Its just that, in this part of the world, we are coming up to the shortest day of the year. For me, that means two weeks when I don't see my home town in daylight - except for the weekend. I like daylight. I like my home town. I like to see these things together. But with my train departing just as the sun starts to rise, and arriving home well past sunset, these are dark days indeed. Not bad days, just dark. Its about this time of year that I start to really look forward to spring. I have to get my Vitamin D hit at lunch time. Fortunately, winter in Victoria often affords beautifully cool yet sunny days. Today is one such day.

I finally finished my novel last year and put off the inevitably first edit, but after many delays completed that as well. This year I resolved to further refine the first few chapters with a view to sending it off to potential agents. After procrastinating for several more months, I managed to crawl across that imaginary deadline as well. Now they tell me I have to write a bloody five page synopsis and a cover letter! Don't they know how good I am at procrastinating?!? I'm actually writing this blog instead of writing the synopsis. And I'm supposed to give away the ending without all the pretty words that get you there. What's that about? Agents, publishers, editors! Its like they want you to write the book AND make it good or something.

My problem is I wax and wane in my own feelings toward the manuscript. Sometimes I think its great; other times I'm pretty sure I could wallpaper the house with the number of rejection slips I can expect. Obviously the publishing houses would have to send me several rejection slips each but I guess they have to be thorough. They wouldn't want me thinking there was hope because I only got the one rejection slip. Actually, my real problem is that I haven't gotten any rejection slips. That would be because no publisher has seen the novel because I don't have an agent because I have approached an agent because I haven't written the bloody synopsis yet. This could on a while.

One of the many things I use to distract myself from writing said synopsis is my new obsession, photography. I am trying to teach myself the finer art of using the manual controls. I read lots. I look at lots of pictures taken by people who know lots. I read some more. I take my camera into the field and promptly forget everything. I then take five or six hundred shots of one flower and then trawl through to find the one shot that doesn't look like I fell over while the shutter was open. I am finding my retention of crucial information such as f-stops and film speeds and how they relate to each other and the shutter speed to produce an exposure to be somewhat lacking. Also, I can't frame to save myself. If someone pointed a gun at me and told me to take a picture of a barn I was standing in, there is no guarantee the barn would actually appear in the picture. But I am getting better, and that's important.

I still haven't had a decent night to do much astrophotography but I think I've figured out a better way to mount the camera. My moon shots turned out kind of ok, but as I mentioned before, I forget all the basics as soon as I start taking shots, so I had the ISO speed wrong - again! Oh well. I guess I'll just keep going until I either become proficient or I fill up all the available hard drives I have. At this rate, I've got until the end of next week.

Ciao!

Thought for the Day: All is not lost! I just misplaced it a little.

Back so soon, eh?

Ok, so I kind of glossed over the whole ten years of marriage but I would like to jump back to that now. DW and I got married on the 28th of March, 1998. It was a cool, late Autumn day and the morning was pretty bleak. It was raining and I had a hangover from my impromptu second bucks night the night before, courtesy of my groomsmen and my sister, whom I shall call Air, to protect her identity. Fortunately it wasn't one of those stick-your-arm-down-your-throat-because-even-that-will-feel-better-than-this kind of hangovers, just a regular one. We had a few things to do before the wedding, which was scheduled for after lunch, so I had time to recover. The rain dissipated and we headed out to the church. As is customary, we arrived before DW and her entourage, though technically she wasn't DW then. Amusingly, her nickname up to that point was "Butch", but I won't go into that. Suffice it to say, she prefers DW.

While we were waiting and people were arriving and looking nervous for me, my groomsmen kept shoving chocolate and lollies and OJ at me. DW had apparently worded them up on my little "low-blood-sugar" problem. Its not really a super-power as such, but it does allow me to faint spectacularly at precisely the most inappropriate time. Combined with the copious amount of coffee I had consumed earlier, the sugar rush had me humming. I don't mean humming as in singing with my mouth shut, rather I was vibrating so fast I was slightly blurry to the naked eye.

When DW finally arrived, she looked decidedly upset, but she told me that she was just so happy, and it wasn't because she was only marrying me because I was her last option. She assured me I wasn't, which I have taken as a compliment.

Though it was pretty cold and quite windy, the day went very well. We headed off to have some photos taken by our "professional" (so-called) photographer and then over to the reception, which was also very nice, though I don't remember much of it. I organized three video cameras to film the event and I had every intention to cut a nice, concise wedding video together before our first anniversary. As it happens, that became my 10th wedding anniversary present to DW, though I must say, while ten years to edit a wedding video does seem a little on the long side, the technological improvements that have occurred during that time have meant a far better video in the end. Still, I got it done, for better or worse.

So here we are, ten years and two kids later, and we still like each other. Certainly enough to bother celebrating our ten years. It has been a lot of fun, and has had all the hallmarks of a good marriage. We laugh, cry, fight, make-up, work, play, relax and go crazy together still. And that's a good thing.

Ciao!

Thought for the Day: I wanted a sign that says "Beware of the guard squirrel. It goes for the nuts" but DW said not unless we actually get a guard squirrel, which she knows I will never do.

Good morning. Time to start blogging again.

I noticed this morning that it was February when I last posted a blog. It is now nearly the middle of the year. Looking back over the last few months, I can see why I haven't been blogging. So much has been happening, both at work and at home, that I haven't been taking the time to focus on my writing - at least with respect to this blog.

So, what in the world has happened?

Well, Princess is learning to read. Little Man has truly committed himself to the role of "two-year-old terror". DW and I made it to the big "Ten Years of Marriage". And I developed a brand new obsession. Now I know what you are thinking. Learning to read is pretty cool.

Its been a very interesting journey for Princess. She absolutely loves school and has really immersed herself in the joys of learning. Her reading has dramatically improved and she even explained to us recently how cannibals used special forks to eat the brains from their victims. I suspect she is learning as much from her classmates as from her teachers. At least Santa and the Easter Bunny are still safe.

Despite the new routine and excitement each school day brings, Princess is finding our less stimulating home environment something of a bore. She nags either for food or for interactive entertainment. This doesn't mean she wants to play on the computer or our non-existent PlayStation 3. No, she wants DW or I to jump about like an idiot for her amusement. DW steadfastly refuses and fair enough.

One of the games the two kids LOVE to play is Tickle-monster. Its a pretty simple game which involves me lying on my back on the floor and occasionally grabbing them when they get close enough and growling "tttttiiiiiiccccckkkkkkklllelllele MMOOONNNSSSTTEEERRRRRRR!!!!" We have been forced to establish the toilet rule which involves Princess going to the toilet BEFORE we start. As soon as Little Man forgoes his nappies, he to will be subject to this rule.

Mostly Princess is too nervous to come near me very often so it actually takes a bit of cunning to catch her. She WANTS to be tickled but can't bring herself to be subjected to it easily. Little Man has a slightly different approach which involves him jumping up and down on my chest or stomach until I get sick of it and tickle him. I have learned to keep my knees up to protect my groin - it mostly works. The only other rule is that the game ends when one or both kids start crying. The game doesn't last very long.

Little Man has gone through that dramatic phase of discovering the power of language. I don't mean its over and he now talks like an adult. But he has gone past the simple expression of emotions and words, to communicating far more complex thoughts, even if they are a little disjoint. I suspect there is probably a technical psychological term for it but if you have seen a child go through it, you would know what I mean. Princess went through it and it was a joy then too. While even babies have personality, it seems quite muted in comparison to this sudden burst of self expression. Of course, now he has so much personality we can't shut him up.

DW cops the brunt of Little Man's new found enthusiasm for expressing every damn thought in his head, along with Princess' need for entertainment as well as her near exhaustion from running around entertaining everyone at school. Little Man is still deciding if he is going to give up his day sleep or not but I suspect it will happen soon. But DW keeps it all together and keeps the house running. Next year Little Man starts kinder. Seven months seems like a long time.

Well, that's it for today. If you want to know about my new obsession, hop over to http://splutterbang.blogspot.com/ and check it out. For those that can't be bothered, my new obsession is photography. DW and I purchased a digital SLR for our ten year wedding anniversary (we bought the analogue equivalent when we got married). I have selfishly dominated the use of this new toy and some of the photos will go up on SplutterBang!.

Ciao!

Thought for the Day: Yesterday is tomorrow's day before yesterday. Does it know that?

Step right up folks, the show is about to begin!

Ok, now where was I? That's right. Blogging.

Princess has been at school for a few weeks now and she is absolutely loving it. She has already impressed the teachers with her exuberance, vitality and ability to speak while running, jumping, eating and drinking. She has also been quick to make friends and to hear her tell it, her entire class, plus several of the other classes, are her very best friends. The school she attends is quite large and there are four Prep classes of nearly 20 kids in each. Princess has already been nominated as the class representative on the Junior School Council for her class, though she has no idea what that actually entails.

Probably the most pleasing thing to hear is how ready Princess is to help out her class mates. Some of the other kids have had a hard time adjusting to school life and Princess is always ready to jump in and try to make them feel at home. She worries about how other kids feel. I guess no matter how we might feel as parents in terms of success, we can always just look at how our little girl is turning out to get a fair idea of how we are doing. Obviously there is still along way to go, but so far, I must say I'm very proud of her.

Princess has not only embraced the social side of school, but also the academic side. Every night when I come home she has something new to show or tell me that she learned that day. In only a few weeks her writing has shown remarkable improvement and I am confident she will be reading fluently very soon. All in all she is growing up very quickly.

While I remember I should mention a little conversation I overheard between Princess and Little Man a few days ago. A TV show about dinosaurs came on and Princess and Little Man were very excited.

Princess: Wow! This show has dinosaurs. We haven't seen this one for ages!
Little Man: Yay! Dinosaurs!
Princess: But those dinosaurs are bad. We don't like them.
Little Man: I like them.
Princess: Shut up, you fool.

It was like my children were channelling the A-Team.

Ciao!

Thought for the Day: If I am a blogger, are you the bloggee??

Chutney! Too few blogs start with it.

Ok, so its time to tell the world about Princess' first day at school. In the days leading up to that wonderful event, DW had made sure that ALL the little things had been taken care of. Labels, books, pencils, lunch boxes, drink bottles, hair ties, school logos, more labels, hats, shoes, haircuts, textas, school bag and even more labels. We even coaxed Princess to bed at a reasonable time, though she was so excited that I'm sure she lay awake for a long time. But fortunately she was so worried that something might happen to prevent her going to school, such as being naughty and told she would have to wait another year, she was as quiet as a mouse. Little did she realise that we were just as excited as she was, and naughty or not, she was going to school come hell or high water.

Well, perhaps we were not quite as excited as she was. At 6:22am she came into our room fully dressed with her hat and bag on and her lunchbox and drink bottle already packed. There was no food or water in them yet but she didn't care. In her loudest whisper she hissed,"I'M READY TO GO."

Well that was how our morning started. Eventually, after she had eaten as much breakfast as her excited little tummy could handle, the time finally came to leave. Little Man was a little confused as to the commotion but he's pretty laid back about things so we got his little "school bag" ready, opened the front door and let Princess loose on the world. We headed off on our three minute walk to the school about 27 minutes earlier than we needed to. Needless to say we arrived very early. But we were not the only ones. Many of Princess' friends from Kinder and Mum's Group were also attending the same school so there was lots of catching up amongst the mums, and the kids, but mostly Princess just wanted to get in there and start the learnin'.

Eventually the doors opened and we were swept up in the flow of people like water going down the plug hole. We found Princess' room and bag hook and somehow found our way through the quagmire and into her classroom. The teacher was all ready taking photos of the new arrivals and we had our "first day" family photo taken. Once that was over, we found Princess' name card on a table and she settled in and started drawing a picture. Other kids were hugging their parents goodbye, clinging on to legs, or being strangled by weeping mothers. Some had decided to run around and jump they were so excited and some parents were already yelling at their kids to calm down because they hadn't even been in the school for five minutes and already they were acting like idiots. But Princess was already sitting down and working. She was there for the learning and it was time to start. She took a moment for a quick hug goodbye and got straight back to it. She barely looked up as we left. She had already finished her first picture and was starting her second. She was ready. Let the learning begin.

I was able to have the day off so that I could be with Princess on her first day. DW and I walked Little Man home and then sat and had a coffee. We had made it. We got Princess into the school system in one piece. It had been touch and go there for a while. So we sat and had a quiet moment while Little Man ate his snack. When DW had made Princess' lunch, Little Man insisted that he too should have a lunch box, so she prepare something for him. As soon as we got inside, he sat himself down in the entry and proceed to eat his snack. After the walk and something to eat, he was tired and went down for his nap so finally, it was completely quiet at our house. Little Man slept for two hours. It was amazing, not because it was quiet, but more because this kind of quiet would happen every school day. That was the most amazing thing of all.

But all too soon the peace had to come to an end. Little man woke up and had to be fed and the first three days of school for Princess ended at 1pm so we all headed back down to the school and found the same collection of parents waiting patiently outside the classrooms. I think some of them actually waited there. Anyway, eventually Princess came racing out and proceeded to try to tell us everything she had done while simultaneously showing us all the new playground skills she had developed while simultaneously running a separate conversation with each and every other child in the playground at the time. Eventually I convinced her to come home for some lunch and then had to convince DW to come home as well, because she got caught up chatting with the other mums. A couple of Princess' friends also walk the same way we do so our little contingent headed off, the first day of school over.

I think Princess spent those first few days thinking that maybe school was going to suddenly stop or something, and she'd be home again, forever. She was desperate to get back there and still takes some encouragement to leave. At least now she is starting to realise that she only has to stay home on weekends, holidays and when she is sick. And she is really loving it. But more on that next time.

Ciao!

Thought for the Day: Also chutney. Too few blogs end with it.

Ahh, Valentine's Day. Once again that line is drawn in the sand and men everywhere must jump across it. Sure some men will belittle the day by calling it a trumped up money spinner for card makers, chocolatiers, jewellers, florists and other greedy purveyors of Love's affectations, and grudgingly drag their feet across. Some will hurl themselves across in a desperate hope to break the dry spell between intimate encounters. Some poor fools will be facing the wrong way and not even realise the line has been drawn. But most men will simply step across that sandy line, buy some flowers or chocolates or both and not worry about why Valentine's Day exists. It just does, ok.

I am of the latter camp, though I bought neither chocolates or flowers. I didn't buy chocolate because we already have a lot of chocolate in the house. That's a story for another blog. I also didn't buy flowers because I like to give flowers as a special surprise, so the one day I am least likely to buy them is on Valentine's Day. Also, February 14th was on a Thursday so I was coming home from work and flowers don't enjoy the commute. So, instead I bought DW a couple of CDs that I knew she would enjoy.

DW on the other hand, prepared a wonderful candlelit dinner with a bottle of wine and an early dinner for the kids. She cooked a delicious meal and followed it with a dessert to match. But what made the evening really special was that we actually sat and chatted. We just don't get the time to do that as much these days. I don't mean we don't talk, because we do, but we don't get to just chat away without the usually worries of the world constantly drifting to the fore. DW and I chat really well. We do some other things EXTREMELY well, but we also chat really well. Despite the fact that we are passionate about very different things, we still find common ground. I guess that's why we work so well. Having shared interests can give some couples stuff to talk about, and in other cases its the opposites that attract, but for us, we have a bit of both. And we really like each other. That seems important somehow.

So another Valentine's Day has passed and the next one is but a distant speck on the horizon, with a whole lot of year between. One thing I have learned, no matter what a year might hold, sharing it with DW makes the tough parts bearable and the great parts spectacular. So for all you guys out there that are just drifting along in your relationships, I suggest you dive right in and thoroughly enjoy your significant other, even if it means celebrating "Your-wife-or-girlfriend-will-love-you-more-if-you-give-us-money" Day. Valentine's Day is easier to say.


Ciao!

Valentine's Thought for the Day: "Je tiendrai votre coeur dans des mes mains" (English - "I will hold your heart in my hands."). Also makes a great battle cry.

Welcome to today's episode of "The Waiting Game", starring Princess (in all 48 roles).

Yep, this is another trip down recent memory lane, to the month of January (I'm slowly catching up) when all thoughts of Christmas were but a faint memory. For much of last year we had been telling Princess that she would start school soon after Christmas. We should have expressly mentioned that it would be more than a few hours post Yule celebrations. As soon as we settled back home, she started. "When do I go to school?" "Is it nearly time to go to school?" "Is it morning tea time?" "Will there be morning tea at school?" "Is it nearly time?" "Why does it take so long for school time to come?"

So DW and I had to implement delaying tactics. We tried such gems as "Who's at the door?" and then run and hide, and the all-time parenting classic, "If I give you a jelly bean will you shut up for five minutes." We bought DVDs, we encouraged the kids to play together, outside, in another room, any where that was away. We read books and played board games and it was all to no avail. Princess wanted to go to school and she was determined to drive us mad, no matter what it took. However, we devised a clever plan.

Little Man still needs a sleep during the day and Princess would probably benefit from having one as well, but she flatly refuses. Anyway, we decided that we would "play" school each day, where I would sit with Princess and go through her "school" books (activity books) with her. This is how I spent my hard earned long service leave. But the playing of "school" was contingent on her having "quiet" time, for a whole hour. This meant no questions, no singing opera, no giggling like an idiot, no playing with toys that made ANY sort of noise and we were also forced to add, no made up sign language or interpretive dance. It took a bit of convincing but Princess was so desperate to go to school, that "pretend school" became the drug of choice. And so, for an hour each day, Princess was completely quiet and Little Man slept. DW and I had successfully negotiated a Peace treaty, and that silence was truly golden.

It mostly worked, but it was torture for the poor girl who hadn't actually stopped talking, even to take a breathe or sleep, since she was conceived. Yep, she was a womb talker, but at least then all the fluid in her lungs dulled the whining. However, to her credit, Princess gave it a red hot go and rose to the occasion, slipping up only a few times. We were so impressed we gave her a jelly bean out of shock.

Anyway, as the "Blessed Day" drew closer, quiet time became harder and harder, but just as Christmas had done, the day finally arrived. I always knew Christmas would come but I admit I had begun to doubt the the first day of school would. So we all made it through January relatively intact, barely. Princess has now begun a new phase in her life. She informed DW on the night before school started that she would no longer be giving us Little Girl hugs, because tomorrow she would be a Big Girl. And for the briefest moment we thought about how our beautiful little girl was growing up so fast, and about how she would need us less and less. DW cried a little. I even felt the weight of that moment until I remembered the last 2084.6 days and thought "School...Bring it on!" DW made up a jaunty little song called, "She's going to school, she's going to school, she's finally going to school! Hoo-f*#@king-ray!!" while skipping.

So what was Day 1 of my new life like, I hear you ask? Well, more on that soon. Right now, I have a song in my head.

Ciao!

Thought for the Day: Before I got fit, I couldn't run 10 metres. Now I nearly can.

Hi Ho!

That's not meant to sound rude. Just festive.

Ah, Christmas. It's different when you have kids. I remember being a kid and being desperate to see the presents on Christmas morning. I remember being sent back to bed on more than one occasion because, well, the sun wasn't up. In fact, I don't think it had finished going down. I can appreciate the excitement that Princess was feeling. DW and I do have an extra weapon to manage over-excited children that my parents didn't have. Santa!

Yep. We wield the jolly fat guy like a red and white, present giving sabre. Oh, we don't play the "Santa only gives presents to good children" card because Princess knows just as well as we do that she doesn't behave and she still gets presents. She always has and she always will. However, she is a pretty smart kid and aside from the falling for the whole Santa caper in the first place, she has a bit of reasoning about her that we duly exploit. For example, Santa won't visit if he knows you are awake. And he knows, so you can't fool him.

Funnily enough, Princess doesn't really trust Santa. Looking through her Christmas photos from Kinder, all the other kids are laughing and hugging Santa but Princess always stands away from him and doesn't even like passing him in the shopping mall. DW and I can't figure out why she doesn't like him as she hasn't had any "Bad Santa" experiences, though it is possible that she might have unwittingly seen an episode of Futurama that had an angry, judgemental Santa with an Uzi. She is also not so keen on the Easter Bunny, though I think more kids would be afraid if they knew the Easter bunny is really a Pooka (see a film called Harvey if you don't believe me).

I never believed in Santa growing up. I knew who Santa was supposed to be, but we were never told that he was real, only that he was a fictional character that supposedly took credit for the presents parents gave. Why parents would want there children to think their presents came from a strange obese man that broke into houses for a living, I'm not sure. My sister once told me that she and her husband had been particularly proud of the lavish presents they had bestowed on their children one year. When they smugly asked the kids if they were happy with the haul, the eldest replied in hurt tones that the presents were wonderful but no thanks to them, because they had forgotten to get the kids anything. Santa had done all the work.

DW and I discussed the merits of telling Princess and Little Man the truth about Santa but she was adamant that it would ruin Christmas for Princess if she knew. I'm not so sure. My own memories of Christmas were of presents and sugar hits galore, and family and holidays and fun and more sugar. I never experienced the disappointment of discovering Santa wasn't real. But DW does have a point. The Santa myth is something Princess still shares with her friends and that is part of her Christmas experience. Anyway, now she is at school, I'd be surprised if that bubble doesn't burst soon enough. Little Man doesn't really care as long as he gets presents and lots of sugar. Bring on Easter.

Ciao!

Thought for the (Christmas) Day: Pissled Tink

Bloggedissue!

I don't know what that word means but I suspect its kobberish.

Ok, as promised I shall now continue to back date the update and jump ahead to a previous time. Christmas 2007. Yes, despite Princess' fears, it did actually arrive. As per usual, we had a few warm up events, namely my family gathering and DW's Mum's Group gathering. As I have mentioned in a previous post, I have a large family and we now just hire a hall for our Christmas get together. We used to have a Kris Kringle for the adults but that has subsided over the last couple of years and we now just give presents to the kids.

Its interesting to see how much each of my nieces and nephews change each year. They seem to suddenly shoot up and become disturbingly tall and articulate. They can get their own food from the buffet and no longer need to be reminded about going to the toilet. Mind you, its still fun to remind the older ones just for the looks they give. Actually I've noticed that I still remind Princess automatically, even though she probably doesn't need it. She hasn't reached the "OhmyGodDadcouldyoubemoreembarassing?!?" stage of life so she doesn't really care.

As the years have gone by, Princess has become more and more scarce at these events. I don't mean she doesn't attend, rather, I don't have to watch her. As soon as we arrive she takes off to find an older and cooler cousin to hang out with. I barely get to see her until its time for food or presents and then the first thing I say is, "Have you been to the toilet?" I must try to stop that or she won't want me to pick her up from school any more.

Little Man on the other hand is also changing rapidly but although he can run around and play quite happily with cousins his own age, he decided he'd rather be carried around by Dad, crying and slobbering all over my shirt. He cried and slobbered on DW's shirt too, but it was my shirt I was worried about. Princess and Little Man are very different characters. Princess is very out going and even at a similar age to Little Man, she was off playing with the older kids. Little Man doesn't like to be too far from DW or me, and takes quite a while to warm up to the other kids. I suspect that next year, when he's three, he will want to play with the others more. Then perhaps DW and I can sit down and enjoy ourselves.

Hosting a Mum's Group BBQ is not for the faint-hearted, or the sensible. This group have been together for nearly six years, and with most of the mum's having not learnt from their first experience and gone ahead and had another kid, means there were a lot of small, dangerous people running about the house. And crawling. As it happens, this past Christmas DW and I were not faint-hearted or sensible and opened our home to the miniature version of a frat party. And by miniature, I don't mean to diminish the scale of the devastation, but rather to imply that the participants were shorter than your typical frat brother. There were kegs everywhere.

Actually, there were no kegs, but rather empty lolly bags and believe me, for a hyped up, 20kg engine, there is no "speed" like eating your own body weight in sugar. Unless of course you chase it with four bottles of fizzy, liquid sugar. It was like watching Gladiator in fastforward only more violent and much funnier. There were very few laughs in Gladiator. If you could have seen these kids go, and hummed the Benny Hill theme music, well... let's just say it was entertaining.

After they all left, and the fire brigade, police and the last ambulance, DW and I surveyed the damage. We decided against nuke'ing the site from space (apparently you need permission) and also, it kind of already looked like we had so we set about cleaning up. We eventually had to a point that was liveable, even if it does look like it had once been nuked from space. We've been told the radioactivity will eventually subside and the gentle green glow at night is kind of soothing. On the plus side, we think the kids may be developing super powers. Only time will tell. Still, this means it is someone else's turn this year. Any takers?

Ciao!

Thought for the Day: What's with the soft white walls, and roof and floor? And where's the door?

Hello Stranger!

Yep, its me. I know, you hardly recognize me what with all the not posting and the beard. But don't you worry now. The beard goes on Sunday. Whoosh! Outta here! You see, I've just finished my holidays and I don't shave so very often on my holidays but now that I'm back at work - its back to once a week.

Also, I have set myself the lofty goal of posting at least twice a week. Actually, my aim is to post at least 100 times over the year so I will have to do some catch up to make up for January. But the good news is there is a ton of news. And some of the news itself is also good.

I noticed that my last post was in September last year. Quite a lot has happened as you can well imagine. For starters, I finished the first edit of my novel. It needed quite a lot of editing and it still does. But at least it's now in a fit state for others. So I passed it around a select few people. Obviously DW was the first to get a copy and she dragged herself all the way through several pages and even nodded several times. After asking me several times not to watch her while she read, I left her alone to "enjoy" the story. A few weeks later (it's not a comic) she finished and nodded several more times. Actually, she really enjoyed it and we chatted about what happens in the alluded to sequel. And despite my insecurities, I think she really did genuinely like it.

So the next person to read it was a friend who is also a writer. She also enjoyed it but had a few additional comments about structure, character arc, grammar and so on. It was very constructive feedback but all I can remember her saying is "It's great but its crap and here's why..." I suspect my mind is not remembering the event accurately. Anyway, that was before the first edit. At least the grammar and spelling have improved slightly.

More recently my sister, also a writer, reviewed the work. She had very positive feedback and also some very useful suggestions for improvements. She also went to the trouble of "marking" the first couple of chapters, to help me get ready for sending them off to a publisher/agent/whoever. Don't get me wrong, this was at my behest. She pulled those pages to pieces. Not a single sentence got away without comment. Well, maybe one or two. I'm just glad she didn't use red pen or it would have looked like the paper was actually bleeding. Still, that was only a first impression and actually reading the comments made far more sense than looking at the page as a whole. I guess its no worse than an editor would do, and perhaps a lot kinder. In fact, my sister may well make an excellent editor, should she ever wish to follow that path.

So now I have to incorporate some modifications into the second edit and start send those first few chapters out into the wild. I'll let you know how I go.

Now I know you are probably less interested in my novel and more interested in the goings on of Princess and Little Man, and possibly DW. Well, so much has happened that I will have to break it into parts. So tune in again next week for another Total Bern Out!

Ciao!

Thought for the Day: One down. 99 to go.

BANG!

I just thought I'd start this blog with a bang. Short and sweet, like today's blog.

A couple of days ago I was making DW her regular Sunday morning breakfast in bed consisting of bacon and eggs when Princess asked where we get bacon.

Princess: Dad, where do we get bacon?
Me: Well, from pigs actually.
Princess: From pigs?!?
Me: Yeah, like we get chops from cows.
Princess: How do they make the pigs so flat?

I toyed with the idea of describing a great big slicing machine but decided that it is possible to be too honest. So I responded with...

Me: Well, its complicated and don't worry about it now, your bacon's ready.

Whatever she might have thought of that answer was moot because as soon as she smells sizzling bacon in front of her, she pretty much forgets whatever she was about to ask. DW told me that yesterday in the bath she mentioned that she thought it was sad that we eat pigs. This is a good reason not to have something edible as your favourite animal.

Little Man on the other hand, likes trucks. He can't get enough of them. Every time he sees a truck he has to yell out to it. Even if he can't see a truck, he still likes to yell out to any trucks that might be hiding nearby. He especially likes his Grandad's truck. He calls Grandad "Dumda" but when he sees Grandad he gets really excited and just calls him "Dum". Not flattering perhaps but not as embarrassing as when he sees Grandad's truck. While Little Man can say "Truck", he usually just says "fuck". When he sees Grandad's truck, he gets really excited and points and yells "Dum fuck, Dum fuck!" DW had to explain this little idiosyncrasy to an unsuspecting passerby, who happened to have a very similar truck to Grandad's.

DW told me how Little Man was sitting in the back seat telling her how much he likes "fucks". We visited a friend recently and her little boy, a bit older than Little Man, has a similar issue with trucks, only he calls them "cocks". Apparently he really loves them, especially the big ones. Kids are embarrassing, but I think it would be very funny to her these two little boys chatting in the back of the car at a Monster Truck Rally.

Ciao!

Thought for the Day: Should auld acquaintance be forgot? Yes, dammit! Them and their aulds.

10 clearscreen
20 printscreen "Hello, World!"
30 printscreen
40 goto 20

The time has come to talk of many things. Of birthday parties, Father's Day, cabbages and strings.

I'm not sure where I left off from Little Man's birthday celebrations and checking would involve a small amount of effort that I am really not willing to commit to, so I'll just type for a bit and we'll see what happens.

Little Man turned two, blah, blah, blah, we had a party, blah, blah, blah, visited the grandparents house while they were away, blah, blah, blah, stuff happened last week, blah, blah, blah AND THEN...

...it was Father's Day. "Was there a sleep in?" I hear you ask. Yes, there was. "Was there breakfast in bed?" Yes, there was. "Did you have to change all the dirty nappies?" Yes, I did. Now that I think about it, DW must LOVE Father's Day. To be fair, DW was not well on Sunday and she did offer to let me sleep in, and I actually don't like breakfast in bed, and the nappy thing, well that was all just bad luck.

But there were presents! Yes, for several days, Princess would say cryptic things like, "Daddy, make sure you don't go in the study" or "Daddy, don't look under Mum's side of the bed because I don't want you to find out what your present is" or "Daddy, I don't want you to know that we had to put the painted mug in a special oven so that it will be ready for Father's Day, and I made a card". I think they start teaching subtlety next year.

So, you can imagine my surprise to received a mug-shaped present. I did the surprised-Dad look and opened the card and the present, the first of which was made by Princess and the second had been painted by Princess or possibly Monet on Speed. It has a kind of Angry Impressionist look to it. Still, I love it. She made one a couple of years ago which she doesn't remember but I still keep on my desk at work. Oddly enough, when you see these things on other people's desks, you can't help feel sorry for them. No longer will Mum be buying the Father's Day present on the child's behalf, because they can MAKE stuff for you now. But, for myself, the trashy handmade stuff Princess comes up with is better than anything she could have bought me anyway. In fact, I have just enjoyed a lovely cup of tea from my new mug and now I feel the need to go off and angrily impress someone.

And there were more presents. I've already mentioned the present Little Man made for me, which I had to wrap myself while holding my breath, but DW also got me a couple of things. She had asked me a few weeks ago what I would like and I mentioned that I was going to try to get fit. Now, those of you who know me will probably laugh and laugh and laugh. Ok, now stop it. I also mentioned a couple of items that I thought might help me get fit. Yes, yes, very funny now get over it. I have also been trying to eat healthily - don't choke now. So I haven't been eating a lot of junk food. I'll just give you a moment to get back up off the floor and wipe your eyes.

Anyway, DW's present was well thought out if a little paradoxical. She gave me a big bag of my favourite chips and some push up bars. Then she gave me two 5kg weights and a block of expensive chocolate. I guess she felt the net result was pretty even, so she tipped the balance in favour of healthy by giving me an inflatable punching bag. Now before you start thinking I'm a big sissy and that an inflatable punching bag would be like hitting a balloon, let me just clarify a few things. Firstly, it doesn't have the weight of a normal punching bag but it isn't supposed to as it is designed for a more aerobic workout. Also, because it is weighted at the bottom and stands upright by itself, it can be used anywhere and is actually a lot of fun. I didn't get to use it much because the kids were all over it but still, its pretty cool.

I have also been playing guitar a bit lately so DW has organized some guitar lessons for me. I said she had already done enough for me but she insisted that they weren't a present for Father's Day. They weren't even a present for me. She said I should think of them as more of a gift for the rest of the family.

So another Father's Day has come and gone. Bring on Christmas!

Ciao!

Thought for the Day: The "home" key on my keyboard doesn't work! I'm still here! I've been too scared to hit the "end" key.

Top o' the mornin' to ya!

Well, it looks like Winter is scurrying away with its icy tail between its legs. Spring is upon us! Well, technically it will be here on Saturday but no doubt many of you will have caught the preview. Yesterday was such a happy Spring day that I just had to go outside to the nearby park to enjoy the sun, the warm breeze and the smell of flowers. I promptly had a fit of hayfever and spent the rest of the afternoon hiding under my desk. And I don't even have red hair! So I broke out the drugs (the hayfever drugs) and braved another pre-Spring day. I even managed to shed the coat today, so mild a morning it was. Yep. It looks like Spring is here.

This is a good thing. It means the kids can play outside more. That is mostly what Spring means to DW and I. And the kids love playing outside. Occassionally they will even play nicely together but that usually ends in tears. Mostly Little Man's but he is increasingly holding his own against Princess and isn't afraid to play dirty. He's not above throwing a handful of sand in her face if she annoys him. Still, he's only two so we do what we can but for the most part, he will just have to learn.

Because DW's folks are away on their annual winter pilgrimage to anywhere warmer, they asked us to drop into their place for a couple of nights. Apparently its required by their insurance, but it also gives us an opportunity to have a little holiday. At least, that was the plan. Having worked some overtime I had a day's worth of FLEX up my sleeve and so last Friday, I took the day off and DW and I decided on the spur of the moment to do something impulsive. Not very impulsive, just a little impulsive. We had already discussed the possibility several times but we hadn't ACTUALLY decided until Friday morning. So as soon as Princess was back from Kinder, we packed up the car with all manner of clothing, food (because there wouldn't be much there) and miscellany and headed off (we did pack the kids too).

Princess did her best to keep herself awake by talking constantly, but she and Little Man were pretty tired so they fell asleep uncharacteristically early. It was a beautiful day for a drive in the country, lush and green from the recent rain. The trip passed without event and we arrived in the middle of the afternoon. The kids, fresh from a nice sleep, descended on their grandparents house like a swarm of locusts. Ok, so two kids might not seem like a swarm but if you had been there... Toys went everywhere. As it happens, Grandma is a former Kinder teacher and has a large number of toys still from those days and having had several kids of her own. I don't think she or Grandad play with the toys much now so they sit quietly until Princess and Little Man or the other grandchildren arrive. BOOOM!! Toy salad!

Eventually we dug the kids out and fed them. Unfortunately they had to forego their bath due to the fact that the water hadn't heated sufficiently but DW had the wood fire blazing merrily so the house was nice and cozy at least. I may have mentioned before DW's disconcerting ability with fire. Seriously, I believe she could get a fire going with nothing more than a box of matches, a newspaper, several firelighters, a handful of kindling and some bone dry wood. (Truth be told, she is very good at lighting a fire.)

Anyway, we decided to try Little Man in the porta-cot, which is harder to climb out of than a normal cot, though apparently not much harder. Little Man was out of there like a shot. So we decided to set him up in another room, which had not had the benefit of being heated so was considerably colder. That didn't bother Little Man. He worked up a sweat running around and bouncing off the walls in that room. At least there he was less likely to wake his sister. Unfortnately, Princess doesn't go back to sleep easily, so considerable effort went to convincing her that this holiday was supposed to be relaxing for ALL of us, not just an opportunity for Princess and Little Man to go nuts.

Anyway, after a pretty much horrible night, we decided to take the kids to a special adventure playground not too far from the grandparents place. Just far enough to play the "Are-we-there-yet?-shut-the-hell-up-or-so-help-me-I'll-turn-this-car-around" game a few times. When we got there, we had some lunch and proceeded to chase the two kids around the park, trying to keep them from leaping off high forts, eating sand and jumping in the numerous ponds and lakes. Yeah, lots of fun.

So then we took them over to the beach, popped on their shorts and thongs and wandered along the shore. Then we chased them trying to keep them from leaping off the high dunes, eating more sand and other things, and jumping in the one very large pond. After a while we gave up and decided to let them get their feet wet, which unfortunately meant we had to go in as well. So we rolled up our jeans as best we could and held on to the kids and faced the biggest waves they had ever seen. The first few didn't actually reach us, so big were they. Soon, however, the water rushed up and engulfed our ankles. I don't mind saying that it was cold. So cold that squealing like a girl seemed like the thing to do. So the four of us squealed like girls, but the kids at least were enjoying themselves.

In the end, we had to drag them away from the water, both of them far wetter than we had intended, but still squealing happily. We changed them back into their dry clothes, after some difficulty getting them to wash the sand off, and had an ice-cream. Then we hopped back into the car hoping they would be so worn out that they would sleep, and sleep they did. It even took them a few minutes to wake up after we got home, and wake up they did. With the renewed vigour that comes from a half-hour powernap, they threw themselves into running, fighting, throwing, kicking, crying and generally being annoying. Fortunately we were able to give them a bath which did settle them down somewhat.

I wasn't going to be fooled by Little Man twice and decided to put him in his own room from the start. He wasn't happy but eventually settled. Princess on the other hand did her best to stay up later but eventually she went to sleep as well. When the clock hit 4:50am, Little Man woke up and threatened to wake up everyone else. So I got up and settled him. And settled him. And settled him. And so on until 6:30am, when the sun had risen enough that there was no way he was going back to sleep. So I got him up and gave him breakfast, hoping at least Princess would sleep in for a bit. But she didn't. Just before 7am she came into the kitchen demanding food. So I obliged them both and tried to keep them calm until 8am, when I served DW's breakfast. After that, DW watched the kids while I had a bit more sleep.

Then we faced the cleanup. After being thwarted by the kids at every turn, I focussed on distracting them while DW packed, swept, washed, tidied, folded, tucked, picked up, mopped, vacuumed, hunted and cleaned. Amazingly she had the place looking great quite quickly. I still think keeping the kids occupied was harder. Anyway, we piled into the car and headed home. It was a long trip because although both kids were extremely tired, they didn't want to sleep. To keep themselves awake, the fought. Princess yelled and Little Man squealed. This didn't stop when we got home. It didn't stop at bath time. It didn't stop at dinner time, or story time or bed time. It stopped when Little Man got a mouthful of Phenergan. Peace at last. Peace ended at 4:50am. D'Oh!

Ciao!

Thought for the Day: Sorry. Too tired. I got nothin'

Halt! Who goes there?!?

Its ok. You can pass. Up for a bit of bloggery, eh?

Well, let's see what we can do. Since I finally finished the first draft of my novel, I have been a little slack when it comes to writing. I guess I've been on a little break. However, my life has not been on a little break and has been as busy as ever, only more so. I have made another short film for the Diet Coke Short Film Competition (http://www.dietcokefilms.com.au/) and it has been selected as a finalist. It will be shown on the 14th of September. I also entered a short story competition with the ABC but I won't hear back from them until 1st of November.

Anyway, now those little endeavours are out of the way (though still hanging over my head) I can get stuck into editing my 140,000 word novel. Oh, the joy! I was also working on another short film when we put it on hold to do the Diet Coke one so that will be back on in the next week or two. Work has been very busy lately and promises to be so until the end of the year. But I would like to get back into the blogging so I'll make a bigger effort to be more regular. On with the show.

To start with, Little Man has just turned two, not that he waited for his birthday to start throwing his two-year-old tantrums. Not when he is already so good at kicking and throwing and stamping. This delightful little boy can go from heart-meltingly adorable to axe-wielding psychopath in the blink of an eye, though I wouldn't recommend blinking when he's around. We now keep the axe in the garage. If he can't find something to hurl, he will resort to hurling himself. He has been known to throw himself so hard at the floor that his screams of anger become screams of pain.

Its the two-year-old curse. Basically, he can now communicate enough of what he wants to get the idea across. "bisit" means "biscuit", for example. "bodoo" means "bottle". "Fruck" means "truck", at least we are pretty sure it does, because he occasionally uses it when there are no trucks around. It is possible that he is actually swearing and he just happens to find actual trucks...surprising. Anyway, when he starts yelling or kicking things he shouldn't, we try to ascertain what he wants. If he says "bisit", we then have to go through the variety of biscuit options, though this has become a little easier now that he can say "chokabisit".

Actually, in the last couple of weeks, his speech has improved dramatically. It still has that babyish cuteness to the pronunciation, but he is starting to express more complex thoughts. Telling us that he wants a "bisit" isn't enough anymore. He likes to say things like "Yummy bisit. I like bisit. No No. Chokabisit." We have even got him saying "ice-cream Yay!" and raising his arms like a tiny little one-toddler mexican wave. This has become part of his routine declaration of ice-cream, even if he's terribly upset and crying. Through the tears and snot and the trembling lip, he will continue to say "i-i-ice--cr-cr-cream (sniff) yay (sniff)" but he doesn't lift his arms as high.

Up until a month or so ago, if Princess went anywhere near Little Man, and he started bawling, it would almost always mean she had hurt him in some manner. More recently however, she might simply pick up one of her own toys, not even one he was playing with, and he will scream like a banshee. Big tears, pointing and sobbing between howls. More often than not, he will then belt the person trying to help him, such is his frustration. He's also got a very good throwing arm.

And still he doesn't sleep through the night. He will scream his little head off at 2:30am until someone comes in to see him. Sometimes it can seem a little fake. When you leap out of bed and dash into his room and hear "WWWAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH hello daddy" it can be a little hard to believe him.

It is still Little Man's birthday so I will try to write some more about him tomorrow. Now, on to Princess. Actually, there is probably less to tell about Princess. Having completely mastered the art of annoying DW, she hasn't really set herself new goals yet. The truth is she is suffering the effects of broken sleep because her little brother has his own agenda and the rest of us be damned. She is going through an attention seeking phase which started shortly before she was born and shows no sign of abating. However, she does try to help more around the house and has even learned how to make her own bed.

Little man managed to learn how to click his fingers before Princess so she was absolutely determined to do it. After several months of failed attempts, watching Little Man get it right pretty much on his first attempt, she steeled herself and was clicking like a champ two days later. When Little Man started showing some interest in whistling, Princess was determine not to be outdone again and can now whistle, barely. Little Man doesn't seem to care either way. Ah, sibling rivalry.

Well, that will have to do for today. Hopefully another update will follow shortly. Until then...

Ciao!

Thought for the Day: Rhyming is not for the workplace

Back in 1992, not long after I moved into my first "share" house after college, my then girlfriend bought me a Siberian Husky x German Shepherd puppy. She was only six weeks old. We named her Kyah. Kyah stayed with me for more than 15 years. But dogs don't live as long as people and Kyah had reached the ripe old age of somewhere in her mid 90s. The last year has been hard on her, as she lost her hearing and arthritis set in. After what appears to have been a stroke, DW and I made the difficult decision to let her go yesterday.

Fortunately I was able to leave work and go home and be with her at the end. She was clearly frightened but obviously took great comfort in my presence, placing her head in my hand. It saddens me that I can no longer do any more for my old friend, but at least I could do that. I was with her to the last and I am grateful it was so peaceful, and that she no longer suffers. Though I grew up on a farm and saw many animals come and go, I never felt that any of them belonged to me and so none has had such a profound effect. It has been a privilege to have had such a wonderful and devoted friend, to see her grow from a tiny puppy and participate in her entire life cycle. While it pains me now, I know such experiences are not to be shied away from, because they enrich your life immeasurably. This has been Kyah's gift to me.

When she first came home, such a tiny little ball of fluff, she looked like a wolf cub. In fact, this is precisely why she was chosen. Wolves are my favourite wild animal. I remember her weeing every time she got even the smallest fright, and yipping for hours into the night if she was lonely. We managed to settle her with a ticking clock in her bed and after a few weeks she was completely at home. When she was that small, we let her run around the house, but as she got bigger, and more energetic, we decided that she had best be an outside dog.

I trained her myself. Kind of. She could sit, stay and come, provided there was nothing more interesting to do. She never really got into "fetch". She seemed to think the object of the game was to go and get the ball I had thrown and take it further away. I can only guess that she thought we were taking it in turns to "fetch".

Like many dogs, she loved to dig. It probably frustrated her no end that the place we have lived for nearly six years was on rock hard clay. So for a while she started burying her bones in DW's larger pot plants. Many times she would be sitting at the back door, looking as innocent as can be, except her nose that was covered in potting mix.

One of Kyah's more distinctive traits was her bark. I refer to it as a bark so that you know what I'm talking about, because to hear it, you certainly wouldn't call it a bark. Actually , it was something of a cross between Donald Duck and Scooby Doo. In fact, I'm sure I heard her say "Rowkay" on several occasions. I don't think burglars were scared to come into our backyard because we had a dog. I think they were scared because they didn't know what the hell we had in there.

In her youth, taking Kyah for a walk was amusing to say the least. She never, ever understood the command "heel". We even got a choker chain but that did nothing to abate her enthusiam. She would strain so hard that she could barely breathe, and then try a little harder. Man's best friend maybe, but not Man's smartest friend. Fortunately, persistence on our part and a measure of maturity on her part saw her overcome her natural instinct as a sled dog.

While she may have been a mix of two large breeds, she herself was never a really big dog. She was much closer in size to a medium, however, her wolfish looks and heavy coat made many people very wary of her. She never attacked anyone, though once she did bare her teeth and growl at a man who was being aggressive toward me. She may not have been the bravest dog in the world but I like to think she would have protected me had the need arisen. She did have a tendency to jump up on people, to see them eye to eye, which some may have felt a little intimidated by.

One of the most memorable aspects of Kyan was her amazing coat. It was a beautiful sable colour and always thick and luxurious. Unfortunately, she tended to malt a lot. Not often, only twice a year, but for six months at a time. She could be lying outside in Spring, enjoying the warm sun, when she would suddenly sneeze and you would swear she had actually exploded. No matter where you go in the backyard, there would be dog hair caught in clumps somewhere. We tried to manage it but to little avail. She seemed to be able to regrow anything we brushed off in less than 24 hours. Its a legacy that will remain with us for some time.

Little Man loved Kyah and was with us when we took her to the vet. The staff at the clinic were excellent and one of then took Little Man out for a while. At least he got the chance to give Kyah one last pat and even said "bye bye Kyah". I guess its a little sad that he will probably never remember her but I am also glad that he doesn't really understand this stuff yet. Princess on the other hand, knew Kyah well. She understood when we told her Kyah was sick. She was stunned when we told her Kyah had died. Her first thought was that we would have to get another puppy, possibly more than one. It took a little while for the news to sink in. After we told her, she seemed quite ok with it but as we went to get some lunch, DW noticed that she had quietly disappeared. We went into her room and found her crying and cuddling her favourite teddy bear. The loss hit her hard and as can be expected, she started worrying about death for a little while, about losing DW and I, her grandparents and so on. After a while, she declared a moratorium on any discussion about dying and Kyah, which we have respected. It amazes me sometimes how astute and mature Princess actually is.

DW and I have been aware for sometime that Kyah was nearing the end of her life and had already decided that we would probably get a new puppy at some stage. I must admit, I find the idea of replacing Kyah a little difficult at the moment, but I know that a new puppy would actually be for the kids. I personally will never replace Kyah, but I have no problem with the kids having a pet of their own. I think it would be wonderful for them and an invaluable part of their growing up into happy, responsible, well-adjusted adults.

DW and I have decided that we would like to commemorate Kyah by planting a tree for her. We have confirmed with the vet that we are allowed to bury her on our property, the home she knew for nearly six years and probably where she has been most happy. I'm not one for pet cemetaries and so on, but it is important to me to celebrate her life in some manner and I can think of nothing better than returning her to the Earth in her own backyard, with a shadey tree above her.

May she rest in peace.

Ciao!

Thought for the Day: She walked like a duck, and talked like a duck...

It's Sad but True: A Pepsi MAX lament

Here's my story, sad but true
It's about a drink that I once knew
It was the best that I ever found
I drank so much that I almost drowned

Ah, I should have known it from the very start
This drink will leave me with a broken heart
Now listen people while I give you the facts
A-keep away from-a Pepsi MAX

It could always put a smile on my face
And the sugar well there wasn't a trace
So if you don't wanna cry like I do
You will have to stop drinking it too

Ah, well the research is sound
It'll slowly put you into the ground
Now people let me put you wise
Its still safer than a burger and fries

Sodium benzoate kills mitochodria you know
Which may one day make your Parkinsons show
And with vitamin C on the scene
They can mix and make benzene

Ah, I should have known it from the very start
This drink will leave me with a broken heart
Now listen people while I give you the facts
A-keep away from-a Pepsi MAX

Here's the moral and the story from the guy who knows
I fell in love and its the cause of my woes
Now when the need for caffiene attacks
I keep away from-a Pepsi MAX

Ciao!

Thought for the Day: Must rename Pepsi MAX fridge

I hate public transport. Well, that may be a bit harsh. I am certainly questioning our friendship though. I am starting to wonder if perhaps we should start seeing other modes of commuting.

The current bout of dissatisfaction started about two weeks ago. I know I can be a little offensive at times but I'm mostly pretty benign, at least while on public transport. On the particular day in question I managed to upset a complete stranger just by being me. I'm not sure what about me bothered him, because I was reading the paper at the time of the incident. Maybe I was moving my lips, I don't know. Anyway, the individual, a young man in his early twenties who was sitting on the ground, got quickly to his feet and punched me very hard in the chest. Being unsure what else to do, I fell backwards and landed at the edge of the train platform.

I wondered out loud what may have caused such an outburst and was informed by my assailant that he wasn't feeling well. He was clearly unbalanced, something I could easily sympathise with as I tettered at the edge of the platform. He stormed off leaving me to get up and try to seek answers from the other commuters around. No answers were forthcoming and most of them were looking at me wondering what I had done to deserve such a response. I'm pretty sure I don't move my lips when I read, but if I had then maybe it was my fault.

Station security seem to have some process issues. The station has a number of attendants but they are not security and the little walkie-talkies they carry apparently cannot be used to communicate with security personnel. However, they were very helpful in explaining their inability to help and in directing me to a window where I could go and speak to someone who was authorised to contact security. I went to said window and was confronted by disbelieving staff. That is not to say they didn't believe me, its just they were clearly expecting to be asked why such-and-such train was late or something similar. After repeating my story and informing them that the perpetrator was still on the platform, they agreed that the best thing would be for someone to contact security. I suggested that someone should probably be one of them and after a brief discussion amongst themselves, they agreed. Finally a couple of burly gentlemen with badges and big coats arrived on the scene. Unfortunately, not the platform where the assailant waited patiently for his getaway train.

And so it was that a mere ten minutes had passed as myself and the security guards made our way back to the platform. However, having just committed unlawful assault, the young criminal made a daring leap through the open doors of a stationary train, which slowly pulled away before we could recite the complete works of Shakespeare. It was a close thing, but he made it out of Dodge.

The head security guy patiently explained to me why they couldn't do more and what I should do, while his eyes said, "Its friggin' cold out here. Do you know that?"

So I reported it to the police the next day, as instructed and they said they would look into it but they couldn't promise much because of lack of interest. If only I'd been seriously hurt or famous.

Anyway, the week got marginally better after that as I began to appreciate more those times you catch a train without being thumped. However, almost every train I caught that week was over half an hour late. One night, the train headed off, then had to come back to Southern Cross Station, where we all waited for 90 mins before being told that a bus was now available. 400 hundred people queued up as the mini bus pulled in. Ok, it wasn't a mini bus but let's face it, unless it has wings, no bus is big enough for four hundred people. So we waited. And waited. And then they told us that they would run the train anyway, though it would have to go the long way via the freight lines. An extra twenty minutes maybe. That should have been an extra hour. We finally got home around 9:45pm. I left work at 4:30pm.

I also had to spend two trips standing as the train was so packed we couldn't even find floor space. This is uncommon on the country trains, but typical on the city trains. In fact it can sometimes be amusing on the city trains. During the public-transport-week-from-hell, I found myself squashed into a Met train and as it was school holidays, many young people were also crowded into the carriage, off to the big city to flock together. Most people in such circumstances are reserved and quiet, speaking softly if at all. But not these kids. One girl in particular felt that the friends immediately around her were leaving the other kids at the other side of the highly compressed carriage, out of the conversation, so she began to relay for both sides. This was annoying but also amusing. At one point, a particular cafe was mentioned and the vocally unchallenged girl gave the whole carriage her opinion of the shop which ended with the following gem:


"The coffee was like, horrid. It was like, you know, liquid."

Anyway, for the most part I like public transport as it means I don't have to pay attention as I travel from home to work and back. Its cheaper than driving and I don't get as many parking tickets. And besides, if I'm going to be hit, I'd rather my attacker not be in a car at the time.

Ciao!


Thought for the Day: Public Transport. Its not just a way to get to work. Its an adventure.

Ta Daaa!!! One Hundred Posts. Its official.

Well, here it is, the one hundredth post to Total Bern Out! Its been a long time coming. I actually do have a good reason for the lengthy delay this time. I was home sick. I had a terrible head cold and given that I like to write about the most exciting events in my day, DW advised me that tissue contents are not good blog fodder, no matter how impressive. So I held off. And then DW got sick so I was looking after her. Again with the tissues and not much else. But other things did happen and I will focus on nose. I mean, those.

Firstly, the Adventures of Little Man. A few weeks back I blogged about Little Man's first escape from his baby jail. He was so upset he didn't even know he had done it. DW and I decided not to draw attention to it and all went back to normal. However, last week, as I was starting to get better, Little Man discovered he could climb out of the cot when he was happy. And it also made him happy to do it. So he did it. And he did it again. And again and again. We popped him back each time because, oddly enough, climbing back into his cot does not seem to interest him. All this happened during his afternoon sleep. The real fun began that night.

First of all, we waited until he was really tired. It seemed like a good idea, given that he actually seems to like going to bed sometimes. Well, he was ready for bed, not screaming tired but happy, content and floppy. Princess was already far away in sleepy land so she wasn't likely to be disturbed. It was a good plan. It was a sound plan. It didn't work. Little Man was out of the cot inside 30 seconds. The first time he just came out to the lounge room to see us. The second time, he brought his bedding with him. The third time he just threw his stuffed toys into the lounge and ran back to his room laughing. He would run and hide behind his cot (which was away from the wall to deter him kicking the wall) which made it harder to catch him and put him back. The fourth time, he decided to see what Princess was doing and tried to wake her, but Princess is a heavy sleeper when she first goes to bed. The fifth time, I caught Little Man jumping up and down one Princess, which, apparently she can't sleep through. So now they were both awake.

The sixth time, I had to send Princess back to her bed as well as pull Little Man out from under the cot. The seventh time, we decided to put Princess to bed in the study, and Little man back in his cot. It worked for nearly a whole minute. Little Man climbed out and went looking for Princess. We had left both doors open so the kids wouldn't be frightened, but eventually Princess started coming to get me to report that Little Man was coming into the study and yelling at her to come play. So we closed the door to Little Man's room and waited. He kicked and punched and punched and kicked and wailed and laughed and was generally manic. Eventually he went to sleep. He would probably have stayed asleep is I had not decided to check on him and opened the door, hitting him in the face as he lay sleeping on the floor behind it. I didn't hit him hard, as we have had a similar experience with Princess. Before he could start crying, I scooped him up, only to realise his fingers were stuck under the door. That made him cry.

Its an odd thing. A laughing child cannot be reasoned with or coaxed or pretty much any other form of negotiation. A crying child, on the other hand, can be comforted and settled. I truly didn't mean to hurt Little Man but it did work in my favour because he was desperately tired, getting cold from lying on the ground and had just been hit in the face with a door. And now his fingers hurt. I popped him back in his cot and he was asleep a minute later. No more problems that night.

The following night, he only got out of the cot once and he was put stright back in. He hasn't bothered getting out since. I guess he figured out that it really wasn't worth it. He could do it if he had to but if he didn't, well... what's the point?

Princess came down with gastro on the weekend and was hurling just as much as her little body would allow. She couldn't understand why we wouldn't let her have a drink if she was thirsty, nor why as soon as something, even water, hit her stomach it would come straight back up again. She couldn't understand why Little Man could have normal food and drink but she couldn't. She even kept apologising for throwing up. DW asked her where her happy voice had gone and she replied, "I think Little Man has it somewhere."

Apart from the not throwing up, we could tell she was starting to feel better when she would open negotiations for requests by saying, "You know how I'm sick...?" It was weird to see her so flat and without energy. In a way, it was like watching a fight sequence in The Matrix, where the flurry of activity slows down and stops for a few seconds and then speeds up again back into a whirlwind of action. The forecast if for strong winds and possible lightning strikes. Back to normal then.

Of less blogworthy note, but important nonetheless, is the fact that I have finally finished my novel. It weighed in at 141,000 words, which is good for a novel of this size and genre and has taken me four years to write. Admittedly I wrote only 35,000 words in the first three and a half years, and the remaining words since January, so I'm hoping the next book won't take quite so long. And by the way, when I say finished, what I obviously mean is I am about half way. I have written the whole story and now I have to go back over it and try to make sense of it. MS Word gave up checking my spelling automatically and offered to just do it once I had finished, so there are a few spelling mistakes as well. Also, my grammar is more indicative of my mental processes than of my command of the English language. Suffice it to say that my blog is FAR more grammatically correct, and you have read at least some of that.

But the story is finally complete and now I just have to pretty it up and let DW read it. The rule of thumb is that you should never let friends or family read your book before it is published, unless they are an editor or publisher not only of books, but of the particular genre and style of book you have written. If you do let them read it, you should completely ignore any advice or criticisms offered, both good and bad. They will almost certainly given you incorrect advice that will either leave you thinking you have to change stuff you don't, or leave stuff that needs to be changed.

However, I don't think I can bring myself to present the novel to the world, let alone a publisher, without DW giving her stamp of approval. I value her opinion above all others and I think she has a very good sense of the potential of a work, seeing beyond the rough edges that are necessarily part of a first draft. She is widely read and enjoys the genre, but is not obsessed with it. She knows how to encourage me without over inflating my ego. Well, she knows how to deflate my ego should it become over inflated, whcih it has been known to do. Anyway, the upshot is no one gets to see it until DW gives the all clear.

So that's it from me for the 100th blog. Now that I have finally written the novel, I hope to be posting with greater frequency, but I assume that will only last until I start the next book. I've no shortage of ideas, its just a matter of choosing one.

Ciao!

Thought for the Day: "No bars can hold me, for I am Little Man!!!"

Time to update everyone on the world of me. That sounds a little arrogant, which is fair enough.

Let's start with Princess and the word of the day is "independence". Recently Princess has become even more challenging and DW and I decided that rather than meet this challenge with increased discipline, we would meet it with increased responsibility. Princess', not ours. Presumably we are already doing all that responsible parents do. Anyway, we have started letting Princess stretch her wings a little and do more for herself. For instance, she is now allowed to go out to the garage by herself to get me a Pepsi MAX from the Pepsi MAX fridge. This approach has met with great success and combined with increased discipline is clearly having a positive effect.

Princess likes helping. After she and Little Man finish their main course (especially their vegies) they are allowed to have a little ice-cream and some tinned fruit. Princess, in her best manners, asks for permission to be excused from the table in order to get the bowls and spoons ready, and to carry the fruit and ice-cream to the bench for serving. A couple of nights ago, Princess was distracted and had forgotten to do this which is not a problem at all. However, it did cause me to ask her, with faux consternation, "Where is my 'fruit and ice-cream' helper?" Apparently my stare came across to Princess as an accusation and she replied with very real consternation, "Well I didn't take it!" DW and I laughed out loud, which is another thing Princess takes great exception to, if she is not in on the joke. She was about to get really angry and had just put on her really angry face before we managed a timely intercept and explained that I was actually referring to her. She did see the joke then and said she thought I meant the can-opener. An easy mistake to make.

We all headed to the big smoke on the Queen's Birthday holiday for a birthday party for Hulie. Unfortunately, Doolie wasn't able to make it so we all resolved to have only half as much fun. They are a whacky duo and they fight crime, albeit in very subtle ways. Princess was beside herself because the invitation required her to dress up as a fairy Princess and as far as she is concerned, nothing beats royalty that can fly. Hulie did her bit to entertain by dressing up as the fairy equivalent of an alien. She amused herself by catching little kids and making them be her extra arms while she giggled at her shadow. It was funny for everyone, but deep down we all missed Doolie because she would have been the best extra arms. And the alien would have had a pony tail!

Time for the Little Man weather update. Thunderstorms, followed by heavy drizzle and snot down his cold front. At the moment everything seems to make Little Man cry. Not crying makes Little Man cry. DW and I think that maybe his last four front teeth, the pointy ones, are making a dash for it. Also, he has decided that it is fun to play for hours at any time between 12am and 5am. Its more fun if her can wake up his big sister. What is most odd is that he rarely cries during this time, only when the sun is up. I think the sun makes him sad. Maybe at night, when he can't see where we keep him, his natural happy streak comes out but during the day, well it is the way it is buddy. So we are racking our brains to come up with a way to alter his sleep patterns. Besides, the house looks the way it does mostly because of him**.

**NOTE: DW does a fine job of keeping our house in order, which is a testament to her ability to combat the combined forces of Princess AND Little Man. At least Princess will try to help clean if she is paid 5 cents per room. And she is nearly worth every cent.

Well, that's all I have time for. Tune in for the next installment of Total Bern Out! because the big 100th post follows this one. I can't guarantee you won't wet yourself laughing, or even that you will laugh at all. Let's face it, unless I do it in Haiku, I can't guarantee it won't be crap. Until next time...

Ciao!

Thought for the Day: A Royal Flush serves the same purpose as an ordinary flush.

Bonjour à tous.

Well, DW and I had our very first exposure to the world of primary schooling as seen through the eyes of a parent. As Princess ploughs headlong through her last year at Kinder, we have to decide upon which school to unleash her next year. So off we went to hear the sales pitch of the local Catholic Primary School, St. Brutus' (not its real name).

The first things that annoyed me was the fact that it was held at night, so we had to get a baby sitter. Ok, it did mean we both were able to go, and all the teachers were able to be present and not distracted by heaps of kids, so it was actually a good time to have it, but it still annoyed me. Apparently I don't actually have a good reason for that. So I guess they don't lose points for the chosen time but I will take a point off because it rained a little when we left.

The session was scheduled to go for around 90 minutes and they drifted over a little, so we finished up around 9:15pm. That in itself was not a problem, except for the fact that time apparently goes much slower when you are in a classroom. It certainly seemed to go for about three hours. I seem to remember thinking the same thing when I was sitting in such a classroom as a student. I managed not to fall asleep, mostly because DW was just as bored as I was so she amused herself by prodding me every time I looked like I was drifting. And occasionally when I wasn't. Not wanting to disappoint, I drifted every other minute or so.

As far as I can tell, public speaking is not part of the curriculum because I'm pretty sure none of the teachers that presented had the necessary qualifications to teach it. A couple of the teachers spoke reasonably confidently, and quite well, but my overall impression was that they were a very mild bunch. I expect Princess will turn them into some sort of paste.

I was amused to note that they had not really prepared fully for their presentations. Obviously they had planned the rough order and had prepared some visual aids in advance, but I think they wanted it to feel very, very informal. What was most noticeable was they tended to stumble over each other, repeat each other and cut each other off. I felt like saying, "shouldn't you be raising your hands."

It would seem that while public speaking will not be taught, political speaking will. Several questions were put to the teachers and some of them were nearly answered. Probably the worst offender was the principal who seemed unable to say "different religions", despite the fact she was desperate to. She also made it clear that if any child misbehaved, they would have to face the severe wrath of St Brutus' disciplinary system. Ok, so I'm not promoting corporal punishment, but the St. Brutus' modus operandi when dealing with miscreants is to give them a severely mild talking to. If the little monsters don't get the message and burn the school down again, they can be assured of facing a slightly longer and possibly milder talking to. So if some big bully starts taking the lunch money of the smaller kids, those smaller kids can rest assured that any issues they have with that big bully will be discussed with the bully and the bully will then have some time to think about what they have done. If the bully dares repeat the offence, the previous speech will be repeated, but without contractions. "can't" will become "cannot" and "isn't" will become "is not". Let's just see how the bullies deal with that bit of verbal ass-whooping.

Actually, I shouldn't criticise the place too much. In fact, despite some little issues which I have exaggerated for humerous effect, the place left me with a sense of what I felt when I attended primary school. I loved my time at primary school and I felt that Princess could have the same from St Brutus'. Obviously much has changed in that time but I guess if you walk away from a place feeling good about it, its pretty hard to ignore.

On the other hand, DW wasn't quite as fond of the place. She did say that she felt Princess would probably do alright there but she is very keen to see the alternatives. I think she is more worried about the paste thing than I am. Choosing a school for your child is actually quite a big decision, and we are lucky enough to have only three schools in proximity to consider. Admittedly, once we have committed to a school for Princess, we shouldn't have to repeat the process for Little Man, and besides, he likes paste.

And so we wait now until next Thursday when we visit the local State School. It has the added benefit of being so close that if Princess forgot her lunch, I could probably throw it to her, as long as it was weighted properly. Sometimes, on a quiet day, if I'm home and outside, I can hear the school bell and the loud speaker calling out messages to the kids in the playground. I'm wondering how surreal it would feel to be swinging quietly in my hammock one holiday and hear the happy sounds of children laughing and playing and hearing the sound of the loud speaker drifiting over the fence. "Mr Meade, could you please come and collect your daughter?"

c'est la vie.

au revoir

Thought for the Day: I've waited and waited but no cows!