Hermit in training

It has been almost a week since I flew back from Canberra. Mary and the kids stayed behind to spend more time with family there and I returned home to work another week before the Christmas holiday. Sunday afternoon, I will begin the drive back to Canberra and meet up with them. Hopefully Monday afternoon we will be united--barring any uneventful meetings of my car and a kangaroo or wombat.

In the mean time, I find myself with long stretches of silence. It is Saturday and I could spend the next 36 hours without talking to anyone. Sure, I will probably end up calling Mary's mobile a few times to discuss how much I hate Christmas shopping, but I consider that more bleating than conversation. I may also say "thank you" or "screw off" to the occasional checkout clerk, depending on how far along I am in the shopping process. But on the average, not much talking. It is not exactly the monastic lifestyle, but I do have a lot of time to reflect on things.

You don't notice things until they are gone. I read in an essay written by a brain scientist that babies mainly respond to stimulus that is ordinary and adults mainly respond to stimulus that is out of the ordinary. (I was going to cite the book for reference, but this is the internet and I can type what I want without worrying about backing up my assertions.) This makes perfect sense in my mind from an evolutionary point of view and may also explain why those generic, yet quirky, corporate boy bands are so popular with kids whose brains are stuck halfway between learning to discern common from extraordinary.

My point is that my life for the past week has had no rhythm, apart from being required to show up for work and even that wasn't consistent. It is because the people that form a significant part of my schedule are absent. To illustrate my point: it is 4:30 in the morning; I fell asleep before I could finish cooking dinner last night, woke up an hour ago feeling perfectly refreshed and am now eating chocolate cake, ice cream and cherry pie filling.

I think this is why Obi-Wan Kenobi seemed slightly insane when we first met him in Episode IV. After a few years of this lifestyle, I am sure I would develop a few quirks.

Random conversation

Cole: "What are you eating"
Me: "Left over pizza we made last night"
Cole [between bites of his lunch]: "I think that will be my dessert, when I am done with this."
Me: "ummmmm, sure. You finish your lunch and we will talk"

Cole: "What are these things on the pizza?"
Me: "Artichokes."
Cole: "Will they choke me?"

Rocklea Marketplace

When we are feeling ambitious and lazy we go to the Rocklea markets on Saturday morning. Ambitious because we have to get ourselves up on a weekend morning and walk among hundreds of other people who don't care about their personal space. Lazy because it means I don't have to make breakfast; I get to order a bacon and egg roll and suck down a mocha. Mary buys the kids a carrot juice and they race to see who can get more than their share.

We also catch up on our fruit and veg shopping for the week. There are about ten different stands selling the same selection of fruit, so we scope out who has be best produce for the price. It is my version of hunting and gathering. I feel very primal when I am doing it.

I think Mary likes the whole "buying from farmers" aspect of it, even though we know many of the people running the fruit stands are not farmers themselves. Still, they let us live the fantasy that the food we are buying is somehow fresher and better for us than buying it in a supermarket.

The more observant of you may have noticed that Cora has a massive bruise on her forehead. It appears that a puddle of water, gravity and the bathroom floor were all conspiring against her. I wasn't there so I can't elaborate, but it is a beauty to behold.

And on a completely unrelated topic, Cole has started giving me advice. Today's nugget (and words to live by, in my opinion) was: "Dad, if you see a spider web, just back away." I believe I will.

paper airplanes

Cole has discovered paper airplanes. A few of the big kids at church have been making them and he was drawn to the craft.

In his search for the ideal shape he has gone through quite a few designs. He is also refining his folding skills and has a pile of discarded planes to show for it. I can see him making progress with each one and it is fun for me to watch. With his drawing skills, it takes months to see progression of his fine motor control and visual composition. Folding planes has been so interesting to me because I can see him learning with each attempt. He is also brilliant at copying my designs by watching me fold.

The other thing I like about it is that he gets instant feedback from his efforts. He is also nice enough to make an extra plane for his sister to toss around the living room.

His thirst for folding is causing our paper supplies to dwindle. I don't have the heart to tell him to stop making new planes, so I bring home waste paper from work, and we keep buying him more. While other parents are teaching their kids about recycling, I am encouraging mine to be a major contributor to deforestation. I keep telling myself it will balance out when he discovers a fuel saving scramjet design by the time he is nine.

I wannit.

Cora is talking more and more, which is a relief because she can finally express to us what she has previously been trying to communicate through pointing and head butting.

The one phrase that she keeps saying is "I want it." which comes out as "I wannit." It is a very useful phrase and makes sense when she points to a muffin or a DVD. Lately, she has started pointing at objects like tower cranes and kookaburras. The communication starts to break down when we try to explain why a commuter train will not fit in the car to take home with us or other practical matters that interfere with her plans. It is at this point when she furrows her brow, disgusted with our lack of ambition, and turns her head to dream up the next scheme she will take on.

The butcher

I have always cut Cole's hair. Except for a few times when we took him to "snip-ity-doo-da" which was a nice little shop where he could sit on a carousel horse and watch a kids movie while getting his hair cut. I have a hard time justifying paying $20 to get a child's hair cut and, to be honest, I like doing it. Plus, I think I was doing a pretty good job of it--until tonight.

I now know why barbers were once considered surgeons.

While working my way around his head with comb and scissors, I was near his ear about to make a cut and he moved his head. My shears came down and swiftly cut a little 'V' in the soft outer part of his ear.

I stopped immediately, knowing what I had just done. He looked up at me with these pleading eyes wondering why I had just sliced open his ear and then started wailing (justifiably so). At this moment I feel like the biggest jerk of all time.

The miracle in all of this is that he calmed down, and after stopping the bleeding and getting an Oscar the Grouch band aid on the wound, he let me finish the cut. What a man.

I think all the money we have been saving in hair cuts will probably go to cosmetic surgery. We will have to see how the gash heals. The only good that can come of this is that he now knows how sensitive his ears are to pain and will hopefully forgo any future plans to pierce his ears.

Saturday Morning at Roma Street

My two favorite places in this city are South Bank and Roma Street Parkland--and they are both free, so we can go on a whim.

The parkland is 40 acres of impeccable gardens, gorgeous landscaping and green space tucked between old growth trees. It is hard to believe it is located in the heart of the city. Every time we go, we ask ourselves why we don't visit it more often.







































As far at the kids are concerned, the only reason to go is the playground. I believe the genius landscape architect knew this would happen, because the playground is located near the middle of the park, so Mary and I still get to stroll through the pathways and enjoy it all on the way there.

Mount Barney

I have been meaning to get these photos up for a few weeks.

My friend Mike and his friend Jim (who is, by virtue of our trip, now my friend) and I went hiking in Mount Barney National Park at the end of September. It is about a two hour drive from our place, which makes it a nice overnight trip.


Mount Barney, East Peak--elevation 1,351 metres. This is a view of the East face, about a kilometer in from the trail head.

Most people do it as a long day hike, but we split it up and camped on the saddle between the two peaks.
There was a sub-tropical rain forest in a gully on the way up the mountain. It was odd hiking among gum trees, and then following the trail through this dense, cool forest of palms moss and ferns.
We ditched our packs at the camp site on the saddle and then scrambled up the remaining face to the summit. Mount Lindesay is in the background.

Mike , me, and Jim (left to right) at the summit

View from the "Old Hut" camp site on the saddle.

Jim reserved the best camp site in the park. We had a gorgeous view down into the valley, a creek for water, and as we ate our dinner that night we watched a lighting storm roll in. None of my lightning photos turned out, but it was great to watch it near the cloud elevation. We were able to see lightning streak across the sky and extend up into the sky above the clouds. It was outstanding. We were also lucky enough to avoid the lightning when the storm blew over us later that evening.

Hiking back to the car along the old access road.

dragons and butterflies

Cole can do some amazing things with paper, tape and scissors. He crafted some wings out of two A3 (11"x17" for all the non-communists) sheets of paper. He then figured out how to cut around the neck line and tuck them into the back of his shirt so he can run around the house making flying noises. He also taped extra little triangles onto the upper corners for talons and constantly watches out for our safety so we aren't needlessly slain by their razor sharp deadliness. And as I sit here typing this, I realize I am an idiot for not actually capturing his wings on film. In my defense, he has been using them all week and they are a little tattered from all of the dragon missions he has been on. It is also past midnight as I sit here typing this and I lack the ambition to wake him up from his slumber to have him model them.

All week he has been asking me to make him some dragon wings. I have no idea why, because his are pretty awesome, but he clearly understands the concept of prototype development and then outsourcing while retaining executive design privileges. He was standing over me the entire time reminding me about the talons--as if I haven't battled dragons before.

This is me, getting blasted by fire. you can imagine the devastation.

Not to leave Cora out, I crafted some lopsided butterfly wings for her. I thought she would be more into it, but I think she was secretly irritated I didn't make her a set of dragon wings too. Maybe she was mad that I neglected to put talons on her wings--as if I haven't battled butterflies before.

we love our bellybutton

Cole's Birthday

Why does batman have horns on his head?

Why can’t I fly?

Do dragons eat bananas?

Are ants afraid of me?

Why don’t cows wear underwear?

Why isn’t my nose working? (he had a cold)

Do cows drink milk?

These are just some of the burning questions in the mind of a four year old.

Cole turned four last Sunday which brings to close the last event in our six-week birthday fest (and Mary's chocolate cake trifecta).

At the end of the day he exclaimed “I have everything!” Everything happens to include: new books, new clothes, a cricket set, a batman kite, a guitar, a head lamp, and a skateboard. I am assuming that he was also thankful for a loving family, good health and a roof over his head. It warmed my heart to see him so grateful for everything he received. It was also probably the last time we would be able to meet all his worldly desires, because the next morning he was already asking for roller skates.

Cole is an ideas man. He has grand plans for the future and it is sometimes hard for me to get him to stand back and enjoy the moment. He can think of a rhyme for almost any statement you say to him, so once in a while I finish my sentences with words that he can’t rhyme (like “orange” and “month”). It doesn’t faze him; he will just make up a nonsense word and come away from the exchange thinking he has won.

He is also enamored with music. We got him a little acoustic guitar (with plastic knobs that won’t stay in tune) to assist him in making up his own songs and insert his own lyrics into time honored standards.

In between listening to the wiggles and other children’s CD’s in the car, Mary and I often sneak in a CD of our own liking and he has lately become very fond of Bob Marley. “No woman, no cry” and “Three Little Birds” (don’t worry about a thing, cuz every little thing is gonna be all right”) are his favorite songs at the moment; he does a pretty good punk version of Three Little Birds, which I didn’t even think was possible.

It’s not even a week after his birthday and he already has the next year planned out; which includes feeding us ideas for next year’s cake. We scaled back the size of his cake after it took us a week to finish eating Cora’s bunny behemoth. I was a bit disappointed when he wouldn’t let me put yellow icing flames on the guitar. I think I have my work cut out for me during the next year to show him the virtues of a properly executed flame paint job. It makes everything more awesome. Maybe that is just my formative years of the early 80’s talking.

Cora turns Two

I know I am not going to win any decorating awards with this. My free-hand pen sketches didn't have quite the "shell shocked" blank expressions on them as this poor rabbit does. There is no ctrl-z command when you are piping pink icing on a cake. With that said, I am happy that it was close enough to a bunny that Cora was able to recognize it as such.
Mary baked the chocolate cake and it tasted wonderful. She is batting 1000 with chocolate cakes this month.

We came to the realization that two-year-old girls are seriously neglected by toy executives. Boys are easy: dump trucks, Lego, dinosaurs, any form of inflatable ball, nerf, action figures, the list goes on...
Girls: pink hula hoops, my little pony, dolls in hundreds of different forms, and domestic indoctrination (Shopping trolleys, play kitchens and other such nonsense)

I think grocery shopping and cooking is great fun, but I don't think my daughter needs toys to help her imagine doing these things. Where are the mini lawyer brief cases for her? Why don't I see commercials on Saturday morning television pimping a pink socket set for barbie's corvette or a little girl's formula-one racing suit and helmet? The obvious answer is that most grandmothers, mothers and aunts wouldn't buy it. I say there is an entire population of fathers and uncles who shop for presents and are yearning for a choice in gift giving. We are an untapped market.

Back to Cora. She doesn't know she is two. She just floats around the house making happy squeeling sounds that are reminiscent of a tea kettle boiling. It is actually sort of musical when compared to the noises she makes when she is angry. She also does a little dance when she is happy where she bounces from foot to foot, while bobbling her head from side to side and forms the letter 'W' with her arms--with jazz hands just to complete the effect. we can never get it on camera. It is like lighting in its unpredictability and fleeting presence. So many things like that we can never capture, and we know we will forget about.

At this stage she still doesn't say much unless she wants to. If she thinks she can get you to do something or provide something through brute vocal force, then she will scream to get it. But if it is something interesting or thoughtful (like shoe, bunny, water, bird...) then she will use the word, but only if you haven't asked her a direct question about it. Everything is on her terms; deal with it. and I still haven't come to terms with that. I still have this delusion that I can get her to see that I am the boss.

Mary likes to point out that the stubbornness and insane mood swings come from me. And she is probably right, but I have to say Cora's ability to get me to stop what I am doing and come to realize that I am going to have to do what she wants definitely comes from Mary.

Lawn Pirates

I dug some bandannas out of my sock drawer--and Cole insists on referring to them as 'pirate hats'. Cole has wanted an eye patch for a few months and I have failed to get him one. This was the only way I could think of to assuage his need to look like a pirate. If only I could get him this excited about ninjas.

Nasal Napalm

We have been conducting a little research in our house and I think we have found a new weapon of mass destruction.

I just changed my daughter's diaper. I think the government would like to have a chat with me if they had any idea what my daughter unleashed on our house. They don't need to enrich uranium any more. They don't need to sink money into chemical weapons. They just need to recruit toddlers with a high diet of pineapple and offer free diaper pick-up.

Birthday ruminations

This is what a slice of heaven looks like.

Normally, I would opt for angel food cake for my birthday because that is what my mom always made me (I think we can all read the obvious subtext of why she never made it for my other siblings, so lets move on.) As it happens, they do not have angel food cake mix here in the lonely south pacific. My lovely wife made it from scratch last year, which was a real treat. This year, however, I thought I would branch out a bit and asked her to make me a chocolate cake. She delivered.

What you see above is something like a mud cake with a layer of chocolate truffle through the middle, just to prove she could transcend any chocolate craving I could throw down before her. And if that wasn't enough, she slathered on chocolate frosting just to throw all subtlety and caution to the wind. I think my body started pumping out insulin just from smelling it.


Cora thoughtfully contemplating chocolate yummyness



It was a good day. I was able to talk with my mom and sister on the phone. I received some lovely cards, a few books and a new cast iron pan that I can't wait to try out.



A few years ago, my friend O'Steven told me to take stock in my life and see what was important to me. I wrote him a list and I look back on it every once in a while. Most years, on my birthday, I write another list (trying not to look at previous lists) to see what was important to me through the past year. They usually have common themes - food, pop culture...

What do I need in life?

time with my wife
smiling kids
a good game of Scrabulous
hot cocoa and Tim Tams
warm bread
acceleration
quality wool socks
sunglasses
packing tape
a hammer, a socket set and a phillips screw driver
e-mail
6-inch subway sub, medium drink and 2 cookies
butter
a good book
witty banter
a thesaurus
time to reflect
pocket knife
family photos
international phone cards
saturday morning with my family
blueberry pancakes
100 cuts with my bokken each night
work mentors and life mentors
black 0.4 mm felt tip pen and grid paper
IT support
grace
old friends
pain pills
mixed cd's
staying centered

Yeah, I know it reads like one of those lame "everything I learned in kindergarten" books. Once I go down the road of writing about sentimental things it always looks like that. This list isn't that comprehensive. I may add to it in the next few days. I think it is one of those things that may not mean much to anyone else but the person who wrote it.

Another trip around the sun.