Wayne's Weather Window

I'm playing catch-up on a lot of fronts today.  It feels good.  One thing I wanted to do was send a photo to Wayne's Weather Window.  My daughter took these when we were on our way to Grandma's house for Christmas Eve.  Unfortunately, Wayne is not accepting photos at this time.

Since I will very likely not set aside another time to send to Wayne, I will post these here.  This works out better anyway as I couldn't decide which of the two dozen photos I liked the best.  I'll let you guess where these were taken:

iWife

Or
A side-by-side comparison for the discerning husband

We were joking in Australia that my brother-in-law was getting the most up-to-date version by marrying my baby sister.  I'd be the Classic, my middle sister is the 2.0 and baby is the Latest Release.  For example, when 2.0 signed the wrong witness line on the Marriage Certificate (yes, I'm putting it out there for the entire Globe to enjoy) 2.0's husband said, "I thought they'd fixed that glitch in this version."  Nope, part of the charm in all three models is our ability to nod our heads with understanding then completely screw up really important stuff.  (See my post on Ssssnakes.)

Relating this amusing little tale to my daughter, we came up with a number of improvements by the manufacturers (my parents) as they released each model into the world:

2.0, for instance, has a better memory (birthdays in particular), is faster, has a bolder design, better social networking capabilities (she's on Facebook) and is generally more technically advanced.  (She was the one who always had to set the time on the VCR.  My parents still call her to walk them through how to use iTunes--and set the time on the microwave.)

The Latest Version of course has massive bug fixes (she's learned to live with Huntsmans).  It's definitely a smaller (yes, I'm still claiming you're shorter than me) more user-friendly design.  She's without attachments--pretty much in The Cloud due to the fact that all her worldly possessions were lost, stolen, or otherwise disposed of on her way to Australia.  This one takes socializing to a whole new level.  If you want FaceTime, this is the one for you.

Let's not completely dismiss the original, though.  Yes she tends to be hardwired into place and often crashes while multi-tasking, but she was innovative for her time and still has room for growth.  No, her features aren't as polished and fresh as later models, but she's been a workhorse despite hard use by children.  A romantic would call her a Classic.

I just need one man to buy that line.  Since he's the kind of guy who's willing to hang onto something old and do the maintenance to keep it running, I think I have a chance.

Oh Brother

Or,
The Wedding Of The Century

I couldn't do this series of posts on my trip to Oz without giving the wedding itself a bit of press.  My sister and (new) brother-in-law had their hands full this year.  They spent a month here last Christmas and returned to Brisbane in the middle of the huge floods that devastated so much of the area.  They were fortunate to be on higher ground and only adversely affected second-hand by things like a lack of groceries in the stores.

On the silver lining side, my brother-in-law is a builder.  Guess what?  Lots of people needed their homes repaired, renovated and rebuilt.  His phone began ringing as soon as he turned it on after landing and he's been extremely busy since.  Meanwhile, they also bought a house and began to renovate it for themselves.  Then my sister had the baby early due to complications.

On our side of the ocean, over Christmas, we had concluded that since my middle sister and her husband would be in NZ for the World Cup in October, it made sense for everyone to converge in Oz for a wedding around that time.  My parents were intending to visit about then anyway and I was just planning to get my hands on that baby soon as he was born, but I did as I was told and waited to get on a plane until late September.

My baby sister really didn't need to be planning a wedding and a family reunion in the middle of the rest of her Very Big Year, but she did.  And it was beautiful.  Thunder rolled in overnight, waking all of us and making us groan that the outdoor wedding would have to be moved inside, but when we got up in the morning, the skies had cleared.  The sun came out, the birds sang, and no one fought over the shower.  The biggest drama was that baby didn't really enjoy his tuxedo as much as the rest of us did, but what man does?  We stripped him down pretty quick and when he fell asleep took hilarious photos of him looking like a best man who'd passed out after an all-nighter with his bowtie askew, his jacket as a blanket and his Sophie Giraffe tucked in beside him.  (Look it up - best gift for baby showers ever.)

I don't have permission to post their photos to the internet, but you can't see their faces in this one.  Check out the view where they got married.  Stunning, isn't it?

Note that you don't really dress up in lace, tulle, hoop skirt and veil when it's already thirty degrees and humid at ten in the morning.  You keep it simple and--this note applies for prospective brides worldwide--when the photographer asks the groom to pick you up and spin you, give some thought first to your tolerance for being dizzy.  Baby sister was already having problems walking in those Cinderella shoes on the wet grass.  After this performance, she might as well have been knee-walking drunk.  Definitely a good laugh for the rest of us, but not always the look a bride is going for.

I'll close with the biggest, warmest Welcome To The Family hug for my brother-in-law.  I was a tiny bit mad at him for charming my sister into abandoning Canada for the opposite side of the globe, but what girl has a chance against that accent?  And he's remarkably tolerant of her need for sister time--a stellar quality in any man as far as I'm concerned.  He's even gone to the trouble of raising up the new house so he can put a relo-suite in the lower floor!  (To be fair, his family visits from out of town too so I suppose it's not just for me, but it's a very generous thing to do regardless.)

And lets not forget, he's helped bring into the world a handsome new boy who is not only The Cutest Baby In The Southern Hemisphere, but my nephew.  I love him right there for that one!

Now if he could only teach me to say, "G'day Mate" so I don't sound like such a Stupid Tourist....

Gold Coast

Or,
More Life And Death Experiences for the Stupid Tourist

One of my dearest writing friends, Cathryn, recently added me to her RSS feeds and said she was looking forward to keeping up with me through my blog.  As a regular reader, you will be laughing as hard as I am right now because you know that I don't keep up my blog.  This string of posts is an anomaly prompted by the aligning of several key planets: I have a topic (trip to Oz), I have time (just sent a submission on Thursday--wish me luck) and I have reached the level of guilt required to make me put in the time to write a few decent posts (I can't bear to disappoint Cathryn!)

I suppose I could have also titled this post  Dear Friends With Whom I Don't Spend Enough Time since I went to the Gold Coast to meet Supa Sal, a cherished friend for nigh on twenty-six (seven?) years.  Yes, Sal, we are that old.  Yikes!

I met Sally on a Contiki tour of Europe.  Eighty percent of the travellers on that tour were from Oz and two years later I went to Australia to visit with many of them.  Eight years after that, hubby and I honeymooned there.  That's why seeing a lot of Australia wasn't on my agenda this trip.  Don't get me wrong--I think it's a beautiful country and given an unlimited budget, I'd spend unlimited time there getting to know the wonderful people and seeing the gorgeous beaches, the opal mines, Tasmania which I never have got to, more of Perth, Darwin...

However, this trip was very much about spending time with my sister and her new husband and baby so that's mostly what I (very happily) did.  I couldn't go all that way without trying to connect with Sal though.  She very kindly met me on the Gold Coast.  She has friends and family there so it worked for her.  She also still has awesome connections in the travel industry and got as a sweet deal on a two bedroom flat overlooking the ocean.  OMG I lived high for a weekend.

But it was a weekend of contrasts.  My sister drove me down there and spent the first night with us, which was awesome.  Sally brought her son, who's a gorgeous three year old who really does have the most precious Aussie accent and one of those pre-schooler lisps.  "Tooz me, Dani.  Can you help me?"  Of course, sweetpea, can I take you home with me?  Sooo cute!

Anyway, we had the loveliest, most relaxing evening, got the boys off to bed and had a girls' evening with a few glasses of wine and some amazing take-out Thai from a nearby restaurant.  All good.  Then I got horribly sick the next morning.  I swear I didn't drink that much for it to be a hangover, but I was sick, sick, sick.  I could barely see off my sister and thankfully Sally had friends to visit because I went back to bed and stayed there for about six hours.  By evening I was ready for Mexi food though so whatever the bug was, it was short-lived.

The next day was raining pretty hard so Sally and I went shopping.  Her son was amazing--definitely going to make some woman very happy someday because the two of us shopped our brains out and he very patiently put up with it.  Both Sally and I live in very rural areas.  We both have jobs and kids and limited budgets of purse and clock.  With every shop screaming "Mid-Season Sale" we were about in heaven.  Very cool plaza of shops too, part of it like a typical mall here in North America and part of it spilling outside to a courtyard maze of shops with a small canal.  I highly recommend a visit to the chain of Rivers stores.  They have hilariously campy, dull-voiced ads on the telly, but they also have great bargains if you have time to poke through their selection.

By afternoon the skies were clearing so we hit the beach.  I was so happy to have that opportunity since it really would be a crime to go all the way to Australia and not swim in the ocean at least once.  I am the biggest sissy when it comes to the ocean though.  I don't have any confidence against the power of waves and am quite certain they will suck me out to Japan at the first opportunity.  Sally, a surfer who has lived in the ocean most of her life, didn't help when she came out and said, "Watch out for that rip over there."

What rip?  I can't see it!!  The three-year-old was braver than I was, but generously held my hand and showed me how to jump the lapping foam high up the beach where we couldn't get into too much trouble.  After much coaching from Sally though, I did manage to get up to my thighs in the water and duck under a wave enough to say I 'swam' in the ocean.  I was head-to-toe wet is what really happened, but that was enough to vindicate me.  I'm always mad at myself if I go to the lake here at home and chicken out of swimming because it's too cold.  I wasn't mad at myself when I left the beach, although I was assured by my brother-in-law that only Stupid Tourists swim in the 'winter.'

Here I am working up my courage:

Speaking of Stupid Tourists, when I got back to my sister's the news reported that the beaches on the Gold Coast had been closed because sharks had been sighted.  That's sharks--plural.  (No, that's not a fin behind me, just another Stupid Tourist.)

The entire trip was a mixed bag of weather since it's their Spring.  Look at the storm that rolled in after we'd been on the beach for the afternoon:

Since moving from the coast to the interior, we don't get as much rain as I grew up with.  Not heavy, pelting rain that makes you want to curl up in bed with a book.  I miss that sound so I was thrilled when the thunder storms moved in and I could open the doors and watch Mother Nature's show.

All in all it turned out to be a perfect time of year to visit since the heat was never too intense (although it was plenty hot when the sun did come out.)  The humidity was there, but not overwhelming.  The cool days were damp and made you reach for long pants, but weren't cold.  And everything was coming into bloom.  Did I get a decent picture of the jacaranda trees?  No.  I'll let you look it up or visit yourself to see them.

Ssssssnake!

Or, What do I look like?  A Stupid Tourist?

Continuing my report on my visit to Oz in October...

(I thought this would be a good post for Halloween)

One morning I walked onto the veranda and found a snakeskin between the potted plants.  I called Mom out and said, "That must be the skin they told us they found when they moved in."  No, it was a fresh one.  My sister had watered those plants the day before and the skin hadn't been there.  My brother in law, the tallest of the men there at 6'2", later held it with his arm extended above his head.  The tail of the skin was still about a foot on the floor.  As my sister likes to point out, "That's how big it used to be."  The skin was still supple and stretchy, not dried out and crackly.  Here my dad compares it to his hand:

When Dad stretched it out, it was almost as wide as his hand is long.  Ask the nearest man hands to make a circle touching the heels of his hands and his fingertips.  That's the girth of this bad boy.  Gulp!  

Note to Stupid Tourists:  When I first discovered this skin, the men weren't home.  I wanted a photo of it dangling off the veranda, but my sister said, "It might still be out there."  She'd already identified it as likely a Carpet Python.  (Not an Apartment Python as my yoga instructor heard when I told this story.  Those are a completely different variety.  Very tame.  Everyone in the city has them.  Ahem.)  

Anyway, I thought she was winding me up with her warnings, saying "I'll get a shovel, but it'll be to bury you, not protect you."  I'm thinking this thing isn't like a rattler or something that strikes out.  She said the bites weren't deadly poison, just a visit to the hospital and highly unpleasant.  Constrictors always look like they move pretty slow on the nature channel.  I was confident I could outrun it.

So I took my photo and when I came in the house, my sister said that her husband to be would be really angry with her if he knew she'd let me do that.  Oh.  I didn't think she was that serious, but she said, "Think about it.  How often do we shake our heads at the stupid tourist who gets too close to a bear?"

Oh, you mean like me, standing in my front yard yelling, "Hey, Bear, smile for the camera?"

And let's walk through a day in the life of a constrictor.  The one we're talking about probably outweighs me.  (I was pretty careful with what I ate before leaving, knowing I'd pack it on over three weeks of vacation and celebration.)  So Mr. Constrictor sinks his fangs into my ankle and really doesn't have to do anything else at that point.  I'm not going anywhere.  He's a two hundred pound ball and chain.  I struggle 'til I'm tired and he slithers up and gives me a hug.  Once all my bones are broken into digestible sized pieces, he dislocates his jaw and settles in for a big turkey dinner.  

Stupid, ssssstupid tourist....

Home Again Home Again

Jiggedy Jig.

I used to say that to the kids whenever we pulled into the garage after a big day.  I had a very big day out recently.  I went to Australia to meet my nephew!  Picture the most adorable infant you can imagine then give him an Aussie accent.

Okay, you had to listen hard to hear it, but he was adorable regardless.  You'll have to take my word for it because I'm not posting his photo to the internet.  Someone might steal him and my sister would blame me.  I was very tempted!  Having said that, the house we were staying in had very thin walls so I heard him every time she got up with him in the night and I have to admit, I do enjoy my older children for the full night's sleep I get these days.

For those of you wanting to visit Australia vicariously through me, it will be a lot of baby cuddling and gabbing with family.  I had to buy throat lozenges I was doing so much of that!  Hubby and I visited Oz and NZ on our honeymoon, so I really wasn't there to see the sites.  It was all about wedding, sister and baby--since I probably won't see them again for a year or more.  :(

I do have a few photos to share.  This is the view off the back veranda where my sister and brother in law are staying while they renovate their own house.  It's a rustic farmhouse in Clearmountain, about an hour Northwest of Brisbane, quite a ways inland.  This is looking toward the city, but we'd had thunder and rain all day and then...a lovely rainbow.

My sister assures me they get koalas in some of these eucalyptus trees, but they don't get as many wallabies as they used to now they have a dog.  Most of the wildlife I saw was on the road--sadly a dead joey and a dead goanna, but a Red Bellied Black slithered across in front of us.  Apparently they're a 'good' snake because even though they can kill you in twelve minutes, they eat the Browns that can kill you in six.  Oddly my sister wouldn't let me out of the vehicle to take a photo.  Such a killjoy.

Further to the snakes...see my next post.

Paddington Bear

Or
I think she's still feeding them.


It's 12:45, just about the hottest part of the day.  Look who just came for lunch under our cherry tree wearing his best fur coat:

I swear, he's not guarding our grow-op.  We don't have one.  However, I'm pretty sure he's guarding somebody's grow op because I have it on good authority that that particular woman has been into the local grocery store for the big sacks of dog food on several occasions this summer.  (Google 'bears guarding grow-op for the full story.  While you're at it, cruise Youtube for the Russian Newscaster who couldn't stop laughing when she tried to report on this story.  It's good for a giggle.)

Meanwhile, Mr. Bear's visit to our neighborhood is tragic, it really is.  I didn't have the heart to call the conservation officer, but someone else will--if they don't shoot it themselves.  This guy ambled away when the kids and I went on the deck to take his photo and my son called out a few sarcastic remarks.  Not everyone is so tolerant though.

I'm so tolerant that after I saw him out there yesterday morning, I warned the kids that if they went to the beach while I was at work they should, "Walk on the road, don't go through the woods."  Cause pavement stops bears every time.  It's like a forcefield.  Yeah, I'm still going for that Mother of the Year award.

Meanwhile, our backyard isn't exactly Paddington Station, and this is as close as I'll get to pinning a "Please Look After This Bear" note on him, but he's free to a good home if you'd like to save him from a terrible fate and come get him.