…last night at our place…

Had our Halloween party. Also had Dave show up with his snazzy 56 hard-top… guud fun…

… you had a mess of crayfish like this…

This is worth a read, very clever…

Letter to Toyota

… to be played in the key of C… I think I hear a tune similar to the Folsom Prison Blues…

Back in Honiara. Have been here a couple of days. I find that I can sadly allow my jaded soul to overshadow the beauty of this tropical land. It is a bit sad but then it is grand when I find myself waking from my jaded lethargy and start, once again, to appreciate this mystical and magical land…

The political scene here is such a waste. There is so much struggling and fighting for power that the business of governance simply does not get attended to.

We have been watching for weeks as another vote of no confidence is being tabled in parliament. It would, I fear, be safe to say that we cannot have a sitting of parliament without a no confidence motion being tabled. (or as in this recent sitting, two separate motions of no confidence… must be some kinda record?)

The effect this has on the machinery of governance is that the incumbent(s) are forced to spend their time playing the “numbers in power” game rather than attending to the business of governing and leading this fair land.

The headlines from the past week or so do not help… they discuss the unhappy teachers who have not been paid in months, the compensation ceremony between clans in Honiara fighting over the rape and murder of a 14-year-old girl, 2 ministers of the Crown resigning due to the gov being ineffective and the immediate appointment of two replacements, a couple different headlines about the PM’s recent travels to New York and Australia and the size of the entourage he likes to take with him…

And the beat goes on…

There is not much good news and being jaded may be understandable.

By my heart is made happy by the day and the smiles found therein:

1) Nancy is #1 housekeeper and a valued member of the family. She is from Santa Cruz, a pregnant mother of 3, is about 5 foot nothing, has a huge smile and a habit of singing as she works. She is simply a pleasure to be around and lightens the day’s burdens by her relaxed and happy attitude. Today she told me the ironing board is broken and, being a tight-arse, I decided to try to fix it rather than buy a new one. Upon inspection I found that the legs had simply come apart and in the coming-apart we’d lost some pieces. (of course I got the “I tink some piece hem lose ia”)

So the legs are not usable at all. But the board is fine. So I take it all to pieces and devise a way where we simply set the ironing board on the kitchen table. It does work and noting that the house is generally empty I don’t think ironing like this is a burden to Nancy so I discussed it with her. I started the discussion by saying that I know that she may be unhappy, being so tall and all, that the board has only one height, and may not work for her… Of course she loved being told she was tall and laughed and laughed. She is still laughing and it makes me smile.

2) Peter is my Major Domo. A tall, elegant Lord Howe (Ong Tong java) elder, Peter is a traditional healer who came into my life when I was crippled by sciatica. He tore me apart in the traditional manner and laughed as I howled with pain as he “fixed” me. And indeed he did fix me. That was well over 10 years ago and Peter has been on the payroll ever since. He is second only to Nancy and is my trusted man about the house, and my person masseur. He runs the dozen or so security guys we have and has learned how to keep the pool sparking clean. A job/ responsiblity he takes very seriously.

I/ we are very busy this week so I was up early and rushing around. I needed some cash so sent Peter down to the bank to cash a cheque. Though trust worthy and an honest friend he does move slowly so I was bit shocked to see him, before noon, out cleaning the pool. I smiled like an idiot when I saw Peter; a bright yellow hard hat on his silver haired head, and, as gloves, a different coloured plastic bag, one on each hand. He was out at the pool methodically applying chlorine.

3) There was another vote of no confidence scheduled for the morning session in parliament today. The Member who was bringing the motion failed to show up so the motion was deferred until 2pm. Conjecture has it that the esteemed member was too hung over from last night’s lobbying to get out of bed. I unofficially hear the motion did get much support.

And indeed life is good…

By the way… much to the displeasure all close to me, I have started playing the harmonica again. I have started with two simple songs and once I learn these two I’ll be able to start busking at the Queen Street Mall. One of the two is indeed the Folsom Prison bluez…

4  5    5    -5   6  4  4

I hear that train a-com-in’

4    5   5     -5    6   4

It’s rol-lin’ ’round the bend,

4  5  5    -5   5   6    4

And I ain’t seen the sun-shine,

4   -4   5     4  -4 4

Since, I don’t know when,

-44   -4  4  -4   4  -4   4

I’m stuck in Fol-som Pri-son,

-4   -4    4   -4 4 -4    3

And time keeps drag-gin’ on,

4   4    -4    -4   4 -4   3

But that train keeps a-rol-lin’,

3   3   3   3   2  1

On down to San An-tone.

When I was just a baby,

My Mama told me, “Son,

Always be a good boy,

Don’t ever play with guns,”

But I shot a man in Reno,

Just to watch him die,

When I hear that whistle blowin’,

I hang my head and cry.

I bet there’s rich folks eatin’,

In a fancy dining car,

They’re probably drinkin’ coffee,

And smokin’ big cigars,

But I know I had it comin’,

I know I can’t be free,

But those people keep a-movin’,

And that’s what tortures me.

Well, if they freed me from this prison,

If that railroad train was mine,

I bet I’d move out over a little,

Farther down the line,

Far from Folsom Prison,

That’s where I want to stay,

And I’d let that lonesome whistle,

Blow my Blues away.

At lunch at the new fancy hotel in town, a young fellow offered to sell me his owl…

Not something that happens everyday.

And of course we had to try the outfits on… First time either of these boys have participated in a trick or treat so very excited…

Angelo’s bday party yesterday at a near by water park. A dozen kids for 3 hours. All in all pretty good and the mess was left behind. Thats the good part…

Here in the land of Oz we get some amazing boids (birds). I often have a variety of species hanging around my back yard waiting for me to put out some food or till the earth and uncover worms. I have a friend here who has a large bird feeder by his back door, which is usually open… he often has birds in the house he has to shoo out…

Here we have a large sulfur crested cockatoo and a pair of kookaburra: The cockatoo is actually a big, mean spirited bird, not to be trusted. I get nervous when one hangs around too long. The kookaburra are cool but very noisy and I shall blog a short movie of their noise once I figger out how to..

… in a Gabriel Garcia Marquez, sort of way…

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gabriel_Garc%C3%ADa_M%C3%A1rquez

I am thinking of the magnificent read “one hundred years of solitude”.

It was the butterflies. Blame it on the butterflies in the back yard.

Slow sedate Saturday morn. Grace out n about early. The boys alternately feeding themselves and watching a combination of TV, YouTube and Xbox. Never sure which is on at any given time and indeed there are times when at least 2 devices are running side by side.

I do the Saturday morn move from bed to sofa and doze as the boys stimulate their minds. A spring wind blows crisp and sharp. The back windows are open and the air is chilled. I have a big old afghan Zai-Olo made keeping me warm.

I am roused by one of those sounds… one of those sounds that are made when someone is trying to be quiet. One of the sounds made when someone is trying to not make a sound.

I wake enough to move to an elbow and see the boys trying to open a bag of jelly snakes. Mendozza has the bag stretched tight while Angelo has the kitchen sheers poised to do the silent cut. They give me that “busted” look. I grumble something about “..thats not breakfast food…” and begin the process of getting-up.

That was a couple of hours ago. Our plan is to go out and hit the surf shops along the coast. We’re after a couple used boards and wet suits to suit all. We’re getting geared up for a summer of surfing but first, we need to give the house a quick cleaning, tidy up the rooms. Then we can head out ensuring Zai is happy.

All went easily, the house was tended to, and the boys chose to return to their eDevices rather than rush off. So the xbox has batman kicking the stuffing outa loads of nasties. The computer is running Utube clips of past WWE matches.

I head outside with a coffee to talk to my plants. We had rain on Thursday but not much. The sun keeps shining and the wind keeps blowing so the plants are thirsty. The tomatoes and capsicum doing well. Second crop of spring onions coming along. Did a green tomato chutney the other day that was killer. Old crops being harvested. New crops ready to be transplanted.

I wander around the yard pulling the garden hose behind me. I am sure I am the quintessential picture of a retired old fart in suburbia… I am in my lava-lava, my hair is a mess. Bare chested and barefooted. The boys hate when I go outside in “a dress”. Grace would yell at me for going out looking so tropo. She says I scare the neighbors. I am happy. The plants are happy. They need the water.

As I am finishing off I return to the back corner where the new shoots are coming up. A big magpie is in the corner digging in the soft bed. We startle each other and exchange greetings. The magpie continues its hunting as I continue my watering. A number of small white butterflies dance around the flowers on the capsicum.

The spray from my garden hose crates a perfect rainbow. I play the water back and forth. Create a moving rainbow. With a dopey smile I recall a childhood experience. Of playing with the hose and making rainbows.

I accidentally wet one of the butterflies. I feel a bit bad. It drops to a leaf of the capsicum and is dry and flying again in a short moment. I notice now that another butterfly is hanging on the outside of the spray. It appears to be maintaining position just in the light mist on the fringe of the spray. I hold the hose steady. A symbiotic gesture.

We have a rainbow and a butterfly, side by side, in the back yard.

… in a Gabriel Garcia Marquez, sort of way…

Life is GUUD

… pizza in the bbq…

OCT032012

Six killed in de Havilland DH.84 Dragon crash in Australia

Just thinking and observing…

1) How come people have lost the state of awareness when it comes to crowds? I was out shopping today (a chore I indeed love, NOT) 2 stores, 2 parking lots. And I am reminded how poorly people interact with time and space, shared space. A lady with a baby stroller, music plugged into her ears, kid asleep, leaves the stroller in the middle of the cereal isle. walks backwards about 2 steps to gaze blankly at the shelves filled with sugar-coated goodness… and the isle is effectively blocked.

2) A group of young, attractive girls. they meet a group of friends in the bread isle. Huggs and kisses all around and loud gushing verbiage about meaningless activities. As the isle is blocked.

3) He and she, in true love. Have to walk joined at the hips. Arms around each other in over demonstrative affection. And, yep you guessed it, the isle is blocked.

4) One older lady must know the etiquette of shopping centres… she plowed through the group a girls without a word. Go granny, go.

5) Parking lots… I am amazed how people jump in, put their cars in gear and start moving… without looking out and about. As the car starts moving the periscope goes up and with a tonne of steel and plastic in motion, we then, and only then, see what is around us.

6) Watched Captain America with the boys over the weekend. OK flick as far as Marvel Comic flicks go. But I am reminded that we are constantly rewriting history. In Captain America there is a propensity to mix the races when it comes to the military of the 1940s. I fear most people tend to either not know or conveniently forget that the US military was a segregated corps up until, legally, 1948, and for all practical purposes until well into the 1050s with the last all-black unit being disbanded in 1954.

7) It’s a dancing world we live in… and I like it. I note that kids these days are all dancers. I am always watching my boys jive and shuffle as they move. I watched a small girl, maybe 3 or 4, do a very nice hiphop shoulder/ arm and knee shimmy as she waited for a bus with her mother.

8) Always sad when I hear of a vintage aircraft that has gone missing… from today’s local news: It is understood the plane – a vintage  De Havilland Dragon DH-84, built in 1934 and one of only four in the world – has gone missing. The aircraft was returning from an air show at Monto and was due to land at Caboolture.