Or more accurately, "Sermons by the Swan".
In Toronto, it's easy to get in to Christmas. You start shopping for gifts when winter is getting cold. By the time it snows, you're thinking about Christmas holidays. The Santa Claus Parade challenges thousands of parents to try and find parking close to the parade route, so that their children will only be outside in the cold for four hours, not six. There are all sorts of little cues that you'll be getting presents soon.
There are no such cues here, or at least I'm not culturally familiar with them. Maybe Perthites know that it's Christmas because they have to start running the a/c full time, or because the beach has gotten busy. There is no parade, because children are highly susceptible to skin cancer here. The stores still close promptly at 5pm, preventing anyone with a regular job from experiencing the mayhem of Christmas shopping, and parking is plentiful when there's no snow.
Luckily for Papa Christmas, there was going to be a Christmas concert in the park on the south foreshore. We'd be able to walk from home, allowing it to become an occasion for alcohol. So Rita and I packed the folding chairs and a six-pack, and went to the park to enjoy some carols.
I can now appreciate what an evangelical Christmas concert in Florida must be like. There was a huge outdoor stage, complete with drums, bass, and two electric guitars. There were carollers dressed in business casual, singing jazzy versions of the carols. There was a radio DJ with his t-shirt tucked into his jeans (and of course he completed his outfit with a black shiny belt) acting as MC. And to complete the ensemble, there were dozens of local pastors and chaplains from what they called the "South Perth Christian Network".
First, the DJ told us that we would be finishing nice and early tonight because, thankfully, there is no more daylight savings. Then he introduced the pastors and chaplains from the local churches and basement outfits. They were dressed like library volunteers and informed us that they would be leading the spiritual aspect of the evening. I opened another beer.
The choir was cheesy. I am not a NASCAR watching, country music listening, tobacco chewing idiot, and I do not need to hear an electric guitar in overdrive wailing behind Silent Night. I don't require screens to be set up on either side of the stage, panning the musicians and showing the guitarist's contorted face as he shredded through the bridge of Come All Ye Faithful. Then the pre-teen Christmas Dancers came on, aided by some teen heartthrob pop band CD that was not unlike Blink 182 singing carols. But I was prepared to enjoy it in the name of Christmas. I would just need Rita to pass me another beer.
There was lots of Jesus paraphernalia. There were multiple gimmicky little animations in between choir songs that ended with "I love Jesus!". More beer.
In the middle of the concert, one of the pastors got up and actually delivered a 30 minute sermon on Christmas. He read a version of the Christmas story that used all sorts of informal Australian language ("so the shepherds gather 'round and talked it up, and decided to go to Bethlehem"). And then he exhorted us to love Jesus as hard as possible, and to think of him as the one true God, and I had enough. We made conversation amongst ourselves about how ridiculous white people are sometimes.
You never get that crap at a Hanukkah celebration. You'll get a lot of the songs, and the same stories, and everyone wishes that they were getting as many presents as the Christians. You never get that crap in an Greek Orthodox ceremony; instead, you can expect to hear some ancient Greek singing for an hour prior to the mass, also largely in ancient Greek. No marketing campaigns and no pamphlets with the names, phone numbers, email addresses, and Twitter profiles of every preacher within a 5km radius.
Then the DJ came back on stage and informed us that we could get in touch with any of the religious element of South Perth if we had any questions ("Who's that Jesus guy? What's this one God thing all about?"). And, we left.
Can't wait for Christmas 2010!
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Thursday, December 17, 2009
A small adjustment
A few days ago I posted an inspirational story about a friend of mine that screws with people's personal lives when they email him by accident. This generated mixed feelings amongst our readers (and by that I mean that I liked it, but Rita thought it was mean), but it also inspired others to commit acts of vigilante emailing. Consider the following erroneous email that my friend Duncan received:
**********************
Dear Duncan Sploe,
Your next appointment with Dr. Steven J. Read is Thursday, December 17, 2009 4:45PM. Please take note of our new location effective Nov. 7th, 2009
200-277 Mountain Hwy
North Vancouver
604-990-0029
See you then.
Denise
**********************
Obviously this wasn't meant for Duncan, but that doesn't mean that some fun can't be had with a person that is careless with frictionless communication. So Duncan, with some help from Kreg, thought long and hard about what sort of chiropractic services he would be requiring. He came up with the following (linked added by me):
**********************
Denise,
I look forward to my Internal Coccyx Adjustment tomorrow. I have not eaten for 4 days as per WebMD's recommendations. Feeling a bit weak. Please be gentle.
J Duncan Sploe
**********************
HAHA! I don't care if it's immature. These kinds of opportunities do not happen to someone like me, what with my very complex last name and all. For me, it's just like wearing glasses. You people with names that other people also have don't know how lucky you are to have these opportunities.
In other news, we're getting ready for camping. It occurred to me that I have not yet heard a single Christmas carol all year! My alarm clock doesn't have a radio, I don't drive to work, and I don't go shopping. Voila! No carols. Jealous? You're jealous.
**********************
Dear Duncan Sploe,
Your next appointment with Dr. Steven J. Read is Thursday, December 17, 2009 4:45PM. Please take note of our new location effective Nov. 7th, 2009
200-277 Mountain Hwy
North Vancouver
604-990-0029
See you then.
Denise
**********************
Obviously this wasn't meant for Duncan, but that doesn't mean that some fun can't be had with a person that is careless with frictionless communication. So Duncan, with some help from Kreg, thought long and hard about what sort of chiropractic services he would be requiring. He came up with the following (linked added by me):
**********************
Denise,
I look forward to my Internal Coccyx Adjustment tomorrow. I have not eaten for 4 days as per WebMD's recommendations. Feeling a bit weak. Please be gentle.
J Duncan Sploe
**********************
HAHA! I don't care if it's immature. These kinds of opportunities do not happen to someone like me, what with my very complex last name and all. For me, it's just like wearing glasses. You people with names that other people also have don't know how lucky you are to have these opportunities.
In other news, we're getting ready for camping. It occurred to me that I have not yet heard a single Christmas carol all year! My alarm clock doesn't have a radio, I don't drive to work, and I don't go shopping. Voila! No carols. Jealous? You're jealous.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Rottnest Island
"We offer couple's therapy sessions with every rental of a tandem bicycle." - Rental lady
Over the weekend Rita and I, in partnership with Eric and Sheena, completed the most important of all tourist itineraries in Perth. We visited Rottnest Island, located about 2okm off the coast of Fremantle and accessible by a very fast ferry. We rented bikes, drank beer publicly, and visited over ten beautiful beaches, most of which were unscathed by loud techno music emanating from loud Australian yachts.
The island has had a very typical history, in the Australian style. Soon after it was discovered, it was turned into an Aboriginal men's prison (why not?) for about a hundred years. Then it was a regular prison, then a naval gun outpost, and finally an ultra-exclusive luxury destination. That sounds like Australia to me! Peculiarly, the indigenous Quokka still thrives on Rotto. I found this odd because the animal is the perfect size for dinner, target practice, and whale bait. Incredibly, as the Australians were able to somehow leave the Quokka unmolested, Rotto is now an A-class nature reserve. Then Sheena and Rita disembarked and effed that all up.
We packed only the bare essentials, because we knew that we'd be biking all day (there are roads all over Rotto, and no cars are allowed, making it a cycling paradise). Arriving on the island early Sunday morning, we jumped off the boat and walked quickly towards the settlement area to partake in that most important of all western activities, administration. We spent a mere hour getting all our gear straightened out before heading off, whereupon Rita immediately decided that our bike was crap and that we needed a new one. I admit that she was right, but I would have been happy to ride with our misaligned flat tire and grinding gears if it had meant that we'd shave precious minutes off of Administration Time.
We rented tandem bikes because we are strong couples, and the bonds of our promises to each other would never be ruined by a bicycle. That is now a laughable concept. By the end of the day Eric had accused his partner "Lance" of taking pictures instead of pedalling, and Sheena had rebutted with the hilarious but totally untrue accusation that Eric is too fat to go quickly. Rita was ready to silently kill me for over-enthusiastic gear changing on a bicycle that had been thoroughly pre-abused by fat tourists.
Learning how to ride a tandem bike is not easy. First you (read: I) have to convince the person on the back (read: Rita) not to steer. This should be easy when you are appealing to your wife to trust you, but Rita would only accept reality when she noted that her handlebars were bolted to my seat post, and that her steering merely succeeded in re-orienting my pelvis in the direction that she wished to go. Hilarity ensued. Obviously, I forgave her for cacking me. We are a team, after all.
We did eventually succeed in cycling to a beach, which was alarmingly awesome. Rotto is essentially a limestone pinnacle covered by sand dunes, and the limestone turns the water crystal clear. I was alarmed that beaches of this calibre had existed right under my nose for nearly nine months, and that I had only discovered them now. Naturally, I took out my trusty Geology of Southwest Australia and went straight to work in dating the outcrops (the answer was Pleistocene). Everyone else went swimming.
We ended up cycling around the entire island, which was a 26km circuit, and visiting some of the most amazing beaches. We'd bike for a bit, stop at a beach, search the landscape for million-dollar yachts pulsating with hip-hop music and the screeching of drunk women, and finding none we'd set up shop. A few of the beaches were completely empty. Those are the holy grail of WA tourism: perfect beaches in every way, completely empty. Well, they weren't completely perfect. Could've used an additional dollop of ozone. But Rotto is also ten degrees cooler than Perth, so I guess that compensates for it. I guess.
We did ultimately become good at tandem cycling. We climbed a very steep hill to reach the lighthouse, and I managed to not betray the fact that I thought Rita was reading the newspaper instead of peddling. We also found some very nice snorkeling beaches, including an underwater marine life exhibit with plaques that you had to find. We also found a Subway for dinner. Rotto is still Australia, after all, and there is no hope in finding a kangaroo steak for under $75. We did, however, cheat The Man by buying a six pack of cider and drinking on the beach. The alternative was akin to signing over your anal virginity at the hotel bar.
We left very happy, and tired. Eric and Sheena also did a post on their travel blog about the experience, complete with a video featuring Rita and Sheena breaking the laws of an A-class nature reserve by feeding the wildlife and actually petting the animals. I ought to know those laws. I drilled on an A-class nature reserve. We'll get some pictures up at some point in the future, but not until the Gestapo-idolizing internet providers allow us more than 12G a month. More and more, we are looking forward to coming home.
Over the weekend Rita and I, in partnership with Eric and Sheena, completed the most important of all tourist itineraries in Perth. We visited Rottnest Island, located about 2okm off the coast of Fremantle and accessible by a very fast ferry. We rented bikes, drank beer publicly, and visited over ten beautiful beaches, most of which were unscathed by loud techno music emanating from loud Australian yachts.
The island has had a very typical history, in the Australian style. Soon after it was discovered, it was turned into an Aboriginal men's prison (why not?) for about a hundred years. Then it was a regular prison, then a naval gun outpost, and finally an ultra-exclusive luxury destination. That sounds like Australia to me! Peculiarly, the indigenous Quokka still thrives on Rotto. I found this odd because the animal is the perfect size for dinner, target practice, and whale bait. Incredibly, as the Australians were able to somehow leave the Quokka unmolested, Rotto is now an A-class nature reserve. Then Sheena and Rita disembarked and effed that all up.
We packed only the bare essentials, because we knew that we'd be biking all day (there are roads all over Rotto, and no cars are allowed, making it a cycling paradise). Arriving on the island early Sunday morning, we jumped off the boat and walked quickly towards the settlement area to partake in that most important of all western activities, administration. We spent a mere hour getting all our gear straightened out before heading off, whereupon Rita immediately decided that our bike was crap and that we needed a new one. I admit that she was right, but I would have been happy to ride with our misaligned flat tire and grinding gears if it had meant that we'd shave precious minutes off of Administration Time.
We rented tandem bikes because we are strong couples, and the bonds of our promises to each other would never be ruined by a bicycle. That is now a laughable concept. By the end of the day Eric had accused his partner "Lance" of taking pictures instead of pedalling, and Sheena had rebutted with the hilarious but totally untrue accusation that Eric is too fat to go quickly. Rita was ready to silently kill me for over-enthusiastic gear changing on a bicycle that had been thoroughly pre-abused by fat tourists.
Learning how to ride a tandem bike is not easy. First you (read: I) have to convince the person on the back (read: Rita) not to steer. This should be easy when you are appealing to your wife to trust you, but Rita would only accept reality when she noted that her handlebars were bolted to my seat post, and that her steering merely succeeded in re-orienting my pelvis in the direction that she wished to go. Hilarity ensued. Obviously, I forgave her for cacking me. We are a team, after all.
We did eventually succeed in cycling to a beach, which was alarmingly awesome. Rotto is essentially a limestone pinnacle covered by sand dunes, and the limestone turns the water crystal clear. I was alarmed that beaches of this calibre had existed right under my nose for nearly nine months, and that I had only discovered them now. Naturally, I took out my trusty Geology of Southwest Australia and went straight to work in dating the outcrops (the answer was Pleistocene). Everyone else went swimming.
We ended up cycling around the entire island, which was a 26km circuit, and visiting some of the most amazing beaches. We'd bike for a bit, stop at a beach, search the landscape for million-dollar yachts pulsating with hip-hop music and the screeching of drunk women, and finding none we'd set up shop. A few of the beaches were completely empty. Those are the holy grail of WA tourism: perfect beaches in every way, completely empty. Well, they weren't completely perfect. Could've used an additional dollop of ozone. But Rotto is also ten degrees cooler than Perth, so I guess that compensates for it. I guess.
We did ultimately become good at tandem cycling. We climbed a very steep hill to reach the lighthouse, and I managed to not betray the fact that I thought Rita was reading the newspaper instead of peddling. We also found some very nice snorkeling beaches, including an underwater marine life exhibit with plaques that you had to find. We also found a Subway for dinner. Rotto is still Australia, after all, and there is no hope in finding a kangaroo steak for under $75. We did, however, cheat The Man by buying a six pack of cider and drinking on the beach. The alternative was akin to signing over your anal virginity at the hotel bar.
We left very happy, and tired. Eric and Sheena also did a post on their travel blog about the experience, complete with a video featuring Rita and Sheena breaking the laws of an A-class nature reserve by feeding the wildlife and actually petting the animals. I ought to know those laws. I drilled on an A-class nature reserve. We'll get some pictures up at some point in the future, but not until the Gestapo-idolizing internet providers allow us more than 12G a month. More and more, we are looking forward to coming home.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
An email that continually brightens my day
I have a friend, we'll call him "Kreg" (not his real name, which is giarC backwards). Kreg has a thing about modern communication. Essentially, he hates it. He doesn't own a cell phone or use Skype. He prefers a good old premeditated conversation with someone, usually in person. If he can't have that, he'll resort to messaging through an online multiplayer game of Civ 4. This is how he interacts with his girlfriend, mainly. They are so good at this that she can even tell what sort of day he's had, based on whether or not he is focusing on improving his Culture score.
He also has a pretty popular last name, which means that he occasionally receives emails that were meant for some other kburkit (not his real user name). Recently, he received one such accidental email from a person that clearly has no business being allowed near frictionless communication. As he said, "I reply back as though I was the person (often changing my name to their name temporarily, although I forgot this time) and say something that might cause a little friction in their relationship down the line". The idea is that, if these people were to resort to a more personal method of communication, they would be able to sort this all out quickly and have a good chuckle over it.
Not this time. This time, I was the one that did all the laughing. Here is the full thread (name spelled backwards, just read from the top down):
On Mon, Nov 23, 2009 at 10:46 AM, Neerg, Diane <DNeerg@agophfc.com> wrote:
Hey Poopsie-
Sitting here thinking about you and wondering how you are. Your Buddy Gene started here in Batesburg today- he's in the office between Rick and Tammy. I still don't know how I feel about it but guess it doesn't matter does it? He will be corporate analyst for upper part of State.
Went to a Team Meeting last Wednesday and it was gloom and doom. Raises cant top 2.6% I think they said and everyone will not get one. Everyone will not qualify for incentive this year either- got a lot going into nonaccrual and earnings are down from last year. Your Buddy Howard whined as usual about him not getting paid enough and the incentive doesn't figure into retirement. As of the Team Meeting- it was his birthday and he had met the rule of 85. He complained the entire time. Don't you love him? Wish he would move on.
Dave Spittle had his retirement party- didn't go but heard it was nice. Think he is leaving month end.
So- such is life.
What you doing for Turkey Day? Guess this one will be different for you. I am thinking we might just go out for dinner and see a movie or something. Holidays are kind of nothing around our house anymore. Chelsie said if we cook- she wants to grill hamburgers. HA! Supposed to be cold this week- guess it is time.
Take care- have a good holiday no matter what you do.
Love ya!
Di
From: Kreg B [mailto:kburkit@gmail.com]
Sent: Thursday, November 26, 2009 10:52 AM
To: Neerg, Diane
Subject: Re: Hey
You know, I'm getting tired of these emails. All you ever do is talk
about work. Don't you have anything else going on in life? I'm sorry,
but I've wanted to say this for a long time, and just now got the
courage. Please don't be mad at me.
KB
From: "Neerg, Diane"
To: "Kreg B" <kburkit@gmail.com>
Date: Mon, 30 Nov 2009 08:59:08 -0500
Subject: RE: Hey
Excuse Me- guess I am kind of like you were when you worked here and all you did was complain about work and how you couldn't wait to leave this place. We listened to it everyday and don't recall telling you how tired we were of hearing it.
I was mainly asking you about your holiday plans- Wont bother you again.
****
(sound of me dying with laughter)
This was a success for a very important reason. Someone, somewhere, has just had their office friendship (or affair?) completely destroyed, and they will never know it. Why? Because a Woman that capitalizes the Strangest things got an email address wrong, and didn't check her address book, and didn't even notice that Poopsie's name is now Kreg (if it actually was, that would be an amazing coincidence), got pissed off and decided to end their relationship via email. Via email.
And, on a closing note, since when do people use a dash to replace a period/semicolon/comma? Is this the new super awesome all-purpose punctuation mark? I never know- Wish someone had told me-
He also has a pretty popular last name, which means that he occasionally receives emails that were meant for some other kburkit (not his real user name). Recently, he received one such accidental email from a person that clearly has no business being allowed near frictionless communication. As he said, "I reply back as though I was the person (often changing my name to their name temporarily, although I forgot this time) and say something that might cause a little friction in their relationship down the line". The idea is that, if these people were to resort to a more personal method of communication, they would be able to sort this all out quickly and have a good chuckle over it.
Not this time. This time, I was the one that did all the laughing. Here is the full thread (name spelled backwards, just read from the top down):
On Mon, Nov 23, 2009 at 10:46 AM, Neerg, Diane <DNeerg@agophfc.com> wrote:
Hey Poopsie-
Sitting here thinking about you and wondering how you are. Your Buddy Gene started here in Batesburg today- he's in the office between Rick and Tammy. I still don't know how I feel about it but guess it doesn't matter does it? He will be corporate analyst for upper part of State.
Went to a Team Meeting last Wednesday and it was gloom and doom. Raises cant top 2.6% I think they said and everyone will not get one. Everyone will not qualify for incentive this year either- got a lot going into nonaccrual and earnings are down from last year. Your Buddy Howard whined as usual about him not getting paid enough and the incentive doesn't figure into retirement. As of the Team Meeting- it was his birthday and he had met the rule of 85. He complained the entire time. Don't you love him? Wish he would move on.
Dave Spittle had his retirement party- didn't go but heard it was nice. Think he is leaving month end.
So- such is life.
What you doing for Turkey Day? Guess this one will be different for you. I am thinking we might just go out for dinner and see a movie or something. Holidays are kind of nothing around our house anymore. Chelsie said if we cook- she wants to grill hamburgers. HA! Supposed to be cold this week- guess it is time.
Take care- have a good holiday no matter what you do.
Love ya!
Di
From: Kreg B [mailto:kburkit@gmail.com]
Sent: Thursday, November 26, 2009 10:52 AM
To: Neerg, Diane
Subject: Re: Hey
You know, I'm getting tired of these emails. All you ever do is talk
about work. Don't you have anything else going on in life? I'm sorry,
but I've wanted to say this for a long time, and just now got the
courage. Please don't be mad at me.
KB
From: "Neerg, Diane"
To: "Kreg B" <kburkit@gmail.com>
Date: Mon, 30 Nov 2009 08:59:08 -0500
Subject: RE: Hey
Excuse Me- guess I am kind of like you were when you worked here and all you did was complain about work and how you couldn't wait to leave this place. We listened to it everyday and don't recall telling you how tired we were of hearing it.
I was mainly asking you about your holiday plans- Wont bother you again.
****
(sound of me dying with laughter)
This was a success for a very important reason. Someone, somewhere, has just had their office friendship (or affair?) completely destroyed, and they will never know it. Why? Because a Woman that capitalizes the Strangest things got an email address wrong, and didn't check her address book, and didn't even notice that Poopsie's name is now Kreg (if it actually was, that would be an amazing coincidence), got pissed off and decided to end their relationship via email. Via email.
And, on a closing note, since when do people use a dash to replace a period/semicolon/comma? Is this the new super awesome all-purpose punctuation mark? I never know- Wish someone had told me-
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Goin' campin'
It's almost Christmas in Perth, which means almost nothing to Rita and me. In the first place, it does not feel like Christmas. It feels like summer vacation because not only is it very hot, but everyone in my office is planning holidays. Even we are gearing up for our massive trip home. Planning trips is a very summery thing in Toronto.
More importantly though, Rita and I are not going to be consumed by the now twice-as-massive family celebrations this year. That's not a bad thing either, because absence makes the heart grow fonder. It also makes the waist slendererer and the appetite more economical, but that is beside the point. Disappointingly, I may not get to sing in church this year. I only use my contralto during the festive season.
We could possibly still go to church. I will go because, like every good boy, it will make my Italian mother happy. But we could also go to Greek church, so that Rita can spend the entire ceremony telling me how strange the Australian-Hellenic accent is. Rita tries to keep it real, and talking through church is a very traditional Greek pastime.
After church, we will turn tradition on its head and go camping with Eric and Sheena. Camping is popular with the people of Perth that have no use for things like airports and have no idea why it is Christmas-y to go to the local outdoor rink and play some pickup hockey. So we'll drive south to Albany and Walpole, possibly even to Esperance if all of the closer spots are taken, and set up our tents on the beach. Then I'll try to do a turkey over a camp fire. We'll also be looking to sleep under the stars, which is very nice to do in WA at this time of year, as long as you have a big net to keep off the very persistent flies.
I'm proud of the economizing that we have managed in planning for this trip. Everything except our sleeping bags will be on loan from friends, and we'll be using free camp sites. Because we found good free tents, we won't need a camper van, which means that our only daily costs are food and gas. Plus, we'll be cooking most of our own food (I say most because if I see a sign advertising fresh oysters, I'm eating out). We're looking to kick some major budgetary butt on this one.
The free campsite thing looks like it may be a bit of an issue. They are filled almost immediately by migratory Perthites. Even in WA they run out of room, probably because camping is so totally awesome. I hope. The other potential issue is that we'll be waking up as soon as the sun hits the tents (4:30am), which may be induce some jet-lag. And the third issue is that we'll be sleeping outside in rural Australia, which is known to be somewhat poisonous.
I'm joking, of course. There will be no issue with the creatures of the wild. We'll be carrying plenty of hairspray and lighters. And mustard gas for the hippopotami. There are venomous hippopotami in Australia, aren't there?
More importantly though, Rita and I are not going to be consumed by the now twice-as-massive family celebrations this year. That's not a bad thing either, because absence makes the heart grow fonder. It also makes the waist slendererer and the appetite more economical, but that is beside the point. Disappointingly, I may not get to sing in church this year. I only use my contralto during the festive season.
We could possibly still go to church. I will go because, like every good boy, it will make my Italian mother happy. But we could also go to Greek church, so that Rita can spend the entire ceremony telling me how strange the Australian-Hellenic accent is. Rita tries to keep it real, and talking through church is a very traditional Greek pastime.
After church, we will turn tradition on its head and go camping with Eric and Sheena. Camping is popular with the people of Perth that have no use for things like airports and have no idea why it is Christmas-y to go to the local outdoor rink and play some pickup hockey. So we'll drive south to Albany and Walpole, possibly even to Esperance if all of the closer spots are taken, and set up our tents on the beach. Then I'll try to do a turkey over a camp fire. We'll also be looking to sleep under the stars, which is very nice to do in WA at this time of year, as long as you have a big net to keep off the very persistent flies.
I'm proud of the economizing that we have managed in planning for this trip. Everything except our sleeping bags will be on loan from friends, and we'll be using free camp sites. Because we found good free tents, we won't need a camper van, which means that our only daily costs are food and gas. Plus, we'll be cooking most of our own food (I say most because if I see a sign advertising fresh oysters, I'm eating out). We're looking to kick some major budgetary butt on this one.
The free campsite thing looks like it may be a bit of an issue. They are filled almost immediately by migratory Perthites. Even in WA they run out of room, probably because camping is so totally awesome. I hope. The other potential issue is that we'll be waking up as soon as the sun hits the tents (4:30am), which may be induce some jet-lag. And the third issue is that we'll be sleeping outside in rural Australia, which is known to be somewhat poisonous.
I'm joking, of course. There will be no issue with the creatures of the wild. We'll be carrying plenty of hairspray and lighters. And mustard gas for the hippopotami. There are venomous hippopotami in Australia, aren't there?
Friday, December 4, 2009
We own matching jerseys
Cycling is the perfect sport for Rita. In the first place, it allows her to fully accessorize and get kitted out, which is one of her passions. It also allows her to dress in lots of bright colours that one would not normally wear, which makes it a "bedazzling" sport. We all know how much Rita likes to bedazzle.
Cycling is also super fun, which is why we signed up for the 50km Great Bike Ride. There was a 100km option that I was pretty hyped about, but Rita looked at the finishing times from last year and decided that it would be no fun to do it with people that averaged 40km/h. She was right, and fun is the name of the game anyways.
The 50km option was a single loop around the river (the 100km option was just two loops, which would not add to the scenery). Perth did a very good job of closing off most roads and a few sections of freeway. We did it in under two hours, which means that we kicked some butt. Rita specifically kicked a lot of butt, because this was the farthest she has ever cycled without stopping for a break.
Cycling around the Swan was the full package of fantastic views, expensive houses (the Italian homes resplendent in their coatings of chrome), parks, cafe strips, steep climbs and very fast descents. We hope to do it with our visitors in February, but possibly involving more stops for coffee, doughnuts, pizza, burgers, and isotonic beverages. That's the great thing about cycling: it's good for you.
The other great thing about Rita and cycling is that I can now come home and occasionally find new matching cycling gear for me that was sneakily purchased by my wife-elect. I always put on disapproving face, but getting sneaky presents is fun.
Cycling is also super fun, which is why we signed up for the 50km Great Bike Ride. There was a 100km option that I was pretty hyped about, but Rita looked at the finishing times from last year and decided that it would be no fun to do it with people that averaged 40km/h. She was right, and fun is the name of the game anyways.
The 50km option was a single loop around the river (the 100km option was just two loops, which would not add to the scenery). Perth did a very good job of closing off most roads and a few sections of freeway. We did it in under two hours, which means that we kicked some butt. Rita specifically kicked a lot of butt, because this was the farthest she has ever cycled without stopping for a break.
Cycling around the Swan was the full package of fantastic views, expensive houses (the Italian homes resplendent in their coatings of chrome), parks, cafe strips, steep climbs and very fast descents. We hope to do it with our visitors in February, but possibly involving more stops for coffee, doughnuts, pizza, burgers, and isotonic beverages. That's the great thing about cycling: it's good for you.
The other great thing about Rita and cycling is that I can now come home and occasionally find new matching cycling gear for me that was sneakily purchased by my wife-elect. I always put on disapproving face, but getting sneaky presents is fun.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Mike's Birthday Feast
Now that a couple of days have passed, I am free to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIKE
and not risk him getting annoyed for announcing his birthday and having his office mates find out.
Everyone who knows Mike, knows he has a refined palette and a deep appreciation for fine cuisine so we (Mike, Eric, Sheena and I) celebrated his birthday at one of the most posh neighbourhoods in Perth for the best Mexican to be found. We ate from a wide variety of enchiladas, guacamoles, chimichangas and paellas and we ate until we were sweating chili out of every pore. This was also aided by the chili beer that Mike and Eric ordered that actually had a chili sitting on the bottom of the bottle and gave you a punch with every sip...as well as an ulcer.
After rolling out of the Mexican restaurant, we returned home for an injection of sugar because apparently there is always room for something sweet. We devoured Mike's birthday cupcakes (made by me) and a special surprise made by Sheena. A bit of background: a few nights earlier, while having dinner together, we discussed what a kid would find as an awesome dessert and that it would probably include several types of junk food floating around in gelatin. Sheena and Eric thought that this would be appropriate for Mike and so we got to find out exactly how a dessert like this would turn out and what you get, is in my opinion, the first step to becoming a diabetic.
I think I can speak for everyone when I say this was the most awesome birthday in Perth.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
