Note To Future Self

As previously noted, Australia was our summer holiday destination. With Oz’s east coast a mere three hour flight away, it’s an obvious choice for us to visit New Zealand’s “West Island” while we’re in the neighbourhood…

We’ll spare you the details, but we enjoyed an itinerary which encompassed the loverly urbanity of Melbourne city, the Grampians, the Bellarine and Mornington peninsulas, Prom country, and the Yarra valley. Whew. We also visited every museum,

zoo, …

waterfall, …

ice cream parlor, …

children’s farm, …

beach…

and hotel swimming pool we came across.

And Grandpa was able to introduce local savages to the good book.

Lastly, though far from leastly, we were also able to confabulate with the mighty Yarra (whose family were our local hosts and guides … thanks again!)

It’s a tradition passed down from generation to generation, stretching back into the murky mists of time. And now, we are passing the torch to a new generation.

My progeny has generated her first crayon-based pre-impressionistic “birthday card” for my father. Even now, her rendition of, uh, “kangaroos on the savannah” (or was it “we take a walk in the park”? “ice cream”?) is gracing the ancestral refrigerator.

[sadly, no, I didn't get a photo...]

Little girl, did you really think you could win our little battle of wills at quiet time?

Not only can I get you to take a nap …

… you won’t even have time to crawl into your bed.

(hooray for long walks!)

When did you say the submarine races started?

Hey, keep your hands to yourself!

The big flying bus deposited us at home at two this morning/last night. The house is still standing and is now a complete disaster of trip unpacking.

Lots of photos and stories to sort through. To start, here’s a softball post for Alan.

It turns out the Aussies build a car just for you…

Sadly, it’s a Toyota Highlander.

For a change of pace, we’re taking our Christmas vacation in the first world.

While we do appreciate having a white christmas, it’s nice to be wearing short sleeves at New Years.

Many more photos later, obviously.

Here we go again. We’re all okay. Still have power and I presume water and sewer – no tell-tale ponds in the back garden at any rate.

However, I am very much looking forward to getting on a plane in the wee hours. Hopefully the airport is open by then.

After a couple of weeks of wet weather, we joined the Swede’s family for a weekend escape to the West Coast, with promises of fun in the sun. Of course, usually it’s the other way around, but the weather gods have apparently parked a high just downstream from us, causing all the ook to stall out over Christchurch.

After a wet drive over the pass, the weather obliged with lovely hotness for two days, and enough sand flies to go around.

Besides lots of scampering in the surf, we enjoyed the Pororari River track.

Predictably, the weather worsened as we approach home, but ’twas nice to get out of the house for a bit.

It’s been a bit of a wet summer here, but never mind that, let’s go to the zoo and terrorize some ducklings…

Cuz nothing lasts forever, even warm December rain.

Up to this point my child has been raised solely on a diet of organic free-range beeswax and wagyu beef sliders. Schooled solely in the works of Merritt, Brock, and Darnielle. Foisted off onto only the brainiest of children’s television.

And yet, today we returned from the library with a book titled Monkey with a Tool Belt and the Noisy Problem (sequel to the Pulitzer and Man Booker prize winning Monkey with a Tool Belt).

What is this bubble-headed pablum? Where is the weighty, serious, issues-laden children’s literature for the Tiger Mother and Lemur Father to depress upon their offspring?

Dare I say it, this is a perfectly respectably, perfectly disposable kids book. Fun to read the first eleventy-dozen times, bright, positive and inoffensive. There those times when even the good Dr gets a bit preachy. And you get to say “Chico Bon Bon” (the protagonist’s name, of course). What more do you need?