Tuesday, 24 March 2009

A Spot of Sport

Hey there!!
We have just wound up the basketball down here, number one son didn't make finals, but number two son got through to the second round then got bumped out. (It is wrong to want to strangle coaches...????) If I was an overly modest person with enough front I would say that I could have got them over the line quite easily, but I am obviously more modest in my mind because I just wouldn't say that! None-the-less, the game had me very frustrated, with Blokey Man clutching my hand to the bench to stop me from running over to the coaching bench!! “I just want to tell them something.....” I begged. “Sit down, and say nothing!!!” The joys of parenting...

We went and watched the junior and senior grand finals over the weekend just gone, and I would have to say they were all pretty even games, with only one team getting more than a 10 point lead. Makes for very good finals, and most amusing for all those others in the crowd who knew more rules than those silly referees anyhow... The excitment factor was most impressive, and much to Blokey Man's dismay, not a single one bitch fight at all! "Not like the other night" he grumbles.... at least you get a bit of skirt at netball! Yeah, it's a man thing, but at least they had a good turnout to the games, and most spectators were well behaved! So, until next year....

I got to wave my arms around a lot and run up and down the court blowing fury in the second round of finals though, then the locals and the Albury refs did the rest. I have been up to Wang a couple of times to get some coaching, and they run a very tight ship. Their instructor refs the national league so everything is by the book. Overall they have a great system, the new refs have great support on court and the right attitudes. A vision for implementation is at this time in the back of my mind, from what I have seen this last season.

I am hoping to do more games in Wang as their competitions run all year, we only have the one "major" season here, which is still a big thing for the town. Everyone loves their basketball here. I feel I will need to bring my game up to scratch by going for my grading again............ boy wasn't that a long time ago!!!! Many moons ago good ol' Peter Rodderhan from Mooroopna graded me at a tournament in Shepparton. And, how things have changed!

Refereeing has helped me get over not playing... (just) since my dicky knee incident. I am tempted to give it another go if that bitch that left those 15kgs would come back and take them away!! Oh my, I actually meant 5kg's........ My physio would be most pleased, and display all manner of astomishment and admiration as he put me through a trial session of competency. That “thump” was me hitting the floor, seemed to have fallen asleep whilst putting on my knee brace, which really has been fantastic by the way. So, where was I? Oh, sports............

Well, soccer rego has been paid, new boots purchased, new shorts and socks next on the shopping list, and mum's new gumboots (colourful of course!) a much needed addition to those soggy winter games!!! (you remember winter mornings, ice on the pitch, a boundry of brollies and deck chairs submerging into muddy hollows?) Off we go............. Starts again the week before holidays, then the two week break and back into it. We will have a bit of a reprieve this year though with one of the teams pulling out, so there'll be a bye. Yayyyyyyy, time to dry out all the gear properly!!!!!!

Did I tell you I was volunteering at the local secondhand bookshop? The dear owner was involved in a very nasty car accident, and suffered innumerable broken bones and injuries all over her body! She is still in hospital some three months down the track, and about to have another surgery, on her neck this time. I cannot imagine how long it's going to take her to recover, or how she will fare when she does, but at lease we can do our bit for her in the shop.

Anyway, it's a second hand shop, stacked to the brim, with lots and lots of SHBooks. We all want to clear out some of the books to make more room to move in the shop, and have it looking good for her. She is lucky to have her brother, Kevin and dear friend, Joan organizing us all. They do every other day, and fill in for people who are unable to fill their roster. Anyway, in my current non-employment status I have decided to catalogue all the books in the shop and whack them into a spreadsheet. At least then we will know what we have, and hopefully where to find it. And spreadsheets are good for all manner of sorting; titles, authors etc... crime, romance, smut etc.....

Although not initially linked to sport, I feel the lead up needs to cover the recent local FIRES.
The fires were a bit scary. We got a phone call at midnight asking for our water tank to help douse spot fires at a friends. When we walked outside to have a look, not expecting to see anything, the whole sky was red. The heat of the day could only be described as "combustive", it was incredible heat, I can't ever remember a day like that. Blokey Man got the boys up and we drove just to the outskirts, at the cemetary actually, along with many other onlookers, and watched the fire raging up the Mudgegonda valley. You could see the flames jumping along the top of the hills, and all the time thinking the firey's had no hope of stopping that.

I took a few photos, but that time of night with the batteries deciding to cark it on the digital, they weren't too flash (no pun intended). Blokey Man's niece and her family were lucky, it was across the road on top of the hill, and coming up the valley behind, but the wind changed and they had firey's in there cutting firebreaks with dozers. Despite the fact that they have bush in the hills in front of their property, and pines up the back of their property, I would never have thought that that would make a difference. But now, after seeing homes in the middle of no-where burnt to the ground, I have a new understanding for how aggressively fire works. The whole thing is just devastating.

I have done nothing in my craft room for YONKS!!! (that's an old one right?) After a recent trip to the desert with number one son, I am now inspired to get back in there!! There has been little cult bonding of late, so I am also meeting up with the Border Bundy Babe on Saturday when "Blokey Man goes to test ride the BLING....” (that would be the Harley BLING...) Oh, and he's seeing the chiro too, but the rest we have to do, right? So, off we will all trot to the Border District where the big boys will fluff with the bling, the little boys will grunt with bikes at the skate park, and the girls will fluff in the craft room of the Dragon... Percieved lazyness from the men folk will be alleviated with offering of my famous spag bol for lunch, and then on sunday the troops will re-assemble at Brown's (non-burnt) Block for motorbike stunts and (non-burnt) BBQs!

And, (there is a huge sigh about here), Blokey Man wants to upgrade number two son to a YZ125 because he needs a bigger bike. Didn't we just buy one??? Little brother needed his, and I have an unreserved fear factor going into overdrive at the thought of number one son flying across the paddocks at full noise a'la' 2 stroke and hitting the power band......... and why, because he can! Uh huh..

Ok, me conceding that he does need a bigger bike........ but I can't reach the pedals on THAT one, and we'll be trading in the one I CAN ride!!! (By CAN I mean both feet reach the ground at the same time with some of the caboose sitting lightly on the seat............. too much?)

Son number two has been busy on his birthday list.......... OMG!! The IT kid has got it all figured out, all except where the money is coming from! Alas, at least now they are feining responsibility and helping with their chores........... the clock is ticking, will it last??!! We have a family roster you know, because mum likes to play on the computer and make pretty spreadsheets with our names on them, then stick them on the fridge.............. DOH! Oh, and she points and pouts in their direction whilst screeching..... DOH, saying their names, as she indicates the lack of completion for the tasks of temptation. Clearly, the temptation is on an even keel of what they'll get if they do it, and what they won't get if they don't, but probably will anyway knowing their soft-touch parents, plus get paid for it......... That's how it goes right? Oh, on my forehead, that would be sucker I think....

Well, my computer is liking to communicate with you as I have curiously written like this without so much as taking a cyber breath!! (if there should be such a thing)..... All is otherwise quite on the communication front. Still, there is mundane tasks at hand, the washing to simmer and the corn beef to hang.............. DOH! Is it too early for a chardy, perhaps I should pop open the red instead?......

Oh, just thought of something funny. Whilst speaking to the Deputy Grand Poo Bah from the Desert recently, he was somewhat reluctant to hand over the phone to the Scrapbooking Asset. It seemed she was deeply stuck down with the urge to provide and prepare morsals of sustenance for the Desert Dwellers evening meal, or maybe she wasn't even home – can't exactly remember right now. “It'll just be a quick one..” I gingerly commented, to which thunderous laughter bellowed from the phone, in reply to which “there is NO SUCH THING as a QUICK ONE with you two!!!!”. Giggle as I may, my very own response was “we're not taking about our men now, are we?” Yes, there was more thunderous laughter bellowing from both ends of the phone.

Oh, and NO I did not get to have that “quick one”, ....... “she'll call you later” and he hung up! Thank goodness for texting.......

catch you later, have a good day.

Monday, 23 March 2009

Up the River - Up the Desert

Melbourne Cup weekend, November 2008. Precedes The Fin.
Curiously we ponder the Time Management skills of the Mother HillBilly to Pack Pack Pack! With the scene already set, might as well fit in that last game of basketball! Oh, and duck down and get some new swimmers for the younglings and their mother! How do I manage to make the current transmission from the Desert Dwellers for ETA and dinner. Alas, with much thought and stress for the Blokey Man, who is forbidden to reject the water dog from the journey, much ado is made about the dog travelling in the confines of the HiLux cabin.
Much love fills the HiLux as an ensuing waffle vibrates from MacGyver until we are sadly out of range. It is at this point that all hope of arriving in time for dinner is abandoned. With even worse time management skills than the HillBilly Mother, the Deputy Grand Poo Bah (Boydy) rings from his Highway Mistress (truck) with plans to meet up with us at Toc. There you go, dinner at Macca’s in Yarrawonga, stock up on liquid beverages and await the arrival of our River Murray guide at Toc. As darkness continues to fall, we pull up at the “outside” of the pub in Toc to wait for the deputy grand poo bah. Subsequent phone calls advise that he is still at Berrigan and we should go forth into the night and make contact with Sal at a rendezvous point along the long, long, road in which we would be in total darkness, then find a big woody clad in rubber of numerous colours… These are Mormons right?
“Oh Look!! Balloon markers on that big tree”, and an approaching strobe of headlight beams alludes us to the approaching vehicle of great haste and little off road attachments! Off we go forth into the ensuing whoop de do’s in single file. As the water dog commences whining at the distant smell of the River Murray, Blokey Man cruises the HiLux into the forest without disturbing the environment or causing any kind of wind vacuum that may cause branches to scratch the HiLux, or dust to settle upon it. Go figure! Approximately half an hour after hitting the camp site, the dust cleared and we entered. Who would have thought a sedan could go that fast down a dirt track with humpty do’s late at night?
Blokey Man engaged in a recon of the area for the living quarters of the Desert Storm. Upon disembarking into the blackness a rushing of wind could be heard to the belly whacking splash of the Water Dog, Shady, hitting the water.
…and again,
…and again,
…and again………. I did say Water Dog! With obvious night vision capabilities...
A soft spot in the sand was looking like the HillBillies were about to be beached, but the “please remove this sticker before using 4WD” was removed, and the beast crawled out with the assistance of locked hubs.
The Desert Dwellers then settled back into their deck chairs at “Camp Desert River” whilst the HillBillies provided much amusement at the assembly of Desert Storm. In the depths of darkness (splash!) much raking of twigs (splash!) and leaves cleared the site (splash!), with ensuing good feelings for the erection (splash!) of the temporary living quarters being guesstimated at assembly. Recon of the outer forestation area (splash!) established a suitable housing for the Genny, and one and all experienced light (puff, puff, paddle....) for the completion of the task! Further recon established the housing site for EngleBert and the big arse drink esky, so all was now set for habitation..(whack!! splash!!)
“Someone get that dog out of the water!!!!”.................. DOH!
Where’s Thunder? Oh, we haven’t set him up yet……………. You’ll have to wee behind a tree…
When all was done and the chairs were set amongst the circle of fire, the Deputy Grand Poo Bah did appear from his Highway Mistress to join his fellow Desert Dwellers – gratefully all set up and ready to go with the thanks of his dutiful wife and children……….. (and DON’T do it again!!!)
Bed time retreat saw number one HillBilly son (Brayden) manning his swag for a night amongst the stars, whilst displaying his newly acquired talents for wolf whistling into the blackness for the sake of wolf whistling into the blackness….
After the long day and night of previous, we were awakened by wolf whistling, yelling, the whoosh of stick throwing, and the ice shattering river splashing of the launching water dog at what felt like thunder hitting the tree that woke the sparrows even before they farted!!!… This did not set the scene for the peace and tranquillity of the Camp Desert River, with the HillBillies orating terms of endearment to their children to envelop the tranquillity or suffer bodily harm! Little could be said for the fact that a quick search was engaged to locate the Blood Pressure tablets before Blokey Man blew a rod!
The golden rays of sunlight shining through the sparrows farts saw Land Management tending to the landscaping of the bull rushes on the sandbank to establish a runway to the sand ramp for the river jumping contests. This assured maximum acceleration for belly whacking boys, without the need to dodge! Bay 13 Camp Desert River Deck onlookers enthusiastically vocalised their critiquing of speed, agility, take-off, airborne distance, whack factor and splash height – with hardly any negativity what so ever!
A text message from the Hoota’s – 8am and almost ready to roll! Yayyyyyyyyy, they’ll be here SOON!!
Deputy Grand Poo Bah and Blokey Man headed back into Toc to retrieve Number Two Desert Son's (Dylan) motorbike, along with more milk and sustainance accessories for the HillBillies.
Where’s Thunder? Oh, we haven’t set him up yet, the boys will have to do it when they get back….
Squeeze your cheeks, or find a tree and squat!! ……………….
“ALEX!!!!!!!!!!!! Can you dig a hole for Thunder PLEASE???!!”
The Camp Desert River is pondering the arrival of the Hootas, whilst the Desert Dwelling and HillBilly boys are in and out of the water, digging holes and riding motorbikes….. well some motorbikes until Grand Poo Bah gets back!
A distress signal is picked up advising Grand Poo Bah that the Hoota’s have overshot the Cattle Grid with a wrong turn. The ensuing Message to the Camp Desert River was relayed that the Hoota’s were LOST!
The Search and Rescue division of the ‘Millawa State Forest Camp Desert River Campers’ were quick to send out the Bush Asset search party. Ute-ed up she pointed the Silver Bullet into the dust, with the Solo search party not far behind. Fond warnings were relayed to the Solo party; “Brayden, stick with Dyl or you’ll get lost!!” We were running out of search parties…..
One couldn’t help but to envision the dialog of the Hoota Road Train; “Aren’t we supposed to ring Sal once we get to the Cattle Grid dear?”
“I know where I’m going Dragon, I’m a truck driver - just follow me!!” .........Ouch!!
As the serenity grows in the warm afternoon sunlight at the campsite, with only one remaining adult and two remaining younglings, a Red Glow is observed from the inbound track as Hoota5 emerges with the Rodeo gingerly bringing up the rear. I fear a very subdued truck driver is about to lose his navigation and communication bush licence…………..
“Did you hear Sal on the hand held?”
“Yeah, but we didn’t know who it was!.........”. ………o k……..
Now appropriately re-named The Eighth Dwarf (Tr*cking Grumpy) exclaims “What were you doing on that bridge Dragon, you nearly hit the bloody thing?!!”
Dragon, empowered to tow the elaborately co-ordinated Hoota5 motorbike trailer, tackled a single lane bridge which looks to be a bit close for the width of the trailer - so she closed her eyes, as you do when you don't want to see what “might happen!....
“You did What?!!”, replied Tr*cking Grumpy in that genteel way of his...
This has been observed to be the beginning of several Spontaneous Combustive experiences from Tr*cking Grumpy over the coming days……..
Dragon and Grumpy younglings meander around the Camp Desert River whilst Tr*cking Grumpy scouts a suitable area for the setting up of the Hoota Habitation area. No suitable spot in the Camp Desert River vicinity is located, and hence they establish camp further up river. This would seem to be appropriate, as there are no level spots to set up, and Dragon needs the exercise….
This has been observed to be the beginning of several Spontaneous Combustive experiences from Tr*cking Grumpy over the coming days……..
All found relatives depart for the establishment of the Hoota Habitation Area, and the object is achieved in daylight hours…. Not like some……..
With the boys on the motorbikes already kicking up the dust on the Mormon Dippers, Thomas keenly asks Tr*cking Grumpy; “Can I go for a ride on my motorbike now?”
This has not been considered an unrealistic request in other campsites, however the red glow still hovering over the Hoota Habitation Area made it perfectly clear that all such requests would not be validated until the bikes were taken off the trailer, but you don’t have to ride them straight away…..
This has been observed to be the beginning of several Spontaneous Combustive experiences from Tr*cking Grumpy over the coming days……..
Keen Bay 13 Camp Desert River Sand Deck onlookers continued enthusiastically to vocalise their critiquing of the boys efforts on the river bank runway for speed, agility, take-off, freestyle distance, whack factor and splash height – with hardly any negativity what so ever. Extra credit was awarded to Nick, who made the attempt on one crutch, without any hint what-so-ever of his mother observing him using it as a weapon…, and was successful at getting wet!
Fireside dining at the Camp Desert River was subject to much excitement as the selection of seating saw a subtle loss of balance for Tr*cking Grumpy. With legs flaying in the air like a seagull after chips, one hand grasping onto the arm rest of Janet’s chair with vigorous rocking, the other attempting enormous feats of balance in an effort not to spill his beer! Alas, suspension of slow motion images will be burned upon our memory banks for many years to come as we all recall the backward rolling side toting descent of Tr*cking Grumpy falling backwards off his chair, almost taking Janet out with him. Not at all pretty I might add!
That’s what you get for sitting in someone else’s chair!......
Who would not enjoy the tranquillity of the river whilst throwing in a line. Whilst observing the serenity of the rippling river, Dragon was seen to observe jumping fish within spearing distance. If not for the huge splash this monster made, Blokey Man may not have sprinted to the river’s edge to ask the Dragon if she saw that fish jumping. With a non-committal grin she was then told that it had been giving her the FIN as a jibe at never being hooked!! This only added to the tension the serenity supporters were already feeling as the Dragon vowed to keep on teasing the fish…. ah fishing, until she caught one! “It’s all those people on the other side scaring them away……” says Dragon. (The ones catching lots of fish you mean?.........)
It was time for a bit of Ultimate Extreme Water Sports – skin boarding (clothes on) with the 90 and the 250 pulling the ski rope.
Having ferried the boys up and down the river at considerable speed, the ultimate challenge was set when Sal decided to have a go. The other cult members were then immediately threatened with incredible peer pressure, and sheepishly then stepped in line behind Sal to give it a go also.
The Junior Camp Desert River Sandbar Support Team, and waterproof camera toting semi-submerged river photographers, were all assembled for the tug off. Take one, two and three tested the grunt of the 250, the elasticity of the ski rope and the fear of life grip on the board for a successful fourth start launch. Once the semi-submerged propulsion exceeded to wave hopping the humpty do reeds, the roar of the crowd could do little to combat the breadth of the grin on our Asset’s face as she skimmed the mighty River Murray with abandon! The return trip proved just as eventful, as she bailed off at the sand ramp runway.
Our very own Water Dragon took stock of the ensuing peer pressure, and headed off to the launching point. For fear of not setting a trend, she tested the grunt of the 250, the elasticity of the ski rope and the fear of life grip on the board for a successful launch. After launching the Dragon closed her eyes at the wave hopping humpty do reeds. It was continuously established that laughing was not going to be evaded long enough to secure a decent grip and prevent further closing of the eyes to enable Dragon to do it again, and all further attempts were abandoned, and the rope handed over to the HillBilly contender.
Indeed, not wanting to launch on the first go and upset the balance – the HillBilly also tested the grunt of the 250, the elasticity of the ski rope, the fear of life grip on the board for a successful launch and the gut wrenching confirmation that she wasn’t about to invoke mass sandbar gagging at the sight of a pre-launch top slip! Alas, after a successful launch she forged her way through the wave hopping humpty do reeds, the legs were lifted out of the water to eliminate the drag, and a much smoother ride assured terminal velocity was reached to maximum 250 capacity. Most disappointment was directed at Deputy Grand Poo Bah when the bike stopped on the up river trip…. “Ran out of track, gotta turn around”. DOH!
The return trip down river was just as awesome, and as the bike once again pulled up for lack of remaining track, Janet skimmed into a stop – still fully clothed to the relief of all onlookers! Alas, the grin on Luigi’s face widened slightly as his beloved darling commitment recipient informed him that after such an adrenalin rush I was good for tonight!
With the younglings all beached up on the sand and preparing for further motorbike activities, Nick’s crutch assistance to the water’s edge for approval to go for a ride was met by Tr*cking Grumpy’s response to “put his bloody foot down and walk!!” ….. This has been observed to be the beginning of several Spontaneous Combustive experiences from Tr*cking Grumpy over the coming days……..
With the dissipation of the masses, Tr*cking Grumpy donned the surf ski for a leisurely paddle, whilst Blokey Man donned the other surf ski for a bit of unison in true Malcolm style, and a rather lovely scene was set for photographic amusement. Done with the bonding, Blokey Man then donned his rod and tackle, perhaps a tad too joyfully, and Malcolm-ed over to an active fishing ground for some visual activity to tease the fish and enjoy the serenity...
Oh, what better time was there for the girls to enjoy a bit of Mama Mia bonding in the not so still waters of the running River Murray current, to play with the waterproof camera whilst semi-submerged and drowning in laughter? Whose idea was it to do the feet anyway?!!
Blokey Man’s evening involvement in the younglings efforts of '44 Home' saw him don the Dolphin, man the keg, and feign acknowledgement of the ability to count! All and sunder split the scene to seek refuge in the depths of darkness. Upon the watchful eye of Blokey Man, said home base was lifted and carried about the campsite in pursuit of vanishing younglings. The return of the keg home marker saw Blokey Man sprinting at the sound of juvenile shuffling in the direction of the keg. A sharp yelp could be heard with undistinguishable dialects interpreted to portray protruding obstructions piercing the unprotected feet of said Blokey Man. Great, more macho denials of under body inflictions of infected pus sacks!
The drawing of the circle around the campfire set the scene for a BopIt challenge. Alex spent considerable time in the HillBillies Desert Storm annex with Blokey Man's tool box, fully dismembering and reassembling the BopIt controls. I was somewhat fearful when I saw a small silver spring on the floor in the annex………. Should I say anything, it’s working?...
A leisurely fish along the mighty River Murray brought to the attention of the Camping Asset the figure of unwelcome territory poachers……. With the Tr*cking Grumpy snuggled up in beddy byes, and Blokey Man on motorbike supervision duty, it was noted that the boundary of Camp Desert River in the Hoota Habitation Area had been breached. Foreigners had been observed entering the perimeter and observing the area. As the foreigners were observed by the motorbike wielding younglings, they continued to manoeuvre the recently established Millawa State Forest Piccolo Moto Cross Track, before receiving verbal advice to abstain totally! Upon the advice of the Desert Dwellers Mother in Charge, the younglings pursued their testosterone surges to continue on the track.
Evacuation of the territory poachers saw them escorted at a distance from the Camp Desert River by several younglings. It was soon discovered that obstructions of environmental degradation had been misappropriated to threaten massive blind impact, and Blokey Man was called upon to investigate.
Following an uneventful pursuit whereby 7 obstructions were successfully removed from the access route by Dylan and Riley, the Blokey Man came within communication distance before the territory poachers fled out of the MSF and onto the main road. Memorising the rego number left the question of whether or not there was just cause to report said poacher to the respective authorities.
“Two little boys, with two motor toys, each moved a wooden loggggggg.
Gaily they rode, from their abode, poachers dead aheaddddddddddd….
Did you think I would leave you chaaa - sing, poa - chers all aloneeeee,
Head on home, boys – I’ll soon be commmm - ing, with the rego I’ll be on the phoneeeee!……”
When you’re on a roll you’re on a roll….
Well I guess once all the excitement died down that one realizes that there were perhaps some questionable facts not supporting the motorbikes in the River Murray Camp, unregistered and making tracks. A report could possibly be made, but only to evoke the irresponsible behaviour of the territory poachers irresponsibly dropping logs across the tracks in a dangerous manner. But then one would also have to concede that the bikes were there……….
Whilst enjoying the full extent of each and everyone’s company, Sally evokes communication to Alex to dig out the back legs of Lui’s chair, without him noticing, so that she could test the consequtive action setting on the camera. It was considered that he might fall off the chair, but this was not any where near as big a risk as the laugh we could miss out on if it wasn’t done!…
Whilst chatting away to Lui so as to distract him, Sally positioned herself directly in front of Lui with camera in hand, sitting on a log. Fellow chair users were positioning for best action vantage points, whilst Alex quietly removed the sand with the long handled shovel. All were rewarded when Lui’s chair tipped back, and his arms and legs were flapping wildly in the air, before coming back down to rest in the sand.
“Get that Sal?”
“Yep, multi shot just to make sure!!”
Blokey Man conceded defeat although suspecting foul play for the tilt... So distracted was Blokey Man that Alex almost got him again!!
44HOME or FLAG GAME – Hooter Habitation youngling number two (Nick) attempted to tag Riley whilst bounding after him on his crutches. As the moment ascends that he may lose him, he flings his crutch in an effort to make contact, and is successful! Muffled giggles are heard from the sandbar deck chairs, as Nick is told by storm trooping Mother “You are not to use your crutch as a weapon!!” One has to wonder if the pot isn’t just slightly black at this point, and further silent giggling continues to be muffled……….
The Hooter FogHorn LegHorn vocals reminded Nick that “you’re just like your aunty!!”, and his response in true chip off the block form was “You Are!!” Mother HillBilly responds at this point as to whether or not that should be written down?....
Well the grounding of Nick for timeout saw yet another confiscation of the crutches, as Riley recovered from the crutch wounds and returned to the game.
Hoota Habitation Area was fully packed up and contained in the Hoota5 and the Rodeo before Sal could say “call the doctor!” Further assistance was required to manipulate the Desert Dweller’s motorbikes and associated dwelling accessories into any available free space.
Fish finger to the heavens, the camp was duly evacuated and all cleared for departure.
HillBilly Desert Storm retraction was brewing up a beauty with the younglings disputing any assistance necessary for evacuation. Encouragement from the Mother in the form of grievous bodily harm was rejected in lieu of feigned effort. At one point the Blokey Man was heard to say to number one youngling (an imagined narrowing of the eyes, and gritting of teeth may help to set the scene..) “you’re a hell of a lazy kid!!…”
……..to which he replied;
“I’m your hell child!”
One could not help but to smirk at this rather enlightening response, and two point were awarded in an air shot!
The poor Water Dog was confined to a tree in efforts to remain acceptable to accommodation in the HiLux cabin, destined for Desert Dwellings. Remarkable effort was displayed to keep the beast restrained from the might River Murray and it’s luring bottom dwelling rocks of sparse extraction!
And that dripping, wet dog smell out of the car!!
“How on earth did you get all that into the Desert Storm?” says Dragon. “We didn’t think you’d fit it in!” Ahh, the skill of extreme stuffing into inconspicuous spaces has always been a recognized camping skill…
Now that the Desert River Camp fully packed up, it was time for a photo!
Off to the fallen trees for a scramble along the branches and a few scrapbooking snaps for memorabilia’s sake! “Come on Nick, move that crutch!!” And boy, what an absolute joy that photos don’t display farts! With images that thick, Alex, you’d think they’d show up on a photo ……………. Sort of like a mushroom cloud! A Big Black mushroom cloud……… Ok we’re done, lets go!
Alas, Camp Desert River was duly packed up and evacuated for a final BBQ at the Desert Dwellers abode before all pursued the tarmac in homeward directions. A most memorable camp indeed, with much to keep a BLOGGER happy, and the friendships growing!
Cheers, hope you all enjoyed it.

River Murray Fin Wrap

Re-vamp of the progressive demise of the Scrapbooking Asset's fin (aka the bird, and Sal's infected finger...)
Melbourne Cup weekend, November 2008.

Sal was away on a (Scrapbooking Family Cult) River Murray Camp... she left at 4:30pm Friday afternoon. She came upon the realization that, looking into the dim light of the camping agenda, her annoying finger could just wait!! It just looked like a sore with a weak formed scab...nothing to worry about….

On the first night about 10pm I got told about the sore finger, and that she had not vomited during the day and that her finger was feeling twice the size it should be, very swollen, red and angry looking, pussy and very sore. I told her what to do, take a Panadol and go to bed… She didn’t seem to need to bring back the Medicare number or go to the hospital, so we guessed in the dim light that the Panadol would do the job.

2:16am the dog barked, it was Sal at the first aid kit seeking more Panadol. Surely she must have knocked it packing and the throbbing would stop – it wasn’t like we had to take her to hospital or anything. We would be told if she looked concerned about the finger, or if she’d be wanting to go into a hospital to do an x-ray or anything because she was concerned that the infection had spread to the bone. I spoke to Sal at this stage, after yelling at the dog, and she was in pretty good spirits (couple of Johnnie Walkers missing…). Her spiritual guide and support, deputy grand poo bah teacher was pretty good though, getting lots of sleep because he’s tired!

Saturday 8:10am the text bleeped. The x-ray vision had deemed that there appeared to be no infection in the bone, but the finger itself seemed redder and swollen. Had they taken blood tests at River Murray Camp, given her a course of IV antibiotics and a tetanus shot, they would have saved a lot of Panadol and Nurofen! They wanted to keep her at the River Murray Camp for another 2 days, to make sure they got the finger bigger and redder and pussier so that they could test the healing properties of the River Murray once dunking resumed. There was more than enough IV antibiotics at the hospital anyway to do the trick if she needed to get them into her to kill the infection the River Murray couldn't heal.

Sunday 10:15am my text bleeped, it was from my neighbour’s campsite some long long long way away. It was the Dragon. She informed me that she wanted to OPERATE on Sal’s finger to remove the pussy fluid and she needed my assistance! I tried to ring the deputy grand poo bah but couldn't get through... and later realised this was because he was talking to Sal. She burst into tears and ran up the bank, but we had to tell her to finish up the Nurofen and sit down where she was and then she could go home when we’re finished without a worry in the world….

Tuesday, 5.15pm after mass evacuation of HillBillies and Hoota habitation sites, Sal attempted pain stricken mercy dash for the doctor to lance the fin and relieve the pressure of the pussy swelling, pain and throbbing. “Oh no” he says, “we don’t need to do that, just soak it in salty water and squeeze it and massage it to get the puss oozing….” “Please lance it???” begs Sal………… “Go get some antibiotics, and soak it, take some Panadol and let me know if it gets worse.” ……………….. DOH!!!

Wednesday 11:15am my mobile rang. It was the Fiona-e-atric Surgeon from the daycare hospital. She explained that a River Murray abscess had formed around Sal’s fin bone, and they needed to operate. She would remove as much of the nail as tolerable, clean out the wound, drain the fluid from the River Murray abscess, and drain any other pussy fluid. Observation assistants of daycare attendees were pooled around for vocal and visual support. They would then wrap her fin up and resume routine Panadol and Nurofen intake to supplement the antibiotics. If only the doctor had the lancing skills of the Fiona-e-atric Surgeon, further treatment would not be necessary…

Next day at 8.30am I texted the HillBillies to inform them of my night sweats, lack of sleep and thumping fin pain. I had a shower, and headed back down to the non-lancing doctor, who duly informed me that I was required to pack my bag, and head down to the hospital for a three day rest. Having spoken to Mum and my surgically adept neighbour, spoken to the schools and Boydy, I was ready to head out the door. Boyd is stuck somewhere between his highway mistress and a haystack, and will not be home until Thursday night. Thank goodness for the brilliance of our neighbours and family, who will look after the boys whilst I nurse the fin in hospital.

They again examined the wounded fin, and commenced to remove as much of the nail as tolerable, clean out the wound, drain the fluid from the River Murray abscess, and drain any other pussy fluid. They would then wrap her fin up and resume regulation hospital pain relief, and commence searching for a suitable vein somewhere on her body (lucky she’s not a bloke – I’d stick one there!) to insert the IV once a vein become available, and then she would be able to intake a couple of extra routine pain relief supplements to support the antibiotics. Can never have too much Panadol and Nurofen! With all that sorted and enormous amounts of dressing and padding for one single fin, she was propped up in bed. She would need a decent propping insitu for 48-72 hours under the watchful eyes of empathetic care fluffers.

What would a trip to hospital be without the enjoyment of smothering ones pallet with the dishes of an Ethiopian smorgasboard, the gentleness of needles pulling drips and the peace and tranquillity that takes you back to the feel of being in a hardwood forest, the husqvarna at full noise dropping trees, enjoying the tranquility away from everyday family hustle and bustle……………

Such excitement could only mean that the hand solo was flat out in cyber texting mode, with updates and photographic memorabilia of her every waking hour!! We are all so glad you have us guys in your life. How boring would it be otherwise?

Happy recuperation!

Sunday, 22 March 2009

Jimmy flies the Coop..

Well, since the addition of our two fine feathered friends, the colourful Jimmy and the snow white Psycho, our days are gaily filled with the gentle singing of birdsong. The befriending of the feathered beasts has seen the introduction of well forgotten childhood games, like “off-ground tiggy”. Clearly, if you do not know what this is, you never grew up in MY neighbourhood. The children would bring the fine feathered friends into the house, release them from their barred compound, then proceed to chase them, across, over and along all forms of household furniture, until they were well and truly caught and handled. Mind you, you can tell an exhausted budgie by the way he “gives up” and is caught. Now we can handle the birds to make them friendly.... At this point they are placed upon the barred compound whereby they spend considerable time contemplating how on earth Peter Parker would have got back in, then seek refuge in flight. “Let me get him!!” came the replies from the tag team. Well, let it be said that Jimmy is somewhat of an easy catch, with considerable reward at the end as a chirping head and shoulder sitting friend. Well, that's not a challenge, lets see if Psycho has settled down any is clearly the response not spoken aloud...

(Now is maybe appropriate in adding at this point that Mum found it necessary to establish new naming rights for this fine feathered friend, due to persistent dangling from the perch and side barred confines in an upside-down manner. What's the problem? you might say.... that head spinning thing she did at the same time! Picture the possum dangling antics of a mammoth, and add a bit of Carrie...) Well, after considerable furniture trashing, and countless attempts and the 'budgie snatch and grab, bite and drop', the oven mitts were donned. “Let me show you how to do it, you clowns” replies the Blokey Man, all knowing in successful snatch and grabs due to previous ownership of feathered friends of the non-flying the coop variety (giggle giggle.....)

“Let her go!!” and then “Oh let me get up off the ground and stop laughing long enough to find that camera!!” could be heard echoing from the kitchen floor as Blokey Man shook Psycho out of his monsterous hand, and sucked the blood from the bite mark on his finger. “Good one dad, now who's going to get her!!!” was hardly encouraging morale from the tag team. The undecipherable responses from Blokey Man, that not even I at this time will type, suggest that he was all in favour of removing Psycho from the family, and inserting a more suitable feathered mate for Jimmy. The thumping hit to the side of the head with an oven mitt seemed to be just the motivation, and said Blokey Man did respond quickly to incarceration of the now squarking Psycho. The feathered pair were then covered up for rest and recuperation, until the next event of befriending was deemed to be necessary.

Well, how nice it is to sit outside in the serentiy of gentle wind chimes, birdsong, a good dose of caffiene and “another book”. But my, it's really getting hot and i worry about the poor birds getting too hot. Perhaps I'll give them a nice little spray of cool water to settle them down. Well, don't they just love it! Psycho has her eyes closed and is moving her head from side to side (and oddly not all the way around..). Gently I swing the barred confines on their suspended tether to ensure that Jimmy too is enjoying the spray, when the whole lot crashes to the patio. OMG!!!!! Freeeeedooommmmmmmm!!! The throwing of hoses and diving at feathers was no where near as determined as that feeling of “let's get out of here before that dog eats us!!!!!”. They clearly did not understand the relationship of one self's ear piercing commands for the dog to steer clear, which saw him saunter to his bed in the garage... Dipping and weaving, jumping and unsuccessful budgie snatch and grabbing saw the two feathered friends ascend the neighbors fence in different directions.. "OMG, he's going to kill me!!" rushed through my head as I quickly mounted the side fence to peer over the colorbond in hope of visual confirmation. Bugger!!

Well, a quick bolt into the garage and out again with a towell (much bigger than an oven mitt..) and i race next door in time to sight Psycho panting into the ground near their garage. “Just throw it” I tell myself, then get after the other one, all the time thinking maybe she's just too exhausted and frightened – no just exhausted, to bite me. I was right, i picked up the feathered bundle and headed back home to find emergency confinement when Blokey Man arrives home in the BlueBird of much duct tape. “Hurry Up, Jimmy's next door” I say. In all haste for either of us not to get bitten, we quickly reassemble the emergency confinement for Pyscho, and infiltrate the abandoned abode next door. Clearly the heat of the day had an entirely different effect on Jimmy, as he propelled himself through the sky to confines far far away. Sadly, he was not located, and much reconnanance in hours and days to follow failed to confirm any sightings.

Should this all have seemed a sad story, then maybe “you” should have been the one to tell number one son that Mum had dropped the budgie confinement, and his faithful feathered friend Jimmy had absconded. Dark and chilling was the mood to follow for several days, no matter how much Mum rugged up against the depths of a teenager's attitude!

Alas, normality has returned as best it can to the abode of much disfunction. Much wooing and female bonding did result following the “event,” as a matter of course in counselling the loss of ones mate. And as the serenity of enjoying yet another pleasant day outdoors, wining or dining on the patio as the gentle breeze moves the branches of the trees. One enjoys the birdsong and the sound of gently swaying wind chimes, until this quickly turns to angry squarking every time the faithful Water Dog charges by the feathered confines to evacuate all and sunder feathered species under the protected air space policy of his back yard........ yes, serenity! Another red perhaps?