Well, I'm a Cub Scout parent now. And the Cub Scouts are getting a chunk of cash to supply people to oversee parking in the show-ring itself. Which means Cub Scout parents get dragooned into the job. I'm on from 0700 tomorrow morning, so I figured I'd better find out what the score was before I got thrown in the deep end.
The boys and I wandered 'round the place until I managed to catch up with "Bilge" Bennett, another Cub Scout Parent who was cheerfully handling the gate to the ring proper. He pointed out "Puss" Hadley, responsible for the actual organising of cars and floats and stuff, and I introduced myself so hopefully tomorrow at sparrowfart they'll know where I'm supposed to stand so I can help sort out the "jumpers" from the "hacks" and the "ponies". (I expect that means something in Horsie Person Talk. But it doesn't mean much to me.)
After the visit to the Show, we made it home for a while. Did a bit of laundry and cleaning, answered some emails. Then I packed up the boys and their instruments, and we drove to Launceston.
Younger Son had his very first violin exam today. We had a bite of lunch first, and then rather desperately wandered around one of Launceston's steeper suburbs in search of the St Cecelia School of Music, which eventually materialised. Of course, nobody was actually there. But then Younger Son's teacher arrived, which was good, because while we'd remembered to bring his orchestra music, d'you think we'd brought the music for the actual exam?
Yeah. As if.
Happily, another student was also doing the same exam, and she actually did have all her music, so Younger Son was spared. Mind you, he insisted loudly that he could do it from memory, and from what I've seen, I suspect he was right.
So, the exam finished. We trundled off and bought some new arrows, and a powerful, water-resistant, rechargeable LED torch for my Dad for Xmas. I've been using a 5-watt rechargeable LED maglite-ish thing for years now, and it's fantastic. Reliable, bright as hell... can't fault it. Dad will appreciate it, because in Far North Queensland, having a good, reliable torch at night when you go out is the difference between stepping OVER a Death Adder, and stepping ON it.
After that, we grabbed another bite to eat, and then stopped at the martial arts store to pick up a few bits for the ju-jitsu club. Some tough new rebreakable boards - and it turned out there were some nice rubber knives on special. The students will be pleased: I've been cutting knife silhouettes out of old rubber thongs and spraying them silver...
Then it was time for orchestra practice, involving both the boys. And then, of course, we sped home.
To find we're the only ones here. Natalie is on call tonight, and hasn't made it home yet. Meanwhile, the Mau-Mau has been collected from daycare by Mighty Neighbour Anna (mother of the Mau-Mau's best friend Microblonde) and is doubtless swanning about the delights of the Scottsdale Show even as I write. She'll be delivered here when they're done with her, and I'll get the thankless job of bathing her and stuffing her into her bed.
And when will Natalie get home? Who knows?
Meanwhile, while I'm handling cars tomorrow, Natalie and the kids will go to YET ANOTHER goddam orchestra practice. Yippee. And when they're done, no doubt Natalie will take the boys for a proper visit to the show. But come the evening, we'll ALL be going to the mandatory Orchestra performance...
...but before that, there's a birthday barbecue invite from Tiarne of the Coolshiters. And since I'm gonna be in Launceston later anyhow, I'm damn' well going to go to this one. I've had to skip out on the last couple of barbecues because of Overloaded Weekend Syndrome. Not gonna do it again. I rather LIKE the Coolshiters, and the opportunity to spend a bit of social time with 'em is a Good Thing. At least this is one bit of the weekend I'm going to enjoy.
See, all of that is only Saturday. On Sunday, the live-in medical student arrives to take up her month of Tasmanian Exile. Grace is an old friend from the Briz daze, so I expect she won't be too horrified by the shambolic state of Chez Flinthart, but there will indeed be some work involved in bringing the place up to code for even the most relaxed of guests...
...so as you can see, there's another weekend harpooned, gaffed, flensed, and packaged for the Japanese McDonalds market.
