Progress Report

Right:

Tractor is back in action. New battery, properly emplaced in the holder. Of course, the lead to the negative terminal was too short for this new battery (by scant millimetres, naturally) so I had to unhook it from the body of the tractor and find a new bolt I could use to anchor it. No big deal. Tractor runs. Tomorrow is out of the question. So is Friday. Saturday is incredibly overloaded. Sunday is no good either... but if it's fine on Monday, I may just be able to slash a couple of the paddocks. Yay.

Whipper-snipper and chainsaw are still with the repair-johnnies. This time of year they're busy as hell. But I expect to hear from 'em pretty soon, so maybe Monday, maybe Wednesday? I dunno.

Short story completed, sent off to the editors/publishers of the anthology. It's too soon for me to be sure what I think of it, but it worked out okay once I figured out which POV to use, and got rid of the first 2000 words. Yeesh.

Programme for the ju-jitsu demonstration on Saturday, for the Xmas Parade in Scottsdale has now been settled. Every kid has something they can do or contribute. We've got demos of throwing techniques, groundfighting, defenses against knives, free-fighting, lots of smashing of pine boards by kids of various ages, escapes from various grappling and grabbing attacks... should be enough to keep people entertained, what with the patented Flinthart patter to introduce each player.

Unfortunately, Natalie is on call over the weekend. This is particularly unfortunate because the two boys are involved in the Cub Scouts float. This means I can't just run away as soon as the ju-jitsu demo is over. I have to stick around for the whole show... and immediately after that, apparently, I have to throw the kids into the car and make a dash for the Launceston airport, where the next of our visiting medical students is due to make her arrival. Like I said: Saturday is a total write-off.

Garden beds for the rocket and cabbage are now prepped, waiting under weed-mat for the seedlings to be big enough to plant out. May have to throw a bit of compost and loose soil under there too, but overall it's ready to go.

Pruned the lower branches of the big Bay tree. Discovered two attempts at air-layering I did about a year and a half ago. Both have been extremely successful. I lopped both branches and planted them out, with lots of water. Might get a couple new Bay Laurels... hopefully.

Snow peas and strawberries producing nicely. Still have to add more growth support for the snow peas. Tomatoes are now in place, doing well.

Will drive to Launceston tomorrow to purchase more insulation. Probably grab some more pine boards for kids to smash at the demo, too. And maybe some structural timber for some of the garden work.

Elder Son's "Silent Night" progressing nicely. Note: when is the school event where he's supposed to play?

No progress at all on Younger Son's birthday party. This could be difficult...

Sword techniques progressing nicely. Noted with some satisfaction that I weathered the repetitive, strenuous training exercises with more aplomb than in recent past. Fitness moving up again - very good.

Stoopid baby chickens still alive. "Chicken Dome" device/cage to let them have days out on the grass now 3/4 complete. Need to finish applying bird-wire to the polypipe frame, and hang a watering station.

And in other news: jeez, I'm tired. Early night tonight. I've got a bit of work to do, reading and appraising a manuscript anyhow...

Culture of Politics, Politics of Culture.

The kiddy koncert yesterday went off more or less okay. Our two budding maestros were involved in the wee string orchestra, which played three (mercifully) short numbers in reasonably good order. Actually, they sounded surprisingly musical, and in their matching white shirts with red satin bowties and cummerbunds, the whole collection of kids are horribly cute.

However, the concert was also the yearly opportunity for a set of music teachers to permit their students a performance showcase. And I do understand that it's very helpful for the kids to get a chance to perform in front of an audience, yes. But oh, my. Oh, my. I do believe that aside from the three little orchestra pieces, there were something like forty other performance pieces, from students of various ages.

And then there was a break of ten or fifteen minutes, in which certificates were presented to all the students for their gradings etc. And a couple of awards were handed out. And then there were three more performance pieces.

All up, it ran from 1900 to a bit past 2100. I had to take off about half an hour before it ended, because the Mau-Mau was getting increasingly restive, and in the small theatre it was hard to keep her under control. To be brutally honest, I was glad of the excuse. The seats were low, and my knees were bent sharply. After more than an hour, I was in a certain amount of pain there.

Anyway. Tasmania's a small place in some ways, and the music/culture scene is one of them. To wit: there were two federal politicians there in the audience, both of whom (I believe) had family amongst the performers. And I found their concert-attendance behaviours really interesting.

One of 'em is a Liberal senator. As I walked out with the Mau-Mau, I passed him in a deserted corridor, mobile phone attached to his ear, deep in an earnest, highly political chat. (No, I didn't stay to listen. And even if I had, I wouldn't write about it. I have a strong belief in the privacy of others, including even politicians, Senator. Keep that in mind the next time the government wants to crush the Internet, eh?)

Now, fair enough: the Libs have their problems at the moment. It's nice he took the time to be at the concert at all. But he did, in fact, duck out halfway.

On the other end of the scale we had a female MHR in-house, and she made it through the entire show. Mind you, the moment she stepped out the mobile was glued to her ear like some kind of bizarre cyberpunk jewellery -- but she did get through the concert, sure. Of course, she's from the opposite side of Parliament, too.

It's interesting to wonder about their concert-attendance techniques because of the dichotomies between them. Long-time fed versus first-termer. Male versus female. Labor versus Liberal. Stable, government party situation versus wildly unstable leadership-struggle situation. You get the picture: so many variables in play that there's no way to draw any conclusions at all as to how they really felt about the concert, and what kind of roles they saw for themselves there, and why one would duck out halfway while the other would endure the entire thing.

One thing does puzzle me, though: WTF did politicians do before the advent of the mobile phone?

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And in other news: in keeping with the minor disaster theme of the day, I was helping the orchestra director place a very large, very heavy vase of flowers. I put the vase on the floor in the indicated site, using a very proper deep knee-bend technique to ensure my back didn't go ker-spung... and so my rather aged and worn trousers went ka-zortch instead. The seam down the arse literally shredded itself in one go, from just below the waistband to halfway down the inner thigh.

It was not a particularly enjoyable moment, but I can't say I was really bothered by it either. I really should have turfed those trousers a while back, but I quite liked them, so I ignored the fact that they were getting very thin in the arse region. You get what you deserve sometimes, eh?

I ducked up the road to K-mart, knowing it would still be open, and found a couple pairs of trews to purchase in replacement. The lass at the changing rooms thought my explanation as to why I'd be wearing one of the new trousers on the way out was rather funny...

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Final notes: the orchestra rehearsal was at 1430. The concert didn't kick off until 1900. That left us with some time to fill, and we didn't particularly want to drive home and then turn around and drive back again. So I managed to find a showing of Cloudy, With A Chance Of Meatballs that fit our schedule, and I'm very happy to say it was a lot of fun. The animation is the usual Pixar excellence. The writing was very good: fast, often very funny, frequently clever. There were plenty of jokes for the adults to pick up, including a lot of pop-culture film references tucked neatly into the script for you to enjoy if you spot them. Voice characterisations were excellent: particular kudos to Bruce Campbell as the sleazy mayor (fantastic combination of scripting, voicing and visualisation there), Neil Patrick Harris as Steve the Monkey (wearing a Monkey Thought Translator invented by the main character... frequently hilarious) and a really wonderful effort from Mr T as the township's manic black cop.

The slapstick stuff is plentiful, the visual gags are just fine, the story works, and I had a damned good time. Go and see it, with kids or without.

Some Days Just Go Wrong From The Outset

I love the weather we've got today. It's cool, and dark, and rainy. I was awoken at 0630 by the rain intensifying, and the rumble of distant thunder. Since then, it's been thunder on and off all morning. Not the colossal, brutalizing sort of storms that Brisbane gets, but an almost gentle sort of thing -- blue-white flashes at the corner of your eye turn the world outside your window brilliant green for an instant, and then, a few moments later, the biggest, most basso profundo voice in the whole world chuckles for a minute or two. Lovely.

Mornings like that, especially on a Saturday when one can anticipate at least a little bit of a lie-in, are pure gold. And indeed, I was just in the process of demonstrating to Natalie the best way to celebrate such a marvellous opportunity when the sound of smashing glass intervened from downstairs. Whereupon Natalie instantly put on her 'Mum' hat and got out of bed.

Ah, well.

I decided to lie in and read a book for a bit. Even without company, it's still a fine thing to be in a warm bed at seven in the morning, enjoying a book while the rain and the lightning and thunder do the rounds outside. At least, that's what I thought until I heard the second round of smashing glass, and of course, the bout of recriminations that followed.

Still, I was dilatory in getting up and dressed, so I missed out on seeing what event caused the gales of helpless laughter from the breakfast zone. In fact, by the time I got down there, they'd nearly finished cleaning up the entire box of "Crunchy Nut Cornflakes" that Younger Son had inadvertently poured over the Mau-Mau's head. And yes, it was an entire giant economy-size type box, purchased only yesterday and opened this morning for breakfasting purposes. That's a lot of cereal for a small girl to wear.

The count so far: one drinking glass, dropped and smashed in the bathroom. One ceramic cereal bowl, dropped and smashed in the sun-room dining area. One box of breakfast cereal, liberally distributed over one bemused daughter. And of course, one beatific Saturday-morning thunderstorm lie-in, shot to shit.

You get that, I suppose.

This afternoon is dedicated to more orchestra crap. We have to be in Launceston for a practise, and then there's a three-hour gap before the actual recital. And of course, it'll be pissing down, so we can't take the kids to a park or anything. I've checked the papers: looks like we'll be seeing Cloudy, With A Chance Of Meatballs at the cinema.

Meanwhile, I've got a few hours to finish a story which is very nearly overdue. Hopefully I can do it before the kids get tired of the Wii and go berserk...

Adios!

Round-up

Okay. As much for my own organisation as anything else:

Gardens and grounds --

The tractor battery has lost its charge. The recharger which worked with it before doesn't appear to be helping. Problem with recharger, or with battery? No real way for me to tell. I have extracted the battery from the tractor and put it on the concrete pad, checked the fluid levels, cleaned the terminals to ensure a good contact, and set it up to trickle-charge overnight. If it's not working tomorrow, I'll take the battery to the mechanic for a once-over. If the battery's good, I know the recharger is shite. Meanwhile, of course, I can't use the slasher to clear up the paddocks, and I really must do that ASAP.

In similar vein, the whipper-snipper has developed a fuel-flow problem. Possibly I could fix it if I wanted to spend a couple hours fucking around, getting two-stroke fuel all over myself. Instead, I've opted to drop it with the local small motor people for a full service. I gave 'em the chainsaw at the same time. That big fallen branch has dried enough for me to clean it up and clear the debris. We'll leave most of it in place to hold a climbing net for the kids, but I'll remove all the major fire-hazard bits first. Still: no chainsawing nor whippersnippering until the mechanics have had their way with the gear.

The Chinese Cabbage and rocket seeds have sprouted. They're coming up fast. I'll need to plant them out within a week, so I'll have to prep another garden bed. I'll clear the old one where the parsley has gone to seed -- knock it all over with the hoe, put a weed-mat over the top, and when the cabbage/rocket is ready, put a few holes in place and plant the buggers.

Strawberries are doing okay - but not as well as I'd like. I think I needed deeper planting troughs. That's something to tackle next season, I expect. Tomatoes and sunflowers, good. Zucchini and pumpkins: fine. But the blueberries, the blackberries, the raspberries, the redcurrants and the tea plants all need rescuing from overgrowing spring grasses -- a job for the whippersnipper thingy, which is with the mechanic. So - next week, I expect.

Snow peas are growing so verdantly in the compost-filled laundry tubs I laid out for them that I'm going to have to add several extra metres of growth-supports. Good thing I like snow peas. At the rate they're going, we'll be eating a lot of the bastards.

The old orchard needs clearing up. Must remove wood trimmings, and then mow. Happily the mower works a treat.

The situation with feral saplings is getting out of hand. There are wattles and blue-gums coming up all over the place. In general, that's okay - but I have to clear everything under the power line, and ensure there's not too much of a fire hazard around in the coming months. Need chainsaw. So - start next week, expect the job to be done in bits and pieces over several weeks.

Herb garden needs another major overhaul. Things grow so damned fast in spring it's freaky. The weed mat system isn't working as well as I'd hoped. What kind of goddam plant steroids are these things using? Time to get in with the glyphosate, I fear. Probably a half-day-job there. Doable as soon as it looks like we might get a full day without rain... maybe next week, at this rate.

House, sheds, vehicles:

Not too bad on the vehicular front. Replaced tyres on the Mighty Earth King, up to date with servicing. Could use a bit of cleaning, but generally functional.

Need to finish putting up insulation in the shed/loft. Must finish this before New Year so we can comfortably have a movie fest up there. This will require at least one more trip to Launceston to get more of the wool batts I've been using, plus a full day at least to get the things in place. Will probably also require some kind of limited scaffolding so I can do the underside of the roof. Been avoiding that issue. Will be able to make the usual improvised scaffolding if I get another folding aluminium ladder. Need one anyway: the ladder on the outside of the water tank is a scary, dangerous, wooden relic.

Must complete the area outside the boys' room and the bathroom. Row of bricks along the walk so I can put white sand/gravel under the bathroom window for a raked sand garden. Tiles to be cut and glued around the stone-paved patio outside the boys' door. Must also evenly mortar between the stones, for the visual effect. Tiling: half-day. Mortar: maybe an hour, plus drying time. Row of bricks can be done at the same time. White sand -- let's see: trip to the suppliers with the trailer, then transport the sand into position via wheelbarrow... shitty job of about two hours. Great.

Been avoiding replacing the old light-panels in the roof of the top shed. But the fibreglass is deteriorating, and leaks have opened. Must purchase six, maybe seven laser-light corrugated plastic panels. Will need some kind of careful system to get on that roof - the remaining fibreglass panels are above a six-metre drop. Not fun. Probably a full day of work there, crawling around, removing old panels, hauling new ones into place.

Kids/Family/Community:

Must organize birthday party for Younger Son. When? Should be a weekend, sometime between now and Xmas. Must sit down with Natalie and decide. Still no word from Younger Son as to what kind of birthday party he wants. Might wind up having to settle for Generic Birthday, instead of the usual themed events. Lots of work there, either way.

Orchestra crap continues. Performance this weekend, rehearsal Friday. Is Natalie taking them? I hope so. I believe she's on-call over the weekend, which puts me on the spot for the performance. Ugh.

School wants Elder Son to play a cello piece at their end-of-year awards thing. Have written a simple score for "Silent Night". Should sound okay on the cello. First effort was encouraging, anyhow. We have three weeks to practice it into shape. I'd say we can manage that.

Local Christmas Parade is coming. The ju-jitsu group has been asked to provide a 'demonstration' of some sort. I've sounded out the students and parents. We only have to come up with fifteen minutes or so of material -- shouldn't be too hard. I picked up a whole bunch of pine-boards for breaking the other day. If we organise a few showy breaks, some interesting-looking defenses, maybe an exhibition game or two from the younger ones, perhaps a few throws... ought to do the job.

Christmas... yeah. Shit, eh? I like it when I run across something interesting to give people... something which suits the person, and seems to have a bit of meaning or fun to it. Funny how that doesn't happen exactly as needed for the Christmas thing. Believe I'll send a few Oxfam donation cards this year. But find something for Natalie, and for various kids including my own.

End of School Year: not soon enough. And there's bound to be all kinds of nonsense associated with it. Must try to leave space in the calendar for unexpected calls.

Writing:

Short story deadline for one antho fast approaching. Damned story has been rewritten from three different POV, and I'm still cranky. Finish it and be damned.

Need more Red Priest shorts. Have three in various stages of completion. Iceland version probably closest. Aim to finish within two weeks.

Novel a tangled thing, but moving slowly into place. Blast the ROR people for the clever buggers they are, anyhow... it was going to be one novel, only they quite rightly pointed out it was really two. I hate it when that happens.

Book reviews -- need to find time to review anthos from Paul Haines, Deb Biancotti. Finish review of Spook Country. Does Coolshite Bruce want me to chat with the bloke who wrote 7th Son:Descent? Might be an interesting thing to do, but organising a time... tricky. Very tricky.

Must finish watching the Dune miniseries too. Supposed to review that as well. Interesting to compare/contrast with Lynch as well as the novel.

Miscellaneous:

Must clarify which version of the most recent sword techniques we're doing. Sensei from Adelaide made some changes; not entirely sure where we stand now. Ooh... must also finish sewing "senior student" patch onto the uniform. Wish I could sew straight.

Must rehang tennis balls in top shed/dojo for draw/cut practice. Not altogether happy with accuracy of fast draw-cut.

Do I need to prep some kind of routine for the Christmas Parade demonstration? Prefer to leave it to the students, but maybe... hmm. Might be interesting to toss in some iaido material. Leave the real sword at home, though. Even swinging an iaito will require a nice, clear space. Iaito makes a better swooshy noise anyway.

Okay. That's all I can think of right now. I feel better for writing it down. Should probably go and unchain the dog now. Dark outside. Baby chickens still doing fine, despite the Mau-Mau's best efforts to love hers to death...

Meet David Bowie...

Yes. That is he, right there. What? You didn't recognize the slightly supercilious stare, or (the real giveaway) the ridiculous hairstyle straight out of his role as Jared the Goblin King in Labyrinth?

Ha! Shows you've got no imagination. Or at least, not the same kind of demented imagination as Younger Son, who has christened his baby bantam "David Bowie" in honour of said ridiculous hairstyle. Oh -- and David Bowie the Bantam sings, too: a monotonous, ear-piercing sort of "cheep-cheep-cheep-cheep" noise that goes on, apparently ad infinitum.

Oh, joy.

We now have three little banty buggers. Of the lot that went under the Death Star Warming Bulb, no sign of life has been found. R.I.P little banty beasties, victims of a well-meant but ill-prepared mother attempting to introduce her offspring to the delights of... umm... bantams.

The weather's switched on us, which is good. Smaller Son and I planted out a bunch of tomatoes yesterday, so the gentle, steady rain we're getting right now is absolutely perfect. I also took a risk a few weeks ago and put in an orange tree. I mean - I've had a lime out on the deck for two winters now. It's in a pot, so it's not going gangbusters, but it's not dying. In fact, I should probably plant it out and give it a chance. But the orange tree is very pleased with itself - lots of new, springy growth.

We introduced Grace to Movie Night at Chez Flinthart last night. Vietnamese Spring Rolls all round for dinner, and then off to the movie loft with lots of popcorn to see the most recent Harry Potter flick. Grace loaded up on spring rolls and declared she couldn't possibly eat popcorn. Heh. Poor Grace: she's never had Flinthart's patent Thai-Style Hot and Sour popcorn. Imagine! The poor creature was concerned it might be difficult to get a decent diet down here, with all us gluten-tolerant sorts...

And in other news? Haircuts for me and the boys. New tyres for the Mighty Earth King. (Ouch! Those mothers are expensive!) And the Mau-Mau has to attend her best friend's birthday party tomorrow, so the boys and I found a present for her to give the friend. It's a nifty black velvet-flocked box with all kinds of decorations on it, and lots of drawers and panels in it. I'll take the Mau-Mau down shopping today, and we'll find goodies to put into the drawers and panels, and it will be a fine and lovely present for a newly-four-year-old.

Meanwhile... I think I'll run up savoury pork ribs today on the Charcoal Gorilla. Sweet, hot, salty and smoky porky bits, maybe a few roasted taters, a bit of salad... yeah.

And now: here's a farewell from David Bowie and his most dedicated fan...

Which Came First...?

...and does anyone really care?

Much as I love my wife, there are times when her common sense goes totally arse-out the window. Case in point: hatching chickens.

We've got some friends locally whose chooks went on the brood. They've got more chooks than they need already, and they didn't want still more of the beggars running around the place, so they've been trying to give the things away before they hatch. These "friends" saw my wife coming from a couple kilometres distance, the words "SOFT-HEARTED SUCKER WITH SMALL KIDS" apparently glowing in neon letters a metre high above her head.

Natalie responded to their overtures by hinting to me. Repeatedly. That we should take these eggs and hatch them.

What? Do I look like a fucking chicken? I don't fucking hatch eggs. I scramble the bastards, or maybe create a nice fritatta funghi, serve it up with maybe a light pinot noir and a garden salad, you know?

I made it clear that I really didn't think much of the idea. And I'm sure we can all guess what happened next.

Yesterday, I had to go buy a 'warming light' from the hardware mob. At first I thought I'd get the old cage-light so beloved of mechanics everywhere, but it turns out Johnny Howard's scrote-kick to the incandescent lightbulb industry has had an unexpected side effect. You can buy the cage for a mechanic's light, sure. But you can't get a fucking bulb for it, can you? Unless you resort to one of the shiny new compact fluoro jobs -- and while they work just fine in a static installation, I am informed by a number of very cranky people that they last maybe two days in a mobile cage-light.

Besides: it was good old inefficient incandescent heat I wanted, not cool white fluorescent light.

Eventually I got a portable floodlight, with a screw-fix bulb. You can still get incandescents for them. Of course, the hardware version came with a 150watt Death Star Annihilator bulb, which obviously wasn't going to do the little eggs a lot of good -- so I stopped and picked up the mildest bulb that the supermarket possessed: a 75 watt number.

This I duly gave to Natalie, when she came home with a cardboard box containing six or seven eggs. I then went off to teach ju-jitsu.

When I returned home, sore and bruised and tired, as I entered the house, there was a very odd smell -- hot "Napi-san". Why? I stuck my head in the bathroom. Aha. The improvised heat-lamp is shining down on a towel laid nicely over six or seven eggs. And the towel is scorching visibly.

Whoops.

I reorganised the set-up, but to be honest, it was probably already too late for junior Foghorn Leghorn and the rest of 'em. A little Internet research indicated that unhatched chickens tend to go all sort of dead if the temperature climbs much over 39C for any period. Towel-scorching temperatures are definitely out.

That, however, did not dissuade my beloved. Nope. This evening, as I sat in my study after a bit of sword practice, she came in and announced that the eggs remaining to our "friends" were now, right now, in the process of hatching, and they'd texted her to tell her so. And shouldn't we maybe go and get those little hatchy eggies so our children could see the Magic of Chickenbirth?

Oh -- and did I mention that she discussed all this right in front of said children?

When I unstuck my face from my palms, I pointed out a few home truths: that we'd already cooked one bunch of microchooks; that we don't have a cage ready for them; that we don't know shit about raising baby chickens; that the boys were short on sleep from last night, it was already eight pm, and they're hoping to have a movie night tomorrow night... and did she really expect me to get in the car now, right now, and go get those little hatchy eggies?

Yep. She did. And she expected me to take the boys with me, so they could get the full benefit of The Magic.

It's now ten forty at night. The boys finally made it to bed at 10.00. A new eggy chicky place has been constructed, this time with a halogen reading lamp for warmth (as opposed to parboiling). And one goddam chick has actually had the decency to kick its way free of the shell. Just one. Another one is making struggly noises inside the shell. The rest?

Fucked if I know. The real joke is this: they're all fucking bantams anyway. Aaaargggh!

And in other news: Grace's dietary dilemmas have lead to a slight lifting of my game. I admit: in the past, when making nasi goreng, I've simply grabbed the jar of garam masala off the spice shelf and applied it as I saw fit. But this time I checked the label first and discovered, horror of horrors, that it included wheat starch amidst the spices, probably as an anti-caking agent.

Undaunted, I threw black peppercorns, caraway seeds, fennel seeds, cloves and some cinnamon powder into the spice grinder (which I got for Natalie when she was in her Turkish Coffee phase) and built myself some decent garam masala, from scratch.

Holy shit! How good was that? Pungent, fragrant, spicy... I'm never buying commercial garam masala again.

EDITED TO ADD: ...aaaand the Mau-Mau just woke herself up with a spectacular power-puke. The entirety of her nasi goreng dinner plus her much-coveted bowl of home-made vanilla-cinnamon ice-cream distributed liberally across the upper half of her bed. So: pick up the howling Mau-Mau, deposit her in the shower. Natalie comes curiously downstairs ( I thought she was asleep! Hooray for small mercies.) and takes over the showering, while I remove bedding. And mattress. Replace mattress with spare. Find new bedding. Clean bedframe. Identify contaminated bed-toys and remove. Replace, reconstruct. And return the Mau-Mau to slumberland.

I love this gig.

Grace

Actually, that's got nothing to do with me or my life, which is quite honestly a chaotic, shambolic disgrace littered with last-minute patch-jobs, noisy children, demented pets and mysterious outbreaks of fractal unlikeliness. But we do have Grace in residence at the moment, which is kind of a contradiction in terms unless you know that Grace is a medical student, here for a month on a John Flynn scholarship -- and an old friend of mine from back in Briz, with the VISION writer's group.

Grace arrived here on Sunday, while we were all still more-or-less in shock and recovery from the awfulness of Saturday (and Friday, and Thursday, and Wednesday...) so her initial impressions of Chez Flinthart must have been relatively low-key. Certainly, the kids didn't immediately attempt to swarm her. And I believe she even managed an afternoon nap, which is definitely not the norm hereabouts.

A month of Grace, in theory, poses a minor problem foodwise. Apparently she's gluten intolerant. She promised to get her own corn tortillas and her own gluten-free soy sauce (who the hell knew they put gluten in regular soy sauce anyhow?) but the reality is that she poses no problem at all for me, or the family. I do rather a lot of Asian-style cooking that works around rice, so most of our main meals don't actually have gluten in them to begin with.

Cases in point: we had a chicken soup on the Sunday night, using home-made stock. No gluten anywhere. And last night it was all about the tacos that Smaller Son adores. Still no gluten. Tonight, since I'm out teaching ju-jitsu, I'll set up some rich cream-of-mushroom soup, entirely gluten free. Tomorrow night I expect we'll have nasi goreng, since Elder Son loves it and I haven't done it in a while. And then maybe san choy bau. And by then, we're onto the weekend, so I'll probably fire up the Charcoal Gorilla.

Too easy. And yes, there's a reason for posting all this: I've got a few gluten-sensitive friends who read this and who may be visiting at some point. I'd like them to know that feeding them is no obstacle!