R-U-N-N-O-F-T. She's gone not even two days, and I miss her. How will I last 23? I'm so married.

Today was a day that was not beautiful, it was be-YOO-ti-ful. Sidewalk cafes were packed with folk enjoying the warmest day of spring thus far. I myself spent the day out-of-doors, working at a booth in the central business district doling out absentee ballot request forms to American citizens. (You can get yours on-line if you haven't already done so.) It was an interesting experience. I was even spat upon, but it was by a shabby British nutter with brown teeth who occasionally spat as he rambled on to me about the monarchy. Either in favor of it or against it, I'm not sure. But we got a good small handful of people signed up.

In the late afternoon I got a couple of new library books and had a pizza around the corner from the house we're about to move into. Quite good. Then I walked down to the beach and sat on a bench to read while the sun set over the bay. There were about a hundred seagulls in attendance, and two penguins.

Fish are jumpin', and the cotton is high.

The ocean here is so amazingly clear and clean. I went for a walk on the beach this afternoon and saw some new creatures. These guys were beached all over the sand at low tide. I didn't touch them even though they looked innocuous enough to me as this is Australia and you never know what might kill you. Turns out they may be bluebottles or Portuguese Man-of-wars if this image is an accurate depiction (other pictures of Man-of-wars I saw described them as looking rather different with much longer tentacles). In spite of the jellies, the beach is lovely. I also saw a small starfish.
I'm off to the States tomorrow to manage to shipment of our things in Atlanta to Melbourne. Have I mentioned how much I hate flying?It will be very nice to see my parents, the puppies, and friends though. Hopefully Mark won't be too lonely here.

I think I've given myself an ulcer from worrying about our move. There is so much to be done, and so many things are beyond my control. Today's freak out is over the things we mailed from Singapore seven weeks ago, which are still not here today. In that shipment are all my warm weather clothes that I need for my trip home on Friday. If they don't arrive tomorrow (and I'm beginning to wonder if they'll show up at all), I'll be wearing the same three outfits for three weeks. I could almost put up with that if I hadn't been wearing the same three winter outfits for the last month here. I'm really ready to have my stuff all in one place.
On the plus side, the house we found is lovely, and (fingers crossed) this will all be over and done with soon. By the end of November we should actually have something resembling a normal life. And when I get back from the States I've got a dog adoption to look forward to. Can't wait to bring "the dingo" home.

You betcha. Interesting concert experience tonight -- strangely, our first real concert since coming here. We went and saw Betchadupa at The Tote. This is the band fronted by Liam Finn, son of musical legend Niel Finn. We saw him playing backup guitar for his father about six years ago, when he was maybe 13. Now he's trying to make it on his own. From the sounds of things, he's inherited a lot of talent. Just about the tightest band I'd ever seen, and they use lots of interesting time signatures and such. Not as hook-laden as I had hoped though. I felt old, though; there were maybe two or three guys there that were older than me. Sigh.

Apropos of nothing. Back in 1982 I attend the Governor's School for Excellence, "a one-week summer program bringing together academically and artistically talented sophomores from Delaware high schools." I remember lots of things about that week, but one really odd memory came back to me the other day.

We did a "meet and greet" sort of exercise, where you had to write down something about yourself that you hadn't told anyone about yet. The list was compiled, and you had go around and figure out who everybody was, based on their personal factoid.

One guy wrote, I throw rocks at my cat while it's going to the bathroom.

You read that right. I don't find it memorable so much in the fact that somebody would do that (bad enough as it is), but that he would choose that tidbit about himself as the one he wanted to first reveal. I throw rocks at my cat while it's going to the bathroom.

When I found the guy who wrote it, he explained, "It's funny. The cat won't move, because he's going to the bathroom, and you can just sit there and throw rocks at it."

I wonder what happened to that guy.

He's probably a senator or something.