Kidney

Now that I have a new droid with a decent amount of memory for apps, I can get back into photo blogging at least.  Which means, not a lot of text, but a picture is worth some quantity of words, isn't it?  Anyway, if you know me, you know of my recent kidney stone issues.  So here's my view for the last few days while I was getting the second one lasered.

Catching up

This blog seems to have followed a common pattern, where there's initial excitement that can go on for years, followed by a gradually tapering off, eventually to nearly nothing, followed by the occasional "I'm going to start blogging more" pledge that never actually pans out.  So I'm not going to promise anything.  I do know that I really like having the early days to check back against for reference, and that I'll regret the long stretches in recent years where there was nothing written here despite things happening in our lives.

Rather than try to remember all that I neglected to post about, I might as well just say what's happening now.  Others in my family are having health issues at the moment, which I won't go into (other than to say "Hi!" and "Get better!"); instead I'll talk about my own.

During a recent vacation to Sydney I had a mild attack of kidney stones, so a part of each day there was spent trekking down to a medical clinic for consultations, scans, diagnoses, etc.  Followed up on it when I got back to Melbourne, and after some more tests, it looks like I'm going to have a percutaneous nephrolithotripsy for them, where they jab a needle into my kidney, break up the stone, and suck out the pieces.  Twice, for the two stones.

It doesn't sound like a lot of fun.  I'll probably have to do three days or so in the hospital for it, and a week off of work.  Mostly I just don't like the idea of being effectively stabbed in the back, and worry about infection and such.  But it should solve the problem for the long term, which is good.

First I need to get some x-rays to make sure my stones aren't the uric-acid kind, which would be awesome because you can get rid of them with drugs; this is unlikely though.  I see the doc again next week.

Explorer

I realized recently that this blog passed its ten-year anniversary a month or so back.  We started the blog around the time we decided to move overseas, so it's not quite ten years living abroad yet -- not for another couple of months -- but it's some sort of milestone I guess.  We've had a lot of good times but nothing quite touches that early excitement of throwing our lives into turmoil.

I'm pondering a post on "Expat Life: Expectations Versus Reality" but today instead I will talk about a funny trait I've realized have -- my explorer gene.  There's a conceit involved in every such observation,  but here it is anyway.  I'm on a never-ending quest for novelty, it seems; besides the whole moving overseas thing, my explorer gene manifests itself in the following ways:

• My neighborhood dog-walking is always about taking Hamish to somewhere new.  I continually pore over the map of our neighborhood looking for streets that I haven't gone down yet.  Every "walkies" has to have a quest, usually quite minor, such as just walking by a cafe or tiny bit of green space to check it out.  Fortunately Melbourne is famously replete with hidden gems, both in town and in the 'burbs.
• Speaking of maps, I can spend hours with an atlas, mentally exploring a new area, pondering what it would be like to visit there, or live there (usually with the help also of Google Maps and Wikipedia).  Thanks to this I can do things like name all the countries in Africa (the online geography quizzes help too - ask my sister-in-law!).
• I continually explore different lunch options in town where I work.  My coworkers seem to have a regular rotation; I have some regulars, but I'm frequently going off somewhere strange, and have introduced a few new things to them.  Melbourne CBD is great for back alley eateries.  (The weird thing, I think, is that I eat the same breakfast every day, pretty much.)

We're looking to buy a house now, which is that much more scary because I have this trait.  To be worthwhile we're going to have to stay in it ten years, which is longer than I've lived anywhere, other than my childhood home.

The Happiest Place On Earth

Yeah, been a while.  There's stuff I should post about -- my trip to Europe, etc. -- but a maxim I'm slowly coming to realize is that I really need to just post about whatever I feel like posting about even if it means leaving out "important" stuff, just because otherwise it hangs over me and the only result is inactivity.

So yeah, our new place is a block away from the Moonee Ponds race course, and the first race of the season is tomorrow so we'll see how that goes.  I'm a little worried about drunkards, parking, etc. but I'm still up for catching a race.  In general I have no problems with gambling as long as you don't let it get out of hand.  Which brings me to the subject I feel like writing about: Tabarets.  I will explain.

Pubs in Australia are a big part of the culture.  In Melbourne these days there are two basic varieties.  The first is your standard pub, which are homey neighborhood meeting-houses, typically with a few beers on tap and a kitchen which serves up basic traditional meals, with chicken parmesan ("parma") being ubiquitous.  Some have converted to "gastro-pubs", with more upscale restaurants.  But all are generally nice, happy places, with regulars of all ages.

A growing percentage, though, are of the other variety - the Tabaret.  These typically feature a game room with poker machines ("pokies") and the ability to bet on sporting events.  There's typically a room with a high row of TVs, showing various horse races, that looks something like this:

This picture looks bright and cheery enough, but that's only because I can't seem to find a picture that captures their true nature.  From early morning until late at night, you'll find gamblers ("punters") here, usually alone, slowly wasting their lives away.  There is always a sad, blank expression on their ashen faces as they expectantly watch events on the high row of TVs.  There's always an bettable event on somewhere, it seems, and it gets piped in so the slow drain can continue on them non-stop.  But if the punters need a break, they'll come out on the deck for a smoke and a beer (even at 8 a.m.).

Not surprisingly, as close as we are now to the race track, our only local pub is just such a place.  Lately every time we walk by it and look in I turn to Marjorie and say, "The happiest place on Earth!"  I don't know how I would feel about outlawing them altogether, but they seem to me to be one of the few blights on the otherwise generally functional society that is Australia in general and Melbourne in particular.

Our new neighborhood does have a nice wine bar though...

Moonee Ponds

We are all moved in to our new house in Moonee Ponds.  The move itself was hell, as I had a pretty high fever through much of it but no option to take it easy.  But we did it all in fairly short order, and Marjorie's good at motivating us to get all the little things taken care of - I would definitely still be living out of boxes.

The house has three bedrooms instead of two like our last, so we've converted the spare into an office-slash-storage room.  In the backyard there is a fig tree and an olive tree - the olives were ready to pick right around when we moved in, so I picked two big jars of them which are now curing and should be ready for a first try this Sunday.  As opposed to the hydrophobic dust of our last place, the back yard here has a fair bit of rich black soil, which is good for growing stuff I guess but bad because Hamish has been coming in with filthy paws.

It's a longer commute for me, and a good bit longer for Marjorie, but we're still figuring out the ropes.  Marjorie caught the illness right after me, so we haven't been able to explore the new neighborhood much.  Apparently it's the home of Dame Edna and Tina Arena.  We have been taking the dog to different places -- there are a lot of different options, all about a five to ten minute drive away.  Unfortunately, none are really within walking distance, other than the park that's basically across the street, which isn't off-leash.  That's where he typically gets his morning walk.

Pogues

So - we're moving, and I will post about that eventually, but first: we saw The Pogues in concert.  This is something that was on my bucket list, or rather would have been, if I thought it would ever happen.  Sorry, but this will be one of those gushy posts that's more for my own archival purposes than for general consumption.

I've long loved The Pogues and recently developed a major obsession with them, despite not coming from a terribly similar cultural background.  They play music heavily based on the Irish cultural tradition, and the lead singer is a notorious substance abuser, from an early age.  But he is an idiot savant, and a true poet I think.  Though Marjorie and I have both liked them for a long time - we even used one of their songs as the opening song of our wedding! - I had a spell a few months back where I went absolutely mental for them; I'd go as far as saying they peaked higher than any other music in my life, and that's saying a lot.  It only sustained itself for a few weeks, sadly; I don't know what happened, but try as I as might I couldn't hold onto it.  It slipped away; the love was still there, just not the infatuation.

Shortly after this fall from grace, I found that they were actually planning a concert here in town.  So of course I had to get us tickets.  I just didn't believe it would happen, as a decade or so ago Marjorie and I flew across the country to San Fran to see him (then solo) at a music festival, but he didn't show (we had to "settle" for just my other great love, Elvis Costello).  So I wasn't really expecting him to show, especially given his past personal issues and resulting bad blood with the band.  Honestly, I didn't believe it until he walked out on stage.  But he did show up this time!

And was in great form - so much better than I had expected.  He seems so slow-witted in interviews these days that I had doubted he could pull off any of their faster numbers, or for that matter, remember all the words to his wordier ones.  But apart from some minor articulation issues, he was fantastic on all counts.  Most importantly, the spirit was there.  And the band still smokes as well.

The next day, I posted a message on a Pogues forum where I know their guitarist hangs out, thanking them for their show, saying how much I  loved it, and asking if by any chance they're working on any new material.  He actually responded immediately - and curtly: "We're quite happy with our old material".  Serves me right.  They played their hearts out for us, and here's me asking for more.

This was the set list:

• Streams of Whisky
• If I Should Fall From Grace With God
• Broad Majestic Shannon
• Greenland Whale Fisheries
• Pair Of Brown Eyes
• Tuesday Morning
• Kitty
• Sunny Side of the Street
• Repeal of the Licencing Laws
• The Band Played Waltzing Matilda
• The Body of an American
• Boys From County Hell
• Thousands are Sailing
• Dirty Old Town
• Bottle of Smoke
• Sick Bed of Cuchulainn

First encore:

• Sally Maclennane
• Rainy Night in Soho
• Irish Rover

Second encore:

• Poor Paddy
• Fiesta

A great set list, I must say; I'm happy with nearly all of the choices.  Biggest surprise to me was Bottle Of Smoke, which is pretty much the song that kicked off my recent obsession, so I was overjoyed to hear it.  Of course it was great to have them play our wedding song (Rainy Night In Soho).  The other highlight to me was A Pair Of Brown Eyes -- a hit for them, but never my favorite before; seeing it live though, I "heard" it for the first time.

Grandmom

My grandmother has died.

Even facing infirmary and dementia of late, she made it 94 years without a harsh word for anyone. 

I'll forever associate this song with her -- she had a little record player at her house and we used to play this one every time we went over.  (Well, this one got a regular play as well.)  These songs definitely swing a bit -- but her usual fare was more Bobby Vinton and Laurence Welk. I made her a CD of that stuff a few years back but found it unlistenable myself, even in a retro-kitsch sort of way :)

She was Polish through and through -- her parents last names were Gąsior and Koczur -- and her married name Thompson was actually anglicized from Tomaszewicz one generation back. She spoke Polish with her relatives and made lots of Polish food, and danced the polka at family events with my grandfather. I tracked her heritage a bit last year and found the Ellis Island document of her parents arriving in 1908, which was very cool. They had her after they arrived -- she was the ninth of ten children (!).

She lived in Camden NJ for most of her life -- a place now infamous for being the most dangerous city in America. Seriously. The Google Maps street view car didn't even go down her street, I'm sure for safety concerns. It was a much nicer place while she was there, at least early on -- Mummers Day parades are my earliest memory of it.

She lived on her own into her nineties -- on the second floor, which required climbing stairs. Pretty amazing. Never learned to drive, I believe, and I don't remember her ever having a job outside the home. She made a mean batch of chocolate chip cookies, and always gave me a few tins of them to take with me whenever I visited.

I am exceedingly glad I got to see her just last month when I was home for my parents' 50th, even if she wasn't "all there".

Helen Thompson 1917-2012

One of those rare days

One of those rare days that I wouldn't mind having over and over.

First, brunch with a friend at Bistro Flor which was fabbo.

Then we went looked at three houses that were having open inspections.  We're not looking to buy just yet, just kind of practicing for when it gets real, maybe in a year or so.  Still it was fun.

Then, fantastic Thai massages at Vigorous Thai Massage.

On to a swim at the Fitzroy pool.

To our usual dog park, Darling Gardens, with perfect timing as Hamish's good friends Banjo, Tyra, and Grover were all just arriving.  Hamish is completely smitten with Banjo (a border collie).

Home, and pork chops on the grill with a nice Dal Zotto rosé in the backyard while we watched the lorikeets in the neighbor's tree, followed by "bat o'clock".  For music we dug back into our CD collection for four fantastic chill-out albums that we had neglected for a while.  Here's an sample song from each - each irreproachable, I would say.


Peace Like A River - Paul Simon - from "Paul Simon"


Into Temptation - Crowded House - from "Temple of Low Men"


Angeles - Elliott Smith - from "Either/Or"


Lover, You Should Have Come Over - Jeff Buckley - from "Grace"

Quite the dog park

An impressive dog park in our neighborhood.  Well, it's a dog park when there's no footy or cricket going on. 

(I know the last panorama wasn't really viewable - we'll see if this turns out any better.)

Donor

I'm also a blood donor now!  This was my third time.

Birthday

It was our friends' birthday party last weekend in the park.  Hamish met a friend who is a bit more purebred red heeler - I took a shot of them together just to compare.

Guerrilla garden

Just found this awesome guerrilla garden just blocks away from our house that I never knew was there.  It has compost and worm bins and everything.  Love it! 

Catch up, or not...

The problem with having an ongoing blog is that when you haven't posted in a while, it means you have a lot to post about, which makes putting it off that much easier. So to heck with it. If there's some big things I didn't post about -- like, say, a trip to Europe -- I'm just going to forget about them and move on.

I will at least mention that the book I contributed a chapter to -- Mindhacker: 60 Tips, Tricks, and Games to Take Your Mind to the Next Level -- is out. I think it's even better than the first one (Mind Performance Hacks (that I contributed a couple of chapters to)) and the reviews seem to bear that out.

Not to be outdone, a high school friend of mine has written a whole book, and the reviews have been phenomenal. I knew him when.

Oh, and somehow all the comments you all submitted recently were sitting there waiting for me to approve them for months but I never got email notification. So they're approved now, sorry.

Mid-summer here now but it's been a pretty cool season so far. Lots of fun parties and such, and trips to the park with Hamish. He's settled in and accepts us now as his pack, but is still pretty cheeky. But he has lots of dog friends at the park. His favorite game is chasing other dogs who are chasing a ball, and try to run ahead of them and cut them off. It's good because it means other dogs' owners exercise our dog for us.

Hamish

...is settled in fully.  He's really never uncomfortable in any situation we throw him into.  He's been into wrestling with other dogs lately and has lots of doggy friends.  This is his buddy Cody, who I think is lab + huskie.

Skyline

A panoramic shot I took from the top of the hill in Northcote while out for a jog.  Note the skyline in the background.

My office

We've let the blog languish for a while now, but it's too valuable as a reference for our past that it would a shame to let die...  I'll post some catch-up before long but in the meanwhile I'll get back to posting images.  Here's my office; my desk is right behind the B in building. 

Sandwich

I was lying in my lounge chair.  Marjorie came and laid on top of me.  And so Hamish decided he had to be on top.

New dog

Okay, cobwebs are forming here. Let's dust things off a bit. Even if no one even reads this anymore, it's still been an invaluable resource to refer back to over the years, so I really need to get back on it.

We took a trip to Europe, which was great, but I'll get back to that eventually. As for now, the big news is a new pup in our life!

His name is Hamish, and we got him via Pet Rescue, though they were calling him Roger at his foster home. We think he's painfully cute. He's smart and funny and has lots of personality, but is still rather laid back, especially compared to Laika. He's different in several other ways to Laika too. We're still trying to figure out all his quirks but we like him a whole lot.

We decided to sign him (and us) up for obedience classes, just to be sure we could take him out to cafes and such. We had the first class on Saturday (my birthday). The instructor was good, but strict. So far the biggest result is a lot of stress in our household -- it's hard to be strict and you can bet Hamish isn't a fan either. We're wondering whether we want to even pursue this route. I mean, the instructor was able to get instant results with Hamish (even when we couldn't) but will we still like the dog that he becomes? Or are we just being soft because we don't want to dole out punishment to our cute little doggy? The whole thing is just not a lot of fun.

Since the class yesterday we've been defying our instructor a bit. We've found we've gotten better results with a little bit of sugar anyway instead of the hard line approach. Or maybe that's just us being manipulated. The instructor did say that Hamish is smart and is going to be a handful to train.

Some more pictures!

Trees

On to happier topics.  I got mad recently when the council came and ripped out all the trees on our street. It turns out it was all part of a big replanting job though.  They came back a week later and put new trees where the old ones had been.  Then, this week, they came back again and dug up the street to add even more trees!  They'll look fairly slight for the short term but I heartily approve of the long term plan.

Laika is no more - Part 2

The other horrible thing I had to do on Friday was to dig the hole in the backyard. My hands got fully blistered from the shovel, but I didn't care, and it was cathartic in the end.

On Saturday the vet was scheduled to come by at 2pm I think, but in the morning Laika seemed a tiny bit brighter so we decided to take her to another of her favorite parks, Edinburgh Gardens. She had a last jump at her favorite tree, the one with the hole in it that she would always check for possums. She didn't have a lot left after that so we just sat in the grass with her for an hour or so and let her sniff the wind while we cried. We eventually took her home, and gave her all the little bits of kangaroo jerky -- the only thing she would still eat -- that she wanted.

The vet came by on schedule, and of course Laika had a bark at the door, which we didn't think she still had in her. We knew we had to go forward with it though; she might've held on for another day or two, but it wouldn't be happy times for her, especially through the nights. Laika went back and flopped down by the back door while the vet explained the procedure to us. She was really outstanding and compassionate; I don't know how people can do that for a living, but I'm glad there are people that are willing. She started things with an IV that first made Laika unconscious, and as she was putting it in, heartbreakingly, Laika put her head up and gave her a kiss. From there we only had a minute or two and so we went out on the back porch while it took effect. The neighborhood dogs gave one last bark at a passerby, and Laika gave a last bark with them, defending her territory to the last. She went to sleep lying on the back porch, with the two of us holding her and telling her what a good girl she is, while the vet came and administered the final shot that would stop her heart. We took a snip of her fur for a keepsake, and each took a last deep smell of her. Our baby was dead.

Such a good dog. Half crazy, but that only made us love her more. I think we did everything we could for her, which is the least we could offer a dog that we had no doubt would have taken a bullet for us. I've had people I love die before, and have been greatly saddened, but this I would have to call my first experience with "grief". We spent days and days afterwards just going through the motions. To me, the world had a weird tilt on it, like everything was shifted six inches, and I had to force myself to do all the little things you do in life that typically come by force of habit. And there is no place within miles of here that doesn't have some memory of her associated with it.

We were, and are, still torn between wanting to run out and get a new dog, just to fill the hole in our lives, and wanting to hold on to her memory and mourn her loss. Marjorie goes back and forth between wanting to wait, and showing me pictures of cute dogs on dog rescue web sites. I suspect after our upcoming trip, we'll go inflict our lives once again on some unsuspecting dog.