Saturday, October 31, 2009
Over the years I have bought several of their handplanes, and assorted other paraphernalia, and their stuff and their service rocks.
Rob Lee and his crew give us everything we love about Canadians. They've taken old world quality and infused it with new world ingenuity. They've taken old style service, and somehow managed to maintain a stunning standard among customers all over the world. They have promoted gifted individuals, and yet always kept the 'top end' of the business wide open to the ideas of the masses. They have taken handtools to a new level, and yet not forgotten how to have fun. (Their new product releases every April Fool's Day capture this.)
This cool little shoulder plane is also a great example of the spirit of ingenuity and play. It is stunningly good value for the machining and tooling involved. And since this baby was launched only a few days ago, woodworkers across the various fora have been buzzing with excitement.
But it's like this every time Lee Valley release a new tool now. They know how to build the excitement so it's just like Christmas morning with a bunch of six-year-old kids. Except it happens more than once a year.
Lee Valley is a business that woodworkers love to deal with. What more could you ask for? Great quality, great fun, great service, great people, great knowledge, great accessibility, great value. They have decisively nailed a winning formula.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
It seems that every time you buy another espresso, or donut, or bag of groceries, or book or tank of petrol, someone is trying to reward (and build) your custom with a little piece of plastic or cardboard.
I used to collect loyalty cards too readily. The situation was pretty desperate: for years I even carted around a Spotlight card - how much use do you think a 25-year-old male was going to give that one?!
One day I realised that I had such a fine collection that even when the opportunity came to use one of them, I would inevitably forgot to dig through my stash to find it. It was a bit like the problem of owning the Entertainment book: one would inevitably find the vouchers that could have been used well after the moment had passed.
So there was the reward of loyalty to urge future patronage: a wallet full of punched and marked cards.
These days I only keep one coffee card, and it's stuck to my pinboard in the office. If I'm going to keep any loyalty card, it's got to get used at least once a fortnight.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
It also offers some interesting commentary on how we perceive language being taught and learned, and how it actually functions.
"You speak English well!"
If it puts a smile on your dial, you might also enjoy this more slapstick one from Micallef (who has employed the mechanics of this gig in several other skits over the years).
Monday, August 10, 2009
Sometimes a moment takes you back to your childhood.
Caelan has been wanting to go fishing with me for a long time. We finally got to wet the lines the other weekend up at Forster.
His excitement and his interest reminds me of my own excitement at my dad taking me fishing as a little 'un up at Forster.
Sometimes as you look into the face of your child, you see your own reflection. In a moment, your childhood returns.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
I was listening to two blokes on ABC Sydney this morning discussing the blandness of modern car design. One of them made an interesting observation: when you get a street parked full with bland modern cars, you get increasingly bland streets ...
Monday, August 3, 2009
I admit it's been hard to switch back into some sort of normality.
We shouldn't have stayed in the house we stayed in. I mean, we didn't deserve it.
By the time we split the costs between seven adults it cost us each around $33 per night. This gave us a massive house with a spectacular view over the lake and ocean, the world's most insane spa, a great kitchen (and top-shelf coffee machine), and about a million bedrooms and bathrooms.
When we all pitch in, it becomes amazingly affordable. On our own ... out of reach. And strangely - I think it was the more enjoyable to have a house like this full of people and energy and bubble. So everyone wins. Great house, great location, great company, great price.
Can't argue with that.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
How long did it take for you to see that you were seeing something?
... to name a pattern, to speak into the darkness, to say, "Come forth!"?
How did you feel when others didn't see the same - and laughed? When others joined with you, and wondered about what could be ... how did you feel?
When you were way out of your depth, when you wound up in conversations that you felt like you had no right to be in?
When did you realise ... how much of it was grace?
Monday, July 27, 2009
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Closed doors leave our imaginations free to wonder / wander.
We know that doors have a way of hiding what really is, preserving all along the veneer of normality, or wealth, or tidyness that is conveyed from the outside.
When we open doors and look inside, the veneer doesn't always (or often) correspond with the internal reality.
These guys in Germany offer a nice critique of that with a pretty special piece of silliness. They take the biggest door in the house, and offer their take on "I wonder what's inside?"
Of course, we are all still left wondering what really is inside behind their veneer-upon-a-veneer!
Saturday, July 25, 2009
What are the questions that have changed your life?
Friday, July 24, 2009
Wine is one of those areas where there's a lot of snobbery and pretence. Our knowledge of wine is limited, but we're always willing to learn.
This article impressed me as one seeking to escape from the snobbery without dumbing down the enjoyment of good wine. It's kind of a 'walk around it and appreciate its many facets' approach.
A good wine is enjoyed all the more when we take just a few minutes to see it, breathe it, smell it, let it linger, savour it. In other words: camp on it, and engage your brain and senses.
The upshot of this article is: tasting and enjoying wine doesn't have to be hard or snobbish. As we enjoyed a nice Kiwi Sauv Blanc this evening it repayed just that little bit of extra time to stop and appreciate it.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
I'm convinced one of them is the boardroom meeting.
This institution / ritual has been with us for ... a long time. It's part of our DNA; it's what we do. Birds fly south in winter. Ants get busy before rain. Businesses have meetings.
Just out of curiosity, have most of the substantial changes in your business / organisation been driven by what came out of formal meetings?
How often have meetings captured the best of what your people are capable of? How often have meetings opened a window into the brilliance and giftedness of the company's people?
How often have meetings aired with honesty (and grace) the real problems you face? (As opposed to tip-toeing around sensitive issues, afraid to name them for fear of repercussions?)
How often have meetings allowed for the honesty of complexity while driven by the need to generate consensus (and expeditiously at that)?
How often do meetings deliver for your organisation what we believe (and hope) meetings are supposed to accomplish?
I think meetings have a usefulness, but I'm still trying to decide just what that usefulness is. We've just had two days' of meetings, and it felt good and impassioned, and we talked through some pretty weighty stuff (and got some bonus beer and tucker thrown in for the trouble).
And I'm still left wondering what meetings are all about. Educate me.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Life is constant upskilling.
It seems we're always being prepared for one task or another through a process of training and trial.
We simulate reality in all sorts of ways. Nothing's quite as good as the real thing, and eventually training ends and we launch into 'the thing' itself.
I wonder how long it will be till plastic bars bolted onto a wooden platform become tree branches or rocky outcrops?
Monday, July 20, 2009
Recently, while waiting for a client to get to our meeting, I was left in a tea room with a copy of a book on tracking Australian animals and birds. Through lots of photos of footprints and scats the book taught you how to identify what had trafficked through your local area.
Life is full of footprints. Wherever we go, the marks of our presence are left behind. The tracks of others are left for us to follow, to read, and to learn from.
Whose footprints are you following? What are you learning from looking at the footprints around you?
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Friday, July 17, 2009
It's a real smorgasboard in 'bed land' these days: pocket springs, Bonnell springs, foam boxes, memory foam, latex, down etc.
Beds just ain't a hessian mat on the floor anymore.
The choice is somewhat overwhelming. All you can hope is that the design that does it for you now will still be delivering for you in 5 years' time.
Our last bed was a massive disappointment and its innards basically collapsed within a few years. When we got rid of it two weeks ago, it had more in common with the topography of the the south island of New Zealand than with the mattress we bought back in 2002.
Do you have any golden tips on choosing the right bed? One slightly greasy salesman kept saying to us, "Just leeesen to your buddy."
That's all well-and-good in the first instance, but what if your 'buddy' is telling you that the mattress you bought 3 years ago is not what it was when it left the shop floor?
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
What do the 'leftovers' in your neighbourhood tell you about the place?
Driving into Singleton this morning I was greeted by this massive pile of tailings.
The client I met with told me how much the mining companies have impacted the life of the town. Some of the mining companies donate significant funds back into the community as well as employing local people.
The tailings, the railway tracks, the payloaders ... they all tell you about the town and its character.
Our neighbourhood has very few 'leftovers' - but just down the road there is an old paddock and a rusty barbed wire fence.
What is now medium-density housing was once a thriving farming area. Just the other day a client was telling me that he remembers learning to drive on a farm out here.
In a previous suburb we lived in the style of houses said it all: a place largely settled by returned soldiers who bought their blocks, build a simple garage, and lived in it while they built their own fibro homes.
There are tales in the tailings. Having your eyes open enriches your understanding of where you are, and what has made it what it is.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
How do you imagine yourself being remembered?
When someone says your name in 80 years' time, what would you like them to recall?
What is it that contributes to how a person is remembered?
What is it that you think you'll be remembered for? Is it a lifetime of patterns, some singular achievements, or some crazy one-off event (like eating 15 cheeseburgers in 5 minutes)?
Monday, July 13, 2009
I read it to my son in bed.
My son in bed was wearing red
In bed and red while daddy read.
(It's true actually - he was wearing his bright red jammies.)
Dr Seuss it drains me so
My brain gets tired; my tongue won't go
My tired eyes boggle; my brain gets goggled -
But have you ever snoggled a Zoggle?
(Okay, my head's hurting now.)
Sunday, July 12, 2009
If you're too soft on your kids, you ruin them. If you always keep your plants in nursery conditions, you never harden them off. And you can be too kind to your BBQ as well.
Yes, for years I went through an almost religious cleaning ritual with my BBQ. After each cooking session, I'd be out there scrubbing it down, and getting just about every speck of grease off it. No yucky sticky pieces of six-month-old charred pineapple on my grill.
But you know something about grease? It's a rust inhibitor. Amazing. Grease on = no rust. Grease off = equals rusty sausages next time you fire it up.
Today was ridiculous. We had house church at our place and burgers for all. But it's hard to cook up a feed for a crowd when you've only got enough non-rusted space to do 3 hamburger patties at a time while the rest of the BBQ radiates its magnificent heat across acres of rust.
So I've been forced to abandon my much-loved rituals. My attempts to preserve this meeting place of metal, meat and fire ended up assisting the decline of my BBQ - there are now literally sheets of rust to be chipped off each time.
So tonight I raise my tongs to all those greasy, sticky, dirty old BBQ hotplates out there. I've learned my lesson: keep it mean.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Today as I trimmed and slashed I was forced to admire the tenaciousness of the white clover (Trifolium repens to most readers here, I'm sure). Even though I hit it last year with MCPA and bromoxinil, it's back with a vengeance this year.
It's one of those plants whose appearance I both love and dislike (the bees are madly in love with it), but whose nitrogen-fixing qualities I (and the rest of the lawn) appreciate. So maybe I'll be a little kinder to it this year. We'll see.
It's one of those things that is aesthetically a little off-putting, but is in every other way beneficial (a bit like brown bread or orange juice with the chunks in it).
What do you think? Mercy on the clover? Or doom, death, and destruction?
Friday, July 10, 2009
Unconventional forms of assistance are by no means unacceptable. You don't need a step-ladder for climbing - heck, if trampling over toys, crawling along the back of the lounge, clambering up on the coffee table, gets you where you want to be then why not?
What do you clamber over, jump from, scramble through to get to where you need to be?
The best stepping stones aren't always purposely designed that way.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Over the years I've appreciated the flexibility and excellent battery life out of some good cordless drills (if you know tools, blue Bosch and Panasonic).
I've also had a decent run out of laptop batteries. Over the years most of the laptops I've owned have had Ni-Cd or Ni-mH batteries in them. I have always been careful to cycle batteries, and to not leave them plugged in too long. And so I would often still be getting up to two hours' use out of a five-year-old battery.
Not so this time. On my present laptop the battery is Lithium-Ion. The big plus: it recharges so quickly, and is cool with being 'topped up'. The downside? It doesn't have the longevity of the other guys.
These lithium batteries are apparently good for about three hundred cycles, and then the chemistry ain't so crash-hot anymore. And that's what's happened here. The nice long runs of 2 or 2 1/2 hours have come to an end. Quite abruptly. We're good for about 15 minutes now.
I knew there had to be a trade-off for the convenience and power! Has anyone else made this discovery? I think I'd almost rather go back to the Ni-mH days.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Monday, July 6, 2009
A look at some of these roofs is a bit of a blast from the past. But it's the way of the future.
The City of Toronto is leading the way here. If you live anywhere near the heatsink that is western Sydney, you'll be saying 'Bring it on'!
And more trees - as opposed to this highly selective piffle.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
I guess this kind of works when you're not exactly on an even keel yourself.
Crazy friends are good - lots of raucous laughs, some tears, great food and wine, some pretty full-on conversations, and the reminder that it really is good to be alive.
We were with a mob of them this afternoon / evening, for our six-weekly catch-up of FOCG (I will only tell you that the first two words are 'Friends of' and the last word is 'Grace'. You'll have to die wondering what the 'C' part is).
Anyway, somewhere in the conversation someone introduced the concept of the tradesmen's entrance. We were talking about the pretentiousness that surrounds properties, and indeed whole cities: we put our best foot forward, and hide all the rumblings - the dirty laundry, the sewer, the hot water system, old broken furniture, the fire escape, the long grass - out the back.
Sydney's no different. We live less than five minutes from suburbs like Bidwill and Shalvey - and Sydney's no different.
And our lives are no different. People who encounter us in a state of readiness find a neat and orderly front yard, newly cut green grass, and a big ... driveway.
But the tradies go down the side, and come around the back. They know where things are really at. They know what work needs to be done. They see - horror of horrors - what we don't want the whole jolly neighbourhood to see.
Our lives are no different to the games we play with our houses and our cities. Best foot forward, people.
And heaven help you if you encounter a 'tradesman' - someone who decides not to enter your life through the well-advertised front door, but down through a side gate and into the messy rumblings of the dingy, seedy back of your personal apartment (where dirty laundry is the nicest of what's there).
Most people - most, most people - will never see down into that part of your life. But there are eyes that see - you know that, don't you?
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Mark Strom has made the argument before in his 'Leading Wisely' lecture series that we perhaps do well to boil the subject matter back down to a simple verb: 'to lead'.
So much discussion about 'leadership' ends up in lists of 'The 12 qualities of', 'Studies of famous leaders', 'The irrefutable laws of' etc. So little of it ends up being about the simple human activities of leading and following.
I've begun reading Ron Carucci's Leadership Divided. It's a very interesting read. Without saying any more, I wonder which attributes resonate with you when you think about the times you have been led well - or have led another person yourself in a way you think was effective.
Is it always the same attributes that come into play?
Can a perceived strength in one circumstance become a perceived failing in another - and vice versa?
Friday, July 3, 2009
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Presently, she's in Season 3. During the episode she was watching last night, I heard the following exchange between Toby Ziegler and newly-named U.S. poet laureate, Tabatha Fortis.
Tabatha: I like crossing off lists - it's very satisfying. You like lists?
Tabatha: You like crossing things off?
Toby: I'll let you know if it happens.
Later in the evening I finished a short-ish book by Tim Keller, The Prodigal God.
It's nice to finish things.
It's gratifying to cross things off. Sometimes when I have a lot of tasks to do in a day, I write a list. I cross them off as I go. Occasionally, I remember things I've already done, and add them to the list, then cross them off immediately. (Okay, that's just a little too obsessive, I know.)
Finishing things is gratifying. But what about starting things?
A friend said to me recently that his gift isn't in finishing things; it's in starting them. For him, starting things is gratifying. Seeing others build on them is also gratifying. When I look at how he's wired, and what he's contributed to over the years, it makes sense.
I guess there is a gratification that comes with completing something, and a gratification that comes with starting something as well. But what about the middle bit?
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
I don't quite remember how I happened across the work of Leo Kim.
Leo took that series beloved of every young boy, and came up with his own episode titled 'Thomas Tank Mad Bomber'.
Leo must have known he was on to a big hit: boys (big and little) love trains. And explosions.
Personally, I think the Thomas series was always begging for a good explosion. You only ever had to watch an episode or two of the original to recognise that here was one seriously vindictive shedful of steam engines. A sudden malicious flame-burst was only ever a toot-toot away.
While the episode itself is worth the watch (gotta love the droll humour that follows after 1:30), even more fascinating are all the 'making of' videos that Leo has done to showcase the challenges of film-making with model trains on a shoestring.
It's clever stuff. Even if Leo is Victorian.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Adults think they know what kids want.
Kids know exactly what they want.
A playground full of equipment designed by adults for kids to play on.
And a bubbler designed by adults for people to drink from.
Where do think the kids spent most of their half hour at the local park?
And no, it didn't end dry or tidy. But they did discover a new way of having loads of fun - no play equipment necessary.
(By the way, if you want to see a really 'smart' park, next time you're passing through Blayney stop over and let the kids loose on Heritage Park - it's a park that stands up even without the play equipment.)
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Paulownia originated in China, and was naturalised in Japan centuries ago. It is widely used for the building of furniture and fine cabinet-making, especially in the marine industries (the timber at its best is straight-grained, strong and very light).
Sunday, April 26, 2009
This wasn't some sort of attempt to give the studio an 'arty' edge; it was the reality of trying to get work done in the middle of a renovation.
This simple affair hadn't even been given the 'once over' prior to installation; this door which appeared to have had long exposure to the weather showed all the signs of being picked from the rubble heap and dumped on two trestles. During our meeting I discovered a rusty nail sticking up on my side of the table (next to the dead lock).
A pristine, precisely-manufactured desk is imbibed with no inherent ability to generate productivity. Conversely, some of the finest art has been produced on some fairly rough-and-ready work surfaces (if in doubt, survey the photos of famous British chair bodger, Jack Goodchild, at work in his Naphill workshop).
Chris Schwarz over at his Woodworking Magazine blog recently held a competition for the roughest workbench ('Most Pathetic Workbench') his readers could find. The photos - and his descriptions ("the thing that looks like a small mammal") - are worthy of five minutes of your time. Schwarz does make the comment that you don't need a great bench to do great work, although it probably helps.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Pictures of Cupid appear around the place at this time of February.
The obvious design question revolves around the machinery of love, or the history of archery.
What makes love work is a little bit too big for me to tackle tonight, so here's a nice little running history of the story of bows and arrows.
In case you're wondering, Cupid is normally seen armed with a recurve bow (compound bows and cross-bows coming onto the scene long after his innovation).
Friday, February 13, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Moving along ...
How often has the act of discovery put you in a bind?
You stumble across some hidden gem - perhaps it's the $50 / night accommodation you found in *******, Tasmania. Or it might be the stunning $4.50 'Titanic' burger that was unveiled to you in ********, in rural northern NSW. Perhaps it was just the pleasure of spending some time one-to-one in the company of a Jimmy Watson trophy winner, and indulging in his delicious port at the cellar door in ****** ***** in Victoria.
And so you see the bind.
You want to tell someone else about your discovery, but you don't want to spoil it. You want to be able to discover it again, finding it just as satisfying as the first time you discovered it. There is a longing for the discovery to remain unspoilt.
I guess it's probably a form of selfishness, often disguised with half-convincing justifications.
Of course, when you do share it with other people, and they 'taste' of your discovery, there's that wonderful moment that they share their delight with you. And if you never share a discovery, you don't have the pleasure of those conversations.
And perhaps the little burger joint in Inverell, or the Graeme Miller winery in Dixon's Creek, or the ladies who manage the manse accommodation at Stanley will think that no one loves them and decide to shut up shop ...
Perhaps the best way to keep a discovery alive is to share it.
P.S. Many thanks to Dave & Erika for clueing me up on where we could buy copious quantities of **** at truly amazing prices. We have stocked up with several cases since! The Murray Valley Ch@rdonn@y which worked out at around $2.45 per bottle delivered is amazing. The $4.65 Sh!r@z was also stunning value.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Sometimes words seem so inadequate.
For joy, for sorrow, for grace, for compassion, for bewilderment, for hope, for forgiveness, for walking into darkness, for pressing towards light.
We are able to 'feel' far beyond the boundaries of words.
Monday, January 19, 2009
2009 is a good year to read a classic or three.
For those who pay some attention to the people whose books moulded Western history, you may know this year commemorates the five-hundredth birthday of John Calvin.
Sadly, Calvin is not present to celebrate with us (he has a prior engagement he is attending to), but he has left us with many books which - like him or loathe him - have contributed to the moulding of Western society.
None of Calvin's works does this more so than Institutes of the Christian Religion. I have read probably half this work before, and have decided that 2009 is a good year to reimmerse myself in this classic. I'm following this reading plan, and finding it very manageable.
Every evening - like a toddy before bed - I imbibe in a little Calvin. That is normally followed by a page of two of Darrel Martin's The Fly Fisher's Craft: the Art and History (see my previous post).
During lunchtime at work, I share a salami sandwich with Luther. Many years ago I digested quite a good chunk of that work he regarded most highly himself: On the Bondage of the Will (1525). And now I'm plodding my way through it again.
If you ever want to encounter passion in a writer, you'll meet it in Martin Luther. He's so bold, so brash, so rude. He gets away with a lot - probably as much as Jerome who referred to Pelagius as 'that fat, bloated alpine dog'. Yeah.
On the Bondage of the Will is incisive, careful writing, but so jolly entertaining too. Seeing as I was dipping back into Calvin again, it seemed only fair to let Luther in on some of the action too.
As Luther writes in response to Desiderius Erasmus' On Free Will (1524), he drops you straight into the action in the introduction. If you know even a little about Reformation history, you'll note his outrageous sense of humour:
"[I and others long before me have refuted your assertions on free will such] that it seems even superfluous to reply to these your arguments, which have been indeed often refuted by me; but trodden down, and trampled under foot, by the incontrovertible Book of Philip Melancthon "Concerning Theological Questions:" a book, in my judgment, worthy not only of being immortalized, but of being included in the ecclesiastical canon: in comparison of which, your Book is, in my estimation, so mean and vile, that I greatly feel for you for having defiled your most beautiful and ingenious language with such vile trash; and I feel an indignation against the matter also, that such unworthy stuff should be borne about in ornaments of eloquence so rare; which is as if rubbish, or dung, should be carried in vessels of gold and silver. And this you yourself seem to have felt, who were so unwilling to undertake this work of writing; because your conscience told you, that you would of necessity have to try the point with all the powers of eloquence; and that, after all, you would not be able so to blind me by your colouring, but that I should, having torn off the deceptions of language, discover the real dregs beneath. For, although I am rude in speech, yet, by the grace of God, I am not rude in understanding. And, with Paul, I dare arrogate to myself understanding and with confidence derogate it from you; although I willingly, and deservedly, arrogate eloquence and genius to you, and derogate it from myself."
Tell us what you really think, Luther!
So it's a good year for a classic. Which means when I'm done with Luther, I'm going to have to hunt down another classic ... any suggestions? Some Shakespeare? Plutarch? Gibbon? Wordsworth?
What recommend ye?
Sunday, January 11, 2009
So it is with new fancy notepaper, a luxury perfume, that ball of wool that was handed down to you from your grandmother, handspun by her as a young woman.
Apparently, everything has a season, and a season is appointed for everything under the sun. The challenge is reading the season. Or maybe it's reading the object and trying to work out which season it is.
When is the season right - when is it special enough - for the lavish act of using something special that will not be replaced? And when you use it, will its use in fact be lavish? Or is it to be savoured, drawn out, lingered over? Is the joy of the moment to squander it lavishly, revelling in the luxury, or to delay, to mete out steadily?
Our wine rack has accumulated a few 'special moments' over the years. We recently opened a bottle of wine that we were given to enjoy for our fifth wedding anniversary. We have had this bottle since our wedding, and I'd been eyeing it off, waiting for the opportunity to share this 11 year old cabernet with my wife. The moment arrived: we popped the cork and ... it was corked.
So it goes. Sometimes the item is right - even the season is right - and then oxygen goes and gets in the way. Sometimes things can become so precious to us - their 'ideal day' so ideal - that their season is never realised, and they pass their peak into uselessness, or supersede our days and pass into the hands of another where they languish in obscurity.
Sometimes you take something precious in your hands, look at the company around you, realise that it may never get any closer to the ideal day than now, and then recklessly dive in.
But how we long for retrospective vision! We long to know if this is the moment. But we can never know. It is a 'gut' thing ... we hunt after a hunch ... and then we take the prize in our hands, and the 'moment' in the other, and we bring them together.
Perhaps we judge the moment of meeting to be a success if we remember the moment, the friends, the atmosphere, more than we do the thing itself.
I've never regretted opening my favourite cabernet, or using my favourite 'saved up' birthday card, for such an occasion. Sometimes the season is no longer an 'if only' or a 'maybe next year', it is now.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Elisha is giving us his best Donald Sutherland.
And Caelan lets go with an almighty 'Crikey!' to honour the departed Croc Hunter.
You can all go back to normal eating and sleeping patterns now. Life's normal programming has resumed.