Born in Sydney, grew up in Toowoomba, live in Brisbane. Happy to be married to Vincent, with three mostly grown children: Renata, Tristan and Dylan. My home has a big outdoor deck overlooking a mango tree and, somewhere in the distance, Moreton Island. I sing, mostly in Church, and am part of a small but very good choir. I love my family, God, living in the lucky country and being part of a community, big and small.
This is a quick post about Movember. No, that's not a typo. Movember is the month for blokes to grow mo's (moustaches). I have sponsored two mo's so far for this growing season - for Jeff and Ashley at work (interstate). Funds raised go to charities supporting prostate cancer support and depression support for men. Good stuff, and the mo is very trendy!
This is an oldy but a goody; dates back to the eighties. I lived in Toowoomba and could walk to work in about 30 minutes. I would of course wear joggers (trainers, gym shoes for any overseas readers) and then change into more formal shoes when I arrived at work.
On this particular day I had my formal shoes in my back pack. There was an intersection close to work which was notorious for drivers running the red light. Because of this, I was not able to step off the curb until after the walk light had changed to flashing red. An impatient driver waiting to turn the corner blew his horn at me as I scurried across the road. I was moving so quickly that one of my shoes wriggled out of the backpack and onto the road. The next car ran over my shoe!
Quickly running back, I managed to retrieve my shoe without injury to my own person. I was pretty annoyed by the bad driving and impatience, though.
However, I was rewarded to find that my shoe was not only still in one piece, but, having previously squeaked when I walked, it now had the squeak squashed out of it!
On Tuesdays, my son Dylan has physical education at school. He must wear his formal uniform to and from schoold and change into his sports uniform at school, so he takes this in a small separate carry bag. Last Tuesday, Dylan was on the bus on the way to school when he realised the sports bag was missing. A quick call to his dad, who was out of the house, but still in the neighbourhood: please check if I have left it in the lounge room or the bedroom, or at the bus stop.
No luck. Dylan checked for himself when he came home that afternoon. No sign.
Well, surely it was left at the bus stop and someone has picked it up. Who would want Dylan's sports uniform? The sports shoes were good quality, but far from new. Damn - have to buy new shoes, new uniform. Luckily there is another older uniform at home and some old shoes belonging to his older brother Tristan. These will do for now.
As I'm driving later in the evening after picking Tristan up for his game, I tell him that in the morning I will have a talk to the children who catch the bus after Dylan. Surely they saw the bag. If I give them the evil eye they will confess all!
In the morning, Dylan calls me into his room to show me the miracle. The bag is on the floor, with uniform and shoes in tact! How can this be, we all checked for it. It really is a miracle.
Then Tristan emerges from the bathroom. When I had brought Tristan home, after Dylan was asleep, he found the shoes in his own room. Dylan had been sitting in Tristan's room, while Tristan put his shoes on, before they left the house on Tuesday morning. And so on finding the bag after everyone else was in bed, Tristan kindly returned it to Dylan's bedroom and left it on the floor for him.