Still tinkering. Happier this time. Yes, it's the original template, but with a few changes. The lawn you see here is my own front lawn, photographed this morning.
I have to say that the new layout tools that Blogger is offering make all this fiddling considerably easier. Actually, the tools are not that new, it's just the first time I've had a look at them.
More layout changes to come, no doubt.
15 September 2008
13 September 2008
A Brief Guide To Cane Toads
Tim asked in response to the blog redesign, "Is the toad significant, or just cute?" Tim, Tim, Tim, where do I start?
The cane toad is very much a symbol of Queensland. In short, it was introduced into the sugar cane fields from Mexico, to control Cane Beetle, which was threatening sugar crops. As it turns out, toads can't fly, whereas Cane Beetles can, so the success of the plan was somewhat limited, to put it gently (or so the hallowed myth goes). Since that introduction in the 1930's the poisonous toad has bred and spread at an astonishing rate, killing native frogs, snakes, goannas... you name it. It's even made it to East Timor, renamed the INTERFET frog.
It's the unquestioned duty of every Queenlander to kill any toad that strays across their path. In the olden days, the universal tools of choice were golf clubs and cricket bats. If driving, good sport was to be found weaving all over the road to hit as many as possible, extra points for hitting one square on with a loud pop. Now, in more civilised times, the correct method is to freeze them, the rationale being that as a cold-blooded critter they just slow down with the cold and suffer little. True? I can't say for sure, but what I do know is that it's best to label them clearly in their freezer bag, lest your partner should get them out and leave them on the sink to defrost, thinking it to be chicken. Yes, that is based a friend's experience.
So, the toads are much hated, and yet, much loved. We know we should hate the toad, but many of us harbour the dirty, dirty secret of being really quite fond of it. The toad is a bit of an in-joke amongst Queenslanders, such as in the splendid and greatly mourned satirical magazine, The Cane Toad Times. I myself am the proud owner of a cane toad purse, given to me by a native as a farewell gift as I moved South for a while.* It's a hideous thing, but when I looked at it after months away I felt homesick. And strangely comforted.
There's no denying that toads are a damned scourge, but I would be quite sad if I never saw one again. Their stupidity and clumsiness in combination with that serious frown they wear is endearing. I placed one on the header of my blog because to me it represents what Suburban Safari is about: the mundane, the parochial, the local, the ridiculous. And like the suburbs themselves, they're an ugly plague that's not we'll not be rid of any time soon.
Further Toady Information
*Also available are the tasteful stuffed toads, surely a must for any discerning modern person.
The cane toad is very much a symbol of Queensland. In short, it was introduced into the sugar cane fields from Mexico, to control Cane Beetle, which was threatening sugar crops. As it turns out, toads can't fly, whereas Cane Beetles can, so the success of the plan was somewhat limited, to put it gently (or so the hallowed myth goes). Since that introduction in the 1930's the poisonous toad has bred and spread at an astonishing rate, killing native frogs, snakes, goannas... you name it. It's even made it to East Timor, renamed the INTERFET frog.
It's the unquestioned duty of every Queenlander to kill any toad that strays across their path. In the olden days, the universal tools of choice were golf clubs and cricket bats. If driving, good sport was to be found weaving all over the road to hit as many as possible, extra points for hitting one square on with a loud pop. Now, in more civilised times, the correct method is to freeze them, the rationale being that as a cold-blooded critter they just slow down with the cold and suffer little. True? I can't say for sure, but what I do know is that it's best to label them clearly in their freezer bag, lest your partner should get them out and leave them on the sink to defrost, thinking it to be chicken. Yes, that is based a friend's experience.
So, the toads are much hated, and yet, much loved. We know we should hate the toad, but many of us harbour the dirty, dirty secret of being really quite fond of it. The toad is a bit of an in-joke amongst Queenslanders, such as in the splendid and greatly mourned satirical magazine, The Cane Toad Times. I myself am the proud owner of a cane toad purse, given to me by a native as a farewell gift as I moved South for a while.* It's a hideous thing, but when I looked at it after months away I felt homesick. And strangely comforted.
There's no denying that toads are a damned scourge, but I would be quite sad if I never saw one again. Their stupidity and clumsiness in combination with that serious frown they wear is endearing. I placed one on the header of my blog because to me it represents what Suburban Safari is about: the mundane, the parochial, the local, the ridiculous. And like the suburbs themselves, they're an ugly plague that's not we'll not be rid of any time soon.
Further Toady Information
- Highly recommended viewing on subject is the amusing Cane Toads: An Unnatural History.
- Cane toad myths
*Also available are the tasteful stuffed toads, surely a must for any discerning modern person.
Football Galore
Good grief, not a good night on the box for those who don't love ball games.
Channel 9: Rugby League, Cronulla v Canberra, then Manly v St George.
Channel 10: Australian Rules, St Kilda v Collingwood
Channel 7: Rugby Union, Australia v New Zealand
ABC2: Wheelchair Rugby, Australia v New Zealand
I'd never seen wheelchair rugby before, so switched on the box to have a peek, flicking between the two trans-Tasman games. The main difference between wheelchair rugby and the regular variety? No highly attractive spitting. It's lost me there, right from the start.
Channel 9: Rugby League, Cronulla v Canberra, then Manly v St George.
Channel 10: Australian Rules, St Kilda v Collingwood
Channel 7: Rugby Union, Australia v New Zealand
ABC2: Wheelchair Rugby, Australia v New Zealand
I'd never seen wheelchair rugby before, so switched on the box to have a peek, flicking between the two trans-Tasman games. The main difference between wheelchair rugby and the regular variety? No highly attractive spitting. It's lost me there, right from the start.
North Quay
I sat watching the wake of the ferry I'd just missed massage the greasy bank. As the cars hush, hush, hushed along the freeway overhead, I idly watched a thin metal sheet fight for air as the little waves pushed it under, and under again. A little further along a car axle, bent, rusted, poked half-heartedly upward from its wheel. How the hell did that come to be down here? I imagine it falling from the suspended roadway during the clean-up of a horrible accident. Or maybe it jolted loose from a tangle of scrap on the back of truck. And what about that esky lid? It looks new. Somewhere there's a lidless esky, useless, its owner unable to bring themselves to get rid of it because, well, look at it! It's brand bloody new! And the lid's got to turn up sometime.
Under the Riverside Expressway is filthy, shabby, unattractive and unloved, but interesting for being such an unusual place to be. It's the ferry stop that brings me here this morning; it's a treat to be able to make my way across the city on the wide, arcing river. The North Quay stop is right in the city, but tucked away; a secret place. There are still a few mangroves down here, in amongst the concrete and disregard. Their aerial roots are like vast herds of exclamation marks, saying, Look! Look! A t-shirt! Look! A thong! A telephone! Plastic bags! Look! And despite the old t-shirt, and the solitary blue thong, and the huddle of discarded drink bottles, and the telephone handset all wedged in the mud of low tide, despite the pigeon shit and the Portaloos and the overflowing skip, the mangroves bring to mind what this stretch of the bank once was. The Commissariat Store is just nearby, the Treasury up the stairs just behind me. As forlorn as it now is, it's not impossible to imagine what this place was when this city was just a dusty colonial outpost.
Under the Riverside Expressway is filthy, shabby, unattractive and unloved, but interesting for being such an unusual place to be. It's the ferry stop that brings me here this morning; it's a treat to be able to make my way across the city on the wide, arcing river. The North Quay stop is right in the city, but tucked away; a secret place. There are still a few mangroves down here, in amongst the concrete and disregard. Their aerial roots are like vast herds of exclamation marks, saying, Look! Look! A t-shirt! Look! A thong! A telephone! Plastic bags! Look! And despite the old t-shirt, and the solitary blue thong, and the huddle of discarded drink bottles, and the telephone handset all wedged in the mud of low tide, despite the pigeon shit and the Portaloos and the overflowing skip, the mangroves bring to mind what this stretch of the bank once was. The Commissariat Store is just nearby, the Treasury up the stairs just behind me. As forlorn as it now is, it's not impossible to imagine what this place was when this city was just a dusty colonial outpost.
9 September 2008
New and Shiny
Yup, I'm fiddling with the layout of the blog, something I've been meaning to do for, oh, about two years. What do you think? It's a bit too white for my liking at the moment. I was accustomed to the quietness of the navy blue I had before. I'll keep dicking about and see what I come up with; I may even just reload the old one and be done with it.
Later: Less white, now more a testament to how many nappies I've changed, now that I sit back and look. Bear with me for a few weeks, if you would.
Later: Less white, now more a testament to how many nappies I've changed, now that I sit back and look. Bear with me for a few weeks, if you would.
5 September 2008
Roller Derby Dolls
Watching the box tonight I saw an ad on the ABC for Roller Derby Dolls, a documentary about the newly-revitalised sport of women's full-contact roller derby. It would have caught my attention anyway, but the reason I sat up in my seat is that I've been waiting about two years for it to hit my screen; its maker, my friend Phoebe, was telling me about it as she made it, and it sounds like an absolute hoot. Knowing Phoebe, it's bound to be.
So do yourself a favour!
ABC 1, 8pm Tuesday 9 September, also available for viewing on iView for a short while.
So do yourself a favour!
ABC 1, 8pm Tuesday 9 September, also available for viewing on iView for a short while.
4 September 2008
Catching Up
As I was prompted about a day or two ago, I've been a bit quiet online lately. True. Not in real life, though.
Oscar at the cafe.
The sanity-saving tunnel. This thing stops us clawing at each other when we're stuck inside on rainy days.
Being turned upside down helps the happy factor, too.
So, to celebrate the return of the desktop (and therefore access to Photoshop), and a recently acquired new camera, a few photos. And hopefully a wee film, if I can get the Youtube embedding to work.
Of course, most of my busyness comes from the kiddies. They're in fine fettle now after several weeks of illness. It involved colds, persistent ear infections, and a double dose of the Yellow Peril. They're walking and talking; it's all good.
And I've returned to work, which is good and bad. Good because I get to leave the house twice a week and use my adult brain, bad because I have to leave the house and use my adult brain. I've been surprised by what a wrench it is to prise myself away on a work day.
Aside from that, a new sewing machine has kept me productive, as have the old knitting needles. A show-and-tell of the past few months' craft projects will follow in due course.
ETA: Lara, an email will follow shortly, I promise.
Oscar at the cafe.One of the things keeping me out of the online world has been some computer issues. Stupid issues caused by my own actions and kept that way due to a lack of time to concentrate on fixing them. In a nutshell, my desktop machine has been out of action for months and I've been making do with a laptop only slightly more powerful than a cornflakes box. I've been able to browse (slowly) but nothing more, so I guess that I hadn't been completely cut off has lessened the motivation to get the Big Box up and running again.
I'm pleased to announce, with no little fanfare, that over the past few days I have actually sat down and done it, albeit with some prodding and help from Little Sister and Lofty. So I'm now parked in front of the big machine... which I had forgotten has a very sticky space bar, hence the eccentric spacing. If I could just hook up the laptop to use as a keyboard I'd be smiling.
I'm pleased to announce, with no little fanfare, that over the past few days I have actually sat down and done it, albeit with some prodding and help from Little Sister and Lofty. So I'm now parked in front of the big machine... which I had forgotten has a very sticky space bar, hence the eccentric spacing. If I could just hook up the laptop to use as a keyboard I'd be smiling.
The sanity-saving tunnel. This thing stops us clawing at each other when we're stuck inside on rainy days. 
Being turned upside down helps the happy factor, too. So, to celebrate the return of the desktop (and therefore access to Photoshop), and a recently acquired new camera, a few photos. And hopefully a wee film, if I can get the Youtube embedding to work.
Of course, most of my busyness comes from the kiddies. They're in fine fettle now after several weeks of illness. It involved colds, persistent ear infections, and a double dose of the Yellow Peril. They're walking and talking; it's all good.
And I've returned to work, which is good and bad. Good because I get to leave the house twice a week and use my adult brain, bad because I have to leave the house and use my adult brain. I've been surprised by what a wrench it is to prise myself away on a work day.
Aside from that, a new sewing machine has kept me productive, as have the old knitting needles. A show-and-tell of the past few months' craft projects will follow in due course.
ETA: Lara, an email will follow shortly, I promise.
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