She's a Rainaic.

You've been holding back on me, United States.  All these years, you've been telling me lies and it's only just now that I've moved to Australia that I've been able to figure it out.

Let me give you a typical scenario:  it's the 4th of July.  It's RAINING (it does that) and oops, the fireworks are cancelled because you can't have fireworks in the rain.  I mean that's what they tell us right?  and you think one of two things:

1) "well naturally you can't have fireworks in the rain, how would you light the wicks?" (conveniently forgetting these things are all remote controlled now a days)
2) "well, naturally you can't have fireworks in the rain, how would you see the fireworks with all the clouds?" (conveniently forgetting CLOUDS ARE UP REALLY HIGH.)

but year after year, storm after storm, we believe that you simply cannot shoot off fireworks in the rain.  because that is what we've been told.

Well, prepare to have your world shattered as i present to you....fireworks.  IN THE RAIN!

okay, i'll let you in on a little secret.  I get it, US. Even though you CAN have fireworks in the rain, maybe it's not something that most people would really go for.  At least not in the winter.  It's cold.  And wet.  But it DOES make the fireworks look really neat.  So perhaps under a covering?  But in Australia's defense, they can really only shoot of fireworks in the winter, because in the summer, there's pretty much a total fire-ban because of all the wildfires.  Even though fireworks are awesome, burning down your entire countryside is decidedly not. 

Because Melbourne is tryin' real hard to get people on board with coming here in the wintertime (where it's really more like winter-light, than anything a new englander would be used to) they had a neat little thing at the docklands every Friday in July.  The docklands is a little baby waterfront, with some shops, a broken down ferris wheels (I make it sound so glam, right?) and some sick apartments.

View of the city from my future apartment

Since I had to work mostly every day while alyssa was here, i was trying to come up with night time activities (which are often few and far between if you're not planning on hitting up the pub)  So we thought this might be nice.  I hadn't really gotten to do much with Alyssa since she arrived on Thursday, but we did grab dinner in the city on Wednesday and she and Shawn hit up the zoo on Thursday while I was at work.  During the fireworks however, I'm not sure we assumed it would torrential downpour but with several umbrellas, we sort of made the most of it.  After all, if the street performers could withstand it without umbrellas (ellas ellas ellas), who am I to complain?

Hangin with Dame Edna.

Shawn warming himself like a hobo at a restaurant

After the fireworks, we headed to the casino for a nice dinner (an interesting journey in itself since they stopped running our tram, and upon taking another one had a bit of difficulty viewing the landmarks because the windows were so fogged up)  Dinner wasn't too bad, and the next day we were headed to Healesville Sanctuary for animal encounters.

waterlogged and starving

waiting for carbs.

*i cannot help that these videos only contain stereotypical Aussie songs.

He gave me a Vegemite Sandwich

It had to happen sometime.

America the Beautiful

I think I've earned the award for worlds worst blogger.  But, I will also note, as I type this we JUST HAD ANOTHER EARTHQUAKE.  Is the world ending because I'm blogging?  Or is that just because it's 2012?  Mull over that.

In the next few weeks, expect more posts, sisterwife #1 Alyssa will be here on TUESDAY and we're going to have so much to do!  Since you all probably don't want to hear about my day to day adventures on database management, (or do you?) I haven't had much to report as of late.  After Alyssa vacates back to the states (if i let her..wha ha ha) there will even be a newwwww interactive blog to look forward to, compliments of an accidental co-operative idea from the lovely nicole of RWU fame!

If there is anything that I am longing for like nobody's business, it's American food.  In fact, Shawn and I have been on a great quest since we've arrived in Melbourne, if for nothing else then to find a 'normal' hamburger.  (they are always sneaking weird ingredients into the mince here, it's not just like...ground meat and cheese, it's spiced meat.  stop spicing the meat, and stop putting onions in it.)  After not having delicious American food for so long, i have turned into a looney tunes character marooned on an island and now sort of see everyone like this:

Better hallucinating hot dogs than turkeys?

To quell our US food cravings, we insisted on celebrating the 4th of July here.  Shawn, as a surprise to me, went to the USA grocery store (seriously this was an epic feat, it's like 2 hours by bus from our house) and got me tons of US treats.  Sadly, they were all out of cheezits.  (re: someone friggen send us some cheezits. I am NOT kidding)  But he did get:

 The Reeses and the Wheat Thins STILL exist in the house.  I am rationing.  Nutter butters....were gone in .43 seconds.

 We had a proper 4th of July meal, with hot dogs and potato salad and corn on the cob.  Delicious.

Even a little burnt

BRAND NAME CONDIMENTS!

Still, every few weeks, the craving for American food is nearly unbearable.  And thankfully, Shawn's school friends wanted to go out for dinner AND they wanted him to pick.  Shawn stumbled across an American style diner, (run by an ex-pat), so that's where we headed.  The burgers weren't so great, but the milkshakes, (real, real, real milkshakes, made with ice cream!) were AMAZING.  This may or may not have had something to do with the fact that mine was Peanut Butter and Captain Crunch.  But Shawn's Junior Mint and Oreo was pretty good too. And since I wanted American food so badly, I broke two cardinal rules this night:  1) I got dessert even though I had a milkshake.  It was Key Lime Pie.  I couldn't resist.  2) I shared dairy.  Please understand what a gigantic deal this was for me.  I let someone else (WHO I HAD JUST MET!) drink out of my milkshake.  I am trying not to dwell on this.  Moving very quickly onward.

Shawn's friends were a complete delight, and took lots of pictures.  I'm excited to hang out with them again, they were adorable!  (and my height and we all know how much I love having friends that are the same height as me)  The waiter of the joint was an American too and yup, just sliiiiiightly rude.  Awww, reminds me of waitstaff back home :) 

We felt Pey's dessert needed MORE American flags

HORSE DRESS.

Challenge Burger.

I feel the Earth move under my feet.

My father has a fascination with storms.  When we were little and there would be a tornado watch, he would always say how he'd like to see one.  God only knows why he thought they were fascinating, I grew up with a healthy fear of weather, and every time we had a watch or a warning I would recite what I would need to do.  I learned my recitations from tv and movies, and from that book about the night of the 7 tornadoes that my 4th grade teacher Mr. Spillane read to us.  (tornadoes at night?  horrifying.  How would you even see it coming?)

Here is my very limited tornado preparedness mantra:
If you were in your house, you'd go to the south east corner of your basement (I had/have no idea how to tell direction so that would be helpful), and stay away from windows.  And you get under a mattress (note, drag mattresses down into the basement)
If you were outside of the house, you should get under an underpass, because that's what that dad did with his kids and they were fine. (though I think they say NOT to do that now...)
If there aren't any underpasses, lie in a ditch. (this STILL seems unhelpful, because what, if the tornado can't see you, it can't suck you up?  I understand it will probably help me from getting impaled with a straw, but still....)

I'm not sure what my dad's stance is on earthquakes.  I know when I was younger, he told me behind my cousins house in Tolland that there was a fault line.  I'm pretty sure it was just a quarry.  As a child you actually couldn't trust much what my dad said.  If you fell asleep in the car, he'd tell you you'd missed all these fun things. (re: Herbie Hall of Fame, which is the hall of fame for Volkswagon beetles)  He also told me that those giant water towers made apple sauce (all the apples compress down on each other, how ELSE did I think it got made?) and told one cousin on our trip to Illinois that Hostess had a 50 ft. Twinkie in storage when we drove by the factory.  When he learned my dad had been joking, he was devastated.  What can I say, my dad's a pretty convincing guy.

But I digress.
  
Although pretty famous for its blizzards, New England isn't exactly what you'd call a severe weather hot-spot.  Thus there are only a few natural weather/occurrences that a New Englanders' brains are equipped to handle.  This makes it a bit challenging when something out of the realm of my weather knowledge and experience occurs.

Case.  in.  point.

In July of 2008, Shawn and I were living in Rhode Island.  I was heading home from work, chatting with my brother on my cell when a vicious storm hit.  Looking out my window, I see a funnel cloud begin to descend from the heavens.

Me: Uh....there's a tornado.
Brother: Are you serious?
Me: Uh......what do I do?
Brother: Get out of the car and lie in a ditch! (He swears he did not say that, I swear he did.)
Me: NO!  I'll drive back to work and hide in the basement.

You see, in situations like these, you don't really know what you're supposed to do.  Do you lie in ditch?  Do you hide in a basement?  Because New Englanders are not often faced with this situation, we don't really know how we're supposed to react.  Or maybe that's just me.  (Side note, we DO have blizzard skills.  Things I like to say in a blizzard "NO, YOU IDIOT, why are you breaking on the hill???  NOW WE ARE ALL GOING BACKWARDS!"  Seriously, don't break on a hill when it's snowing.  it's just bad news.  This public service announcement brought to you by the "don't break on the hill, ya idiot coalition for keeping a constant speed on hills in blizzards")

The tornado was barely a 1 on the F scale but my brain had fried anyway (we later theorized that the storm was brought upon by our discussion of this horrible piece of rubbish that I refuse to acknowledge as a movie, lest causing more tornado touchdowns)

There is a second part to this story.  The part when I arrive home.  Brain fried, doubting my choice of residency, shaken AND stirred, and in need of comfort.  I arrive home to then-boyfriend-now-husband seeking solace.


Me: I saw a tornado on the way home.  I COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED.  (my performance is nothing short of oscar worthy)
Shawn: Did you remember to pick up the milk?  We are out of milk.
Me: I could have been KILLED and all you care about is milk??!
Shawn: I like milk.

He does like milk.

Shawn was used to my penchant for...uh...'theatrics', but honestly, I WAS pretty freaked out.  I mean a tornado, in NEW ENGLAND?  What was next?  Epic Mississippi  river style floods? 

Fast forward to the week of our wedding.  We took a mini-moon in Connecticut and went to Lake Compounce.  While standing on a staircase for a water ride, several stories up, the structure began to sway.  I clutched on to Shawn for dear life, (what, I already feel pretty vulnerable in a bathing suit, we don't need to add the possibility of plummeting to my death into the equation) and the man in front of us joked "earthquake!"  well all kidding aside,  it was. 

So there you have it.  I survived a very minor tornado and a very minor earthquake.  I also knew in my heart of hearts right out in the open that I have NO BUSINESS living any place that is prone to natural disasters.  (God love Japan, I could never live there because of the tsunami factor.  I am terrified of the ocean/earthquake combo)

Melbourne, Australia on the other hand, is not really a city prone to many natural disasters.  Yes they get the odd cyclone (that's a pacific ocean hurricane for you US folks), but so did New England.  You get plenty of warning for hurricanes/cyclones, so they are pretty easy to avoid.

Our evening went thusly. I had just arrived home from my first day at the Accounting firm, so I was tired.  Since it is winter and I want to blend in with the locals, my skin is doing it's very best effort to crockodile-ize.  (Seriously, ask my parents, I am itching like crazy on skype.)  Anyway, this particular evening, I was watching Good Game's wrap up of E3 and slathering my feet with lotion when something odd started to happen.

There was a very loud banging.

My thoughts were the following.

1) why are they working on the apartments this late at night?  aren't they supposed to be done by 4pm? (For those of you following along at home, they have started the 2 year fixing your crappy living residence project)
2) Maybe it's not the trades, maybe it's the neighbors?  what the hell are they bringing up the stairs that's making so much racket??
3) why is our door shaking?  IS SOMEONE TRYING TO BREAK INTO OUR APARTMENT?

I realize very quickly that this is an earthquake and all my 'survival' training kicks in.

Leaping off the couch, I run for the nearest door frame.

Me: Shawn!  We need to get in a door frame!*
Shawn, sits nonchalantly at the table, and looks at me, as he saunters towards the doorway.
Me: no wait!  We're on the third floor!  aren't we supposed to go outside??!!  isn't that what you do?? (I begin to turn in circles because that is what I do when i panic)
Shawn, gives me a look that lets me know in no uncertain terms, we are NOT going outside. (I guess I did have a hand full of lotion and one sock on)

Perhaps I may have over-reacted, but in my defense it WAS a 5.4 AND it's the biggest this area has had in like 100 years.  I've never been in a real earthquake before, so I wasn't sure if the shaking would just get bigger, or if the swaying of our apartment (which is apparently made of jello, children's laughter, and twigs) was an indication that we should not be in it. 

Since Shawn was unconcerned (he went back to studying) I called C&K and did admittedly panic a little bit when I couldn't get through on the phone.  Eventually we had some texts, so I felt a bit more calm. 

Though i'm still worried about the structural integrity of our apartment (though, that's really nothing new), I realized it could have been so much worse and happy to add another mostly harmless natural event to my repertoire.   

 It was fun today chatting at work, and hearing everyone's stories about where they were and what they were doing. I most certainly did may or may not have tried to play it cool and neglected to tell about the pure unadulterated panic. 

*I briefly considered getting in the tub, but I think that's tornado related and it also has to do with having a mattress.

The things I do for love, or who the hell am I kidding this was totally for me too.

I collect the 7 deadly sins like Pokemon.  Currently, I'm being pretty successful with sloth (I managed to get the exercise charts up on the wall and blew up the gym ball, that's a start, right?).  But one deadly sin isn't really enough, so I decided to work on another.

Before I came to Australia, one of my amazing student workers Nicole and I did what any normal two people would do during a work day and that's, look up what McDonald's Australia has to offer.  For those of you who don't know, McDonald's around the world offer a unique menu depending on the country you're in.  For instance, when we went to Japan, they had the MEGA TERIYAKI BURGER!!!  (sort of tasted like a sausage mcmuffin.)  Now, I am of the FIRM belief that the only way you to truly learn about a country it so eat its' food.  And the a nice way you can learn about how a country views America, is to eat at McDonalds.  On this day, not only did Nicole and I discover that they had the original apple pies (which actually made me really excited), but we saw a section that was labeled 'dinner'.  I thought oh maybe they only have certain things during dinner time?

Wooooo boy was I mistaken.

No, you see, McDonalds Dinner means...a FAMILY SIZED HAPPY MEAL.

So naturally, as soon as Shawn found out about this, we were goingtogetmcdonaldsdinnerbox.

Before you start thinking how disgusting it was and how much food the two of us actually consumed, please note, to get to McDonalds we literally have to walk uphill scale the sheer face of a mountain.  And then cross a 4 lane highway with NO CROSSWALKS.  so we were pretty much jeopardizing our lives to get this dinner box.  Also, since I can't (re: am too lazy to) do the calorie conversion from kilojoules, I didn't feel so bad about eating this, because calories in foreign countries don't count.  (everyone knows that.) PS, i have to WALK EVERYWHERE.  I will eat what I want.

When we arrived at this McDonalds, we didn't see it on the menu.  So we both freaked out and made an emergency plan.  Then instead of going up to the cashier like a normal human, I had to look up on my phone the homepage for McDonalds dinner so I could SHOW the cashier (because unlike a normal human, I cannot just ASK.  Does anyone else do this?).  We literally sat there for like 10 minutes trying to decide if maybe we should just walk to Hungry Jacks (that's Burger King, but they changed the name here) instead because we didn't want to feel like fools if they didn't have it.   But then we'd already been in McDonalds for 10 minutes sitting at a table in front of the registers and it would look totally weird if we just walked out.  So, we had to create an emergency plan of something to order in case they didn't have it.  (note, the special burgers here are the EL Maco, with sour cream and taco sauce, and The McOz which has beets on it.  Beets on burgers are a thing here, and no, I haven't tried it yet.)

But it turns out they did have it.  So we didn't have to be worried.  The cashier WAS new and quite confused though, but we got through it in the end.   

There are two types of McDonalds dinner you can order, the Family Value Box and the Family Favourites Box.  I thought the Favorites Box might be a bit much, so we went with the Value Menu.   

Happy Meal for the Whole Family!

In this magical box was:

• 2 Big Macs

• 2 Cheeseburgers

• 4 Small Fries

• 1 6 pack of McNuggets

• *2 Medium and 2 Small Sodas

Shawn does not eat condiments.  So we had to special order the burgers.  Usually I do it, because I say "just meat and cheese" and he's says "just meat and cheese and not any of that other garbage." which horrifies me.  Anyway, this left us with a predicament on who was eating what. 

Me: Are you going to eat a Big Mac?
Shawn: No, I'm going to eat the two cheeseburgers.
Me: I don't want to eat two Big Macs, Shawn!
Shawn: I don't like Big Macs.
Me: We will get it with just meat and cheese!
Shawn: What's the point in that?
Me: The point is I AM NOT EATING TWO BIG MACS.

In the end, we got 1 Big Mac and the two cheeseburgers just meat and cheese because if I wanted a cheeseburger I have ketchup and mustard at the apartment.   Also, he did eat a big mac after i pointed out it's just a double cheeseburger with MORE BREAD.

We also decided that wasn't enough food.  Because McDonalds here is the BEST (aka the 1980's McDonalds we all love from our childhood) we had to get cookies (the old kind with Grimmace and Birdy on them) and I got an apple pie.  Y'know for documentation purposes.  This is purely scientific.

All snug in the box.

Baby fries

All unwrapped and ready to go, with a cookie cameo.

Once we got home and got situated and Shawn turned to me and I swear to whatever god you believe in that he said "We should put cheese on these fries."

So we did.

Does it really matter at this point?

And I don't care what you think, this sh*t was delicious.

I'll leave you with a very sexy video.  If you feel the need to turn the lights down low, get a glass of wine, no one's gonna judge you.  I suggest you make this full screen.




I'm so sorry  You're SO welcome for this blog post. <3 Devon ;)

*Before you start thinking these are US sizes, they are not.  Remember McDonalds when you were a kid and a small soda was the size of the juice cups they give you now?  That's a medium here.  And the smalls?  The kids size cups.

I'm...wombatman

It has been our theory since we have been living here, that if you are located in a country that has weird animals, you should give them a pat.  Actually, I'm pretty big on giving ANY animal a pat, a habit that I find difficult to keep in check when I'm around service animals.  (and lord help me if I ever saw a service pony, I'd have to be dragged away)  Now before you start thinking I'm loving on every single service animal I meet, please know I have some restraint.  Usually, my brain goes into the mode of "iwannapetthedoggie!", but I'm don't react on that.  Also one time in college there was a girl who had a service animal in class and no lies, that thing growled at me every single time I came into class.  It became a running joke.  The owner would even say, "wow, he doesn't growl at anyone." (Y'know because they are supposed to be super good natured.)  Perhaps it knew I wanted to give it cuddles.   Or maybe it really wanted cuddles but had to show some self-restraint for both of us.  right.

All that aside...

Shawn is never so happy as he is when he's cuddling animals.  It's a fact that I've come to accept in our marriage.  Here's a prime example from our trip to Myrtle Beach:

Seriously.  HE IS SO DELIGHTED.

 And in contrast.....

Eh, she's no Gibbon.

(Actually, to be fair, my smile looks a tad more genuine in the animal picture too....)

Since we first contemplated moving to Australia, it has been my husbands dream to own a wombat.  But upon reading some wombat facts and having nightmares of being trapped in a bathroom while a wombat tears around our apartment at 40km an hour, I thought it was best to just get him a wombat experience instead.

A typical animal experience will usually run you anywhere between $50-$80pp.  And that's usually just for something basic, like a turtle.  They can run well into the hundreds of dollars.  At the zoo I used to docent at, they didn't have things like that.  Which was sad for a variety of reasons:

1) people like that sort of thing
2) it makes a boatload of money (which is helpful for a zoo which needs money.)

Anyhow, zoos down here are kind enough to pretty much let you touch anything you want* for reasonable fees.  Like Shawn and Devon reasonable, which is to say, $10. No, I didn't miss a 0.  It was $10.  I would pat things all day long for $10.  I would pat them twice.  I would pat them oh so nice.  I would pat them on the lam.  I would pat them with green eggs and ham.

So on a rainy Saturday (it's fall here, that what it does now) we headed to the Healesville Sanctuary for wombat snuggles.

Shawn and I don't own a car.  I won't confirm or deny the fact that it's probably not the money, its probably the fact that you often find huntsman spiders dropping down from your visor, (seriously it happens), but this does limit us to either relying on the kindness of clint and kendra to take us places, OR more likely, public transportation.  Lucky for us, Victoria has a really awesome public transportation system and on the weekends it's priced appropriately.  And thankfully, for this trek there wasn't too many transfers, just a two stop train ride and then a 40 minute bus ride.

A few weeks back when I had to be in the city for an interview, I inadvertently sat on the wrong side of the train and for three stops I was going backwards.  It was rush hour, so I had no option of switching sides and I was NOT going to stand up for an hour.  So, I naturally did what anyone would in my position, I got off the train and waited 20 minutes for the next train.  Or maybe that's just what people with motion sickness do.  Irregardless, every time I'm thinking of taking a bus, which is 1,000 times worse than a train, I get the feeling that me taking buses is not a big deal.  Then I get on a bus, and the bus driver is pretending he's in Grand Theft Auto, and I'm dry heaving and trying not to actually vomit all over the seats.  I kept looking at Shawn in desperation the entire time, like could he maybe materialize a diet coke and a plastic bag for me out of his backpack?  (He needs to get one of those Mary Poppins bags for me when I'm feeling like death on public transportation.)

So when we arrived at the sanctuary 40 minutes later, I was feeling a bit like death.  But, we were also getting our memberships this time, so I tried to be pretty excited about that, despite the spinning in my head, and nausea in my stomach.  Unnnnntil I went up to the guest window and the lady inside was all *Scoff* "Memberships?  Don't you mean ADMISSIONS?"  I kindly corrected her.  "No, I meant memberships.  We live here." And trust me, that was not what I wanted to say at all.  But I was at a zoo.  I was going to pat a wombat, and there's no need for (devon's outrageous motion sickness induced) anger in that situation.

We had some time before the pats, so we checked out the rest of the sanctuary.  It only holds Aussie animals, which is sort of neat, probably to anyone who doesn't live in Australia.  I think, if situations were reversed and we went to an all American Zoo, that might be a bit lame.  But then again, Australian animals are cooler than American animals, so maybe Australian citizens even think it's cool.  Who knows.

Moving on....

Here's what we saw:

Koalatemplating

MMM nectar.

Not eating babies

Adorable Tassie Devil!

Emu Aka Scary, Disemboweling Dino-Bird

Eastern Brown Snake, One of the Top Ten Deadliest Snakes on Earth.  NBD Australia has ALL TEN.

After putsing around the zoo for a few hours (and maybe watching dingoes and devils for most of that time) it was time for our pats.   

We had a family with some small kids with us, which was sort of dicey because you don't really know how small children are going to react to wild animals, like if they're going to do what I used to do to my pepere and memere's dog Brandy and play: HORSE RIDES!  (brandy didn't appreciate that, so I'm sure a baby wombat might not either.)  The kids were pretty good though and more importantly that wombat was darned cute.  She was very solid (think built like a pitt bull) and very cute.  She had scratchy hair, which I really didn't expect.  And now, a wombat montage with cheesy music!



Okay, I do sort of see what Shawn was talking about when he wanted one as a pet.  They are stinkin' cute!  And yeah, maybe now I'm thinking we could go into the bush and rear one as our own and disguise it as a very fat cat for when we head back to the states.  (something I'm SURE Cos and Rem would appreciate....awww, but can you imagine how cute, a kitty in a wombat pouch?? ) Um, anyway, next time when we go back (aka when I feel brave enough to try that bus ride again) I'm going to go pat a dingo.  And since I'm not a baby, I think I should be okay.   

*Fun Fact: Victoria is the only state in Australia that won't let you hold a koala.  Officially.  I mean I guess you could go into the bush and grab one out of a tree and force it  to snuggle you but I don't recommend that because 1) it's illegal and 2) Koalas have claws.  And who wants to be that jerk who's obituary reads "death by koala"?  3) what if drop bears ARE real and you accidentally grab one?   AND THEN IT EATS YOUR FACE OFF?  What then, big shot koala snuggler?

It's so hard to say goodbye

My plumber greeted me at the door with a "Well this place is f*$%ing hard to find."

To be fair, it is.  Our complex is confusingly set up.  Our doorway is set under the car park (parking lot for you in the US) and the first time I tried to find it I got very distressed and called Shawn thinking he somehow could magically direct me to the apartment.  (He'd never been there, so you see how my logic works.)  Eventually I found it by deciding to follow a stranger.  (even more solid logic there)

The plumber was here to finally replace the string that was the flusher for our toilet.

The string.

That was a flusher.

For our toilet.

Yeah.

Anyway, he confirmed what we've thought all along.  Even thought this place is pretty sweet, we've actually moved into a sh*t-hole.  While fixing our toilet, he had to jimmy-rig the whole thing just to get a flusher in there, because whoever cut the hole mis-fit the whole darned thing.  Which is why I'm thinking there was a string there in the first place.  Proving further that our apartment is a death trap:  see Exhibit A (which mentions plenty about our life sucking for the next two years, but nothing about compensation.) 

Under two years is a BONUS FOR US ALL!

Once he was done fixing the toilet, the plumber joked about the oven not working, which is not funny.  Everyone who has to make dinner tonight, please try and see how many things you can come up with that don't involve using your oven.  Okay, smarty pants, that was real easy?  DO IT FOR A MONTH.  And mind you, also catering to Shawn's palate.

Moving on.  I'm a little sad about our toilet string being gone.  I mean, I even had the idea to tie a balloon to the string to fancy it up a bit.  And who else has a string to flush their toilet?  I think now that the string is gone, we should take a moment to remember all that he contributed to this household. (Note: You might need to have some tissues handy)

I have not given up the idea of keeping the string and framing it above the toilet.  It's important to remember your roots.  But most likely, it will go out with the rubbish when Shawn gets home.

Rest Well, My Friend.

Repairs up next: fixing the leaking roof, and please sweet Jesus, the oven getting fixed.