Match Report Monday

Round 9 U13s, Div 2
Date: 27 June 2008, 7:15 pm kickoff
Where: Purtell Park, Bardon
Who: Wests Panthers v Samford Stags
Score: 34-14, Panthers. I could get used to this winning by large margins stuff.

It was a damp and chilly Friday night when we pulled into Purtell Park. It was oddly quiet, owing to the cancellation of the U7s game, and there was an air of uncertainty about. The boys were without Eli and Jack, who had indeed suffered a hairline fracture of his foot in last week's game, leaving them only 1 reserve. Samford had only one win in the regular season and were getting desperate. Could the mighty Panthers hold them off and keep their own winning streak alive?

You betcha!! My first surprise came as I was serving up hot chips and sausages in the canteen and the boys filed past on their way to the sideline - DJ would be the five-eighth with Jackson shifting into the centres. Oh my. For my American readers unfamiliar with the game, the halves positions - five-eighth and halfback (numbers 6 & 7) - are the rough equivalent of a quarterback in that they call the shots and, with the hooker, help direct the team around the field. And there's Sparky, the boy who would forget his brain if it wasn't encased in his skullcap, wearing the number 6. My nerves instantly went on high alert and I started looking for a small animal to sacrifice in order to ensure he did well.

I needn't have bothered. I can't tell you the exact passage of play as I was still up in the canteen waiting for the next lot of parents to arrive and take over, but after an initial flurry of activity from Samford there was a mighty roar from the corner as DJ went over for the first try of the night. Or at least I was told it was DJ - I couldn't see properly. Scott missed the conversion and so the night began at 4-0. A few minutes later DJ scored again - missed it again, to the amusement of Glenn after I asked who it was - and the scoreline crept out to 8-0. I abandoned my canteen post and booked on down to the sideline to do what I do best - yell loudly. But only positive shouts.

It was a scary next 10 minutes as Samford's big boys hit back, literally. They knocked our boys over in the tackles to level the scores at 8-all. At that point I guess Wests decided they'd had enough of being pushed around because that nonsense stopped as quickly as it had begun, despite Samford knocking on the door a few times. A bit of possession and Wests took the lead again with DJ's third try of the night. There was an attempt at intimidation from a Samford player as DJ took the ball closer to the posts before grounding it in the form of a "whoops can't stop so I'll crash into you anyway" shoulder bump, but the look DJ gave him was classic "oh please". Scott easily made the conversion and the score was 14-8. On the next set Scott put up a great kick that Josh was able to leap up and crash over the line with - it was beautiful and I wished Danni had been there with a camera. Words don't do it justice. Conversion made and at halftime the Panthers had a comfortable 20-8 lead.

Their great passing game continued in the second half and the hard work by the forwards, especially Simon, Chris and Broden, allowed Josh to take first points in the second half just a few minutes in. Scott missed the conversion by inches - so close - and the score increased to 24-8. Samford had a few runs but the Wests line held steady under on the onslaught. Zack and Jackson had some great runs up the sideline and I had to laugh as Jackson was spun in circles in an attempted tackle that gained him at least another 10 metres. It was like watching a hammer throw. Scott again put up a great cross field kick that had 3 Wests players waiting for it. Torin made the catch and scored his first-ever try! Too far out for Scott to make the conversion, however, so the score remained 28-8. That's not a bad place to remain.

But it wasn't over yet; in fact there was still 15 minutes! Gah! Samford was getting frustrated and gave away a few stupid penalties - how do you tackle Jackson around the head, you have to jump for heaven's sake - which kept Wests firmly down in their end of the field until Scott was able to slip through the line under the posts. Conversion successful and the score leapt out to 34-8. Our boys were tiring and after a few silly penalties of their own, Samford was able to get a lone try late in the half to end the night 34-14.

According to my calculations, the boys should be sitting in 5th position; who is above and below us will depend on other weekend results. You'll be getting a break from Match Report Monday as the boys are on their school holiday's and games don't resume until the weekend of the 20th. The boys will be training hard, however, and gearing up to take on Valleys when we return. Keep those fingers crossed, folks!

More Random Work Thoughts

Dear Large Grocery Store That Employs Me: Before you decide to jack up the price of your generic 1 kilo jasmine rice by a whopping 35%, you really ought to make sure the price is less than other name brand products on the shelf. It's one thing when I go to other grocery stores to buy certain products because they're cheaper than your generic brand, even with my staff discount, but when it happens in your own shop? D'uh!!!!

But while I'm talking to you, let me tell you that the choice of music the last week and a half has been inspired. I mean that sincerely - I know it can be hard to tell sometimes. But the run of 80s tunes combined with the classic 50s like Chantilly Lace and Monster Mash has been awesome! And if you never play Mike and the Mechanics again it will be too soon.

One of the songs on the current musical selection is Bon Jovi's I'll Be There For You. And in listening to the lyrics one wonders how Jon Bon Jovi ever got laid, never mind had a girlfriend. It starts out as a song about a guy who fucked up, is sorry and doesn't want his girlfriend to leave his pathetic ass. I'm with him so far, until after the guitar solo:

And I wasn't there when you were happy
I wasn't there when you were down
I didn't mean to miss your birthday, baby
I wish I'd seen you blow those candles out

Let me get this straight. He's never around - because one assumes if you're not there for the highs and lows you've also missed everything in between - misses important events like birthdays and yet claims "I'll be there for you"? Here's something you can be here for - my boot in your ass! This is definitely one of those songs you have to be young and naive to fall for.

Yes, I really did think about that at work. Do you think I think about nuclear physics while I'm straightening cans of mushrooms?

I have two night captains - one full time and one part time - and it's normal of each of them to have their own style. But why does it always seem whenever the part time guy is on that we have so many more cages to empty? I'm not making this up. My aisle had 8 or 9 cages the other night and with two of us working a combined 7 hours we barely got it done. Never fails.

If you're wearing a pair of g-string panties, why would you want a pantyliner? Is there even enough panty to line? I'm tempted to buy a package of g-string pantyliners and see how it's supposed to work, because I just can't work it out.

Dear Cadbury: I like your chocolate, but if you don't start making the packaging of your "share packs" or bags a little stronger so they don't rip apart when I hang them up I will never buy a bag of Freddo Frogs for the kids. Ever.

What if God was one of us?

Dear Pack of Teenaged Girls: Here's a tip. Coming to the grocery store 30 minutes before closing in your pajamas and then screaming to each other at the top of your lungs across the store does not endear you to anyone. There are far better ways to call attention to yourselves that doesn't make you look like an escapee from the day care down the road. There were eight of you and I don't think you had the combined intelligence of a three-toed sloth.

Saturday Skinfest

It's late and I'm tired. Banter? Nah, you don't come here for that. You come here for this:

Even Billy Slater thinks he's totally hot. Look at the look he's giving his crotch, for heaven's sake!

I really really really like Dallas Johnson's snail trail and I really really really would like to follow it just a bit further. Really.

Nick Youngquest has one of those bellybuttons that can't make up its mind if it's an 'innie' or an 'outie'. That's so damned cute!

Apparently the Indian Premier League - that's cricket, not rugby in any form - poached a bunch of NRL cheerchicks to cheer during cricket matches in the above "uniform". I bet a bunch of Yanks just found cricket a lot more interesting.

More skin next week!

Photo Friday

Not so much a photo as an amusing sticker I had on the back of my nursing clipboard. One of the kids pulled it out the other day and it cracked me up as much as it ever did:

I am easily amused.

The Vicks Experiment

A couple of months ago, I received an email forward from my friend Russell. The email claimed that you would could get relief from a nighttime cough if you smeared Vicks VapoRub on your feet and then covered your feet with socks, primarily to protect the bedding. The writer - which of course wasn't Russell, just for clarification - claimed this had been discovered and tested by the "Canada Research council" and was 100% effective.

As I do when I get emails I like, I went over to Snopes to check it out. I found it right away and there was the email, word for word. Go and read it if you're interested but the long and short of it is that while the National Research Council of Canada has denied doing any such testing of Vicks, Snopes have listed the claim as "undetermined", mainly due to anecdotal testimony and the endorsement of "people in the health care industry" going back some years.

I have to admit I was very skeptical of the claim. I have a fair understanding of basic human anatomy and aside from its construction there is nothing special about the foot. Yes, it supports a hell of a lot of weight (some more than others) and the sheer number of bones is pretty mind boggling. If something goes wrong with your foot it's generally not an easy fix. However, there is no special connection between your foot and any other place in the body. Circulation can be pretty poor given it's quite a way from your heart - see if you can find the pulse on the top of your foot. It can be hard to find unless you know where to look, unlike ones closer to your truck. By what mechanism would Vicks VapoRub get from sock clad feet to your chest? After all, it's a vapour rub - it's the vapours that do the trick. Living with a brother who as a kid was prone to chesty types of coughs I was introduced to Vicks very young and I never remember our mother putting it onto his feet. And this was a woman who put whiskey on our gums to ease teething pain.

Within a few weeks, after never ever hearing this claim before, I suddenly read it in several other places including the magazine Her Majesty's preschool puts out. I still couldn't work out the "how", but then I was given an opportunity to test it, Mythbusters style, when the winter lurgy came to town. I had nothing to loose but a cough.

I did put it on Her Majesty's feet and she enjoyed it, requesting it for several nights. However, since I also smeared it all across her chest and throat - the place the manufacturer suggests putting it - I can't say putting it onto her feet worked. In fact, their entire bedroom smelled like Vicks for about a week. Her cough was lessened, but she was not what I was call cough-free. She did sleep, though. I did not put it on Clive's feet, merely his chest, as he won't keep socks on when he's in bed. He, too, slept. Inconclusive at best. When it was my turn to start coughing and hacking and discharging enough mucus to empty several tissue boxes, I used myself as the guinea pig. I grabbed my jar of Vicks and a pair of thick socks before slathering it on. I didn't take any other medications beforehand nor did I put the Vicks anywhere else. I promptly washed my hands when I was finished and waited for the "warm-blanket" feeling to envelop me and for my cough to stop.

I got nothing. In fact, 30 minutes later my feet felt like ice and I was still coughing and sniffling like I was before. I did get a few minutes relief from my stuffy nose, but that was likely due to the proximity of the open jar of the rub to my nasal passages. But when the fumes dissipated I was as stuffy as ever. In my experiment, putting Vicks VapoRub on my feet to stop my cough was 100% ineffective.

And it's easy to see why. The vapours have no way to get from your foot to your nose/mouth, where they are inhaled. This is why Vicks also sells a Vicks Stick (that's what it's called here), about the size of a tube of lip balm that you hold to your nose and inhale - giving temporary relief to a stuffy nose and sparing those around you hours of menthol fumes - and not Vicks foot pads. The oils contained in the wax aren't absorbed into the blood and magically transported to the lungs. If that were the case you'd put medicated patches onto your feet, not on your arms or chest as is the case now, and I would think Vicks would jump on this faster than anybody. Profit is a good motivator.

If people claim it works for them, I would think it's the placebo effect more than anything. Or they've taken other medication beforehand - it can take 30 minutes or more for them to kick in - but are attributing their relief to the Vicks they've put on a few minutes ago. I can see no logical reason for it to work, and if someone with a better understanding of human anatomy and physiology can explain it to me I'm all ears! Try it for yourself if you like, but I would think you'd be far better off putting it where it can do its job - on the chest and throat - and getting a good nights sleep.

Apolgies... Again (Now with an UPDATE)

I'm sure you get tired of reading my apologies for one thing or another, but I'm about to do it again. I know my regular readers know that family comes first and so this blog gets neglected from time to time, but I still feel guilty when that happens. This goes double for my family who rely on my blog to keep up-to-date on our happenings & worry when I go too long between posts. I don't like to cause them worry. Everything is fine, outside of the winter style colds that strike this time of year. I'm just incredibly busy. I wish I had more energy in the early mornings or very late evenings to do things. While I'm at it, I'd also like to wish for another set of arms to hold Clive - who refuses to be happy anywhere else but on my lap or my hip - while I do things with my original set. Seriously, it's taken me 20 minutes to type just this bit as I type with one hand while the other keeps Clive's fingers away from the keyboard or I get him his drink/rice cracker/toy/clean nappy.

Enough of my whinging and apologizing for lack of posts - not to mention my total neglect of blog reading. I miss you all so much!!! :::sniff::: I will put up Photo Friday and the Skinfest, backdated so that this post remains up top by way of an explanation. I can't miss the Skinfest two weeks running - I'd lose my perv status then for certain. I will also do my utmost to get Match Report Monday up today. Miss Thing has end-of-semester exams this week and will be home this afternoon so she can give this 'rent a hand in getting stuff done.

But first, the washing machine is unbalanced. Quick, fetch me my Supermom cape!!!! Up, up and AWAY.....

UPDATE - I have managed to get all three posts up, including the Match Report which took me nearly 2 hours to write. Thanks Clive! He's been good today, just all over me. So just scroll on down and have a look.

Match Report Monday

Round 8 U13s, Div 2
Date: 22 June 2008, 1:00 pm kickoff
Where: unnamed park, 10th Avenue Brighton
Who: Brighton Roosters v Wests Panthers
Score: 32-8, Panthers. Ah, the sweet sweet smell of victory once again!

It's amazing what can happen when all the players can make the game and put in a solid 60 minutes of effort. I'll mention names as to who scored the tries and conversions, but really it was such an outstanding display by all 15 boys that I'm going tell you all their names (in no particular order, mainly from their position and number on their jersey). Well done to Sean, Zack, Torrin, DJ, Jack the Smaller, Scott, Jack the Taller, Simon, Charlie, Chris, Josh, Eli, Jackson, Broden, John and even a shout out for Jarrod who came to do some light training with the boys on Thursday (he's barred from heavy contact for a while yet). In the words of Sparky, you're "freakin' awesome"!

I was looking around for the boys as the game was about to get under way and wondering where Coach Thom was hiding them when I heard the familiar "GIVE A SHIT" shout. Ah, there they are! And there was Brighton on the field, looking as big as ever. They certainly have a high percentage of big boppers than a lot of other teams (although we missed out on our first game against Redcliffe, so they may still retain the title), including us. In typical Brighton fashion, they poured on the pressure in the opening minutes, but Wests scrambled like an egg and held them out. About 10 minutes into the half, Jack the Taller put a lovely kick into the left corner for his name counterpart Jack the Smaller to put down for first points on the board. Jack the Taller then converted to make it 6-0. The Roosters weren't going to take it lying down, however, and upped the pressure, forcing a string of Wests errors before finally darting over in the right corner. They missed the conversion and the score was 6-4.

As has been characteristic of them this season, our boys put the errors behind them and did their best to not let some dodgy calls by the ref get them down. They proved this another 5 minutes later with a fantastic run down the right wing by Zack for their second try. I can't remember if Jack the Taller missed this conversion or not. I think he may have as I remember thinking he was a lot like the Broncos Friday night - convert the ones out on the sideline but miss the ones closer to the middle. Alas, it didn't matter as Wests kept the pressure up and with a few minutes to go before halftime DJ scored down the left side and Jack the Taller hit the conversion (methinks he's a better kicker from the left) and as the whistle blew the score sat at 16-4.

One thing that can be said about Brighton is that they never give up and they didn't disappoint as the second half started. They put some big tackles on our boys but the Panthers were determined and so kept bouncing back up. I've never seen Simon so hungry for the ball - he really lifts when Eli is out there with him - and I would have loved to see him score a try. Alas, it was Josh who put the first points of the half on the board. Not that I'm complaining! Since it was on the right side, Jack the Taller missed that conversion and the score crept up to 20-4. Several minutes later, Jack the Taller managed to break free and streaked down the middle to score a brillant try right under the posts. Unfortunately he may have run a little too fast as something went wonky along the edge of his foot which caused it to swell and Jack was forced from the field. I know, very technical explanation but really as of right now I have NO IDEA what it was or how serious it is. So DJ - my very own Sparky - came over to convert the try. Now I have to tell you that just the other day he was telling me how he was attempting to convert a try for his school team and I did a double take. I'd seen him kick before and it wasn't pretty. He indignantly informed me he'd been shown the proper way by Coach Thom and now was pretty decent from in front, thankyouVERYmuch! And indeed he was, as he converted Jack's try and brought the score out to 26-4.

Brighton kept at it, however, and managed to get a try over in the right corner which I'm told they didn't even try to convert. Huh? I suppose they didn't want to waste time on a kick that had little hope of going over and instead went for more tries. There were a few scary moments when it looked like our line would give and that would happen. It didn't. Torrin very nearly scored in the left corner, and Chris had a running battle with one of the Brighton forwards in the tackling department that Chris won by way of his getting up after the tackles and the Brighton forward was slow to his feet. Indeed, all their big boys were tiring which allowed Josh to score the final try of the match in almost the exact spot of his first try. Scott missed the conversion and so the score remained 32-8.

It was a huge win for the mighty Panthers. Unfortunately it won't lift them from 6th on the table as Brighton, currently 5th, will have the advantage in the for/against department, but it was a massive morale booster going into the game against Samford this week. I was hoping to con Danni into coming down for some more photos as it's a home game, but once again we have a Friday night game so it's a no go! Hell. Never mind, let's hope the game marked the start of a long winning streak.

Saturday Skinfest

I went to my annual NRL match Friday night. Wests Tigers were in town, and so Miss WTF organizes as many Tigers supporters as she can and invites just about everyone she knows - Tigers fan or not - to come along. I was a buffer between the rabid Tigers supporters on my left and the older Broncos woman on my right, who was very intimidated by said Tigers supporters. I think it was the multiple lip rings and f-bombs that were dropped. I reassured her that they really were harmless, despite me never having met them before that night, and we all agreed that the ref was shite (no MM, wasn't Simpkins but Sean Hampsted). Of course the best part of the evening was the mighty Broncos hanging on to clinch a 19-18 victory.

Not that we've got the obligatory banter out of the way, here's the skin:

A fellow footy player is being terribly helpful in attempting to dack Billy Slater. He's awesome!

I have no idea what the Broncos are doing in this photo that involves playing horsie, including the harness, and you know I don't think I want to know. It disturbs me.

How good was Karmichael Hunt (left) on Friday night? I even miss Shaun Berrigan, the toothless stud. So does his dentist, I'm sure.

In a change of pace from the usual stick skinny, big breasted starlet, I bring you Queen Latifah. If I had half her confidence - not to mention her cleavage (daaaaaamn!) - I'd be a happy woman. You can tell when a woman accepts her shape, and I think that's sexy.

More skin next week.

Photo Friday

This photo is from the Botanical Gardens at Mt. Coot-tha in Toowong. I snapped it as we were leaving Miss WTF's big band concert back in February:

Never fear - it's just a sculpture. They don't grow dragonflies that big here - they save that for the spiders!

The Teaspoon Incident

First off, let me quickly say that there will be no Match Report Monday this week as there was no game. Boys are back on the paddock this coming weekend and will be leaving, we desperately hope, with a win against Brighton.

Now a few posts ago I mentioned that Momma Mooselet would be quite concerned to learn part of my job at the Large Grocery Store That Employs Me involves the use of a knife. I briefly mentioned how I had the unfortunate experience of nearly slicing off the end of two of my digits at two different points in my childhood, and MM expanded on the story of me, my left index finger and a teaspoon in the comments. Several of you found that really funny and wondered how I managed it. Here's how it went down...

I honestly don't remember how old I was - I put the age at 7, but if MM says I was 5, then I was 5. That would put Gabe at age 3. MM had brought home a small packet of peanuts for me from the packie after stopping for Poppa Mooselet on her way home from work. The concept of waiting 15 minutes for my mother to finish whatever she was doing with Gabe - she says bathing and I'll go with it as I have no recollection of it - was clearly impossible for my 5 year old self. Now that I have children I understand that asking them to wait is akin to torture. And tortured I obviously was.

Knowing I was not allowed to use the sharp scissors or knives in the kitchen, I turned to the other utensils in the drawer. Why I didn't choose a fork is beyond me, but instead I picked up a spoon and proceeded to try and jam it into the packet of Mr. Peanut nuts. I can't remember if I was successful or not; did the spoon enter my tiny finger - and I was a tiny child, very petite - after it opened the nuts, or did it slide off and slice me? I have no idea. The next memory I have is my dripping bright red blood into the steel kitchen sink. I couldn't tell you if I was opening the packet over the sink or if I had the foresight to go over to the sink as I started bleeding. But it's an image I've never gotten out of my head.

I must have cried out but I have little memory of the incident after that point. I can't even recall if my father was home at the time - he often worked nights and he may have gone to work already, especially if MM recalls having to bring Gabe along. I have no memory whatsoever of policemen showing up at our apartment, although the concept of my mother standing around in her pantyhose and blouse is in total line with how she would partially undress upon coming home from a 12 hour work day in Boston. I can't remember the trip to the hospital, which is pretty amazing considering it would've taken us at least 20 minutes to get there. Nor can I remember getting stitched up, or my mother passing out as she was wont to do after arrival to the hospital emergency rooms.

I remember the huge bandage on my finger for a couple of weeks after, and the nasty black stitches against the red swollen flesh. Maybe I was freaked by all the blood - my mother claimed surprise when I went into nursing, citing my distaste of blood. Was it this injury that spawned it? I have no idea, and I also am no longer bothered by blood. I remember there being some concern if I would regain use of the finger, and my mother not bring me packets of nuts for a long long time.

But I have a lovely memento of that evening - my scar:

Double click for an up close and personal look if your eyesight, like mine, sucks.

The doctors did a really good job of stitching my finger back together, much better than my thumb many years later. As I mentioned in the other post, the scar starts in the middle of the pad and winds its way around to end just short of the cuticle. Makes for interesting fingerprints. I have full use of the finger and have lost no sensation in it, unlike my unfortunate thumb.

So the moral of the story is you can mange to do damage to yourself with the most benign of instruments, if the person in question wants the peanuts badly enough.

Saturday Skinfest

Not too much to say today - just saw the final score of the Broncos/Raiders game and am too depressed to be witty. I can handle them losing, but to the Raiders? How embarrassing... So here's this weeks skin:

Braith Anasta looks vaguely Neanderthal what with the way his forehead blends into his nose. But he's got pretty awesome arms.

Sometimes it's all just a little too gay. I understand the purpose behind it, and maybe I have a dirty mind (maybe??? Who am I kidding), but damn. Gay men and I have a lot in common.

This is a very old picture of the current Origin hero, Scott Prince (note the Broncos shorts), but he's only gotten better with age. Insert your own Prince Charming joke here.

Holy Backside Batman, Kim Kardashian has a whole lotta junk in that trunk. I still hate her.

More skin, with banter, next week.

Photo Friday

I don't think I've featured this one before. My apologies if I have. This is from our trip last year and our stop in Emerald, entitled the Big Easel:



Australians have an obsessions with big icons. I've seen the Big Bulls up in Rockhampton, the Big Mango in Bowen, and now the Big Easel - the largest reproduction of Van Gogh's Sunflower painting. If you're ever up in Emerald, check it out.

Feeding the Wee Beasties

It would seem Her Majesty is nearly 100% - while she still has an impressive cough and the nasal runs her appetite is back and she's tearing about the house again. I've kept her home from preschool today, however, as she has swimming and Sparky's football training to get through and I don't need another meltdown like I had at training Tuesday night. Clive had a good night's sleep last night, his first since Sunday, and his fever seems to be over. His appetite is coming back as well - he's had a banana and is now working on a muesli bar. Like his sister, still has the drippy nose and a cough but is hopefully on the mend as well.

A good barometer as to how my youngest two are doing are their appetites. Her Majesty and Clive eat a lot. Actually, I think that may be something of an understatement. The woman who runs the canteen at football calls them the profit margins. With the exception of said canteen and McDonalds, their tastes run to the healthier side of life. Good thing, or they'd both be little butterballs.

Let's take Her Majesty, as she is the one who surprises everyone with her appetite. Whether it's because she's a girl or she's on the smaller side, or both, I'm not sure. For breakfast she'll usually eat a couple of apples, or an entire bagel with cream cheese, or a couple of peanut butter sandwiches (with the crust cut off, of course). From then she's usually asking for something to eat every 45 minutes to an hour. Rice crackers. Watermelon - this is a favourite and she'll eat giant pieces in one sitting. Sandwiches. Carrots. Bananas. Lunch is usually a sandwich, if that hasn't been breakfast or a snack, and some fruit. The afternoon pattern is much the same as the morning one. The one meal she doesn't eat often is dinner. Her appetite seems to shut down around 6pm, although if it's something she really enjoys she will eat. Often the only thing she wants is a bowl of frozen carrots. Yes, she prefers them frozen. The exception to the not eating dinner rule is football training nights. A couple of sausages on bread, or a sausage and a hot dog, is not unusual. Even on Thursdays when I take them to McDonalds in between swimming lessons and football she will eat a Happy Meal, substituting the apples slices for the fries, and still want a sausage once we get to training.

I don't force her to eat what the rest of us are having, although if she refuses dinner altogether but later wants dessert I will say no. If you have room for sweet stuff, you have room for healthy stuff. And when she asks for something and doesn't finish it, yet wants something else not long after I will again say no. The vast majority of the time, however, what she requests gets eaten.

Clive isn't too far behind, although he has inherited more of the sweet tooth - to be fair from both sides of the family - than Her Majesty. He's happier chomping on a chocolate chip cookie, although I do try and steer him to the gingernut ones. He's also more likely not to finish, although that has more to do with his age - being distracted and dropping whatever he has in his hand. The two of them at mealtimes, however, are dangerous. They will easily polish off a 800 gram (that's 1.76 pounds) of tinned fruit or an entire slab of watermelon.

The scariest part is they're not overly big. Clive is deceptive as he's got this massive block of a head (if you saw pictures of a couple of my nephews, or even the Hermit's melon, you'd know it's inherited and not medical) but in reality he only weighs just under 12 kilos, or roughly 25 pounds, which is normal for a 1 year old. I still have to fold the waistband of a lot of his pants over so they don't slide down or he trips over them. Her Majesty has had a growth spurt recently, but as she approaches age 5 her size 4 clothes fit her quite nicely; most of her size 5 pants are too long. She's not stick skinny - indeed she's quite solid - but she clocks in at just over 18 kilos, or 40 pounds.

So where's the scary part? All that energy they take in when they eat is being spent right away. Not put away for growth, not stored as fat... spent as energy. They go-go-go from the minute they wake up, or in Her Majesty's case the second she's up, until they crash at night. Clive still has a nap, but Her Majesty gave those up long ago. In fact her biggest complaint about kindy is rest time. Quiet activities just don't exist in our house. If you can get Her Majesty to sit still, she'll talk your ear off whilst doing so. And Clive just doesn't sit still, full stop. If I had half their metabolism I'd be a size 6!

Now if you'll excuse me, I have hungry mouths to feed... again.

Lurgy, Plus Incredibly Short Match Report Monday

Lurgy - British slang for feeling like shit.

Thanks Urban Dictionary! In more polite terms, a lurgy is a cold or other type of illness and it has struck Chez Mooselet with a vengeance. Her Majesty started in Wednesday of last week and so far it has spread to Clive and myself. It's not the worst cold I've ever had (at least not yet, I've only just come down with it), but it really affected Her Majesty. Fever, runny nose, watery eyes, cough... And let me tell you Her Majesty does not do well when she's sick. She becomes very whingey and temperamental - the littlest things set her off and it's been very difficult to get things done. Now that Clive has caught this lurgy, although it would seem not to the degree that Her Majesty had it, I'm flat out taking care of two sick children. Heaven help me when Miss Thing comes down with it - she's worse than all of them, even Clive who can't understand what's going on.

Since it's already Tuesday, I'm not going to bother catching up with Photo Friday or, sadly, the Skinfest. Sorry. I think that's only the second time I've ever skipped the Skinfest, and the Hermit can't be trusted to pinch hit after last time.

Mr. Mumfies obviously thought I was joking when I nagged him on Sunday to write the match report for Match Report Monday as it's not in my inbox. Mumfies, I expect you to deal out whatever punishment is appropriate for letting the side down. I missed huge chunks of the game as I was chasing Clive out of the visitors changing rooms - he was convinced Sparky was in there - or following him as he roamed all the way down to the other end to check out a dog so I can only do the vaguest of reports:

Round 7 U13s, Div 2
Date: 8 June 2008, 1:45 pm kickoff
Where: Kev McKell Oval, Keppera
Who: Wests Arana Hills Panthers v Wests Panthers
Score: 24-12, Arana Hills.

They won, we lost. Given we only had 12 boys for the game (and 10 minutes with only 11) thanks to the long weekend holiday and the aforementioned lurgy making the rounds, division leaders Arana Hills should've owned us. They didn't. I'm completely convinced had we had just a few more boys we would have won the game.

The ref was obviously auditioning for a live version of "The Whistle Song" as it never stopped throughout the first half. The vast majority of the penalties were against Arana - it was like having a fat kid on the see saw. Wests had the majority of possession but just couldn't get over the line - having experienced players like Chris, Eli and Jack the Taller missing hurt - but they kept at it til late in the first half when DJ dove over in the left corner for our first try and brought the score to 10-4. At some point after this Josh was sin binned for using an elbow in the tackle - I'm told that it was merely the way he landed but apparently the ref had had enough and sent him off for 10 minutes.

At halftime, the captains were cautioned by the ref that any more penalties would see the player sent off for the remainder of the game. This ref cannot be a parent, or just not an effective one, as that threat never came to pass. Never make a threat you're not prepared to see through. Two Arana players were sin binned in the second half, the second one quite promptly, but not sent off. Not as much whistle, but enough to make you think you were at a netball game.

Josh scored two tries in the second half, but neither conversion was successful. Arana managed 3 more tries with one conversion to make the final score 24-12. Once again all of the boys played a fantastic game - there was a lot of shuffling of positions, with both Josh and DJ having a go as five-eighth and Sean as fullback with Scott as halfback. Torrin had some good runs as did Zack, and Jackson was very good in the back row. Tackling has improved 100% from last year, and there was only a handful of times when they were standing about with no sense of organization. They did us, their coaches, and most importantly themselves, proud.

Now I'm off to wipe more snot and apply more Vicks. I'll try and do more posts this week, but I can't promise anything.

Random Work Thoughts

In case you haven't figured it out, stocking shelves is not exactly brain-stimulating work. Of course, taking care of small children isn't rocket science either, but with all the noise the thinking part of my brain isn't engaged. It shuts down and goes into self-preservation mode. I pretty much don't think anything other than "When is it 7 o'clock so they can go to bed?" Since we're not allowed to wear iPods at work for safety reasons, my mind is given ample time to wander down various paths. I wish I could say it comes up with deep and meaningful thoughts instead of crap like this:

- Dear Large Grocery Store That Employs Me: If you are going to advertise that you have lowered your price from the previous price, you might want to make sure you've really done so. When you "slash" your price from $2.45 down to $2.45 and make a pretty little tag to pat yourself on the back, don't wonder why you end up on A Current Affair or Today Tonight.

- Also, your focus group was yanking your chain when it recommended artists like The Spice Girls, Britney Spears and Mike and the Mechanics as good shopping music. None of these make people want to buy more crap - it makes them want to flee the store.

- Dear SPC: For a name brand, your cans suck. I expect generic brand cans not to stack on top of each other without falling over, that's why they're $0.49. But if you expect me to shell out $1.29 for cans of something that are going to fall over in my pantry every time I bump the shelf, you're delusional. I'll buy the other name brand. Think I'm alone? Let me tell you, I restock a lot more of the other brands than I do of yours.

- Restocking tiny tins of tuna really sucks ass. Especially when they're on special.

- People steal the stupidest things. You almost expect to find empty make-up and condom packaging, especially with a high school nearby. But saffron? Tic-Tacs? Toilet disinfectant? What is wrong with you?

- I really, really hate the smell of black liquorice.

- If you don't want me to use my knife to open the box of your product, don't use tape to seal it. I know you don't want me to damage the flimsy-ass packaging protecting your overpriced product, but do you expect me to use my incredible telekinetic powers to get to whatever is inside the box? Don't want me to slice it - use glue!

- I don't know who exactly restocks the shelves during the day, but it is NOT acceptable to put the extra jars "wherever" instead of up on the top shelf. There are two reasons for this: if you put a $7 bottle of sauce in a bay for a $3 product you can bet your sweet ass some little old lady will be complaining to the service desk because she was overcharged even though she knows it really does cost $7 but the tag where she found it said $3. The second reason is that I, or one of my fellow nightfillers, will have to rectify your laziness and we don't have time to be cleaning up after you. Do your job properly and I won't be forced to curse you.

- My mother is now quietly disturbed that I admitted I have to use a knife at work. Given I nearly sliced off the pad of my thumb when I was 11 or 12, and cut through the tip of my index finger with a teaspoon when I was 7-ish, her concerns are partially justified. Needles are one thing, but knives?

- Do you have to bring your screaming child to the store at 8:30 at night? Why do you think I come to work - to get away from my own screaming children. I'm not talking about the single parents who have to bring their kids, I mean the couples who drag their overtired brood in their pyjamas to the store to pick up a few things.

- Did I mention how much I hate Mike and the Mechanics? In the Living Years is a morbid song, and anyone who would want to listen to it while shopping is a psychopath. Really.

- Why do my bosses only assign women to do the health and beauty aisle and blokes to do the soft drink aisle?

- Do not ask me to "check out the back" for something. I will look on the cages that I have to unload for an item that is not on the shelf, but we do not have shelves of merchandise behind the "employees only" doors waiting for you. Modern supermarkets don't work this way. I'm not being lazy, I'm saving us both some time. "Out the back" doesn't exist. If you insist of course I will go, where I will waste the appropriate amount of time explaining to my boss what you want while we share a laugh at your belief that we don't know our jobs. And you still won't have what you want.

The rest of the time my mind is spent in my "happy place", which may not be suitable even for this blog. Especially when it's read by your mother and mother-in-law.

Match Report Monday

Round 6 U13s, Div 2
Date: 30 May 2008, 8:30 pm kickoff
Where: Purtell Park, Bardon
Who: Wests Panthers v Redcliffe Dolphins
Score: Didn't happen. Canceled.

It's rare for a game to be called off due to a little rain. Usually the field has to be under water for that to happen, and even then it might not. The boys trained Thursday night in the pouring rain in anticipation of this. On Friday afternoon when I phoned the Hermit to remind him to be home by 7 so Her Majesty and Clive didn't have to be dragged along, he asked if they'd still play as it had been raining off and on all day. Of course they'll play - just a little rain.

Coach Thom phoned at 6:30 to tell us not only had the game been canceled, but the entire round had been called off in anticipation of worsening weather. Every team, from the U7s to U18s, were told to stay at home. Sparky was hugely disappointed as he was looking forward to playing not only Friday night against a team they had a big chance of defeating, but on Sunday with the U14s along with several other members of the U13s.

Of course the weather then held off the rest of the night and weekend, looking ugly but never bringing forth the gloom and doom we were promised. Until this morning, where it has been bucketing down for hours. My lights keep flickering as the power makes up its mind if it wants to stay on or not.

I have no idea if the round will be rescheduled or if the league will give all teams a giant bye and 2 points. Our next scheduled game is against divisional leaders Arana Hills and the boys will be itching to get back onto the field. So long as it's not under water.

UPDATE: I've checked the official GBJRL site and it states that the round will not be replayed and no points awarded. So it's like the round got sucked into a giant black hole. Since the table wouldn't change either way, I think they should give 2 points and a bye to everyone so the round will register but what do I know.

Bloody Mess

WARNING: The following post contains words of a graphic nature and may offend some readers. Reader discretion is advised. I mean it.

Auntie Flo and Cousin Red. Riding the cotton pony. On the rag. The red tide. The crimson tide. Sally. That time of the month. Your period. The curse. Your monthly. Or give me your own euphemism. Whatever phrase you use, it means only one thing. Menstruation.

I am convinced - 100% convinced - that if men menstruated there would be no such thing any longer. There would have been billions of dollars in federal funding to find a "cure" for the monthly bloodletting. Something that didn't involve surgery or taking dangerous hormones.

I know women bitch a lot about it and as such most men have tuned it out. Or you joke about PMS and the fact your significant other is a bit testy a few days a month. Or it's so gross you can't stand to think about it. But I want you to close your eyes for a second and picture something. Well actually, don't close your eyes because then you can't read what I'm about to write, but you take my meaning. Try to imagine how it would feel to have blood dripping from the end of your penis for a week every month. Imagine going to the toilet and passing clots of blood out the end of Wee Willy Wonka every month. Imagine your toilet bowl looking like a slaughterhouse after each visit every month. Picture yourself stuffing a ball of cotton into your body to staunch the flow or wearing a miniature diaper to soak up the flow. Never mind the cramps or the nausea or the myriad of other symptoms some women experience; just look down at your little friend nestled between your legs and picture blood dripping out the end every month. Sound like fun?

There are men out there who would have had had the awful experience of passing a kidney stone and will be saying they know how this feels. No you don't. Unless you pass a kidney stone on schedule every month for 35 FUCKING YEARS, you don't. You've had a mere taste and I'd bet it was enough.

There are only two times in a woman's life when we welcome our "friend". When it first happens because then we've crossed that mystical threshold into "womanhood", and if we've had an 'oops' moment in our relations with the opposite sex (or in plain English if we've had sex without any protection or inadequate protection). Then it's welcome, even celebrated. Otherwise I would bet everything I own that the overwhelming majority of woman wish we could take a little pill or do something to make the experience go away. Or at the very least greatly condense it.

In doing some research to the various slang words for menstruation, I came across this line:

"But sometimes we hate our periods because we’re told we should. We might fear that people know when we’re menstruating or we’ve been told we can’t do certain things when we have our periods. Some of us are even told our period is dirty. Getting your period is not a bad or horrible thing. It’s a beautiful thing your body does to take care of itself."

I'm sorry but it is NOT a "beautiful" thing. I don't hate my period because someone told me I should. I don't really care if someone knows that I'm on the rag, unless it's because I've stained my clothes and then that's just embarrassing. No one ever told me I couldn't do certain things because Auntie Flo was in town. And since I was raised by parents who recognized it was the 20th century (as it was at the time) I never thought it was dirty in the sense that it was wrong. I felt, and still feel, it was dirty because I have blood flowing from my private parts! While I fully understand the biological function behind it and can therefore be amazed at how the human body operates, I can also still feel that it's a disgustingly messy and gross function that I wish I didn't have to deal with each and every month.

There are only a handful of ways around it. One is to remain in a constant state of pregnancy. On the plus side I could have my own show on the Discovery Channel, however I'd be completely insane and would not be able to enjoy my fame. Another option is to take birth control pills continually. This works well until you hit your mid-30s and the pro/con scale starts to veer into "pulmonary embolism" territory. A third option is to have the whole thing removed via a hysterectomy. I have to admit I had hoped that after Clive, when I knew I didn't want any more children, my OB would tell me my uterus was so damaged in some way that he'd have to remove it. Leave my ovaries and take the fucking thing then! Alas, this didn't happen and any reputable doctor won't go removing organs simply because we don't like the job it does. Damn ethics.

I'm not claiming the reason no drug company or a medical genius has worked this out is that it's a way to keep women oppressed. I don't think most men today think this way. I just think that it just never occurs to them how nasty it really is because they don't experience it. Not able to get a boner? Oh man, don't want that to happen to me so let's fix it and make a squillion dollars. Monthly bleeding? Well sure that sucks, but really it can't be that bad. It's only a couple of days. No - it's only a couple of days that we're really cranky. The rest of the time we're busy stuffing our va-jay-jays full of cotton and getting on with our lives. Oh, and denying you an opportunity to get laid.

I know in the great scheme of medical science, menstruation rates low on the list behind noble causes like finding a cure for cancer and Alzheimer's. But if big pharma can help men get it up, surely something can be done for the other half of the equation.

If you're a woman who really doesn't mind getting your period every 28 days - give or take a day or two - please let me in on your secret. I don't hate my body... well okay, I'm not thrilled with it but even if I didn't have to deal with the bloody mess I'd still have issues, and I don't hate being a woman. There are a lot of great things about being female. I don't have issues with blood - I'm a nurse for heaven's sake. Blood in and of itself doesn't bother me. I just can't get excited with the idea of it flowing out of me every month. Am I the only woman who is looking forward to menopause?

I'm going to leave you with one more interesting factoid about Cousin Red. During menstruation, a woman's middle finger experiences decreased sensation (Libra Odd Spot #280). So don't take offense when we do this:

We're just checking to see if it still works.

Whoopsie

Thanks Jeff and Yellojkt for pointing out that the comments were turned off on the latest Skinfest! I have NO idea how I managed to do that - I hardly ever open up the 'post options' and when I do, as I did for that post out of curiosity to see how long it took me, I never go near the comments buttons. Anyway, it's fixed now and you may comment away!!!

I'm hoping to do an actual post later today. The Hermit is out in the shed and has left his laptop in the kitchen, so I won't have to argue with Miss Thing or Sparky over the desktop. I'll just have to fight with Her Majesty to get her away from playing Mahjohgg.