Baby Lamb

I was shopping at Peters Meats the other day, the butcher right outside our Woolies. Not to get off the topic, but I really enjoy shopping here. Woolies has everything you need, but the grocery stores in malls are usually flanked by butchers, bakers, candlestick makers...along with chicken, cheese, specialty delis and pastry shops. One of my dream days would be to browse around all the specialty ships and hand pick my groceries ( what can I say, I'm easy to please). Whereas my typical shopping trips usually resemble something closer to say, an episode of Supermarket Sweep. But, back to the butcher... While deciding if we were going to have t-Bone steaks or fillets (which rhyme with "millets" here), my eyes caught a plate of little round lumps of meat, tied up with rosemary labeled, "Baby Lamb Rumps". I was amused. I mean, really, is it necessary to make people feel any worse for eating lamb? For God's sake, lamb = baby, right? Well, as far as lamb is concerned, there is apparently a whole hierarchy of baby-ness. After doing some research I found out that standard Lamb is anything less than a year old, usually around eight months. Then you have Spring Lamb, which is slaughtered at five months. Baby Lamb is just four to six weeks old when it meets its maker. And just when I thought that was as sad as it gets, I discovered that Hothouse Lamb is slaughtered at two to four weeks old, after being raised entirely on mother's milk.

Just writing that is depressing.

I read FastFood Nation in 2001. Or maybe it was 2002. I bought it in an airport during a business trip, and I had a hard time putting it down. After reading it I went on a serious organic beef and chicken kick for about two years. I remember visiting Don's uncle in Oregon that Summer and he told us stories about cows going to auction and the farmers putting cement in the feed to weigh them down. I stayed the path, but after a few years I slipped and started buying chicken sandwiches at Carls Jr, then a burger at Mortons, and then it all went to Hell. Eating out certainly became easier, and my pocketbook appreciated the savings. In fact, I never really thought much about meat at all until last week. I really have no idea what bothered me so much about the lamb. To be perfectly honest, I don't even really like lamb (Which is almost blasphemous to admit here). Maybe because buying meat is usually so removed. You order a pound of something and there it is. And seeing this really made me envision where the lamb came from. I mean, I love a good steak as much as any other self proclaimed carnivore. But at six weeks, shouldn't a lamb be kicking it's heels up in the pasture and nibbling on dandelions? I know this post is all over the place. It's been a long week....and it's only Tuesday.

VB Beer Commercial

This clever new commercial from VB is making the rounds. Every time I see it I notice something new. And the commentary is pretty funny. For the non Aussies, here is a translation guide:

1 - Blokes punching above their weight - Guys dating out of their league
2 - Chucking it all in - Giving up
3 - Chucked a sickie - took a sick day
4 - Cashed up Bogan - white trash with money
5 - Azzas - Aussies add this to names, ie Sharon=Shazza, Derek=Dazza. Not sure why.

It takes about 20 seconds to load....I think it's worth the wait.

First Term Report Card

Schools have four terms here in AU. The terms are usually 8-10 weeks long, with breaks of two to three weeks in between. It sort of sucks. Since we are a two parent working family, these breaks are killing us. I'm sure when kids get older, it's fine to send them to a sports camp or what ever they're interested in. But right now, at five, we both think that Mitch is just too young to be sent to a camp at an unfamiliar place, run by people that we don't know. His campus only has 160 boys so it's not the type of school that has on site Holiday programs. So I guess right before the term ends, the schools usually mail out report cards or evaluations. We just got Mitch's first term evaluation, and I'm less than pleased. Let's start with the categories. In addition to breaking the report down by subjects, there are like 100 specific applications. My gripe is that most of these aren't even applicable to his grade level. Is it really necessary to grade a five year old on "demonstrates understanding of addition process using concrete materials" or "recognizes that text can be produced using word processors". Obviously the report is used for up to 6th grade. It just seems like a one size fits all, which I'm not sure is the best approach. The grades, er, "achievements" are A B, C, D and E. A is "Working beyond, and E is "Working below". Pretty standard, much like the US. There's nothing lower than E, so I figure E is the equivalent of F. Except, "working below" sounds much better than "fail". But my main gripe has to do with the grading that Mitch received in two applications. He got a "D" in "Pencil holding technique". He holds the pencil with the tripod grip, and can color in the lines. So I ask you, isn't that worth at least a "C"? To make it worse I brought it up to the teacher yesterday thinking that she would look at me with astonishment and say something like, "I gave him a D, really? I must have made a mistake". Instead, she suggested that we might want to consider occupational therapy if his writing doesn't improve by next term. I was gobsmacked. I'm a fan of high standards like most parents, but there is no way that we are enrolling him in OT to improve his pencil grip technique. In fact that's another gripe - I just don't consider OT an extracurricular activity. My next complaint is his PE grading. He got "D"s for almost all PE achievements - in particular - "Basic Body Movement". Does the PE teacher have him confused with another kid? Anyone who knows my kid, will agree that he has absolutely no problem with basic body movement. In particular, the comments section states "some trouble with hopping". Overall the grading was "C", which I'm fine with. I just wonder if the expectations are a little high? One thing I can't dispute was the recurring theme throughout the comments sections, "chatty, needs to learn to listen to others, a little talkative, needs to resist the urge to talk, likes to talk"... I get it - he's a chatty Cathy. Look at his parents, what do you expect? Don and I didn't even talk about the report with Mitch. He'll catch up if need be in the next few years. We're totally not sweating it either. After all, doctors have terrible hand writing. Am I right, or am I right?

I was volunteering at the prep shop at Mitch's school on Friday morning when I received a call from Don. He wanted to let me know that TMZ was reporting that Michael Jackson had died. I'm addicted to TMZ. I usually check it once a day, and although Perez and the Superificial are entertaining I find TMZ to be the most up to date and accurate. I was on the road most of Friday so I listened to AM radio, where they were piping in US news programs and tributes.

That evening Don and I were talking about it, and even Mitch seemed to know who MJ was. Well, at least he thought he knew, according to what he had heard at school that day. He was very curious that evening, and so Saturday morning we tried to explain to him exactly who MJ was, and why he was so famous. We tried to pull up some videos for him to watch and of course the internet had slowed to a crawl. Suddenly a lighbulb, MTV! Turned out that VH1 was having a top 30 countdown of MJ videos. Both Don and I thought that Thriller would be a great video for Mitch to see. It's got music, flair, and dancing zombies. How could we go wrong? Hmmmmmm....maybe not such a great idea. Mitch seemed to be into it, until MJ transformed into a yellow eyed people eater. He started shrieking, covering his eyes and attempted to tunnel through the sofa, via my armpit. Don came running into the room, scrambling for the remote. He found it just as Mitch started to calm down. Don turned off the TV, and immediately Mitch popped his head up wanting to know why we turned it off. He started to cry saying he wanted to watch it. So, I uh, I turned it back on. Yeah, I know. He was really into it, said he liked it. So here we are Sunday night. Mitch has called us in three times because he keeps "seeing bad things" and can't sleep. Coincidence? Stall tactic? Bad mommy? Who knows.

On Saturday morning (pre Thriller) I had planned on turning the TV off after one or two videos. but I actually found myself wanting to watch as many as I could. I hadn't really listened to MJ since the early 90s, and I certainly hadn't purchased an album since Bad. but watching the videos really took me back. Last week, if you had asked my opinion of him I wouldn't have been very kind. But one thing that cannot be dismissed is that he had an immense and immeasurable talent. Hopefully he now finds the peace that he was unable to attain during his life.

Karma

First off, the photo has absolutely nothing to do with the post. Just my way of making the grandparents smile :)

Last night Don and I went to dinner with some friends at the Orient Hotel in the Rocks. Wow - a real night out. We got some drinks and got a standing table by the entrance. No chairs, just a table with a little shelf underneath for your purse, etc. About ten minutes in we decided to move upstairs where it was a bit warmer. About twenty minutes after that we were sitting upstairs enjoying our drinks and conversation when I realized that I should probably check my phone, just in case the babysitter had called. What did parents do thirty years ago? I would say that they probably went out and enjoyed themselves, instead of having the luxury to check their cell phone neurotically every half hour (or is that just me?). Well, I looked to the left, to the right, behind me, then jumped up like a bee had stung me, realizing that I couldn't find my purse. I realized that I had left it downstairs, in the crowded bar area. Don went flying down the stairs, I was five steps behind him. The table was now occupied by a group of twenty something guys....and my purse was gone. Now, the story could sadly end there. However, one of the twenty something guys pointed out front and said to my husband, "the bag is over there". The front door guy walked in at that moment, with my purse in hand. The guys at the table had handed it in to security. You cannot believe the feeling of absolute relief that washed over me in that five seconds. I have never lost a purse or had one stolen. I've never even misplaced my wallet (my glasses are a another story). However, I have found a few wallets over the years. Probably the most memorable one is when I was thirteen. I had just walked outside Sav-on when I saw a wallet sitting on the ledge of the pay phones. I looked around and there was no one close by. I stood by it for a few minutes but no one came for it. So I covertly put in under my shirt, which was not an easy thing to do given the size of the thing. This was one of those wallets where the guy had his life stuffed in it. The kind that throws hips out and causes sciatica. It was chockablock full of credit cards, business cards, the pink slip to his vehicle, and a wad of cash. I think it was like $160, which to a thirteen year old in the early 80s was a lot of moolah. I showed my mom and stepfather. My stepfather gave me the sage advice of taking the cash out and tossing the wallet in a mailbox (nice, huh?) where he assured me that the postman would deliver it to the rightful owner. My grandmother, who lived with us, quickly pulled me aside and sat me down. She said that basically I had found the wallet, and it was my decision to do what I wanted. But, I also knew what would be the right decision. I thought about it for about an hour, and decided that I would call the owner. I still remember how nervous I was. I uttered, "I uh, I have your wallet" or something eloquent like that. The guy put the phone down and I could hear him yelling to someone in the background. He got my address, and said he'd be right over. He showed up about twenty minutes later. I gave him the wallet, he opened it up, thumbed through the money - twice - put the wallet in his back pocket, uttered "thanks", then turned around and left. I was disappointed, I really thought I might get a reward. My grandmother said she was proud of me, my stepfather laughed, and I felt like the world's biggest fool. I what-if'd the situation for days. What if I had just taken twenty from the wallet? For a few days I even lived on hope, half expecting him to return and present me with a reward so I could blow it on Chu-Bops and rainbow unicorn stickers. Eventually I came to realize that my reward (and I know this sounds really cheesy) is being able to look back and know that I did the right thing. I hope at the time it gave my grandmother some comfort, knowing that her years of hard work and diligence of instilling values, actually took. So fast forward twenty eight years and here we are. When things like this happen, I think it just verifies that life is full of cause and effect and that our daily actions do shape our present and future experiences in life. Call it Karma, the Golden Rule, or just doing the right thing. By the way, after my knees stopped shaking we bought the group of guys a round of drinks to show our appreciation. And guys - if you're out there - your mums would be proud!

Music Part II

Yes, I realize that I just wrote a post on music. Looking back, it was a bit harsh. I guess that's what a working road trip over a Holiday weekend does. Ultimately, I've realized over the last week that pop and rock are all fine, as long as it's something I like to hear. OK, so I'm a hypocrite, whatever. This song has been getting alot of airplay here. I just heard a few days ago that Australian stations are mandated to play a certain percentage of Aussie music, as opposed to US or UK artists. Interesting. So, I'm not sure if this song is really good, or if I've just grown fond of it as a result of hearing it XX amount of times per hour as mandated by the Australian Government. I actually think the artist might be a Kiwi now living here, or the other way around. Anyways, here's something a little different. Or, maybe it's already hit the States?

Medicare Monday

It's Monday morning. I would usually be at work, but I have an ear infection if you can believe that. Hopefully my boss did. I woke up with the feeling of some pressure on the right side of my face, and a headache. Over the next few hours it developed into something akin to an icepick being driven through my right ear. I now know why babies scream and tug on their ears when they get an ear infection. I got some antibiotics and ear drops, so I'll probably be back to work later today, or tomorrow. I also got the opportunity to use my Medicare card for the first time. Coming over on a 457 we weren't eligible for Medicare so we had to get private health insurance. We paid the bills and then sent them in for reimbursement. But when I got citizenship I became eligible for Medicare (it was a nightmare getting it - but that's a different story for another day). I went to the clinic, gave them my card, saw the doctor, signed some papers and that was that. I had the good fortune to pick a clinic that has bulk billing so I wasn't out of pocket. Bulk billing is an agreement with Medicare where the doctors accept whatever the scheduled fee is that Medicare is willing to pay for XX visit. Even with Medicare here, doctors can charge what they want (like in the States). So if what Medicare pays is less than what the doctor charges for a visit, you end up with a "gap" payment. They can't call it a co-payment here, even though that's essentially what it is. Next I went to get my prescriptions. I thought they might be free here, but Medicare pays anything over $32. My Amoxicillan was $16 so I paid for that, the ear drops must have been more because I paid $32 for those. What, no painkillers? Well that's not a problem since you can pick up codeine over the counter in Australia. All in all, Medicare is not a bad plan, just not as good as the States where our prescription plan was a $10 copay for generics, and $20 for anything else. It will be interesting when I choose a general practitioner for my "regular doctor" as opposed to a clinic, and find out what my gap payment will be. Our insurance plan in the States was exceptional, like the AMEX platinum of insurance. We could pretty much choose any doctor we wanted (and it seemed that every doctor accepted our plan) and we could self refer to specialists, and had only a $10 copayment. I have a feeling that isn't going to happen here.