I thought there should be a rating scale for diapers, you know, like the Richter scale for earthquakes. Richter didn't seem appropriate, more for farts really. As when sitting on a wooden park bench and someone at the other end lets one go, does it rumble the slats or not? Of course there could be a Richter component but that starts to get complicated.
Then I thought of the Saffir-Simpson scale which is used to measure hurricanes. Mmmm, there's wind, rain and damage. That could work, so here it is.
Category 1 hurricane
75 - 95 mph winds
Damage primarily to trees and un-anchored mobile homes; some coastal flooding.
Category 1 Diaper (1 baby wipe)
75 - 90 grams of poo
Damage limited to small pellet sized poo balls. No fluids present.
Category 2 hurricane
96 -110 mph winds
Some damage to roofs, doors, windows, trees and shrubbery; flooding damage to piers.
Category 2 Diaper (2 baby wipes)
96 -110 grams of poo
Damage has arrived in larger quantities than Category 1, damage detectable by faint odour as the event passes by. Damp from peeing.
Category 3 hurricane
111 - 130 mph winds
Some structural damage; large trees blown down; flooding near shoreline and possibly inland; mobile homes destroyed.
Category 3 Diaper (3 baby wipes)
111 - 130 grams of poo
Damage easily recognized by the aroma wafting around the room/car. Substantially greater quantities of pee. Diaper makes a thud as it hits the bottom of the garbage can.
Category 4 hurricane
131 - 155 mph winds
Extensive damage to doors and windows; major damage to lower floors near shore; terrain may be flooded well inland.
Category 4 Diaper (4 baby wipes)
131 - 155 grams of poo
Saved up a whole days worth of eating for this one. Last nights dinner easily recognizable, what's that? Oh, blueberries. How can you smell this bad? Good grief, it's almost to the top of the diaper. Makes a squishing sound from the pee.
I would like to add that it is at this stage the task is handed over to the "primary caregiver" as mum (or dad) can't handle it.
Category 5 hurricane
More than 155 mph winds
Complete roof failure and some building failures; massive evacuation; flooding causes major damage to lower floors of all shoreline buildings.
Category 5 Diaper (5+ baby wipes)
More crap than you can count
Holy mother of God, it's leaking out of the sides and running down the inside of his sleeper.
The dog leaves the room in disgust.
Your T-shirt needs to be pulled up over your nose as the smell is making your eyes water.
Forgot to get the baby wipes ready first, hold the kid up in the air by his feet (shoulders still on the changing pad) and reach for the wipes with your free hand. Diaper falls to the floor creating a secondary explosion.
Call for reinforcements.
Reinforcements take a step back as they enter the room.
He hasn't finished peeing, he has now.
No amount of baby wipes is going to fix this. OFF TO THE TUB.
Beer.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
Marinated Leg of Lamb (butterflied)
1 leg of lamb, 6 to 7 pounds, boned and butterflied
For Marinade:
3/4 cup olive oil
1/2 cup red wine vinegar
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
1/3 cup minced fresh rosemary
1/4 cup minced fresh thyme
2 tablespoons soy sauce
2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
2 teaspoons anchovy paste
7 or 8 large cloves garlic, crushed
Trim off any excess fat from the lamb and place it in a 9-by-13-inch pan. Whisk together all the marinade ingredients in a bowl. Scoop out and reserve 1/4 cup of the marinade, and pour the remainder over the lamb. Massage into the meat. Cover and refrigerate for 12 to 24 hours.
Doesn't that just sound awesome?
We're off to Manning for a couple of days and I'm in charge of dinner for Saturday.
This is what I'm making.
There'll be some complaints from Tracy if she spots the mini-barbeque in the back of the truck tomorrow.
she: "what's that for?"
me "dinner"
she "why do you have to take it all the way to Manning?"
me "dinner"
she "Can't you just cook it in the oven, like a normal person?"
me "nope"
At this point Trace will either walk away mumbling or this will go on for 10 minutes or so. Either way I'm cooking it on the mini barbeque.
The marinade came together pretty well. Had to top up the olive oil with a couple of TBSPs of veggie oil. Bought fresh rosemary but unfortunately forgot to find a recipe before buying ingredients.
We have a pretty well stocked cupboard of herbs and I knew I was going with a "Rosemary" marinade, unfortunately, we don't have any thyme, oh well.
Found an extra large ziploc for marinating it in at the bottom of the pantry and noticed a whole box of them at the back.
It was at precisely this moment I thought to myself "maybe I should blow this bag up to see if has any holes in it?". Self thought back "naah, who would put a Ziploc back in the cupboard with a hole in it?".
Self was right, no-one would put a Ziploc back in the cupboard with a hole in it. What use would it be? The whole point of a Ziploc is that it "zips and locks, right?"
Nobody put it back with "a" hole in it, no, not one hole.
This ziploc was apparently a sieve in a previous life poured the marinade in. Out it exited, through more holes than you'll find on a tray of Tim Horton's doughnuts.
The ensuing panic is not worth describing. Suffice it to say, the dog hates rosemary and the Lamb is now resting comfortably inside 2 extra large Ziplocs.
I'll post pictures on Sunday.
For Marinade:
3/4 cup olive oil
1/2 cup red wine vinegar
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
1/3 cup minced fresh rosemary
1/4 cup minced fresh thyme
2 tablespoons soy sauce
2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
2 teaspoons anchovy paste
7 or 8 large cloves garlic, crushed
Trim off any excess fat from the lamb and place it in a 9-by-13-inch pan. Whisk together all the marinade ingredients in a bowl. Scoop out and reserve 1/4 cup of the marinade, and pour the remainder over the lamb. Massage into the meat. Cover and refrigerate for 12 to 24 hours.
Doesn't that just sound awesome?
We're off to Manning for a couple of days and I'm in charge of dinner for Saturday.
This is what I'm making.
There'll be some complaints from Tracy if she spots the mini-barbeque in the back of the truck tomorrow.
she: "what's that for?"
me "dinner"
she "why do you have to take it all the way to Manning?"
me "dinner"
she "Can't you just cook it in the oven, like a normal person?"
me "nope"
At this point Trace will either walk away mumbling or this will go on for 10 minutes or so. Either way I'm cooking it on the mini barbeque.
The marinade came together pretty well. Had to top up the olive oil with a couple of TBSPs of veggie oil. Bought fresh rosemary but unfortunately forgot to find a recipe before buying ingredients.
We have a pretty well stocked cupboard of herbs and I knew I was going with a "Rosemary" marinade, unfortunately, we don't have any thyme, oh well.
Found an extra large ziploc for marinating it in at the bottom of the pantry and noticed a whole box of them at the back.
It was at precisely this moment I thought to myself "maybe I should blow this bag up to see if has any holes in it?". Self thought back "naah, who would put a Ziploc back in the cupboard with a hole in it?".
Self was right, no-one would put a Ziploc back in the cupboard with a hole in it. What use would it be? The whole point of a Ziploc is that it "zips and locks, right?"
Nobody put it back with "a" hole in it, no, not one hole.
This ziploc was apparently a sieve in a previous life poured the marinade in. Out it exited, through more holes than you'll find on a tray of Tim Horton's doughnuts.
The ensuing panic is not worth describing. Suffice it to say, the dog hates rosemary and the Lamb is now resting comfortably inside 2 extra large Ziplocs.
I'll post pictures on Sunday.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
inta lectual property
Without going into too much detail, I offered my blog to be printed in a newsletter.
It was a weird thing to do, but I have received so much positive feedback from folks that I thought that maybe a new audience might enjoy it too.
The response came back from the editor of the news letter that they would like to edit it so that it is suitable for children.
I was overwhelmed by a feeling of protectionism. "This is mine, you can't touch it! Why do you want to change it? I'm writing it so my son can read it. What are you protecting your children from? .....Did I write dodgy stuff?"
Strangely odd. Why do I have this overly protectionist feeling about something that I spent no time working on? I just typed (2 fingers. Why use 10 when 2 will do?) and that was that.
I'm not going back and reading all this stuff to figure out which ones are inappropriate, so I guess I'll figure it out if or when it gets printed.
But the truth of the matter is, that on the internet, anyone can do what they want with it. I have no control. That's why it is there, for people to read. The recent fuworgh (what is that word? I have no idea) about privacy issues on facebook spring to mind.
Its a SOCIAL NETWORKING SITE!!!!! it's not meant to be private? This is a blog which is also not meant to be private. What would be the point? I hope my eldest kids get to read it and get a glimmer of who I am and who their little brother and Step-Mum are.
So, quite honestly, I have absolutely no problem with the person concerned doing whatever he (or she) thinks is right. As long as it's still funny and his (or her) husband (or wife) checks it out. As he (or she) might have the same sense of humour as me (or him) because we may (or may not) be from the same part of the world.
Dog just farted, no time, to edit, gotta go.
It was a weird thing to do, but I have received so much positive feedback from folks that I thought that maybe a new audience might enjoy it too.
The response came back from the editor of the news letter that they would like to edit it so that it is suitable for children.
I was overwhelmed by a feeling of protectionism. "This is mine, you can't touch it! Why do you want to change it? I'm writing it so my son can read it. What are you protecting your children from? .....Did I write dodgy stuff?"
Strangely odd. Why do I have this overly protectionist feeling about something that I spent no time working on? I just typed (2 fingers. Why use 10 when 2 will do?) and that was that.
I'm not going back and reading all this stuff to figure out which ones are inappropriate, so I guess I'll figure it out if or when it gets printed.
But the truth of the matter is, that on the internet, anyone can do what they want with it. I have no control. That's why it is there, for people to read. The recent fuworgh (what is that word? I have no idea) about privacy issues on facebook spring to mind.
Its a SOCIAL NETWORKING SITE!!!!! it's not meant to be private? This is a blog which is also not meant to be private. What would be the point? I hope my eldest kids get to read it and get a glimmer of who I am and who their little brother and Step-Mum are.
So, quite honestly, I have absolutely no problem with the person concerned doing whatever he (or she) thinks is right. As long as it's still funny and his (or her) husband (or wife) checks it out. As he (or she) might have the same sense of humour as me (or him) because we may (or may not) be from the same part of the world.
Dog just farted, no time, to edit, gotta go.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Trip to the Hospital (again)
It started innocently enough. Runny nose, 2 days, not even a full on "eight hankies in an hour" affair.
Then the wheezing started, oh oh.
I started giving him the puffer (Ventolin, for the medically inclined) but wasn't sure about the Steroid. Mark McGwire ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mark_McGwire )obviously would've put his kid on 'em ASAP. But Tanner would have only got muscles in his spit, so where's the use in that?
Called the GP "come in tomorrow at 11:30" she ordered.
Got there at 11:30, trainee doctor came in at 11:50.
Now this wouldn't seem out of the ordinairy to most folks but I arrived there 7 minutes late once and was grilled by the receptionist.
"Did you have trouble finding parking?" She asked
"I'm sorry" I replied. She obviously interpreted this as a sign of weakness and came at me again.
"Why are you late?" I gestured towards the obviously sick 17 month old in my arms.
"The doctor is very busy I might have to reschedule"
That got me.
"well, yesterday he couldn't breathe so you might want to ask the doctor about that, you short, fat, miserable little cow"
Okay I didn't say the last bit, but that self important 22 year old did piss me off.
Anyway, the Trainee asked a few questions, I told her about the 2 previous occurrences including the 2 days in hospital. She put her stethoscope on his back, sat down and said "well what do you want from us?"
I thought of asking her if she'd ever been a receptionist but didn't.
I told her I wanted to make sure it was okay to give him the puffer and should I be giving him the steroids?
She said she would go and get the "real" doctor (my words).
Dr T. came in, Stethoscoped him and turned to the trainee and said "he's really wheezy, would you like to listen again?"
That was Wednesday.
"Come back and see me on Monday."
Monday, same symptoms, she sent us to emergency. DOH!
I won't go into the full details, We were there for 4 hours or so. It wasn't too bad.
The good news is there was a nurse there that explained the whole situation to me. She explained how her son had the same thing (lots of kids do) she told me that she starts him on the "roids" at the first sign of a runny nose because they take some time to kick in. Awesome.
Great nurse, but she'd have been a crappy receptionist.
Then the wheezing started, oh oh.
I started giving him the puffer (Ventolin, for the medically inclined) but wasn't sure about the Steroid. Mark McGwire ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mark_McGwire )obviously would've put his kid on 'em ASAP. But Tanner would have only got muscles in his spit, so where's the use in that?
Called the GP "come in tomorrow at 11:30" she ordered.
Got there at 11:30, trainee doctor came in at 11:50.
Now this wouldn't seem out of the ordinairy to most folks but I arrived there 7 minutes late once and was grilled by the receptionist.
"Did you have trouble finding parking?" She asked
"I'm sorry" I replied. She obviously interpreted this as a sign of weakness and came at me again.
"Why are you late?" I gestured towards the obviously sick 17 month old in my arms.
"The doctor is very busy I might have to reschedule"
That got me.
"well, yesterday he couldn't breathe so you might want to ask the doctor about that, you short, fat, miserable little cow"
Okay I didn't say the last bit, but that self important 22 year old did piss me off.
Anyway, the Trainee asked a few questions, I told her about the 2 previous occurrences including the 2 days in hospital. She put her stethoscope on his back, sat down and said "well what do you want from us?"
I thought of asking her if she'd ever been a receptionist but didn't.
I told her I wanted to make sure it was okay to give him the puffer and should I be giving him the steroids?
She said she would go and get the "real" doctor (my words).
Dr T. came in, Stethoscoped him and turned to the trainee and said "he's really wheezy, would you like to listen again?"
That was Wednesday.
"Come back and see me on Monday."
Monday, same symptoms, she sent us to emergency. DOH!
I won't go into the full details, We were there for 4 hours or so. It wasn't too bad.
The good news is there was a nurse there that explained the whole situation to me. She explained how her son had the same thing (lots of kids do) she told me that she starts him on the "roids" at the first sign of a runny nose because they take some time to kick in. Awesome.
Great nurse, but she'd have been a crappy receptionist.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
My boy has a phobia.
There were supposed to be photographs with this blog.
In fact this blog had a different name originally. It was called "Tanners first haircut".
But it turns out he has a phobia.
I haven't narrowed it down yet. It's not like an allergy where you can go and get tested, it's a matter of elimination.
Here's the things I have to eliminate:
1. Squirty bottles with water in them.
2. Combs
3. Middle-aged Vietnamese ladies wearing too much make-up and/or perfume.
4. Scissors. Not that they actually came near him, but they were extremely close by.
She said "come back later"
"okay" I replied
"six month time."
I'll try the old Italian guy in a couple of weeks.
Maybe there'll be photos.
In fact this blog had a different name originally. It was called "Tanners first haircut".
But it turns out he has a phobia.
I haven't narrowed it down yet. It's not like an allergy where you can go and get tested, it's a matter of elimination.
Here's the things I have to eliminate:
1. Squirty bottles with water in them.
2. Combs
3. Middle-aged Vietnamese ladies wearing too much make-up and/or perfume.
4. Scissors. Not that they actually came near him, but they were extremely close by.
She said "come back later"
"okay" I replied
"six month time."
I'll try the old Italian guy in a couple of weeks.
Maybe there'll be photos.
Monday, January 4, 2010
1979 F250 (Camper special)
Now the vehicle pictured above is a fine looking specimen of a 1979 Ford F-250 and NOT a picture of my 1979 F-250. Mine was a fine machine, don't get me wrong, but it wasn't as pretty as this one.
Mine was purchased from our dear friend Karen's father. Wonderful guy and proud to say we drank together once (that's a whole other story). Anyway, 500 bucks was the princely sum I paid him for it, and I was chuffed to bits. So chuffed in fact I drove away from his house in Nanoose Bay with the licence plates still sitting in a bag at his house.
Anyway, the thing about a 1979 ford f-250 Camper Special, is that first gear (yes it was a standard) is there for when there's a fully laden camper on the back. Otherwise first gear gets you a whopping 4 inches forward and then you have to change into 2nd.
It's all about gear ratios, torque and brake horsepower and, well, mechanical stuff that I don't need to bore you with, suffice it to say, 1st gear in a 1979 ford f-250 Camper Special is as about as useful as a ham sandwich at a Jewish wedding.
So, the point is you never use first, ever. Pulls away from a standing start totally happy in second. You don't have to slip the clutch or anything fancy, just put it in 2nd, little bit of gas, foot off the clutch and away you go. Easy.
How, I hear you wonder does that get me to a story about Tanner?
Well here he is
Granted, first glimpse you wouldn't say that it looks much like a 1979 ford f-250 Camper Special but believe me, I've seen it with my own eyes.
He sticks his feet out as far as they will go (approximately 2 inches) and then drags himself forward. But no further forward will he go. Pushing backwards is waaay easier he can go for yards backwards.
It seems, thus far, that if going forward will only move him a few inches then, for now, he's sticking to reverse.
Kid just needs to find second.
Marlin Fishing
I've never fished for Marlin but I've seen it on the telly.
Looks like this:
Fellas struggle for hours, they have to wear a special belt to keep the handle of the rod from spearing them in the belly, Quite often, another guy has to take the rod, he doesn't reel the fish in, no, he's just giving the first fella (it is, after all, his fish) a break. So he can catch his breath, regain his composure once again for the ensuing onslaught.
Ever tried putting an 18 month old in a high chair when he doesn't want to go? Same thing. Except there's nobody there to hold onto the struggling lump while you take a breather.
As most anglers do, I've crafted a technique. I swing him from side to side in a motion that eventually forces his legs, from thrashing uncontrollably, to swaying from side to side in unison (and together) and, as an angler would take that last yank that forces the fish into submission, I knock his feet against the arm of the highchair and in he goes.
Landed, now for the safety harness.
Not unlike when you've got your supper in front of you on the deck of the boat and all that is left to do is remove the hook from its mouth, that clip that holds him in place can bite just like the marlin.
Fish picture borrowed from here:
www.wexpl.com/SCFishing.htm
Looks like this:
Fellas struggle for hours, they have to wear a special belt to keep the handle of the rod from spearing them in the belly, Quite often, another guy has to take the rod, he doesn't reel the fish in, no, he's just giving the first fella (it is, after all, his fish) a break. So he can catch his breath, regain his composure once again for the ensuing onslaught.
Ever tried putting an 18 month old in a high chair when he doesn't want to go? Same thing. Except there's nobody there to hold onto the struggling lump while you take a breather.
As most anglers do, I've crafted a technique. I swing him from side to side in a motion that eventually forces his legs, from thrashing uncontrollably, to swaying from side to side in unison (and together) and, as an angler would take that last yank that forces the fish into submission, I knock his feet against the arm of the highchair and in he goes.
Landed, now for the safety harness.
Not unlike when you've got your supper in front of you on the deck of the boat and all that is left to do is remove the hook from its mouth, that clip that holds him in place can bite just like the marlin.
Fish picture borrowed from here:
www.wexpl.com/SCFishing.htm
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