It’s been one of those weeks. No, not calamity-filled and hand-wringingly tragic; we’ve just been busy doing stuff.
Some stuff has been really awesome, like two of our number taking in the Foo Fighters concert on Wednesday night. If the anticipation of three hours of continuous on-stage Foos wasn’t enough, our humble suburb was graced with the presence of Dave himself, spotted partaking of a cup of coffee and a cinnamon swirl (how rock ‘n roll) at one of the lesser trendy Brighton eateries. The Homestead representatives report he spoke highly of our suburb, city, and the new Avon-Otakaro green belt cycleway he spent “four expletive hours, man” on prior to rewarding himself with aforementioned beverage and sconey comestible, looking none the worse for wear for not visiting Crema instead. Next time, Dave…
This week also marked the beginning of Farm Girl’s entrance into “the system”. We’re not usually fans of this sort of thing, but after a sizable chunk of reporting, assessing, and meetings, Farm Girl has qualified for ORS (school support for children with special education needs) because of her misbehaving eyesight. Part of this involves attending a music group:
Marimbas + singing + dancing + assorted percussion instruments (and a tutor keen to hear her recorder and ukulele prowess) = Farm Girl heaven.
And if that wasn’t enough, we managed to cram a visit to the local skate park in between the end of music group (and subsequent cross-city journey) and the beginning of her weekly swimming lesson.
The Farmer, Renovator and Bean Counter have been busy doing what they get paid to do. The Farmer has been dealing with the aftermath of a five-dog attack (whilst the owner observed from a distance) on a flock of sheep,
The Bean Counter has been croakily overseeing his dominion (a result of too much singing along with Dave and the boys), and The Renovator has been learning just how irritating a constantly-chatting class member can be (in one of those gorgeous twists fate is prone to doling out). The Goat Herd and Milk Maid spent their week engaging in hard manual graft, a smattering of bicycle maintenance, and some emergency plumbing.
Not a bad week at all was the general consensus as we dallied over our second coffees in the sun at Crema today; enough labour to ensure a good nights sleep, excitement to keep the blood pumping, irritation to exercise diplomacy, and a touch of ugly to remind us our world is usually a beautiful place.