January 31. Day 31. Relax!

A couple of things took me by surprise today. Number one was when I had my first Thai massage. It is true that I never follow through with my pledge to have regular massages but I have still had my fair share - but never a Thai one. Thus when the gorgeous Thai girl leaped on the massage bed behind me and started to crawl up my spine I admit to being surprised. I also admit I immediately reassessed the idea of taking my son there. I rather suspect no 16-year-old male is equipped to safely deal with that on his near-naked body. But I digress.
Surprise 2 was later this afternoon when I walked to South Bank this afternoon. Gone were the twilight markets and in their place games. Families were playing mini golf, Connect 4, table tennis or just chilling on the pink bean bags and listening to the music. I wasn't expecting that.
Two very different experiences to book end the day and two awesome ways to relax (or one if you are a teenage male).

January 30. Day 30 We'll cross that bridge

How wise was the person who first said "we'll cross that bridge when we come to it".
I admire that person but I almost never follow his or her advice. If preemptive bridge crossing was an Olympic sport, I'd be a gold medalist.
Yes it is true that forewarned is forearmed and there is real value to being a good little Girl Guide and always being prepared.
But worrying about things that might never happen is just a waste of emotional energy.
If I approach a metaphoric river, I am imagining how to deal with a bridge that has washed away, or is being guarded by trolls or is about to be blown up by invading tribes (it is possible I watch too many movies). And guess what? Never have I come to a bridge that is anything I couldn't safely cross. Who would have thought? This afternoon it was the Eleanor Schonnel  Bridge and my passage was totally uneventful. And on the return journey I got to enjoy a beautiful sunset over the bridge. I might cross that bridge when I come to it more often.

January 29. Day 29. Trying to keep things in perspective

It's three in the morning. You wake in a blind panic, body lathered in a cold sweat. something insurmountably awful is happening at work, to your body, with your family. Whatever. You can't sleep for what seems like an eternity but eventually as the first rays of light emerge you fall into a coma only to wake later feeling like a zombie but asking yourself  "what the f*** was that all about?". In the cold light of day you realise that you had done that mountain from a molehill thing in your head. Some times it is really hard to keep things in perspective. That's what I like about the two images I took this morning seconds and metres apart. The first one reminded me of the biblical quote "it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter heaven". Yep, even when I learned that the eye of the needle actually referred to some small pass in the walls of the city, that still seemed pretty hard. Trying to raise Stefan's Eye Needle with a crane would also be bloody near impossible. But look at the same thing from another angle and you realise that all in life is not as it seems. You were worrying over nothing. This is what I have been trying to tell Drama Teen who is approaching Year 11 with something near the 3am blind sweats thing. Give it time, sleep on it and approach it from another angle and you will see the blue sky in between.

January 28. Day 28. This is nuts

 I am totally aware of what the official dietary guidelines look like. I am also aware it is quite possible my food intake doesn't quite meet these guidelines (okay, not even close most days). Where it falls short is mostly in the consumption of fruit, vegetables, whole grains and seeds. I do, however, exceed in other areas. Let's just say that if chocolate was a food group of its own, I'd have that covered. So you'd think that I would be right at home with the diet I need to follow for a week from tomorrow prior to a medical procedure. No fruit, vegetables (except potatoes), whole grains, nuts, seeds or really anything with any fibre. But processed white grains, meat, dairy products, confectionery all okay. You'd think a diet that allows fish and chips but prohibits low fat dip and vegetables would have me smiling from ear to ear. But like Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, the fact that I can't have an apple makes me really, really want one. It really is a case of forbidden fruit. I have become like the galahs at the University of Queensland this afternoon - almost prepared to fight to the death over nuts and seeds.
Yep, it's nuts.

January 27. Day 27. Last throw of the dice

Around 8.30 tomorrow morning a collective sigh of relief will ring out across the city, its sound only partially drowned out by the sobs of mothers sending their little ones off to school for the first time.
After between six and eight weeks' holiday getting the house back can be a beautiful experience.
It is, however, not something I find any joy in for two reasons
1) My baby doesn't go back to school until Wednesday because after eight weeks you would need an extra day and
2) I really like school holidays
At this point you probably think I am either a) mad, b) a school teacher or c) lying.
Actually it is d) done of the above. I like school holidays because it means the biggest pressure points in our home disappear.
The arguments tend to be around homework, bed time, homework, getting out the door on time in the morning and homework. No school = no fights (well not quite but almost).
So I, for one, will be making the most of the final day of holidays tomorrow. And I sense I am not the only one milking the last hours of summer freedom for all it is worth. At 6pm, the pool at South Bank was still being well used by families making the most of the last throw of the dice. Now where is that shoe polish again ....

January 26. Day 26. Happy Australia Day

It is very hard to exactly put your finger on what it is to be Australian and what it is that makes this country great. In an increasingly global village we buy from the same shops, sing from the same song sheet and watch the same TV shows (probably while eating fast foods from the same fast food chains). But for all that sameness, Australians are not the same and that is worth celebrating. It is true that choosing the date of the first European settlement to mark Australia Day is going to be divisive and particularly offensive to Indigenous Australians. But it is also true that while January 26 may have originally been about white European Australia, the face of Australia celebrating today at South Bank showed that is not the Australia of today. There were people in turbans, saris and burqas. Aussie flag tattoos were on the faces of Chinese students and Polynesian grandmas who gathered by the pool or took in the free entertainment on offer. I'd like to think that is, in part, what makes Australia great. Everyone, no matter where they came from, can gather with their family and friends and safely enjoy the entertainment on offer in the great Australian outdoors. You don't even have to like Vegemite (although it helps). So Happy Australia Day to Australians old and new. However you choose to celebrate the day, I hope it was a good one.

January 25. Day 25. You've gotta laugh

You've gotta laugh especially at yourself if you can. Today a couple of things managed to turn my frown upside down. The first was this tree I pass whenever I walk to the University of Queensland. It always reminds me of a scene from Blackadder where a great deal of an episode in Series 2 was devoted to "a turnip that looked like a thingy". Who wouldn't laugh at vegetables that look like men's bits? Hilarious. This tree is heavily loaded with seed pods that look pretty rude. Again hilarious.As an added level of hilarity, faces had been drawn on a great number of the thingies. Of course they had. Who wouldn't see a tree full of hanging bits and want to get out their coloured pencils? I wish I'd thought of it. The second thing that made me laugh was Paul McDermott in concert at the Brisbane Powerhouse where once again men's bits came in for a fair amount of comedic attention. Paul described himself as having a voice like an angel and the mind of a devil and this show jumped between the two in a way that was at times dark and at other times just wickedly funny. The show was Paul's way of dealing with the death of a friend proving once again that laughter is the best medicine. Yep, you've gotta laugh (it's better than the alternative).

January 24. Day 24. Swimming in the Rain

Some people wear their hearts on their sleeves. My son tends to wear his on a slogan on his chest. He has an insanely large collection of slogan T Shirts and you can tell how he is feeling by the one that makes it on to his body (Today it was Another Day Passed and I didn't use Algebra Once. I suspect he was reflecting on back to school next week).
While slogan T shirts are not my thing I reckon I would sum up today with the shirt that reads We Never Really Grow Up, We Just Learn to Act in Public.
So as a responsible adult I never choose to go into the pool when it's raining. I mean I might get wet, or something.

I also reserve the brightly coloured ice blocks for really, really hot days or for the children.
Kids, however, have no such rules. They go where the spirit takes them and no amount of rain was going to keep visitors Charlotte and Ruby out of the pool today. Charlotte's mum and I sat in the shelter of the deck and watched because that's what sensible adults do when it's raining. Perhaps I should have selected a different T Shirt, the one that reads I See No Good Reason to Act my Age. I'm not sure if it's on a slogan T Shirt or not (it should be) but Growing old is mandatory. Growing up is optional.

"

January 23. Day 23. Happiness is ...

I pretty much never hand write anything. Shopping lists, appointments, letters, cards - almost all written communication is done with a keyboard or a touch screen. And yet I have an almost obsessive love of stationery. It fills my heart with joy (touch screens also deliver a fair amount of pleasure but that comes from a different part of the brain, I suspect). So while other back to school chores are just that - chores - the trip to the office supply shop is not. That is something to be savoured. Row after row of things you can write or draw on or with. It doesn't get much better than that. Today was stationery supply day for me and just about every other mother in Brisbane if the crowds in the carpark and at the checkout were anything to go by. Why every parent would choose the first day of bucketing down rain in about a century to undertake this task is anyone's guess but my ark joined those at Office Works this afternoon for what I shall call the pencil pilgrimage (as distinct from the pink pencil of pleasure which is how we refer to the dog's nether regions when he gets aroused although I'm sure the two are probably related in some way).

So that "chore" is now done. We are school ready. All I need to do now is keep Drama Teen away from the supplies until he walks through the school gate. That may be easier said than done. He may be a digital native but he shares my love of things that write. I mean, really, it may be old school but who doesn't love a colouring pencil or a highlighter?

* No new pencils were harmed in the taking of this image, which is my visual representation of the weather conditions when we did our stationery shop.

** The idea of submerging pencils in mineral water for visual impact is hardly my own. I stole it from others wiser than myself after seeing it on some photo blog some place. I would credit the creator if I knew who she or he was.

January 22. Day 22. Smelling the Roses

One of the things I promised myself I would do this year was stop to take time to smell the roses.
At this point, I would self assess my progress on that criteria as Epic Fail. There's been precious little stopping and in this heat all that I am really smelling is my own sweat (yes, that's a pleasant thought).
But this morning I did pause to sit by the pond at South Bank to watch the waterbirds getting full nostril (well beaks) full of the water lilies. Quite nice and peaceful it was too.
But clearly it was not a well thought through strategy. I estimate the temperature rose one degree for every minute I sat there and after contemplating the beauty of the day I had to face the reality of the walk home (to a suburb containing the words high and hill). By the time I arrived I looked like I'd actually swam in the pond and smelt NOTHING like the roses I crave. Oh well, people pay good money for a sauna ...

January 21. Day 21. Me and my big mouth

I really must learn to keep my big mouth shut. Seriously, I must be a tragically slow learner.
There isn't any other good reason why I would continue to put forward ideas, suggestions or observations which I know can only result in one outcome - more work for someone (that someone being me).
It's not that I am afraid of work - I'm not. However, being taken advantage of does get my beak out of joint rather badly.
I suppose it is just my nature and part of being a journalist - we are not a breed known for staying tight lipped. Some times there are just things you need to crow about, like it or not.

January 20. Day 20. Sprung

 

Guests at our house frequently find themselves playing a little game we like to call Find the Toilet Paper. For most, the rules are a little bit confusing because regardless of whether it's the hideous shiny stuff that smears rather than wipes, the stupid rolls you have to fight with to get more than one square or the patterned variety likely to be hidden under a crocheted doll, there's something pretty standard about toilet paper - it is positioned such that you can reach it while on the throne. Not in our house. Yes, we have toilet roll holders positioned near the loo but that's not where the loo roll lives. That position may be within easy reach of pooping people but, unfortunately, it is nicely placed for canine claws. Given that Rumple is almost one, he has outgrown many of his puppy bad habits but not his desire to steal toilet paper. Naturally, when caught in the act he looks all innocent and denies any involvement. But it appears that of late at least he may have been wrongly convicted. I'm not sure if he has an accomplice, or an apprentice or at the very least an alibi, but on the evidence recorded today it would seem there is another creature who sees toilet paper as a play thing. Cousin Fed was over again today and this time it was the Beagle pup caught red pawed. It wouldn't be so bad if he actually knew what to do with it. Then perhaps he could deal with a far worse puppy trait - that small matter of the wees and poos on the carpet.

That, at least, Rumple has grown out of.

January 19. Day 19. Hello Sunday Morning

Hello Sunday Morning. This is how things were looking at our place this morning. Chilling by the pool on another glorious Brisbane weekend.  (Here are my sister-in-law Karin, niece Jess and her cousin Luke springing into action). I find it just a little bit sad that there needs to be a movement promoting the benefits of being able to enjoy Sundays without feeling sick from what you did or the thought of what you might have done the night before. But our society's link between the consumption of alcohol and having a good time kind of makes that inevitable.
To be clear, I am neither a teetotaler nor a member of the fun police I have had more than my fair share of Sundays I either don't remember or wish I didn't. But not so much any more.
I also admit that the prospect of a 16-year-old's birthday party last night made me want to spike my own mocktail. But i did not. At my age, there are enough mornings where I wake up feeling crap without creating more of my own. And "do as I say not as I do" is really not a parenting style that appeals. If you are going to preach responsible alcohol use to a young person rapidly approaching the legal drinking age you really need to model correct behaviour. So it's everything in moderation around here - if you can ignore my food consumption or obsessive need to take photos of people jumping into the pool that is ...

January 18. Day 18. A Theatrical Touch

I  often wonder where Drama Teen's drama gene comes from. I assume it must be recessive and have been hidden for generations because there is not much in the way of singing, dancing and acting in my immediate family. Having said that, I will have to confess to being just an incy, tiny bit theatrical and nothing warms my heart more than a theme party. So when Drama Teen said he wanted a party for his 16th out came the planning paper and the credit card. Just a few friends, he said. Out by the pool, he said. Something simple. Hawaiian, possibly (he wanted to call it a Get Lai'd Party. Yeah right.) So out went to invitations to the Lai'd Back party. There are a lot of really good reasons chips, dips and party pies with a few bottles of soft drink or even a Slushy Machine are such popular party choices for young people. These include:

1) They are very easy

2) They are credit card friendly

3) The guests are perfectly happy with that and probably don't notice the difference any way

But where's the fun in that? Why go simple when you can give yourself a hernia and damage your credit rating by going all fancy pants. Sot there were deck chairs and flaming torches, mocktails and water bottles with flashing lights in the bottom, rice paper rolls, prawn kebabs and fruit skewers. Awesome (of course the most popular food choices were the pizza and cocktail Frankfurts. Seriously, young people today).

In the end I think everything worked out a treat. My biggest dread (rain) didn't happen. Neither did my elderly neighbour's fear induced by watching too many commercial current affairs programs (a Facebook Party luring hooligan gangs of gatecrashers). So really not that much drama at all - just a bit of theatre for the Diva Mumma

 

January 17. Day 17. Music to my ears

It is quite possible that I am the worst mother in the world.
I have been an abject failure when it comes to exposing my teenager to popular music to the point that I had to enlist my niece's assistance to come up with a music play list for Drama Teen's birthday party tomorrow night. Fact is, if it's not on the ABC local radio playlist or on a musical theatre soundtrack (or in my case released prior to 1990) there is every chance we've never heard it.
Yep, Epic Fail in Popular Culcha. On the other hand I award myself at least a credit when it comes to exposing the lad to a more diverse world of music. He'd get a high distinction in musical theatre knowledge. And I can't be all bad if I have raised a teenager prepared to spend a Friday night at the Powerhouse with his Mum rocking out to Amanda Harrison's one woman cabaret show (for those of you whose evil mothers let you listen to demon Pop Music her CV includes being the first Elphaba in the Australian version of Wicked).
So as long as the Worst Mother of the World still buys the tickets and the theatre is dark we can sing from the same song sheet.

January 16. Day 16. Puppy love

I've heard it said that some women can't see or even smell a newborn without feeling themselves ovulate and/or their hearts exploding. Other people's babies have never had that impact on me. I think they are delightful but seeing one, sniffing one or even cuddling one has never given me an irresistible urge to want one of my own to take home.
Puppies on the other hand .... when I set my eyes on a cute little fur friend (the fluffy the better) I find myself taking in a cutesy high pitched voice and going all mushy. Any thoughts of wees on the carpet, chewed everythings and vet bills are wiped from my mind. They make my heart melt.
Will you just look at this Maltese/Pomeranian cross who was on her first outing to the dog park today? Isn't she adorable?  That I could pick up and take home in a flash. Even the normally aloof Rumple didn't seem to mind this little lady, probably because she was no bigger than most of his chew toys.
Of course I am perfectly happy in a one dog family and have no plans of adopting any more canines but that doesn't stop me looking, does it? After all, I will almost certainly never get to take George Clooney home either ...

January 15. Day 15. Take a cold shower

I think a few people should really just take a cold shower. The people who come to mind are the members of my immediate family (me included).
The household has been struck down by what I shall call power bill shock. It's a particularly severe case. Our response to the recent oppressive heat has been to pump up the air conditioning and hang the cost. Well that attitude has come home to roost and let's just say it's not pretty.
So it's time to go all Survivor and get back to basics, where basics includes the use of the pool and the fridge but restricted use of AC. I know, that's hardcore but that's how it's going to be people. If you are hot, take a cold shower. That ruling is final and will not be modified, ever, or until the water usage bill arrives, whichever is sooner.

January 14. Day 14. Fur friends

You know the saying that goes "Keep your friends close but your enemies closer"? Here's a photo of that playing out in my house this week. Rumple is very much used to being top dog around our place but there's a new kid on the block. We've been doing a spot of baby sitting this week for Rumple's "cousin" a Beagle pup called The Fed* belonging to my brother and his family. It would be fair to say Rumple has his tail out of joint. It would also be fair to say Rumple is a lover not a fighter. He as an age, height and weight advantage over The Fed but his first reaction on seeing the new fur friend was to run and jump on my lap - and stay there for a very long time. But as time has progressed, the mutual distrust has faded, a bit. They are not exactly inseparable fur friends but they do rather enjoy each other's company, most of the time. I have no desire to become a two dog family but The Fed is welcome to occasional sleep overs. He'll be even more welcome when he learns to do his wee-wees in the garden.

*Yes, The Fed is named after a certain tennis player my brother thinks is awesome. His rationale is that like other Beagles he will be a hero when he is young and will continue to believe in this hero status long after his prime.

January 13. Day 13.My Little Ray of Sunshine

"Hi Mum," an oddly familiar yet at the same time alien voice says when I answer the phone. I only have one child and Caller ID confirms that it is Mr O on the end of the line but I admit I am still taken aback to hear a deep man's voice coming from my baby's mouth.

Today my Little Ray of Sunshine turned 16. My God, where did those years go? It all seems like it happened in the blink of an eye. It's true what they say. They are only young for such a short time and you should savour every minute. Having said that, not every year passes as quickly as the others and some minutes really are better forgotten. For many it is the terrible twos that seem like they will never end. I look back at those toddler years with great fondness. Perhaps time has healed all wounds but I think the truth is we sailed through those early years. Fifteen was not such a smooth ride and I know Mr O will be the first to admit that. It's not that I'd change it but I know we are all rather pleased to have come out the other side. So happy birthday to my sweet 16-year-old. May the next year bring you wonderful things and remember if you want driving lessons ask your father ....

January 12. Day 12. A different view

It's a weird thing. If you keep doing things in the same way at the same place the result generally turns out pretty much the same. Who would have thought? (Not me, obviously).
I'm pretty much a creature of habit. If it worked out okay the first time, why tempt fate? I'll tell you why. Small risk equals small return. Go out on a limb and there's a chance you'll come crashing to the ground but there's also a chance the view will be great.
So today I decided to do something different for a change. I love the Story Bridge and have photographed it many times - but always from the City side. It never occurred to me that potentially it would be a far better shot with the city included. This is particularly odd as the painting of the bridge which has pride of place in my lounge room is taken from this reverse view.
So tonight with time to kill I decided to seek out a vantage point on the New Farm side of the river. And guess what? There was a fair line up of photographers in pretty much the same position. Kind of obvious if you think about it.
So there you go. Change your perspective just a little bit and you might just be surprised with the results.
Predictably, I think I will return to this spot.

January 11. Day 11. Saturday Night Fever

 

 WARNING. What follows is one of my father's worst ever (but favourite) Dad jokes. Read on at your own risk.

Q: Why does a dog lick its balls?

A: Because it can

Don't say you weren't warned.

While "Because I said so" is really a tragically bad reason which I vowed (mostly successfully) to eliminate from my personal parenting manual I do think "because you can" should at least some times be reason enough.

Unfortunately we (by which I mean "I") have a tendency to over think, over analyse and seek to justify and explain things.

Being spontaneous and acting in the moment because you can may get you into trouble in the wrong circumstances but throwing caution to the wind also unlocks a whole world of creative possibilities (or I imagine it would if I tried it).

Which brings me to the Treasury Casino in Brisbane tonight which was putting on quite a light show.

Perhaps this was the lighting director's tribute to Saturday Night Fever. Perhaps I forgot to read the memo and it is actually International Show Off Your Lights Day. 

But I like to think it goes like this:

Q: Why did the lighting team at the Treasury Casino decide to use every colour in the lights' computer tonight?

A: Because they could

January 10. Day 10. Clouds

Rows and flows of angel hair
ice cream castles in the air
feather canyons everywhere
I've looked at clouds that way

But now they only block the sun
They rain and snow on everyone
So many things I would have done
But clouds got in my way
 

Are these not the most beautiful lyrics ever written? And so, so true. Some days we can see the magic in everything. Some days the storm clouds just seem to gather, no matter what the weather.
I've been seeing more than my fair share of storm clouds over recent months. I admit, anything approaching a sunny disposition has been horribly and uncharacteristically elusive. I hate that. It sucks.
But this year will be better. It has to be. Drugs and therapy and time and space and it will be better.
And for the record when I looked at the clouds from my back deck this afternoon it was an angel hair, ice cream castle, feather canyon type of sky I saw. That has to be a start, right? 

January 9. Day 9. Colour my world

I may be a feminist but I do not, as is the like of some, refer to God as she.
Quite simple the evidence is not there. For one there's the really, really obvious stuff like menstruation. That has to be the genius of a male. No argument. Period.
But there are other things such as clothing. Put a man - any man, any size, any shape - in a dinner suit and provided it fits he looks fabulous.
And look to the animal kingdom. The lioness is dull, colourless and boring. The lion is the king of beasts all mane and wonderful. Think peacock and peahen. Think bull versus cow. Doe versus Deer.
Sexual dimorphism is pretty much all strongly weighted in the boys' favour. Not fair. Totally not fair.
Females get the crap end of the bargain. Fortunately there are exceptions to every rule and that's one reason to love the rainbow lorikeet. Both the boys and the girls get to wear flashy technicolor dreamcoats. You have to love that. And not only that these birds remind me of summer holidays. Back in the day, the only place to get up and personal with these magnificent birds was the Currumbin Wildlife Sanctuary and almost everyone who grew up in this part of the world made a summer holiday pilgrimage to the sanctuary to have a photo taken of the birds perched on plates eating milk and honey or landing on some terrified child's head. Such good times. This photo was taken much closer to home - at the Roma Street Parklands - still putting on a show like the good old days but without any need to pay an admission fee. God may be male but feathered friends like this beautiful specimen seem to me to be proof that he has a great sense of style.

January 8. Day 8. Barking mad

The phone rang before we were out of bed. "Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday dear Rumple
Happy Birthday to you" my mother sang to the birthday boy. My only hope is that my mother's singing voice is in a range out of the hearing of canines as singing prowess is not something that runs in our family.
Insanity when it comes to pets is, however, a strong family trait.
There was the diabetic dog injected with insulin twice daily for two years and that time my father performed CPR on a beloved pooch on the front lawn and the mouse we had treated for tumors. You get the idea.
So clearly, singing happy birthday was never going to be the end of it.
Off I went to the specialist pet bakery for the cake, then there was the party with sparklers, candles and party hats. And, of course, presents.
Yes, it's insane. But in my defence let me say this. While insanity is hereditary (you get it from the kids) pet ownership is among the sanest things I have ever done. Pets are a great contributor to positive mental health and well being.
My Fur Friend Rumple is
1) Always pleased to see me
2) A great listener
3) Never judgemental
4) Totally up for a walk whenever and wherever I decide
5) Loyal, loving and totally devoted
What's more he never had a bad thing to say about me. Ever.
So he may not know or care that it's his birthday.
He may have been just as happy with the car ride to the treat store as he was with the cake and if he has any brains he may wish no-one in the family had sung to him.
I fully accept that a birthday party for a dog is barking mad but I make no apology for recognising the loyal and dedicated service of my fur friend on his birthday.
Happy birthday dear Rumple. Happy birthday to you

The Fed, Rumple's "cousin", tucks into the birthday cake

January 7. Day 7. It's mad

Seasonal affective disorder (SAD) is a real thing and apparently suffered by almost 10 per cent of people living in areas with long dark winters. Yes, it has now been scientifically proven that people do suffer winter depression.
Now it is time for scientists to turn their attention to what I am going to call MAD short for Muggy Affective Disorder. Seriously, the oppressively hot and humid conditions of recent days have been enough to turn even the most passive creature into a prize winning, A Grade, grump puss. You would have to be a quite mad not to feel just a little bit hot under the collar.
Thank you weather gods for the storm last night which meant that this morning everything and every body was just a little fresher and more pleasant.
At Roma Street Parklands the birds had even taken to sunning themselves again, an activity which in recent days would have cooked their goose. Still, I don't think I'm sticking my neck out in saying this reprieve will only be short lived. There's a lot more MAD weather to come between now and the end of the Queensland summer. It;s no wonder birds migrate.