This web stuff is tiring. The last time I really poked around with the back-end of the internet (NASTY) was about 2003, and it turns out a LOT has changed since then. Who knew? Anyway, the blog has moved to WordPress (oh god let the blog have moved to WordPress) and hopefully you can see it and continue to ruminate on my words of wisdom. Or, you know, just ruminate. I’m not too concerned either way.
The one thing I’m really concerned about is the site feed. I THINK I have migrated it to the new blog (I guess I’ll find out when I publish this) but if I haven’t, the new feed is http://www.siximpossiblethings.net/feed. Although how will you know, because you won’t see this? Halp! Stuck in endless feedback loop! I don’t think I’m cut out for this anymore. Here, have a cat picture.
Doing new stuff makes our brains hurt too. Our tiny, tiny brains.
As was predicted, Saturday was insanely hot. Mr. T kept checking the temperature map, which reached 47.3 degrees in the middle of Melbourne. I didn’t even step outside of the house until about 2pm, when I realised the vege garden was flat to the ground – you couldn’t even call it wilting. The wind was fiercely hot and stinging and huge eddies of leaves and dust and sticks were gusting around our street and our house. We left at around 4pm to visit friends, driving towards the east. We were detoured off a major freeway due to a spot fire burning and smoke shrouding the road. When we finally reached them, we found them in their pool – “wear shoes!” they yelled at us, because their glass-topped outdoor table had shattered in the heat earlier in the day. We spent the night in the pool or watching movies, after the cool change came through. We drove home. It rained, lightly, in the night.
It wasn’t until the next morning that I realised that further east, the state was burning fiercely and is still burning now. The death toll keeps rising and is now over 100. The animals in the thousands of hectares of burnt forest will remain uncounted. What can you do? We will donate money and we will donate blood, but what can you do, really?
The Grey Cat on our drought-stricken lawn, far away from danger.
It’s hot. It’s been really hot. And it’s going to get hot again. Oh hai! Welcome to summer in Melbourne! And/or Adelaide, which has also had it’s own 1-in-100-year heatwave. Or so they say. I think they’re just jealous. Anyway, I think I have mentioned on here before that I don’t do well over 30 degrees, and I shut down over 35. Imagine the joyous bundle of fun I was when the temperature went over 40 for a week, and the copious amounts of patience I displayed on the 44 degree days. Yes, days. Plural. (44C = 111F, FEEL MY PAIN IN BOTH HEMISPHERES.) (That’s what SHE said.) There’s another 44 degree day coming on Saturday, apparently. Suck. I mean, oh yay! Hey, you know when you open a fan-forced oven, and a massive gust of hot air hits you in the face and body and engulfs you relentlessly in a steady stream of dry heat? That is what awaits me on Saturday. The wind! The hot wind! The beating of his hideous heart! Wait, where was I? Oh yes, being driven insane by weather. Carry on.
Having said that, it hasn’t been THAT bad – my sister has been visiting, and although she was stuck in Melbourne’s hottest week in 100 years, she did fine. They were over to watch the tennis at the Australian Open, and to buy everything in the state. Status: success! We also did a lot of swimming at the beach (not sitting on the beach, which is for mad dogs and Englishmen). Our method is to walk down, loll in the water for an hour, including the dog, then head straight back to the aircon. That pretty much kept us sane… look how normal and rational we look!
Oh hai. I’m in the back, with my head doubling over itself.
Yeah, it does that sometimes.