Writely

I'm just testing out Writely, Google's latest in a line of Ajax dealys on their way to conquering the world.

I don't think I've quite got the hang of using a web-based word processor, and I don't think I could ever use it for serious work, but it looks like it could be handy. You can blog from it as well, which makes it yet another in a long series of geek toys I play with for no reason other than I can ;)

Edit: Well, there's still some issues, including not publishing titles in Blogger, but since publishing to blogs is still a beta feature, and isn't the main point of the service anyway, I'll forgive them...

Impressions of the Tasmania Trip #2

You can change a nappy anywhere you want, as long as you do it with confidence.

On our trip, we changed Elijah's nappy in a variety of public places including, but not limited to:

• on a picnic table of a busy rest stop near Bookham on the drive down to Melbourne;
  
• on a packed City Circle tram in Melbourne;
• on the bonnet of the car in a back street in Perth, Tasmania;
• on a picnic table on the way to Tahune, Tasmania;
• on a picnic table at the water front at St Helens;
  
• in a restaurant during the reception for the lovely wedding of Andrew and Jacinta;
• on a picnic table outside of Tasmazia (you should be detecting a pattern here); and
  
• on the bonnet of the car outside of a Shell road house about half an hour north of Melbourne (yet another pattern)

Edit 20 August: Ooh, and I forgot, on the bonnet of the car in the car park at a Maccas in Devonport

At a couple of places, some people looked a little surprised, but no one objected (not even on the tram and it was packed) and no one even really looked shocked or outraged.

The same goes for breastfeeding, but these days breastfeeding in public is no big deal (which is the way it should be).

Non-photo #1: Redux

The shopping trolley I wrote about earlier is still there, many weeks later. Maybe it's too hard to get out of the tree.

Before my computer went tits up a while back, I managed to squeeze off a few shots that then sat on my camera until the computer was fixed and I could download them. The story didn't make much sense written down, and I'm not convinced the photos help, but I just had to give credit where it was due.

The bus stops are probably about 8 feet high. It's going to take a little bit of effort to climb up on top of one. It's going to take a lot more effort to haul a shopping trolley up on to the roof.






This photo should give you an idea of both the height of the trolley from the ground as well as the distance between the tree and the top of the bus stop. That must have taken a hell of a lot of work to wedge that trolley in properly. I wouldn't be surprised if it took two or three attempts.





And finally, so you can see just how firmly wedged that trolley is...


I wonder just how long this trolley is going to stay up there. Installation art at its finest!

Just leave the car alone. Please.

Stop breaking into our fucking car. Seriously.

4 times in 3 years is too much, and we're really not that impressed about having to replace the driver's side door lock (again) and the lock on the boot so that they can once again be key operated.

Serious consideration is being given to becoming a one car household as too many people seem to see a Hyundai Excel as easy pickings (I know the link is for the Accent but it turns out that in Australia, between 95 and 2000, what was an Excel was an Accent in most other places. Stuff you learn) .

Nothing was stolen, but it still gives me the shits. The damage caused will be inconvenient enough, and as usual, will be less than the excess on our insurance policy so there's no point making a claim.

*sigh*

Everytime I start to feel good about humanity, some arseclown goes and ruins it for me.

Impressions of Tasmania #1

One thing that really stands out in my memory of our recent trip to Tasmania (apart from the gorgeous scenery and the nightmare drive between Scottsdale and Launceston at dusk) is that everyone drives so slowly.

In my daily existence, most people tend to drive at least 10km/h over the posted speed limit. I often find myself doing 10km/h over the speed limit in the right hand lane (that's the fast lane for those who drive on the wrong side of the road) and still have someone tail gaiting me because I’m just not driving fast enough for them. In Tasmania, the rule seemed to be that driving 10km/h below the speed limit was an acceptable and much more civilised way of getting around. This was most obvious in the central business district of Hobart (Tasmania's capital) but was also a popular philosophy on major highways between towns.

Driving speeds are a useful indicator of how laid back and relaxed citizens really are. Canberrans like to think we are laid back and relaxed. We promote our home as the "Bush Capital", boast of the many parks and recreational areas and steadfastly believe we are living the dream of a stress-free lifestyle. This has been one of the major selling points of a campaign to attract more people to live in Canberra (warning: site is Flash heavy).

How many Canberrans are relaxed? At social events conversations quickly turn to work (if they didn’t already start out that way). I find that public servants are the worst serial offenders (or maybe I just hang around with too many public servants) as it takes only the smallest prompting before we all "talk shop". (Happily, I do this less and less. Without even the slightest prompting I now enter New Father Mode, regaling people with stories of vomit and poo and watch the eyes of the childless glaze over at record speeds. I’m a real riot at dinner parties.)

As Canberra is a town with a highly transient population, it can be hard to meet people. If it's difficult to get out and about socially, work can become the focus. I find that people lose perspective and seem to develop this bizarre tendency to believe that what they do is vitally important and requires every spare shred of their energy, including evenings and weekends. Too much focus on work leaves too little focus on other things like exercise, balanced diets with home cooking, sleep(!) and downtime where unwinding is necessary (and that doesn't include downing a bottle of red at a dinner party while complaining about how little work your Manager does while you take home a ream of print outs to read at the dinner table every night). People rush around to meetings, to supermarkets late after work trying to find something that will take 10 minutes to cook and 5 minutes to eat, to the gym because they feel guilty that they haven't gone in a week because they were working too hard, and back to work again. If you're not relaxed and you're rushing, you're more likely to be right up my arse on the highway because you can't wait two seconds for me to finish overtaking the semi-trailer struggling up the hill and move over into the left lane so you can hurry up and stress yourself to an early grave.

This is supposed to be an impression of Tasmania isn't it...

Tassie seemed so very relaxed. People were friendly. No one was rushed. There always seemed to be enough time in the day to do stuff (I'll concede that being on holiday helps immeasurably here). Everything seemed cleaner, brighter, less uptight and less self-important and self-involved.

Impression of Tasmania #1? If it didn't mean that Helen would be even further away from her family, and if I didn't have concerns about finding a fulfilling job, I think we could quite easily make the decision to stay there on a more permanent basis. As the guy at the Tourist Information shopfront at Sheffield said, most people visit Tasmania more than once, but be warned - on your fifth visit you'll be bringing your furniture with you. I'm beginning to understand why.

Oops

Forgot to mention that we would be in Tasmania for 10 days. My bad. We only just got back under an hour ago (in time for Helen to watch Home and Away).

Normal service to resume very shortly (complete with cranky rants and purdy pictures).

-s