Birthday.  My birthday was Friday -- the big three-eight, which means I can no longer claim "middle thirties" -- I'm now solidly in my "late thirties".
 
Marjorie got me some CDs to start with -- the new PJ Harvey, and two by Australian bands: Hunters and Collectors, and Something For Kate.  Then it was on to the St. Kilda Baths for some west and welaxation.  First a soak in a salt water bath, in front of a big window looking out over the white-capped bay, with seagulls flying by.  Then a much-needed massage.
 
Afterwards we had an awesome lunch at the Sheherezade Cafe -- I had goulash with potato balls, rice, carrots, spinach, and cole slaw.  Best I've had since Europe.  Then we scored scored some chocolate eclairs and other yummies from a nearby bakery, and some bagels from Glick's.  Home for a nap, then a quiet evening at home watching Donnie Brasco.
 
Saturday was part two.  I wanted to see a footy (Australian Rules Football) game, so we went off to the Telstra Dome to see the St. Kilda Saints wallop the Richmond Tigers.  It was quite a spectacle.  I used to think the game was pretty much just anarchy, but as I start to understand the game more, I'm beginning to appreciate it, even if some of the rules are still a mystery.  There's some serious athleticism involved.  The fan base was amazing -- the two teams are just based in suburbs (or urbs, I guess) of Melbourne, but there were 40-50,000 people there, evenly divided.  (It was as if Virginia Highlands was playing Buckhead back in Atlanta.)  Everyone, even the old ladies, were into it, yelling, waving banners, wearing team scarves, etc.  Other interesting things:

There were machines where you could place bets on the game beforehand.  Actually, you could bet on anything, or play the pokies (poker machines).

 We got food beforehand in the restaurant there, and it was served on real plates with real silverware.  And it was reasonably priced.

 You could also bring your own food, or hot drinks in Thermoses.
What a crazy idea!  Don't gouge your fans -- let them come to the games at a reasonable price.  No wonder they draw crowds.

Still in limbo. Job search continues. Some leads, but I think there is a lot of competition right now.

Last night we rented a movie but we couldn't get the VCR in our short-term apartment to work. Maybe it's just because we're used to western VCRs. Do you have to plug in the tapes upside down or something?

I'm still having to use internet cafes. I bought a wireless card so I can access the internet from the various hotspots around here but I'm having trouble finding the right pre-paid cards to buy to use.

We're going to play trivia tonight, which should be fun.

Spend spend spend, spend, spend, spend. Being Americans at heart, and with a free license to start accumulating goods, we've been dropping scads of jing-wah since arriving. Marjorie's up in Target right now, while I'm next door in a Japanese-style internet cafe. We found a extended stay apartment off Toorak St. which we're moving into on Monday. My interview on Friday went -- okay, I guess. They'll call me back for a technical interview and a test later on, if all went well, which it may or may not have. I have other leads to follow up on, and now that I have a local phone, I think I'll get more action.

Yesterday we took the train down to Williamstown ("Willie") which was a nice, quiet suburb, on the water. Spotted several new birds, including the superb fairy wren, which is what they prefer to be called, as I understand it.

A quick list of some little differences about this place:

The first floor is the ground floor, and the second floor is the first floor. I keep getting into elevators and hitting "1" by mistake.

"Entrees" in a restaurant are actually what they call appetizers.

A big sign in the park reads "Dogs allowed off leash". That's really amazing to me. Not that they allow dogs off the leash, but that the big sign tells you so. Advertising a freedom, not a restriction.

Similarly, you're allowed to eat and drink on the trams. It's kind of courageous, I think, to allow these simple freedoms that may cost a little as far as maintainance and clean-up but have a positive effect on the quality of life.

We've arrived. A fairly hectic day, but in only a few hours we got me a suit, a shirt, socks, haircut, and a cell phone. Had the best damn burger ever for dinner.

It's cold! Why did Melbournians schedule winter in the middle of their summer?

Such sweet sorrow. Everything is packed, thrown away, given away, or mailed. We just had the final inspection of apartment and got the full deposit back (yay!). At the airport now, waiting for our flight out. Hooray for free internet. I'm feeling an odd combination of melancholy and excitement.

Bye, Singapore, it's been interesting and fun.

Another list of the top 100 wonders of the modern world. I've only seen 11 from this list. Only three from the top 50. Life is short.

While Nirvana is usually my music of choice when cleaning house, a day of cleaning AND packing required something a little different. I credit Marjorie for cuing up the right thing. For future reference, The Modern Lovers is the proper choice for such an occasion.

The great Singapore black-out. Last night, right in the middle of Six Feet Under, the power goes out. This is a first during our time here. The blackout seemed to stretch a long way -- I climbed to the top of our building, and there were lights in the distance, but mostly dark for several miles in every direction. For 45 minutes or so, we got to experience what it was like here before electricity. Damn hot. How did people sleep?

Tonight was my last soccer game. They let me play striker for the last twenty minutes, which was fun. I had no goals, but got an assist after committing a flagrant foul that was not called. Afterwards, beers at Turf City. Then goodbyes, which I've really come to hate.

I'll find a team in Melbourne, but will it be as fun? Doubtful.

Turns out the Chinese opera we heard the other night from our window might have had another interesting twist to it. On opening nights, apparently, Chinese opera troupes play their first performance to an empty theater. It's for the ghosts, you see. We couldn't tell if there was a crowd there or not but this might have been what was going on.

My coworkers Hong I and Meng Wah told me this today during lunch, which was interesting in itself. We went to a dim sum restaurant on the seventh floor of a public housing project. It was rather like a banquet hall. But the food was really tasty. We had three kinds of dumplings, pork ribs with yams, glutinous rice, porridge, spongy meat-filled rolls, tea, and chestnut(?) cakes for dessert.

Got another ping on the job front today. A recruiter called me from Australia about a CV I posted on a job site. He asked me if I had any experience with HAV. Sorry, I said, as I had never even heard of it. Later he mentioned it again, and I asked (so I could look it up later), "Are you saying H-A-V or H-A-B?"

"No," he said. "E-J-B. Echo, Juliet, Bravo".

I thought language issues weren't going to be a problem. But "E-J-B" in an Australian accent sounds an awful lot like "H-A-V" to my ears.

Violent streak? Me? Frustrating game today. The team we played against had a player who was the biggest cheater I had ever seen. You breathe on him, and he falls down and cries out like he's in agony. The problem was, the ref fell for it almost every time.

I was covering him. I'm usually a pacifist, but I can't stand that sort of crap. So I tried to rile him up by calling him every name in the book whenever he was near me. At one point he ran through my space, so a grabbed his shirt, and of course he fell down and cried for the ref. The ref missed this one, so I said, "Awww, what's the matter? You fall down there?" It was all I could do not to at least step on him. He was just ignoring my taunts, so I figure, as long as he's falling anyway, and the ref's letting it happen, I might as well get my licks in. He was subbed out before I could do much. But he came back later, and then worst thing happened, which was that he scored the go-ahead goal. While I was covering someone else, but still.

Even now, the big dumb jock in me wishes I had left him with some scars. Sports are primal sometimes.

Anyway, the coach announced that this would be my last Sunday game (though there's a Wednesday night one that I'm still playing) and everyone applauded me. At least I hope they were applauding me, and not the fact that I'm leaving. It was nice.

Asian moment. Sometimes we forget we're living in Asia. We've gotten used to things, and often take the comfortable route as far as food, transportation, and shopping. But last night, we came home after dinner, and there was a Chinese opera going on at the little temple that we can see out our window, just down the street. This was about 10pm. They have a new open stage back behind it, and a tent set up for onlookers. We can see just a tiny bit of stage through binoculars. When the wind was from the right direction, we could hear the music, which is really strange to Western ears. Minimalist, with plinking noises and occasional cymbal crashes; the singing is kind of shrill. The closest Western equivalent from pop culture I can think of is that "We are Siamese if you please" song from the Disney movie.

Steal a poll: I stole this off Krisalis's blog.
Where Were You When...
The Questions:
1. Where were you when you heard that Ronald Reagan died?

It was only a week ago, but oddly, I don't remember where. I think it was at work, and I saw it on the Yahoo home page.

2. Where were you on September 11, 2001?

Atlanta. Marjorie called and woke me up and told me to go turn on the TV.

3. Where were you when you heard that Princess Diana died?

Lulu's Bait Shack in Buckhead, in Atlanta.

4. Do you remember where you were when you heard Kurt Cobain had died?

At work. That very night, I went and saw Frank Black with the Ramones. Frank Black, when he was with the Pixies, was a huge influence on Kurt Cobain, and their album Surfer Rosa is usually quoted as the inspiration behind Nevermind. So I thought he would say something about it, but he didn't. All Joey Ramone said was something like, "Too bad about Kurt Cobain. Still, he did go out in the true punk style."

5. Take one for The Gipper: What'?s your favorite flavor of jelly bean?

Once you go black, you never go back.

6. Where were you when Magic Johnson announced he was retiring from the NBA due to AIDS?

I remember first hearing about it after coming back from a work trip to Italy.

7. Where were you when Reagan was shot?

Don't remember.

8. Where were you when the Challenger exploded?

I was witness! I was going to school in Orlando, and had worked at the space center the summer before. I actually came out to watch the launch, despite the fact that it was 9 a.m. and freezing. I was maybe 50 miles away. I watched the smoke trail rise, and when it started to bend the wrong way, someone else who was standing nearby said, "Is it supposed to do that?" And I said, "No, it's not supposed to do that..." I ran back to my dorm room to catch what was happening on TV.

9. Where were you when the 0J verdict was announced?

In Vicenza, Italy, working on the NATO base. I watched the verdict with pretty much a whole platoon of soldiers, of mixed race. There wasn't much a reaction from anyone, beyond a collective sort of "Huh".

Mr. Nutty. The last time I had a night off from Marjorie, I ended up going to the library. Last night, though, I didn't even make it that far. I stayed at work until 11:15, writing. I'm a wild man!

I did manage to knock out 1350 words of a story idea I've been bouncing around. That's still short of the daily average that's required (1667) for completing a 50,000-word novel in a month, but I still felt pretty good about myself afterwards. I'd say the story is about two thirds done.

I'm still going to workshop it before any of you all will ever see it. I found a pretty good on-line SF workshop that I've joined. They require you to critique other's works if you want yours critiqued, and so I've written up a few. Let me just say that I won't be the worst writer there. I won't be the best either, but I think I'll improve a lot.

Quitters Inc, part II. Moving is a good time for new beginnings. It's also a good time for endings. The following are things that I've resolved to give up once we get to Australia:

Packaged ramen-style noodle soups. I love them; I never outgrew them after college. But they're just too artery-clogging.

Polo shirts. I've always been indifferent about them but Marjorie hates them so away they go.

On line "Boggle"-type games. I've played Playsite's TangleWord and Yahoo's Word Racer for about eight years. Playsite tells you how many games you've played, total, and based on that I computed that I've spent scores of days playing. I don't regret it; as leisure-time activities go, you could do worse than one that increases your vocabulary. But it's time to move on.

Ellipses (...), emoticons (;-), and leaving the subject off sentences, as if I'm writing a postcard (e.g. "Woke up late today. Went to the store."). None of these are particularly bad, I don't think. But by damming up some of my usual forms of expression I hope to rechannel some of it down other paths.

Soda.

Crap TV. I'm not opposed to TV; one can learn a lot from it. Or, just be entertained by it. But I could stand to be a little more selective.

Poker face. Ben Affleck has apparently just won $356,000 in a poker tournament.

This makes sense to me. To be good at poker, you must not let your face betray your emotions. KIND OF LIKE AFFLECK DOES IN HIS FILMS.

A banner game. Who is the man? I ask again, WHO IS THE MAN?

Ventz PM beat Kuay's Team 2-0. Mark S scored both our goals
[...]
PM also played well in taking the lead with Mark scoring with a Maradona-ish (v England in Mexico WC) run from midfield. He doubled our lead with a header from a corner. We did well to contain them in the 2nd half as our oppoents raised their game and in the end no more goals were scored.

Everyone was pulling for me to get a hat-trick. I didn't have a chance until the very last play of the game, when a corner kick came straight to my foot. Caught it on the full volley and shanked it wide, and the ref blew the whistle.

An injured teammate was taking pictures too, and said he got both my goals. Soon, I will bore you not just with words, but with pictures!

Boxing day. We're starting to pack boxes in preparation for mailing them down. Well, okay, Marjorie's started the packing, but I'm offering helpful critiques. Somehow we managed to accumulate quite a load of stuff, without ever buying much here. It's going to be at least 15 good-sized boxes to mail, in addition to our big suitcases and carry-ons.

Happily, while packing, Marjorie came across the pair of glasses I bought in Barcelona that disappeared during our last move and that we thought were gone forever. Hooray!

Yesterday we visited Jurong Bird Park for the last time. They have a new Lorikeet exhibit that's very cool. It's a huge aviary with hanging walkways connect five towers a hundred feet off the ground. Although, these birds won't be as exciting to us soon; they seem to be everywhere down in Melbourne.

Look at this sorry lot. A photo of my soccer team. This is obviously a pre-game photo, as there is no sweat, blood, or wheezing. We put all the young 'uns in the front row because it would take ten minutes for us geezers to straighten out our legs again after squatting like that.

Schmegeggie. I don't know if I have a Yiddish gene or what, but I've always loved Yiddish/Jewish jokes. I wonder if this runs in my family. Marjorie apparently has the gene too; this whole subject came up from a book she's reading, "Portnoy's Complaint", which also reminded her of similar jokes in "The Autograph Man".

These jokes, are each from Arthur Naiman's "Every Goy's Guide to Yiddish", except the last, which is from Leo Rosten's "The Joys of Yiddish". These pop up occasionally when you log into a Unix machine; they're part of the Unix "fortune" program.

A man goes to a tailor to try on a new custom-made suit. The first thing he notices is that the arms are too long.
"No problem," says the tailor. "Just bend them at the elbow and hold them out in front of you. See, now it's fine."
"But the collar is up around my ears!"
"It's nothing. Just hunch your back up a little ... no, a little more ... that's it."
"But I'm stepping on my cuffs!" the man cries in desperation.
"Nu, bend you knees a little to take up the slack. There you go. Look in the mirror -- the suit fits perfectly."
So, twisted like a pretzel, the man lurches out onto the street. Reba and Florence see him go by.
"Oh, look," says Reba, "that poor man!"
"Yes," says Florence, "but what a beautiful suit."

Murray and Esther, a middle-aged Jewish couple, are touring Chile. Murray just got a new camera and is constantly snapping pictures. One day, without knowing it, he photographs a top-secret military installation. In an instant, armed troops surround Murray and Esther and hustle them off to prison.
They can't prove who they are because they've left their passports in their hotel room. For three weeks they're tortured day and night to get them to name their contacts in the liberation movement. Finally they're hauled in front of a military court, charged with espionage, and sentenced to death.
The next morning they're lined up in front of the wall where they'll be shot. The sergeant in charge of the firing squad asks them if they have any lasts requests. Esther wants to know if she can call her daughter in Chicago. The sergeant says he's sorry, that's not possible, and turns to Murray.
"This is crazy!" Murray shouts. "We're not spies!" And he spits in the sergeants face.
"Murray!" Esther cries. "Please! Don't make trouble."

One of the oldest problems puzzled over in the Talmud is: "Why did God create goyim?" The generally accepted answer is "somebody has to buy retail."

Shamus, n. [Yiddish]:
A shamus is a guy who takes care of handyman tasks around the temple, and makes sure everything is in working order.
A shamus is at the bottom of the pecking order of synagog functionaries, and there's a joke about that:
A rabbi, to show his humility before God, cries out in the middle of a service, "Oh, Lord, I am nobody!" The cantor, not to be bested, also cries out, "Oh, Lord, I am nobody!"
The shamus, deeply moved, follows suit and cries, "Oh, Lord, I am nobody!" The rabbi turns to the cantor and says, "Look who thinks he's nobody!"

The first riddle I ever heard, one familiar to almost every Jewish child, was propounded to me by my father:
"What is it that hangs on the wall, is green, wet -- and whistles?"
I knit my brow and thought and thought, and in final perplexity gave up.
"A herring," said my father.
"A herring," I echoed. "A herring doesn't hang on the wall!"
"So hang it there."
"But a herring isn't green!" I protested.
"Paint it."
"But a herring isn't wet."
"If it's just painted it's still wet."
"But -- " I sputtered, summoning all my outrage, "-- a herring doesn't whistle!!"
"Right, " smiled my father. "I just put that in to make it hard."

Tuesday is my day of pain. For some reason, I always feel my Sunday soccer game on Tuesday, especially around lunch. I got compliments on how well I played, but we lost. The heat index beforehand, I heard, was 105. I felt my years, especially in the second half.

If Blogger is supposedly owned by Google now, why is there no way for me to search our archive of past blogs? The Google site itself doesn't even index them. Strange, but they DO seem to be archived on MSN.

We had our final Singapore games night last night. For diarist reasons, in attendance were Ken, Nora, Matt, Kim, Flip, Karen, and Loretta. We'll miss the old crowd. It was a lot of fun.