NYE Horseshoe Bend

Okay, so that was just the 9pm fireworks, but given Suzi's reaction – a sprint to the backyard, where she barked furiously in every direction until I corralled her – I think I'll forgo a trip to the riverside to watch the midnight event.

Besides, You Can't Stop the Music is on Channel 9!

Poor me a drink

While Googling for details on what creative director Marc Newson has in store for Sydney tonight, I found this beauty, courtesy of The Australian:

I'm glad we decided to avoid the riff-raff.

Setting of the sunflowers (this time for sure)

Mick and I have been hesitant to yank out the sunflowers, but they're now looking a bit like something you might find in the backyard of the American Horror Story house:

In any case, it's time for them to make way; the pumpkin plant is on the march once again:

Woo. Uh... Hoo.

The so-called festive season is almost over (thank Christ!), just the colossal waste of money that is NYE fireworks to go.
I was a little gobsmacked at how elaborate they were up here last year. I honestly don't know why they bother.

Anyway, I may or may not venture to the river to watch them.
Somehow I think I'll be in front of the tele instead (click for personal light spectacular):

Happy etc.

The perils of Pauline, or There goes the neighbourhood

Mick came home from the Metro on Wednesday night with a horrifying piece of town gossip:

Pauline Hanson, the failed politician who appealed to the dumb bigot in everyone, has supposedly bought my favourite pub-turned-antiques store, the old Tooths Exchange Hotel:

Galling: that she allegedly paid only $440,000 for it.
Even worse: she wants to turn it into a wine bar.

Or woin bar. With chips!

If she continues with her recent string of reality TV-driven attempts at image rehabilitation and tries to turn this venture into a series of camera-friendly mishaps and meltdowns, I may have to call upon Pauline Pantsdown to stage an intervention:

Sublime, ridiculous...

I post this, the last of our current zucchini crop, without comment:

Suzi: The new fragrance

Mick and I took Suzi to the groomer yesterday.
It was just for a shampoo; the dog, bless her, really stank.

Mick had attempted to shower her, but it proved such an ordeal (she was so determined to avoid it, she managed, for the first time, to leap into the bed with me) that we took her to Raymond Terrace's Pet Parlour again.

Raymond Terrace is, shall we say, a less salubrious part of the lower Hunter Valley.
It's often mentioned in local news broadcasts: "Police caught the alleged suspects in ...", "The burnt-out vehicle was found in ...", etc.

Still, you pass some pretty scenery on the way:

Plus, they do a good, cheap doggy wash and Suzi now smells like a rose, as interpreted through one of those motion-triggered room fresheners.
She laid down in the car for most of the way home, perhaps in post-traumatic stress, so I didn't get a good photo of her.

She looks much the same, to be honest, so here's one I prepared earlier; just imagine her smelling a lot better:

Moving violations #4

Close to home – next door, in fact – we have a classic example of the new idiocy.

This car either belongs to the neighbours or one of their many friends who come and go in unnecessarily loud fashion at all times of day and night.
Whether the neighbours are dealing is a matter of conjecture, but we wouldn't be at all surprised.

Anyway, here you go:

Nothing like getting your freak on in a hatchback, is there?

Setting of the sunflowers

Apologies for the absence. Haven't felt remotely like blogging anything, a combination of the time of year and my semi-swollen face – there's only so much a hermit can share.
At least I've made it to the backyard on occasion to monitor the sunflowers.

Here they were, December 9:

And just over a week later:

They're on their last legs, so to speak.
It was lovely while it lasted.

When all else fails

Click to engage:

Australia: All Mine*

Amid the high-sodium snacks and local businesses being spruiked on billboards along the New England Highway, one can be momentarily distracted – or subliminally swayed – by the odd pro-dig-a-hole piece of propaganda.

Lest you worry that the constant removal of earth be somehow detrimental in the long term, surely this convinces you otherwise:

No passengers!
That's not creepy or portentous at all.

Then there's the smiling, hi-vis face of the many and varied economies reliant upon our current obsession with literally undermining what is now pristine countryside.

Because if you go down a hole, someone has to lift you out of it, right?
Enter the helpful, gender-balanced workforce of professional lifters ... sorry – thinkers, Robertsons:

I applaud them for their choice of headwear – finally I know what thinking caps look like.

* I think I should send this to Tourism Australia as a slogan suggestion.
Can't be any worse than their recent efforts. Certainly more honest.

Blame it on the Endone

I've been in a post-radiation painkiller haze, hence the recent lack of posting.

It's also my excuse for not paying attention to the zucchinis.
I added the ruler to show how comically large some had become as a result:

I don't know what Mick's excuse is.

Don't stare directly at the sunflowers

The sunflowers are out and looking impressive:

... facing different directions, for some reason:

The one on the right has always been a bit behind the other one, development-wise, so maybe it hasn't quite worked out where to look yet...

Meanwhile, the first pumpkin has appeared:

They grow up so fast...

Ossie Mk II: Hypno Mosquito

A routine trip to the doctor today had an unexpected bonus.

Residents of Hexham and readers of this blog have reason to celebrate – Ossie the Mossie is back and better than ever:

Okay, so my visions of a giant, explorable mosquito (possibly with a restaurant/souvenir shop in his head) have not come to fruition, but closer inspection reveals his secret allure:

Is this the roadside equivalent of subliminal advertising?

Are those hypnotic, spiral eyes silently beckoning potential problem gamblers?

In any case, it's good to have him back.