More Tiara's, Less Tantrums.

While the Lovely Samantha was at the gym on Saturday morning, Bodhi and I seized the chance to do some quality father-son bonding. He packed his bag, we jumped in the car and together headed straight to his new Saturday morning sport. It's goodbye soccer, hello ballet. Now, If I was even slightly homophobic I’d probably have big issues with his pink tutu, slippers, magic wand and tiara, but he’s as happy as Lara and, to be honest, me too.

I did some volunteering on Sunday. I’m a sucker for it (that, and blowing my own trumpet). This book I’m reading at the moment says that helping other people actually adds to your happiness levels. Ha! Altruistic pursuits for subconsciously self-centered motives - the sheer genius of it. Probably why I consistently do it year in year out.

In the morning I took my camera bag and what photographic skill was still remaining to one of the Melba foundation's community houses to shoot some portraits for their residents. The shoot was at Mt Evelyn which is about as close as you can get to Sydney without actually leaving Melbourne. Atleast several degrees cooler. Still, despite the 100km round trip, it was a great day personally to recharge the juices and combine it with something slightly resembling selflessness. Thoroughly engaging work and very challenging to get something reflective of each subject’s nature.

Coincidence?

Mum was down for a visit last week so we took it upon ourselves to get out and show her a few of the sights.

On Saturday we took a day trip to Daylesford which can probably thank all the dykes in town for avoiding the recent floods that have plagued the area.

Pizzas at home for dinner.

Come Sunday, At Shalome’s request we took the kids and met up for lunch at the Elwood Beach Gastro Café (the under cooked chicken on my plate confirming the gastro moniker for all the wrong reasons).

The cafe's saving grace is the cracking playground in the adjoining park. While The Human Gravitron (a.k.a Scarlett) can withstand the merry-go-round for an hour or more without any ill effects, it took just a few minutes of dizzying abandon for Bodhi to get a second glimpse of his breakfast.

This is the second time in succession that Bodhi has caught up with Shalome and hurled. Coincidence? I think not.

see ya,
Minas.

Better Dad than Son

Hi Kids;

I think I need to go traveling again. Traveling doesn't really fix anything but, like lots of wine, it does help you forget. I've been getting myself down this week about packing in the photography in favour of a fat pay cheque. Sellout.

Anyway speaking of pay cheques, ANZ's monster profits don't extend as far as Friday beers so we always put in for our own. This Friday we splurged what was left of the kitty on pizzas. Noice. It was also the start of finals footy so I celebrated by watching something completely different on another channel.

Saturday was one of those magical days that remind me why I'm a dad. Bodhi treated me to breakfast at the local, a blissful lunch at a gastro pub in Footscray (he slept through the whole thing), and then took me on an afternoon chasing starfish through the rock pools of Williamstown.

Sunday was father's day in Australia. Having not called my old man since last father's day, I thought it high time to remind myself what his voice sounds like. No answer is probably all I deserve for having left it so long. I guess I've been a better dad than a son of late.

see ya,
Minas.

Pipped at the Post

I'd managed to get a pass out and had every intention of making the most of it with colleagues from work on Friday night, but the past few months of flu had taken their toll. Three beers literally translated to three sheets to the wind. The tram ride home was unusually shaky

With grand intentions to take the Boy Wonder to the snow, The Lovely Samantha and I packed the car and plotted our course 3hrs due East for Mt Baw Baw. Two hours and 45 minutes into our trip we had to make the tough decision to turn back for fear of running out of petrol. It's not that we were oblivious to the warning signals, just that each signposted petrol station for the last 100km was bizarrely out-of-order. What are the chances?
A short stopoff at a trout farm salvaged the trip somewhat. Within five minutes of casting a line, Bodhi's completely unrealistic expectations of fishing had been cemented forever with a 2kg trout.

Sunday was...well...filling.

Love,
Minas.