It Came From Outer Space!

So after tea last night, I wandered out the front of the house with Charlotte so she could get a better look at Jupiter and Venus hanging in the evening sky. Seeing what else might be visible, I casually glanced at the rest of the sky, and promptly ran back inside for the camera, the way you do when you see something you know instantly is unusual*:

So I missed the possible once in a lifetime spectacular meteor fireball (Dang!), but did see the vapour trail it left behind, and that's pretty cool. I've seen plenty of shooting stars and a few smoke trailing meteors in my time (I know they are all technically meteors, but the ones that are more than just brief streaks of light are way cooler), and some pretty good ones at that, but this one sounds like it was quite a show.

*I've seen pics of things like this before, and instantly figured it was something going to or coming from space. The time of night and illumination of the trail meant it was way too high to be an ordinary aircraft con-trail.

New Booster Order

I know I've posted Space Shuttle booster cams before, but this one really is the shizz, great sound, some beautiful imagery and telemetry to show just how fast the thing is actually going:


The shot of the other booster trailing smoke and plummeting at about 5:47 is one of my favourites.

By coincidence the first time I watched it I happened to be listening to this, and found it a perfect accompaniment. When both are started at the same time the song syncs with the video quite nicely:


It looks and sounds good to me anyway :)

Back in the saddle

So after getting my bike looked at and adjusted a little by my physio, on Sunday I was allowed to try my first ride since The Hip. That's what I'm calling my injury now. It rolls off the tongue a bit easier than gluteal weakness, although the latter enables jokes to be made about going about things half-arsed.

I had to promise to only put in a short 30-30min gentle ride. No hills, and nothing beyond an ambling pace.

In one of those moments where everything works, the random shuffle on my MP3 player seemed to have known something was up.

First up as I hopped on (sort of, mounting and dismounting is still painful) it played "Crime Scene Part One" by The Afghan Whigs, which is close to being my favourite song ever.

Then it followed up with some favourite tracks right now in the form of "One and Only" by Concord Dawn, and "Keys to the Kingdom" by Unkle.

I was in a really good mood by this time, so got carried away and took some air off a judder bar. This was a painful mistake since The Hip isn't ready for any out of the saddle riding yet. Appropriately right then I got played "What makes you think you're the one?" by Fleetwood Mac.

The pain didn't last long though, and I finished the brief ride with the defiant "Rooster" by Alice in Chains. It was a nice sunny day, the wind was behind me and I felt ecstatic. I hadn't realised just how much I enjoy the riding for it's own sake.

I've also managed to get back on a netball court, having carefully played a few quarters. After several physio sessions and a heap of directed stretching and strengthening exercises I'm back up to around 60-70% of where I was pre-injury. It still hurts if I move it wrong, I still can't run properly (sprinting still doesn't work), and I am favouring it automatically; the confidence of movement hasn't come back yet. In game itself it's still a bit niggly and unsettled, and I am constantly aware of things not being quite right. The non-sprint means full court netball is still out, so I have only been playing half court positions. Short dashes and darts are working so far, which is good since as feared I've lost a lot of fitness in the last month of not doing anything. It's a lot better than it was a few weeks ago though (I was worried initially about being able to play or ride again at all). Coming back from injury I have always found a bit awkward, this time is no different.

Bugs and critters

I'm not that big on bugs in general, but I have a soft spot for cicadas. They are colourful, docile, noisy, and their song is an essential part of the niceness that is summer.

One of the effects of our summer being not so awesome is that our backyard has been a bit quieter as the cicadas haven't emerged until late in the season. Even when the hills all around have been ringing with cicada song, our place has been relatively quiet for some reason. It is only in the last week or two that we have had them in normal numbers.

For those who have only seen our backyard in winter, this is what it sounded like this time last year when they were in full song. For places with a slightly bushier surround than ours it can get surprisingly loud:




And as Fi pointed out, it would have to be a noisy creature with markings like these on it's wings:
Charlotte likes cicadas too. Here she is with a little friend a year ago.
This summer she has moved on to collecting the nymph husks and adopting a live cicada for the day (named Cyril).
She also branched out into other insect fauna and became the proud owner of a Giant Dragonfly (deceased), naming it Shodeol. No, we have no idea what that means or where it comes from either.
Cicadas and dragonflies are thus Charlotte approved, but she wasn't too keen on the Stick Insects though...
That's my hand, span between thungb and finger is about 6 in/14-15cm.
Or the big Puriri Moth that got into the house one night (pic about life size).
Probably just as well she didn't meet this bad boy then (Gum Emperor Moth).

Tiggered out

As he woke up, Tigger realised he couldn't remember a damn thing about the night before, but figured if he had passed out on the laundry rack it must have been a hell of a time....

(Even Tiggers need a wash sometimes, and, the above was the first thing I thought of after walking into the lounge one morning and seeing him drying on the rack...:) )

Not just me

Turns out it wasn't just my opinion: the summer really did officially suck. Even NIWA thinks so:

A Summer in name only

21% less sunshine hours than average and no hot days. Seems about right. Out here in the Hutt we are usually 1 or 2 degrees warmer than Wellington, but there were still few 'wow it's summer' days.

On a slightly more whimsical note, I noticed this in Wellington yesterday mid-weather bomb:
It could be worse.

Our place is on a north-facing slope, so we in our spending most of the day at home we missed the worst the storm could deliver locally. Driving into the city in the early evening though was an interesting experience, with rain so heavy we had to slow to close to half the speed limit, not because of flooding, but because we just couldn't see the road ahead. Wind by that time had dropped to about average for a southerly storm around here.

Autumn beckons

How did it get to be March already? Summer goes by too fast. The days now are shortening, and a chill coming to the nights and mornings. December doesn't really count as summer, everyones all focused on the end of the year, January is generally a blur of holidays and getting back to work, then February goes by only slightly less quickly.

Not that it was a particularly memorable summer anyway. Never actually cold, and not quite the worst summer I can remember (that was around 1991-1992), but close, and only occasionally warm and calm around here like we know it can be. Mostly grey and wet at the times we didn't want it to be. There was a definite paucity of hot days and evenings, and swimming at the beach.

I'm usually the last to complain about the weather, but my pragmatism has been sorely tested this summer. Thanks a bunch La Nina.

Still, there were one or two nice sunsets to be had:

Leap Day

Not much to say at the moment, but I really wanted to have Feb 29th as a posting date :)

I'm certainly not doing much leaping at the moment as I'm still restricted from exercise, although I am getting my mobility back. My hip has been figured as suffering from the gluteal muscles getting out of balance strength wise, and thus pushing the joint geometry out of whack, leading to the pain and restriction I've been getting. Some good physiotherapy and rest has seen a lot of improvement though. The therapy is including acupuncture, which I've never had before and was somewhat uncomfortable but *wow* impressively and instantly effective, even if it gives me what feels like an instant deep bruise. I still can't run yet, not from being banned from it, more because I physically can't quite do it until I get the joint back to doing what it should. I'm not allowed on the bike either, although I did manage a swim on Saturday night (technically early Sunday morning to be precise) for a polio eradication fundraiser. Swimming while dragging a leg was harder than I thought it would be, especially at 1am.

I have progressed enough to be allowed a very limited return to netball if I feel up to it early next week. I'm not up to it now, so will see how things go. I've realised my body confidence (in terms of moving certain ways without worrying about it) is completely shot, more so than usual with the strains and sprains I have much more experience of. Since biking is what we think precipitated this situation in the first place, I am a bit leery about getting back on that too without some strategies in place.

In the meantime, here are some pics:

Here I am not doing Round the Bays on Sunday, perching precariously on the City to Sea bridge and watching the procession. I spent a few hours sleeping on that bridge one night, but that's another story:
And here is Fi on her way to kicking the 7K run's arse. She is the smiley one at the bottom looking like she is throwing the goat. That isn't what she is doing though, if you speak ASL you'll get it. Not being able to run it with her in her first RTB was the biggest disappointment about not being able to participate.
I've been using the downtime to attend to some maintenance on my bike, mainly replacing the brake pads and cables and reconditioning the rotors. The cables and pads in particular were shagged. Handy hint: if your cable cutters aren't cutting it, try annealing the cable by locally heating the bit you want to cut, ideally to red-hot, then letting it cool in the air. This softens the metal and makes for an easier cut. Doing this without setting fire to the bike is generally a plus:
This is the immediate people-milling-about aftermath and location of the calamitous Hobbit casting-call back in January, about as close to my doorstep as it could be. They could have asked me about the wisdom of the location, and I would have told them it was a dumb idea...
And finally a picture I took of something some friends of mine were involved in (would have played, but...) on a national website. It's uncredited, so you'll just have to take my word for it. As for the sport, I could try and explain it, but it's a bit like the Matrix; you just have to see it for yourself.

Hubris?

So I was lining up a post on how I've really been enjoying cycling to work and elsewhere so far this year, how hopping on the bike in the morning had now become a habit, how the hill feels like less and less of an obstacle, how I had to jump start my car since I hadn't driven it for so long, how I aced my annual company medical exam, how I'm really enjoying my sport at the moment and generally feeling fitter than I have in a while.

Turns out I've been apparently doing it wrong, in proper unintended consequences style. The extra cycling seems to have upset one of my hips, including a nausea-inducing-make-it-stop-now excruciating overnight bout of sudden acute pain a month ago, followed by another less ouch but more persistent episode of painful and limited movement that is going on right now. The hip in question has been slightly dodgy historically anyway, but never like this. After inconclusive visits to A+E over the weekend, my GP yesterday, and a slightly more conclusive visit my physio today I think a handle is being got on what has suddenly gone wrong, which is good, since right now I can't really run, jump, change direction suddenly or lunge without discomfort or occasionally just falling over when the too-much threshold is reached. I thought on Monday it was coming right, but after barely making it through a single quarter at netball that night the game was clearly up.

I've noticed what annoys me most about it apart from not knowing yet precisely what the cause is and thus how to fix it, or the discomfort, is the lack of body confidence that arises from suddenly not being able to move the way you are used to, and having to move with fragile care. I'm moving very carefully, but can't always avoid the rotation that hurts. It's annoying when you sometimes realise you are limping not because it actually hurts, but because you think it might. Then you walk normally for a bit and it is fine, then you forget and move the wrong way and then you are back to limping again.

So after pulling myself out of my netball last night, not biking all week, after today's consultation I'm officially grounded on medical advice, no sports, no cycling until it is sorted (not that I can actually do those things right now anyway). All that fitness disappearing until I can start again (best case/guess in a few weeks maybe). The Hospi ride I was planning to repeat in a few weeks has already been unfortunately postponed/canned by the organisers for this year, but Bike the Trail is still on next weekend, and I was really looking forward to doing Round the Bays this weekend too, even ironically picking up my work-team entry pack today. Maybe next year.

Pondering Christchurch a year on

It's a year today since Christchurch got the kind of earthquake that has long been expected here in Wellington.

It has been a day for reflection and pondering, not only for the lives lost, and lives disrupted, but for the things I have noticed for myself in the passing of a year. It has been five years since I have been in Christchurch. I've never lived there, and know few people there. But in the sense it could have been (and will be one day) us, it casts a long shadow.

After seeing what happens to them in a big shake, I am much more suspicious of brick and stone buildings than ever before. I am glad my house is made of wood. I'm not so glad the building I work in is brick and concrete, in a prime liquefaction zone, and apparently urgently requiring strengthening to get anywhere near acceptable code. Whenever I'm in the city I look around and note the buildings that look like the ones that turned to rubble.

In addition to the liquefaction zones, I also now know where the expected tsunami zones are, and when in them occasionally mentally plan escape routes in the unlikely event. I'm also never buying property in Petone or Island Bay :)

My house and our cars now have survival kits and water stored, with more than the recommended three days worth (I wonder if that will be amended now after Christchurch's experience). I get nervous when my cellphone isn't where I can see it or reach it easily. Not because of addiction, but after hearing how people aided their own rescue with them I now try and have it close at all times.

I try not to let the car petrol tanks get too close to empty. If you need to get out of town in a hurry stopping for gas may not be an option.

I noted a little while ago I have started thinking of 'Old Christchurch' and 'New Christchurch'. Old Christchurch is gone, the new one is still forming. A few months ago one of the TV networks showed a google earth overhead shot, then eliminated all of the prominent buildings that have since disappeared. It was quite a representation of just how much has changed. I don't want to be a disaster voyeur, but I wonder if the only way to really understand is to go down there and see it myself. I know that some parts of the Old Christchurch I am familiar with are now utterly changed, while others are unaffected.

The biggest change I have noticed both in myself and peers, is that after a lifetime of passing off earthquakes as local events in a city riven with faultlines, our first reaction on feeling a shake now is to wonder if it wasn't worse somewhere else.

Talking sdrawkcab

This has been bounced my way from a couple of sources lately:

To be clear what Alyssa is doing isn't literally saying the words backwards; with a couple of exceptions if you reverse the audio you won't hear the words as they normally sound. What she seems to be doing is pronouncing the words as if they were spelt backwards (there is a good rundown from my layman's perspective on the various backwards ways here).

This viral video I've found more interesting than most, because I can do it too. Not as conversational-speed fast as Alyssa can (and even if some of the words or combos are ones she has already figured out and thus knows from memory, the response speed is seriously impressive), but usually within the 'three seconds' yardstick for the video.

It is something I used to do as a party trick in my teens and twenties, but had forgotten about until now. If I can spell a word forwards, I can say it backwards. I just visualise the written word in my head and read it backwards. I don't jumble the letters until they read forward just reversed - reading it backwards is a lot simpler. In doing this I find I treat the word as if it is one I have never read before, breaking it into syllable sized pronunciation chunks, before saying it out loud. Like any reading, if you already know what a particular letter grouping sounds like you can just plug it in and make the process easier (some words also have natural backwards analogues, like time / emit).

I don't remember learning how to do this; I think I just tried it one day and found I could, and I've got no idea what this says about the way my mind works. I'm told though by people who know that the above is a reasonably tricksy cognitive ability, even if it seems perfectly natural to me.

After doing a little reading around on the topic I have been playing around with the other expressions of this, dna dnuof I evah on elbuort ginpyt sdrawkcab rehtie (or more correctly rehtie sdrawkcab gnipyt elbuort on evah I dnuof dna) albeit at a slightly slower pace as typing normally. I tried reciting the alphabet backwards this morning too, and found I could do that too. Reading mirror or upside down text is also not a problem. So can my wife, which is handy since she is a teacher. She can also do the reverse pronunciation a bit as well.

While I figured from the responses I got years ago that not everyone could do this, I didn't think it was that unusual that I could, and I know there are others that can do it a lot better. As it is I'm a bit bemused to find something I can do going viral. It's pretty cool. That may have been my fifteen minutes of fame right there :).

Breast can't always be best

As a father, this whole Weepu bottle feeding thing gained my attention (as well as the breastfeeding on facebook thing, and the daycare is bad mmkay? thing).

Not sure if I should link the Herald since they kicked off the whole saga in the first place with a mix of accurate and not so accurate reporting, and the footage in question wasn't actually banned, just removed before the ad screened. As a father who bottle feeds a child, I thought the footage in question made Piri even more legendary, against guidelines or not. He is only doing what hundreds if not thousands of NZ fathers do every day, and positive male parenting images in advertising of this quality aren't that common. I think its undermining of breastfeeding promotion as arguable at best, since that undermining is based on assumptions about what the bottle actually contains, and the ad isn't about feeding at all; it is about being smoke-free (and some of the most odious responses to it I've seen have compared bottle feeding to smoking). It also makes significant assumptions about the intelligence of the viewer.

In all fairness to the groups consulted about the footage and reacting against it, they were bound to say what they did. "Breast is best" is the official Ministry of Health line, a catchy slogan and noble ideal, and granted breastfeeding rates in NZ need improvement, but of all the mothers amongst my peers I know, only one (that I know of) ever declared an intention never to breastfeed.

Breast feeding though does not work for all mums. Not because they are too lazy, are too busy, haven't tried hard enough, not persisted long enough, not had enough support, or not used the right technique. Sometimes it just doesn't work, for many reasons. You are not a bad mother if you can't breastfeed. Both Sophie and Charlotte were breastfed initially for some months. Charlotte was unintentionally weaned when Fi had to go back to work so we could keep a roof over our heads (not to live in frivolous luxury like the stay at home judgementalists would suggest), as expressing and teaching don't really mix, and Sophie was weaned when she simply began demanding more than Fi could provide. It isn't the way we planned or wanted it to be, it just is.

I'm pro-breastfeeding, but not at all costs, and there just doesn't seem to be any balance in promotion or support a la "Breast is best, but whatever keeps the baby thriving is good too". In our ante-natal group four years ago bottle feeding was the thing that shall not be named - I get the impression reading around that it still is. This is a noble ideal, but the flipside is that many that fail to sustain breastfeeding feel like parenting failures as a result, and are occasionally subjected to public judgement (as are breastfeeding mums - we have issues), or otherwise accused of not having their children's best interests at heart. Out of curiosity I had a look at one advocacy group's NZ facebook site. There are a lot of useful things on it, good advice, good support. And some not so useful opinions, like people openly advocating fathers not get involved in feeding their infant children at all if it involves a bottle, and not really being challenged in that by the faithful. As a father, this attitude I find alternately infuriating and depressing. Those quiet moments (often in the middle of the night) can be precious, as well as giving your partner a break. I don't have functioning breasts (short of hormone treatment at least); how else am I supposed to feed the babe?

The thing I find about parental criticism (and it is about the one absolute truism of parenting: no matter what you are doing with your child there will be someone to tell you you're doing it wrong), is that it most often comes from people who presume to know both your exact circumstances, and how they compare to their own equivalents, which then results in an attitude of whatever worked for them is the best way and will work for everyone else. It just isn't so, and if you are going to judge me or my partner (especially in public), just know I'm going to be judging you right back.

Mixed perceptions

One thing I've noticed about parenting, is that often people only see the bad stuff or comment on the negative aspects of having children.

The downsides do exist, but they go with the territory though; to borrow a phrase from the military, "if you can't take a joke you shouldn't have signed up".

And while the downsides can and do suck, they are generally outweighed by the upsides by about a million to one, which makes things worthwhile :)

Permanent Marker

"Well said, what people forget when they get these tattoos is that the skin gets old and then they just look trashy."

"I tell my kids to treat tattoos as useful warning signs that the wearer isn't all there."

"Tats are disgusting and I'll never marry a girl with them. It just spells uneducated and being a bogan."

"Tattoos are tacky. They make the wearer look grubby. They pigeon-hole the wearer as of a lower class and/or intelligence."

"Graffitti. Tattoos are nothing more than body graffitti and are as much of an eyesore."

"Tatts are suitable for fools, losers, common criminals, the deeply insecure and those who reject Christian values."

"I think of them as an IQ test and everyone gets to see the score"

If you agree with any of the above then you don't get it. They are a sampling of typical comments from people agreeing with this opinion piece published last week: Are tattoos a tragic mistake? (Stuff via the Sydney Morning Herald).

There were many other comments disagreeing with it (including one or two from myself), but the fact it attracted 500+ for and against comments from readers illustrates that tattooing clearly isn't as mainstream accepted as the author suggests. I know it's just morons on the internet, and I shouldn't get worked up about it, but when people are making judgements without basis on my morals and intelligence (not to mention my wife's, since she has a couple too), simply based on whether or not I'm baring my arms that day, it gets annoying.

The author makes a single good point in that tattoos are permanent, and you should think long and hard before getting one, but the rest of the piece is presumptuous garbage, from someone who doesn't like tattoos, and has only the barest insight into why people get them (like many tattoo critics). The peak of hilarity is the bit where she claims to be not preaching or judging, despite spending the whole piece doing exactly that.

I have two tattoos. I can bare or hide them as I choose. I'll probably get more before I'm done. I didn't get mine as a doe eyed teenager, on a whim, or on a wild night out (not that I'm criticising anyone who has done that. If you did, and are still happy with the results, cool). I spent years deciding what they were going to look like, and involved collaborators with them before taking them to the needle. I didn't get them to be cool, to copy anyone else or to fit in to some crowd. I got them because I like tattoos, have been interested in them for years and wanted some for myself (and have no concerns about how they will look when I am old by the way). While there are indeed some tragic examples out there, there are also some breathtakingly exquisite and beautiful ones too. I like the idea of permanence and I laugh at the notion that only the insecure or extroverted get them. Baring tattoos in public is a sign of self confidence if anything, and anyone who knows me personally will tell you just how extroverted I'm not.

While both of mine are generic types of tattoo, the specific designs are unique to me. There may be many tattoos like them, but these ones are mine. Both have obvious meanings, and not so obvious ones as well. "You're just doing it to be different, like everyone else" tattoo critics don't get that; it isn't the act of tattooing that is individualistic, it is the design, and what it means to the wearer. And while I've heard the odd disparaging comment directed my way when people thought I couldn't hear them, I have also had complete strangers come up to me and complement me on the designs.

I get that not everyone should get tattoos, not all tattoos are good ideas, and not everyone likes them. But here's the thing; I have no opinion on you getting tattoos or not, unless you ask me directly for advice. It's none of my business and they aren't compulsory. There are some design types I don't like and would never get, but that's me. If you don't have them, don't ever want one that's cool. Your skin, your business. By the same token I don't care if you don't like mine; they aren't on your skin, so it isn't your problem. I didn't get tattooed to impress anyone, or prove anything, or rebel against anyone. If you think I did, you don't get it.

My body is a temple-I just got the decorators in.

I don't hate The Feelers

Before hitting the road to come home from Taupo we had lunch in a park on the lakefront.
To the surprise musical accompaniment of The Feelers (well half of them anyway: The Feel?) playing an acoustic set. That in itself was slightly surreal, but it got even weirder when they started playing covers ("Save Tonight" and "Where do the children play" were the ones we heard).
Now apparently if you are a "Real (NZ) Music Fan"TM you are supposed to hate them. Pouring scorn on them and everything they do is de-rigeur in certain circles. And to be honest, moving in some of those circles, it gets boring.

I don't hate The Feelers (heresy I know). I don't love them either, and will happily damn them with faint praise, but they are what they are, which is harmless. They produce to my ears bland, somewhat calculatedly mainstream cookie cutter rock (which I think they admitted once might have always been the plan: their first big single initially sounded to me like a simple Bush rip-off, who themselves had been busy ripping off Nirvana but I digress), sold their musical soul to both the National Party and the RWC, and somehow still qualify for NZonAir funding thus depriving more deserving artists (more a problem with the funding model than the band though), so there are reasons to hate on them but I just can't be arsed. There are more important things to worry about.

The Feelers are successful, do what they do, do it well, and that suits the fans. I don't get why this is such a problem for the sneerers. There is this elitist aspect to criticism of this band and others that really pisses me off. The Feelers might be your favourite band ever. They aren't mine. Such is life.

I have the first album from 1998 (and no interest in any others: they have spent the last 14 years remaking it, so you only really need one of their albums), and even got it signed way back when it was new (screw whatever street cred I may have acquired...). I still listen to it from time to time and still like most of it, this track in particular. Screw the haters.

Back in the saddle

So after not having ridden since sometime in October/November (long enough for cobwebs to appear on the front forks), and feeling the effects of no exercise whatsoever over the Christmas break, I decided to use the return to work as an excuse to get back on the bike.

I cycled to work every day last week, and rode back 4 times, which is a new record for number of hill climbs in a week for me (a climb of around 450 feet I have figured out thanks to this little tool). Part of the motivation was the prospect of the upcoming Hospi ride in March, in not wanting to embarrass myself, and better my time from last year.

It feels good to be back on the bike, especially in this still holidayish period when traffic is still light. While some fitness has been lost (I'm a couple of gears lower on the climb than when I am properly conditioned), the muscle memory is still there, and long summer days make for great riding. And I seem to have a new zen with wind at the moment. Some days I'll sit in my office listening to the wind hitting the skylight and dread the ride home. Yet on Friday when the wind was actually proper stormy, I couldn't wait to get amongst it. I got home about ten minutes before a series of rain squalls hit, having had a slow but memorable ride.

That said, I'm not that zen with the wind. I was supposed to go riding with a couple of friends today, but it had been blowing a gale all weekend. Solo riding when it is breezy is one thing, but it sucks the fun out of a group ride.

Sharing the Lovejoy

Somewhat appropriate for posting on Friday the 13th since they were once seen as portents of doom, a surprise pre-Christmas visitor was Comet Lovejoy. Surprising for two reasons: it wasn't even discovered until late November, and then it wasn't expected to survive it's closest approach to the sun.

But survive it did and as it sped away from the sun it turned into a spectacular Christmas gift for stargazers in the southern hemisphere. It was breathtaking, and well worth getting up at 4am to see.

I was worried I would have trouble spotting it in the sky. Instead I walked around a street corner on the way to my viewing spot and just about stopped in my tracks. It was unmissable, the tail measuring easily three hand-spans in the pre-dawn sky, like a searchlight beaming from below the horizon as it rose.

Some with more capable cameras than me got stunning images of it, but here is mine from a field behind my backyard on Christmas eve:
While not the most spectacular image, it does approximate well how the comet looked to the naked eye from my place. I've seen a handful of comets in my life; Halley's, Hale-Bopp, Mcnaught, and this one, which was easily the most awe-inspiring. The tail is millions of kilometers long. Charlotte got to see it too, from her bedroom window. I hope she remembers it.

As for the spectacular images, The Bad Astronomer did a good job of collating them. Check out this timelapse: The Spectacle of Comet Lovejoy

Or the Insanely Cool observatory shot

Or the one I find most wow (for a few reasons), timelapse video of cometrise from the International Space Station

I love this stuff.

Abandoned

Another old abandoned house for my collection, spotted on the way home fom Taupo near Marton. I've driven past it dozens of times before but never photographed it:

Meanwhile the one near Taihape I photographed a few years ago is still hanging on:

Sunny Taupo

Last year our camping week in Taupo was drenched in glorious sunshine. This year not so much. Despite the forecast, we went ahead with our camping trip anyway. It was dry when we put the tent up, but pretty soon looked like this:
After a day and a half of constant driving rain, the waterproofing on the fly gave up the ghost, and it started dripping inside the tent. Bailing out was briefly discussed, but instead we put the tent into stealth mode by way of a passive waterproofing augmentation device obtained from a local hardware store:
Just after we put the tarp up the sun came out for a couple of hours (long enough to dry out the tent and sunburn my feet), resulting in scenes like this all over the camp.
And as they do, despite the frustration of their parents not being able to do all the cool outdoorsy things they had planned (apart from occupy the pool), the kids made their own fun in the wet anyway.

Near road death experience

Listening to: Barking - Underworld (2010). Seems an apt title to describe the way many people drive in this country :)

We nearly killed someone driving home from out camping holiday in Taupo yesterday. There was a fatal crash on the main highway, and we were diverted down a narrow back-road. When I say narrow, I mean barely wide enough to merit lane markings in the middle, and occasionally losing those too. While technically open road limited to 100kph, it is the kind of road you'd be dumb to go much faster than 80 on, and made me slow and pull over a little whenever I met any oncoming traffic (of which there was plenty since it was diverting from the other side of the crash site as well). So we are on a narrow unfamiliar road, which I'm driving at about 60-70 for comfort and safety. We get to this blind right hand corner when it happens.

A motorbike appears, coming the other way at speed, heeled over in the turn and on my side of the road. He's stuck in his turning arc and will hit us in about two seconds. Aside from the thought of "WTF are you doing on my side of the road you freaking idiot!", time briefly stopped at that point, before reflexes took over.

We had been driving along a section of road with a grass bank to our left with no verge, but luckily right then there was a gravel patch a couple of metres wide on the outside of the bend.
I pulled hard into it, braking heavily to the point where the car nosed down so much the skirt under the front bumper scraped the edge of the tarmac (resulting in the marks in the pics) as we came to a halt, hoping the ute behind us was paying attention and didn't hit us. The rider missed us by a couple of metres and sailed on, seemingly oblivious to just how close he came to being a hood ornament. After muttering a few things I hope Charlotte doesn't repeat we gathered ourselves and moved on, scared and more than a little angry at being endangered in such a stupid way.

There are a few aspects about it that piss me off. Detouring was fine, but travelling at a reasonably quick but safe speed (not crawling by any means) on the back road still caused traffic to pile up and tailgate me, since they obviously thought they should be going faster. If I had been going only a few k's faster we would have been wearing the guy on the bike. No ifs or buts, it was that close. The girls in the back would probably have been okay, but Fi and I in the front might have been in trouble.

The merchant banker on the bike annoys me most. To get on the road he has already been diverted by the flashing lights, police cars, and 'Crash Ahead' sign. Yet this reminder of consequences doesn't phase him (probably because he thinks it's somebody else's problem, and it won't happen to him anyway because he is a good rider) and so he just piles on like there is no-one else on the road, and nearly has a head-on with a family minding their own business as a result. This is how people die on the roads. I hope he got the shakes after our near miss. I hope he still has them.

The other thing that annoys was after regaining the main road we came across all the grinning idiots flashing their lights at oncoming traffic to warn of a police car up ahead. I don't know if this happens in other countries, but it seems to be a 'damn the man' tradition here. I see this all the time, and it is idiotic. There is a well rehearsed and tired argument that speed cameras are more about revenue gathering than safety, but it is a self selecting tax; if you don't want to contribute don't speed. I wonder what they thought when they got to the diversion, or if they heard about what happened up the road. Speed alone doesn't kill, but the attitudes behind speeding do.

I've said it before, but the attitude behind a lot of NZ driving habits is seriously warped. 18 people were killed in crashes over the Christmas/New Year period this season, practically all of them due to utterly avoidable stupid driving. I've also mentioned before that I survived a high speed crash (caused by my own stupid driving) when I was much younger. I wonder if more people had an insight into just how swift and violent an experience like that is whether it would make the behaviours safer or not.

After spending a week in a tourist town, we were expecting some hair-raising driving from the tourists, but while the overseas tourists in Taupo could be tricky drivers at times, the locals were worse. There were numerous episodes of craziness, but the most shining example was a guy in a farm ute we met in a Taupo carpark. Since there seems to be a bylaw that all carparks in Taupo must be illogically laid out (seriously, they are weird), we wound up reversing into a park from a long way out. Held up by us for all of 10 seconds, our ute driver smugly smiled and shook his head at us obvious noobs, before driving away. All the while he had an unrestrained Jack Russell terrier sitting in his lap. Can't see how that could go wrong. You're laughing at us mate but who is the bigger fool?