A plea

Today I am writing a plea for help.

It's about days off.

We all need them. Some of us are such workaholics or whatever that we don't think we need rest. Others are so lazy as always to need it!

I'm not lazy but I need my one day in seven. That's not to say I'm a Sabbatarian in sense that we usually mean by it - I'm a Sabbatarian in that I believe the OT sabbath foreshadows the Sabbath-rest that is to come in the age to come... but I'm not a Sunday-replaces-Saturday type of Sabbatarian (as an aside, if the Westminster Confession handled the OT law better I'd be a card-carrying Pressie. But the Sabbath is one area they clearly fell down).

It's just that I go nuts if I don't get a day off. And I need a full 24 hours off. Hey, I'm not prescribing this: I know others who take their 'day off' in 1 hour blocks throughout the week (which also suggests you're not allowed 'down time' unless it's your 'day off', a dangerous consequence!).

Anyway, my list of day-off 'things to do' is so long, and I never get anything done from that list. Why? Because the family thinks that the 'day off' is their day. And to be resentful of this would be sacrilegious (although the temptation sometimes overflows into sin in this regard).

So how can I have a 'day off' that lets me just put my feet up, work on the model railway (which I was given so I'd have a hobby!), work on my 'virtual trainz' on the PC, and read books as well as catch up on the newspaper.... and fit the family in?

Advice please!

BJ McCracken and itchy eyes

When I married Michelle I inherited an elderly blue Burmese called BJ.

BJ was so named because when Michelle got him she was a little girl (I said he was an elderly cat!) she thought he was black and so called him 'BlackJack" or BJ for short. When it became apparent that he was blue and not black, he simply became BJ.

For some bizarre reason, when we married I decided to call him "BJ McCracken" which became "Mister McCracken". Other times he became simple "Meow Machine" as he is a very talkative cat.

Anyway, BJ is beautiful. He is a lovely, affectionate, talkative, communicative cat. I have always hated cats, but BJ is a lovely exception. The fact that he is so old that he doesn't hunt and kill wildlife probably helps. But after nearly 4 years of co-habitation with him (ie nearly 4 years of marriage!) I have suddenly become allergic to him!

I'm sitting here typing through weepy itchy eyes because he's just been head-butting me (the cat way of saying hello) and it's terrible! How can you be allergic to something you love so much?

A wet day in Jamberoo.

Hi everyone (or the one of you that peruses this),

We all probably know about the Big Wet that's infested the east coast of Australia.

Jamberoo's version today was interesting... we received 119mm of rain from 9am Monday 4/2 to 5am Tuesday 5/2 when the rain shorted out our outdoor power-point thus waking us up with the office UPS going off its nut. At 6:30pm Tuesday 5/2 it was up to 161mm since the rain started.

So, silly me: I went to the gym at Kiama. The swamp was full; various creeks were overflowing their banks and it was obvious that if the heavy rain did not ease, I wouldn't get home in a hurry. More's the pity too: I had forgotten my wallet and mobile phone. Furthermore, I was meant to drive my parishioner-cum-self-appointed-personal-trainer (actually, wife-appointed!) Marc in to the gym. But after the blackout I overslept so he'd already left when I drove past his place.

At this point I decided that if Marc was in the gym, I'd arrange to drive back to Jamberoo in convoy with him. If he wasn't in the gym, I'd return home immediately lest I get stuck without money or phone!

Needless to say, Marc was in the gym, so I did 10 mins cardio while Marc finished his big jog and did a big bog, then we hit the weights. Our mate Liam (not pronounced the conventional way; it's Lie-am, as in tell a lie - amm) was there. So was the other Mark, and the bloke from the over 55s development across the road.

We did our weights, paid each other out as we do, and we headed home about 8.15am.

Not far into our trip, we encountered a stranded car in Dido St (no prizes for guessing what the locals call that street). The VT Commodore wagon, with two young women and green P plates was stranded on the causeway as the waters of Spring Creek rushed around it. Fortunately, the local SES base is close by so they were on the scene pronto.

It was slow going behind a delivery truck, up around the bends as we traverse the watershed between Spring Creek and the Minnamurra Valley. There were lots of slow-gos around flooded corners and across overflowing culverts leading into both waterways. The Terragong Swamp was chockers; Swamp Rd was under water, someone was being towed out of Browns Lane and Jerrara Creek was well and truly in flood. The historic 1850s Terragong House was only a few inches above water.

Then we got to Fountaindale Rd, and the stretch between there and Factory Lane was submerged. In the middle of it was the Kiama High School school bus loaded with kids. Ouch! We knew it'd be folly to try to get through, so back to Kiama, then home the long way via Albion Park!

This was not uneventful, either! At Dunmore, the Shellharbour Rd was banked up to the highway due to the railway level crossing being flooded and the crossing gates being down as a result!

Then at the Oak Flats Interchange the exit ramp was under several inches of water!

Finally, the approach to the Minnamurra River crossing at Jamberoo was well and truly flooded! We were so close. 4WDs were going through, and it was obviously deep. Thankfully it was not fast flowing, so Marc and I discussed our options. My car is little, but there was no where to leave it. The Volvo was bit and heavy and Marc had a tow-rope. So he went through first and survived, so I followed! So we made it - only 1 hour 15 minutes late, and some 40km out of our way!

We stayed put all day after that. But the question is, given that the rain continues, do I go to the gym tomorrow?

Hi

Just a quick update... not much to say really!?

I'm reading a book, People in glass houses: An insider's story of a life in & out of Hillsong. The Sydney Morning Herald has made it out to be a big expose of Hillsong... and no I'm not reading it as some sort of Schadenfreude. The sorts of things the Herald 'picked up on' could be alleged by disgruntled Anglicans at, well, me. And I know I'm not guilty of the things that Ms Levin finds fault with at Hillsong. So I'm just saying, just because she alleges it doesn't make it true!

The book is less expose and more a rollicking travel guide by someone who was never a 'true believer' and found the whole experience a bit OTT... ok, so she also was hurt by some of the antics.

Nevertheless, if you put aside the bitterness it's a good insight into another church's workings, a bit like reading The Chosen Ones about Sydney Anglicanism and the ACL, where you can see some truth but also realise that the author perhaps has missed the point altogether and critiques what they do not understand.

Aside from all that, yesterday I was sitting at my laptop in the kitchen eating lunch when I started to cough, having breathed in a crumb by accident. The next thing I was aware of was being woken up on the floor by a somewhat panicked Michelle. It was a bit scary. The doc told me today that I'm allowed this faint, but next time it's in for heart checks etc, etc.

As the fridge magnets say, be alert but not alarmed.

G.