Abundance

Snails

Water

Underpants

News from France

We had news from one of the many bits of blood the kid left behind in Sydney when the rest of him came home. This bit has been to Paris, and Parisian researchers have had a dashed good look at it. You can imagine them looking like the young Alain Delon if you like, or perhaps like Julie Delpy. They probably don't look like that,but we probably won't ever meet them, so we can think what we like.

The blood has DNA in it. The DNA tells the researchers that the kid does have some kind of interruption in a gene. The gene is a gene that other children who have had rhabdomyolysis have a disruption in as well, but not the same kind of disruption*.

On the one hand the information is completely useless. Taking care of the kid does not change a bit, we need to make sure he does not get fatigued, does not get too hot or too cold, does not lack for carbohydrates. We need to make sure that if he becomes ill we seek help and maybe extra intravenous fluids. He will need a lot of patience with a lot more medical attention that a kid would choose.

But it tells us something we didn't know. It's not just a coincidence. It's a particular thing. They still don't know, I guess, if it's linked to other things, but this thing, this propensity to rhabdoymyolysis, needs to be managed independently. Which is useful to know. Also, if they keep doing research, we'll know if it's relevant to us, and to what extent, so that is potentially helpful too.

And it's one of the few clear bits of information we've had. So even if it's not helpful, it's still good to know something instead of guessing and surmising and wondering everything.

Also, it means that a little tiny bit of the kid has been to Paris recently, which can't be a bad thing now can it?

*For some reason this sounds to me like the lyrics to a Billy Bragg song.

The Last Airbender

For a film filled with clunky, declamatory exposition, this turned out to be quite diverting. The kid found parts of it frightening, but wanted to keep watching.

The fellow playing the Fire Bender prince was frankly a bit too high quality for the rest of the action, but the others were pleasant enough to spend some time with. Not so much the water bending princess, who seemed to have popped over from gossip girls and had a more than unusually unfortunate hair style in her first scene. I did like the glowing fish - always a positive.

Another positive, the father in this film is so horrendous that it will make parents look really, really good to their children.

Things that mildly annoyed me today

A toilet roll hanging on the coat hook in the toilet at work so I had nowhere to hang my jacket.

People talking at the next desk when I had stayed back late at work to get work done without being interrupted by people talking.

The way my thigh muscle went 'twang' while attempting to sprint (aka lumber).

Feeling dead tired for no good reason (except for the beautiful spring weather).

Otherwise, a very sound day with a wholesome bread roll for lunch, lovely company and an occasional sense of achievement.

A bit of a cake wrecks moment (no photos, alas)

This weekend the family held a 90th birthday party for my Grandpa. I don't think he liked it much. Like a grumpy teenager, he hung around with his mates from down the pub and avoided cousins. But we all had a good time.

I pretty much strategically only spoke to cousins I like, so that was very nice. And to great aunts. Nothing like a bit of great-auntage to make an afternoon enjoyable, I say. To be frank, none of us in my generation are particularly clear how we are all related, so choosing who to be related to on the basis of entertaining conversation seems valid enough.

My mum organised everything, including copious afternoon tea catering, the bowls club location and so on. Decorations were provided by my brother (balloons, streamers, big silver number 90s), but put up by my mum.

My brother also ordered the cake. The woman who took the order told him in great detail all the great stuff that was going to be on there, including the words 'Happy Birthday'. When Mum went to collect in on Saturday it was a plain, brown rectangle. The woman's excuse for not doing a single decoration on the cake was "I'm not very good at cake decorating". Ahem.

Well, no. Not precisely good at customer service or honesty, perhaps, either, but she appears not to have noticed that. Luckily my mother (who has been practising fierceness on the Labor Party) insisted on a refund, and found another suitable cake and someone who could put stuff on it (white chocolate swirls, and a white choclate name-platey kind of thing with appropriate Happy Birthday messages). I wish she'd taken a photo of the plain cake.

Although frankly, after the mini-chocolate mousses and the individual pavlovas, birthday cake was frankly a daunting option. Luckily we ate some for dinner, so that was OK.

I gave a speech, which was neither amusing nor touching. Grandpa gave a speech which was droll. He's so frequently grumpy, it's easy to forget how funny he can be.

I think he was glad we'd all made the effort, but he would have preferred the whole thing to happen without him actually having to turn up.

When I turn 90, I'll meet you all down the pub, eh.

For those days when you are feeling more sophisticated than a trifle eater.

But when you still feel the need for comfort blogging. This patisserie blog will also amaze, delight and occasionally horrify. I am addicted. It's lucky that all the pastries are in Paris, and I am not. I can't imagine I could afford very many of them, I suppose, anyway.

I found it via David Lebovitz, which is also a wonderful place to visit if you are feeling all Francophile and hungry.

I love food blogs.

Love is a battlefield

Apparently Pat Benatar is coming to Australia. Whoaoaoaoaoao. We are strong.

Do you think she still shakes her womanly bosom at men who threaten her in bars?