Hello Australia!

I know a lot of you back home (Cape Town) were keen to hear how brother Craig is going. Well, it's good to be back with Craig. Some things - like filling up your Seattle Coffee card and getting a freebie are good - but this is good in a whole other way. The deeply satisfying feels just right kind of good. We've had DVD's on the plasma big screen and more beer in a week than I've had in 6 months. And I've realised that my brother is solar powered or something. Because . . . he never sleeps. But in a healthy 'I'm sucking the marrow out of life' kind of way.

And just to get you all feeling very Aussie, here is some wildlife action in the backyard.

Scott

PS: I've got a bunch of Ben pictures on his site if your keen

Our very own rich fool

"The good news is that there is no devil. The bad news is that there is no heaven either."

Thus speaketh Kerry Packer, Australia's richest man who clocks in at around 7 billion dollars. Yesterday he died. And the lesson here folks is that the richest man in the contry still dies like any other. He has now got the chance to see if what he thought about the future is true. I wouldn't wish his fate on a dying dog.

But his story is an amzing one. There is how he single handly invented day night cricket. His absolute power over his empire. That his helicopter pilot would donate him a kidney. His billions and billions of dollars. But here is the bit that amazes me the most.

Kerry Packer had already had 2 heart atacks, in 1990 and 1994. After he was rushed to hospital in an ambulance without defibulaters (spelling?) he donated enough money so that every ambulance in NSW could be equiped with this life saving device. When interviewed it was put to him that it was a very generous thing he had done, he looked confused and replied, "No, I gave them the money so that next time I'm sure to get an ambulance that can save me!"

But Kerry Packer died at home in bed. The only man to ever win victory over death seems to be the one man Kerry didn't want to have anything to do with. Take note my friends, men live in crowds, but they die alone. But it doesn't have to be that way if you turn your eyes towards Jesus (as the song goes). The choice is simple. We can let Jesus pay for our sins on the cross or we can pay for them ourselves in hell. Somehow I don't see how Kerry Packers 7 billion is going to help him that much right now.

Scott

Touchdown

When Jimmy and I email, we just cut to the chase. We have devopled and finely honed the 'dot point' summary of life via email. We simply call it 'dots'. For the first time on my blog, here are some dots . . .

* The flight to Sydney was fine - Ben slept the whole way, I got to see 3 movies. The down side was that 'The Grim Brothers' was a crap movie and Quantas really need to work on their in flight schedule - they are messed up.

* It's hot here in Sydney town. Christmas Eve was 39 degrees, tommorrow is 38. But the neighhbours next door are gone and we are in their pool. Ben has taken to it like a baby to water.

* For me, arrival 'back home' was weird because . . . it wasn't weird. It felt amazingly normal. I'm not sure what that means.

* For those Cape folk who know Dr Benny, Reesy and Steve - we have all hung out on boxing day with the kids. A different vibe but just like slipping into an old pair of undies (in the non grossly groinal kind of way)

* We are still finding our way into holiday mode - takes a bit of adjustment but we're determined to make it.

Scott

PS: I've got some great pics on the way . . .

I'm packed

(You know the tune, you can sing along. I won't tell anybody)

All my bags are packed
the runny poo has ceased
Ben's passports arrived
so we can leave at least
I'm so very tired I gotta sleep

The next question will be,
"Is it chicken or fish?"
How long will Ben sleep?
Twelve hours is my wish
And, will I get all the good movies that I need?

Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane
The fuel strike's on and everyone is shifting blame
Please let us clear the ground . . .

do, wa do wa do wa do wa . . .

Scott

My last 2 posts are a bit out of time. Hayley, Ben, myself and 370 others have just come back from Crossword (end of year youth camp for our gang here in CT). It was a generally good time - I gave 5 talks, Ray Galea gave 10. I thought rather than a dry post I would try and massage some life into it with some Sylvia Plath style poetry (not sure why, becuase I hate Sylvia Plath);

A gathering in anticipation
of leaders
and chops to braai

but with the fellowshiops comes
intestinal bugs.
And a toliet paper crisis.

Between sickness and
shocking food
I ate good food elsewhere.

Don't merely listen and not do
is what I mouthed,
but am I all talk?

Ray is a man I would
love
to be like

But times were good
The Lord sought out ten .
All else was a footnote.

Scott

Go Figure

It is now offically a week with diarrhoea.

Now I don't care who you are, but that 'aint much fun.

So I popped into the chemist for a solution. I got this milky white goo to swallow, but it's got electrolytes which must be a good thing.

Anyway, one of the side effects of my anit diarrhoea medicine is that it may cause nausea and vomitting. I'm not sure how that helps me.

Go figure

Scott

Can you feel the power?

I’m pretty good with advertising. I’m not a sucker. But every now and then comes a product so amazing that it deserves whatever excess you can throw at it. Not since the PV10X power mop (seen at 1am on an infomercial) has something gripped me with as much satisfaction.

I’m speaking, of course, of the M3 Power. The first battery operated razor.

Yes, it’s got the 3 blades, the lubricating strip and the special thingy’s that do that other thing, but this time around it is powered by a battery that vibrates the whole contraption thus stimulating the hairs away from your face for a smoother closer shave. And it’s green.

I was mocked, I was laughed at, when I sung the praise of this great new product but now who’s laughing . . .huh??!

Scott

Camping

The weekend just gone by saw us head off camping with my leaders.

For Neil, it was his first time sleeping in a tent

For Terence, he graduated to 'fire-master'

And for Kim, it was a miracle he found the place.

But anyway you slice it, it was a heck of a lot of fun.

Thanks guys, you rock and and are much loved.

Scott

Weird fire

Kitty, fireside

Steve and Meryl

Steph not doing well in 'Pit'

Please . . . don't do it

I've got a lot of pent up blogging to do but I'll try and keep each post as its own little universe. So we begin this week with a sordid tale. For those who don't know, my house backs onto the church carpark. The other night our dogs woke us up at 3am barking themselves stupid. I saw a bakkie (ute) parked next to my car right outside our back gate (which is weird because the car park has a couple of hundred empty spaces at 3am) There were 2 guys hoping in and out of the back of their bakkie for about 10 min. Then a women got out and wandered off. Soon after, the men drove away. In the morning I woke to find 2 used condoms in the parking space next to my car. Basically, the St James church carpark has become a brothel. After doing some investigation with the local security guys, it turns out that the flat across the road has a new resident - a Nigerian pimp who works from home and sends his clients into our carpark for business. How do you respond to that?! (We have done all the 'right' things, alerted the police etc) I feel as if I need to put a sign on my back wall - maybe the Nike 'tick' and the words - "Please . . .don't do it" I don't know! I'm feeling a bit grossed out by all this. I was thinking about getting rid of the dogs but maybe not. I think I also need a better back gate. Scott