Is this thing still here?

September 6, 2012


Wow. I can’t believe time has flown by this quickly! My last post was in 20…10? Wasn’t it a few weeks ago? I guess when I think about the events of the last two years I can understand my not having too much time to write in here, finishing a Masters degree, selling a unit, buying a house, moving to a new job, having another baby. I certainly seemed to squeeze a fair amount into those two years, not sure how much sleep was had during that time though. Anyways, thought I’d blow out the cobwebs and write a new post purely for the sake of…blowing out…the cobwebs…yeah. More to come. Seriously. Soon. Hopefully.    



You know you’re tired when….

May 27, 2010

You know you’re tired when as you try to get dressed every article of clothing you put on gets annoyingly caught on every possible limb.

You know you’re tired when every part of your body except your brain is screaming “Don’t get up!”

You know you’re tired when despite wearing one for the last 6 yrs it takes you 3 or 4 minutes to put on your tie because you can’t remember which side goes where…

And when you are procrastinating instead of doing work you desperately need to do….

The Weekend

February 27, 2009


I love the weekend. Guess that doesn’t make me that special but thought I should start this post with a positive statement. As fun as the weekend can be and as much as I look forward to it, I think it’s killing me. Not that it’s the weekend’s fault, it does nothing but share the love once a week. No the fault is mine.

You see you really want to get the most out of your weekend, you want to squeeze every last minutes worth of enjoyment out of those two days before dreaded monday comes back with a vengeance. I have no self control though, I don’t know when to stop squeezing. I fill up every single minute of my weekend with squeezey fun activities and by the time monday comes I’m totally exhausted.

At the moment I’m involved in a deadly cycle that I’m pretty sure has no end. It starts like this, Monday morning, work hard, finish a couple of things off, get more work. Tuesday slacken off, I’ve got all week. Wednesday should probably get going on these things… this afternoon. Wednesday afternoon freak out cause I’ve got so much to finish and don’t want to do it on the weekend, stay up late wed, work like crazy thursday, stay up late thursday night, work like crazy friday DONE!

Finally the weekend is here and I can relax, catch up on some sleep and just veg for a while. Actually, now that you mention it, my weekend has been crammed in with approx 8 million ‘squeezey fun activities’ to do and I end up getting less sleep than during the week. Sunday night lying comatose on the bed I remember the next morning brings dreaded monday and I swear I’ll work smarter next week and not have as busy a week or weekend.

Never happens.

Back to School

January 26, 2009


I still remember the moment it happened. I was sitting on the couch, quite comfortable really; munching on some lunch while watching the Sydney test.  If you’d asked me that morning if I had an inkling of what was about to happen I wouldn’t have had the foggiest. I mean, surely I had another week at least? Wasn’t Christmas and New Years just a few short days ago?

It was Officeworks. Seriously, what kid is going to require a 1 TB external Hard Drive? Every year, at the same time, in one way or another, be it watching the cricket, reading the paper or browsing a catalogue; Teachers see their first ‘Back to School’ ad and come crashing back to reality.

Not that I’m complaining, it IS quite nice getting 5 or 6 weeks off in Dec/Jan every year (not mentioning the other 7 weeks), especially when your wife has holidays at the same time. But still, it seems to be coming sooner every year, like Christmas or Easter. I thought I saw a pseudo Easter display in Woolworths a few weeks ago, yes in January. Yikes.

But I digress. Back to school, it’s a precious time really, when tens of thousands of students and teachers try to squeeze as much enjoyment as possible from the few remaining days they have. Of course for roughly three weeks the only ads you’ll see are for USBs, books, pens, bags, shoes, muesli bars, LCMs and pencil cases and of course, Lowes. This year I’ve also seen a couple of ads for laptops and the previously mentioned 1 TB External Hard Drive. Now as a teacher who likes to think he keeps abreast with all things tech, what possible reason could a High school student have for 1000 Gigabytes of portable memory? A single page of writing is a mere 10 Kilobytes and even a two hour movie is only 1.5 Gigabytes or thereabouts. So which school is making their students bring in their 100 million page homework assignment for marking? How convenient a piece of technology for the student that needs to show his teacher his 1200 hour home made movie epic?

The irony of the situation is that both teachers and students want the same thing; at least …. 6 weeks more holidays. Unfortunately, this doesn’t take into account the amount of content that teachers are supposed to squeeze into a single year, or the eighteen different outcomes, sixteen quality teaching standards and eight student learning styles we are supposed to take into account.  Perhaps we should start school a month early? Even three weeks would help actualy, the I could spend more time teaching skills or even… wait, what the hell amd I saying?

6 weeks it is.

The Beach holiday

January 25, 2009


I just got back from a beach holiday. It was a great week away and very generous of my wife’s family for inviting us and letting us stay in their beautiful house very close to the beach. But before I forget there’s just a few things I need to say about Beach holidays.

For starters, what’s with the sand? Now call me un-Australian (especially this close to Australia day), tell me that a beach is made up of sand so I should expect it, but i just can’t understand why God had to make beaches out of such annoying stuff? I mean what is the purpose of sand? Don’t get me started with all this “it’s the product of a process of oceanic erosion beginning eons ago” mumbo jumbo; have you ever tried to get the stuff out every crevice and crack your body possesses?

And what about sunburn? I probably wouldn’t stick out too much at a white pastey man convention and yes I do get a little burnt from time to time but nothing burns me like a trip to the beach. I could probably muse about the wide open spaces, the longer amount of time I’m spending in the sun or the fact that the water acts as a reflect for the suns rays (actually I probably should because there all true but that’s besides the point). The fact is, regardless of how much sunscreen I lather on, or how many times I paste myself white, one of two things happens; I miss a spot or I get burnt anyways. In fact I’m sure it’s all part of some big cosmic joke, let me paint you a picture:

God’s chatting away with Melchizadek, “Did you see the Knicks game? Everyone thought Rodrigues was going to make that Home run for sure!” Melchizadek might be chiming in with some witty response until God interrupts him “Oh check it out! Scott Wimble’s going to the beach again, what spot do you want him to miss out on this time? Back of the knees? Left shoulder? Oh I know! Neck!”

(hmmmm, might work on that one. For those who haven’t worked it out yet, it’s currently half past one in the morning and I can’t sleep… but I digress.)

This is usually where I’d finish up, sand and sunburn, the two ruinous elements that can put that sting in an otherwise enjoyable beach trip. But not this time. We were actually staying with Megan’s family for the second hald of their stay up at Byron Bay and the day before we arrived not one but three members of her family had been stung by blue bottles. Sitting around the table on our  second last night at Byron the stings were still smarting and my (stingless ) sister in law chimed in with a cheeky “Hands up who wasn’t stung by a blue bottle last week.” To which I simply had to reply “Hands up whose never been stung by a blue bottle?”

It’s actually quite painful, even when you’re fully expected it. It also itches which I didn’t expect, sometimes being a smart alec has its disadvantages; especially when you’re trying to get to sleep with itchy feet.

It’s over already?

December 27, 2008

wake up, open presents, drive, eat, drink, sleep. Is that really all there is to it?

Putting up a shed

December 22, 2008


Sore hands, check. Sunburnt neck, check.  Aching arms, check. Yep, I just spent the entire day putting up a shed. It’s such a manly pursuit, the shed is simply and wholly a man’s world and what could be more manly than putting one up?

I’ll tell you. Spending all day, trying to figure out the instructions, letting about thirty “That’ll do” s out and finally, with a sigh of resignation, leaving the job half finished and going home. Now don’t get me wrong, we did a stella job, magnificent really; four walls, the door sliding mechanism thingy and one side of the first part of the thing you put in before you start putting on the roof. And don’t be thinking the three Wimble men are inept around the house; Dad is a veritable handy-man extraordinaire.

We once had plumbing problems upstairs, so he cut two huge holes in the wall behind the shower and underneath the bath on the way up the stairs, played around a bit and…ta da! All fixed. Good as new. He covered the hole in the wall by the stairs with a large map of the United States and used some kind of putty to wedge back into place the large piece of wall from behind the shower (it was in the hallway outside my room). After a couple of months, he even painted over the mortar so you couldn’t see he’d done it!

It wasn’t even our fault. The instructions on this DIY shed were simply ridiculous. Listed are A-P parts, all looking exactly the same, not to mention five and a half thousand screws/bolts/round metal thingys. The diagrams were straight from the minimalist artists handbook and at times I swear the artist thought to himself “That’ll do” and just stopped midsketch. The annotations also seem to say “This is the easiest thing you’ll ever do, in fact I’m going to write as little as possible to save ink…”

To be brutally honest, we probably did enough work to put up three sheds; what with putting that bar on, then realising it was wrong and putting it the other way around, then realising it was actually supposed to go the way it was first… but on the other side. Oh my, what a bonding experience for the Wimble males! Shouldn’t that go there? Or there? Why wouldn’t you just screw it where that little hole is? You need a drill, no a bigger drill or the screw won’t fit… oh what fun it was.

But anyways I digress, putting up a shed, the most manliest of manly pursuits, guaranteed to get you sweaty, annoyed and angry. I wonder if anyone can think of something that’s more many than that?