Tennis Anyone?

Last Monday the husband and I went to the Australian Open – this has now been our second visit.  Last week we went on a Tuesday evening, key word – evening.  We thought it was interesting, so we went again.

You know what Australia is in January at 11:00AM in the morning?  It is HOT.  

We start out by missing the train.  I hate it when we miss the train, you can hear it coming, you know it’s on it’s way – you have two minutes to make the platform, but the walkway is closed because well, there’s a train coming to the station.  So you can’t cross – bye bye train… See you in 20 minutes.  You know hubby, it’s hot out here – did we bring water? No – hmmm.

Arrive at designated station; grab what is supposed to be a Gatorade from the vending machine – out comes a Diet Coke. Bleh.  Open Diet Coke – Bleh - hop on tram.

Arrive at Stadium, Diet Coke gone – Bleh – keep bottle to fill with water.

You know hubby, it’s hot out here, there is nowhere to fill the water, head to a bathroom.  Water full, tepid, but full.   We don’t have major stadium seats this time, general admission only, sit outside and watch game from lawn on lawn chairs, eat.  Drink tepid water.

You know hubby, it’s really, really hot out here.  Can we go inside, they let you inside in the hallways – even if you don’t have a ticket, can we go inside? We go inside, hubby finds a map of venue and the days schedule. Refill bottle with tepid water.

We are now off again, watching doubles match of four guys I have no idea who they are. Hubby says isn’t this great?  Umm, not really.  I check my phone, it’s 40 degrees, that’s 104 for us U.S. folk.  Hubby, it’s 40 degrees – can we find some shade?  Yeah the seats are good, I know right in the middle, but it’s HOT! 

Yeah, the ball moves fast, can we find some shade, I think I’m melting – look at the puddle of sweat on my seat.  Hubby hands me two Kleenex to put under my legs.  Ahh, thanks – surely that will do it.

Husband, I think it might be a mortal sin to keep your wife in the heat, surely it was on one of Moses tablets or something, Thou shall not cause your wife to melt at the Australian Open. Isn’t that one of the commandments or something? And why aren’t you melting too? He hands me the tepid water.

We go for a walk, he finds a vinyl seat to sit on.  Great find yes, but it’s vinyl, my body is like a slip and slide, I’m just gonna lean on this cement pillar, it’s cement, should be coldish right?  Trash collector guy rolls up with his giant bin, stops right where we are, parks it there, thanks – the smell and the heat are fabulous together.  Can we go home?

Oh, yeah – ok, we have not seen all the courts yet, you are correct.  Right, what a nice day you took off and yes, I am glad we’re here.  Off to another court.  It’s an outdoor court. There are kids playing doubles.  I don’t know them either.  One girl makes a crazy noise when she hits the ball.  I can’t comment on it – surely only parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles are in this stand out of love – and of course us.  

Drink a frozen Rose’, pretty sure I will live another five minutes now.

I look over.  Husband, why is everyone standing on the seats the wrong way facing that court taking pictures?  He doesn’t know, there’s nothing going on in that court according to his schedule.  But hubby, the crowd is huge around it.  He assures me it’s just the way in to the complex.  But hubby, EVERYONE is taking pictures, maybe it’s someone we’ve actually heard of? 

Grudgingly we leave the kids court.  Walk to where there is ‘nothing’ going on, can’t see anything – too many people around the court.  Look hubby, there’s a ramp with tons of people on it taking pictures, let’s go up there.  He says it’s just the entrance.  Big sign on ramp “Not a throughway”.  He consents to my persistence, Roger Federer.  It’s Roger Federer – just on the court volleying with another fella to make the people happy or something, his match is tomorrow.  It’s 40 degrees…why isn’t he melting?

Tell hubby I’m seriously dying here, must go inside. He finds ice cream, I will now live an additional 15 minutes.

We wander around the other courts, they are blessedly all empty, it’s almost changeover time for the evening games.  Can we go home now? I swear to you, I’m melting.  He hands me the tepid water.

Creepy Crawlies

Just a continuation on my arachnid thoughts the other day...

I 'killed' a spider that was in my bra on Christmas day (before I put it on thank goodness)- the body broke in two and one half ran one way and the other half ran the other way... persistent little shits.

It's a white tailed spider, apparently they're one of the bad spiders.  I had been letting most of them live because well, they look cool and they are the MOST prevalent spiders in the house, clearly with so many around they can't be harmful...Guh.

 

Shall I show you the other common fella?  This one (below) we don't let live or kindly transport outside when we find. It's either a funnel web or a mouse spider - the webs are certainly funnel-ly and they are a kind of blue tone in their blackness.  My husband calls them the big ants - ants they are not.  I read they can bite through shoes and they are extremely poisonous (or maybe people are just trying to scare the outsiders with their writings). Luckily - these seem to like VERY high spaces.

We have one living in the skylight in our bathroom and another in an air conditioning vent in the living room right now (dropping their kill to the floor nightly).  The first time I saw the guy in the bathroom, I couldn't sleep the rest of the night.  We did not bring a ladder with us.  I am told they always have a partner nearby.  So I guess there are at least four in the house right now- yikes!  They also live in the outdoor shades - fascinating to watch - with a pane of glass between you.

 

Want to see the last guy?  This is an actual in the house photo.  I should have held a ruler up to her so you could really see the size, but I was squealing like a little girl and just in a hurry to get her to the garden and out of the house. I am told if they are HUGE they are not poisonous.  So, if they are big enough to take up the entire space of a dustpan, consider them your scary hairy friend. Blech.

Ok, I've completely creeped myself out now - time to ditch the spider stories and head to the next topic.  And to think, spiders fascinated me in Michigan....Of course you could probably say they still do?

What Do You Baste Your Turkey With?

 

We are watching TV, it’s the holiday time and a commercial comes on.  Not your normal holiday commercial peddling toys or electronics, this was something entirely different.

Everyone is at the dinner table having Christmas dinner and Aunt Edna pulls out a can of bug spray and starts spraying – at the table!  Which take this little Midwestern girl a back.  

  

They then say – don’t continue to fight flying bugs at the dinner table the old fashion way, use this – as advertised -  handy dandy wall mounted bug sprayer.

What the hell????

Then they show in a glimmer of light surrounding this wall mounted plastic thing – that looks like an air freshener – but is not an air freshener – randomly spraying bug spray elegantly into the air with accompanying music  – ABOVE THE DINNER TABLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

You can buy, and install, a bug sprayer that will shoot poison into the air of your home and on your food at timed intervals, to keep the flies off your turkey dinner.  YUM!!!

Shall I buy one for all of you back home???

Again, I am so sick of the bugs here that I can see why something like this was invented – in 1970 perhaps.  When the DDT trucks sprayed toxic mists into the streets to kill the mosquitoes every spring and we all trailed along like it was the pied piper of the land, except that it was not playing a flute, it was emitting poison into the atmosphere and ridding the country of the dreaded children and aimed for mosquitoes – but that was another time – before people knew better.

So here’s an ad in the paper – one’s on sale – it work indoors AND outdoors.   Um…

I also looked online – seems there are at least three manufactures of the sprayer – pick your poison – hahaha.  Oh wait, not funny.