Sarah likes the weather lately.
So does Dad.
On Tuesday night I grilled some steak over Argentinian hardwood charcoal. It was pretty delicous. We also had some Rockford Basket Press Shiraz, which was fantastic. It was very smooth and full of flavor, but had a kick to it too. I had picked it up several months ago in the Barossa for the express purpose of drinking it with our parents.
Dad and I ordered the Game Platter, which came out on this barbeque with hot coals underneath. It was pretty fantastic looking, as you can see for yourself below. It included emu sausages, wallabee skewers, roasted tomatoes, kangaroo fillet, lamb, quail and mashed potatoes. It was a lot of meat, but we put it down like real American heroes.
Mom got the fabulously savory fillet mignon with potatoes.
Throughout dinner we drank water and a bottle of New Zealand Giesen sauvigon blanc. Sarah had the duck, which is not pictured here. Sorry. This last picture is the view from the restaurant.
This is Little Coop's face (mostly what's showing is the skeletal part of his skull) with his chin to the right and his little eyes peering straight at you!
This is the bottom of his/her foot. Right in the middle there. The toes are pointed to the right and down a little.
Mom and Dad are still enjoying themselves, but the time difference has hit them pretty hard. We had to keep them up until nine last night (or they will never adjust), and it was a struggle. We forced them to play Uno with us to keep them awake, but even so Mom almost fell asleep with the cards in her hands.
J.J. and I swingin' high.
Everyone's object of desire. Also, check out all that pink. Too much for me to take.
The birthday girl. Recieving isn't always all it's cracked up to be.
J.J. got a kick out of the swings.
Lucy, Sarah's older sister decided that she was going to wear her pink tutu and fairy wings to the park.
Our Hills Hoist. I don't think it's actually made by Hills Hoist, which are the real thing, but most of the folks around here use the brand name to refer to generic hoists too.
That baby again, with Sarah, J.J. and Bridgett in the background.
And here's a few shots from the CV conference in Victor Harbour that didn't make it onto the last roll.
The baby bump! Don't let the crazy high contrast leaf pattern of the dress fool you: little Coop is huge.
We went out to dinner last night at a tasty Nepali restaurant. I had some yogurt curry marinated chicken that was grilled in a charcoal oven, and Sarah had a delicious lamb curry with lentils and spicy spinach. One of the reasons the baby bump is so large in the picture above is that the restaurant has a no leftovers policy (they wouldn't box up our leftovers to take home) so we had to eat all of the food. It was too good to leave.
It was too sunny out to get any real good pictures of the coast. To much contrast between well lit and in the shade.
This is the mansion that the conference was held in last weekend.
This is one of the many sweet stained glass windows in the mansion.
This old Volkswagen was just rusting away in someone's front yard. I thought it was rather poignant in a kind of undefined way.
The official national vehicle, if there was one. The Toyota Land Cruiser in all its glory. This one even had a matching camping trailer.
The grapevine on our trellis above the hammock is sprouting leaves and little bunches of grapes. If the grapes are tasty I'm going to just lay there in the hammock and reach up and grab a bunch of grapes and eat them, like I'm living in some idyllic Greek fantasy.
On the left side of this picture is Nigel. We met him and his wife Rosanne (they also go to Trinity) for the first time at the conference and found out that they live right across the street from our friends Johnny and Bridgett. We've parked our car in front of their house many a time. They offered Sarah a position as their nanny, so if she feels up to it and things work out she could have a job soon.
Some delectable puddle slime.
This is the building Sarah and I stayed in for the weekend. It was near the mansion, but was obviously not originally part of it. They called it "the bunker."
I've been reading Acts lately.
The usual.
We hung out on the beach after the conference was over on Monday.
Here's Jonathan Broman, the pastor's son, looking absolutely incredible. I can't begin to espouse the depth of my respect for his afro.
