Photographic Evidence of an Australian Bunyip!

And here y'all thought them's wuz mythical kreechurs!

Nope. Bunyips do exist. One just has to know where to find them, what their sign looks like, what they like to eat, and what they aren't.

And what they sound like! The sound you are hearing right now is an actual recording of a bunyip. There's the occasional parrot screech, of course, but the low level grunting is the bunyip. I think there were two of them. I, However, was not about to go into the bushes to count the bunyips cuz they are very very deadly and are the reason that koalas climb very high into the trees!

The first thing to finding a bunyip is finding a nice, dense, eucalypt forest. There are plenty of them down here in Australia which probably accounts for the reason they live here.

Just look for something like this:




You now need to look for some bunyip "sign". Their sign looks like giant, spiny, hollow, moose nuggets! Here's one I saw that instantly told me I was in bunyip territory!

The spinyness of the "sign" definitely accounts for why they are always so pissed off.

Next, we needed to set up some bunyip bait!

It's not that bunyips like sushi and champagne in the middle of the woods, but they like the way people taste AFTER aforementioned people have eaten the sushi and drank the champagne!


Of course you have to deal with all the other critters that are attracted to your sushi bait.


Punk-Rocker emus LOVE sushi!


This is not a bunyip. This is an Australian magpie --about the size of an Alaskan raven and very territorial!




And wherever you see eastern rosella parrots you'll be sure to find bunyips as the rosella make a nice appetizer for a juvenile bunyip.




I knew I had to be getting close to a bunyip lair! I noticed these galahs were not looking at me but they were instead looking past me into the bushes behind me!




I was thinking of shouting a warning to this bloke as he sped past me. See, I know for a fact that this path dead-ends and it's in the heart of bunyip country!





I hadn't seen the cyclist for well over 30 minutes when I decided to go investigate. I didn't have to go too far to find the bunyip lair!

Yikes! A lair of the dreaded Australian bunyip!!!!!



I found the bike, a torn jersey, mangled helmet and blood and gore nearby. No pictures of that as I was too busy puking my guts out! Just then, I heard a sound from the lair and turned towards it, camera ready!

And

I

saw

an

actual

bunyip!





I quickly jumped on the bike and high tailed it outta there! I think the only reason why I made it out alive is that the bunyip was quite obviously still digesting the cyclist!

True story! *ahem*

Even truer than my ongoing alien abduction saga, you betcha. *wink*

Alien Abduction Act III... Burial at Sea!

Obviously I'm sure you are waiting with baited breath (pee-uuu, please brush your teeth) for my funeral after I had the accident in the pool last Act, but I've got something to tell you first.

The number 839.

That's 839 tomatoes so far and at least another 300 still yet to ripen.

I've turned red.

And juicy.

And tasty.

Well, at least that's what Wifey-Poo says!

I also realise that some of you are waiting to see some alien pictures I have in my possession. I was going to make you wait until I arrived on the spaceship with my sledgehammer, but I think now I'll give you a closeup of one of them...

Are

you

ready?

Of course you are...




And now, back to the story! When we last left our hero he was laying facedown in the pool dead from a horrible shaving accident involving a meat cleaver.

Wifey-Poo will now take you through the burial!

Writing a eulogy is something I've always wanted to do. Writing the eulogy for one's husband, however, is something one doesn't(normally) think about. Or, not often. Unless he's deciding to ride his bike up a hill in 45 degrees C, in which case eulogizing is never far from the mind. And when he's deciding to shave in the pool, with a meat cleaver.

Now, it's altogether true that very few males of any species would seriously consider such a ludicrously hazardous endeavor, but Alaskan Dave is ... well, Alaskan. And the denizens of that state are not the normal male of any species, much less homo sapiens. So when he informed me that he was about to undertake an exercise in monumental foolishness, I responded with my usual, indulgence: "Yes, dear." And went about my own pasttimes, which include WORKING while I have a little peace and quiet, both items which can be sorely lacking in an environment where someone is emulating Red Green and his marginally suicidal associate, Bill.

However ... as minutes became hours (or at least too many minutes) at last it percolated through to the more responsive centers in my brain that things were, perhaps, a little too peaceful, too quiet ... and had been so for some time. With this on my mind, along with a deep and abiding sense of foreboding, I grabbed a coffee, hunted for my sunglasses, deliberated between four or five assorted pairs of shoes and sandals, set the coffee cup to wash, fed the cat and raced breathlessly outside to see what had become of my husband.

Erstwhile husband.

Oh ... dear.

Imagine my surprise to discover the pool water growing ... well, red is such a harsh word, and beside, when red mixes with blue it doesn't stay red for long, and the pool liner is extremely blue. So, imagine my surprise to find the pool water a curious shade of mauve, or perhaps purple, or violet. Coming closer, I saw the reason, and I raced back into the house for the camera. The insurance company would need pictures, I thought feverishly; and besides, this has GOT to be worth a blog post or two.

And there was Dave: positively perished and permanently perpendicular in the pool, unfortunately but fearlessly floating face-down in his favorite, familiar environment ... limp, looking largely lifeless and less than a candidate for reliable resuscitation routines...

All I could do was give him the Viking burial of which he has always dreamed, crossed with a burial at sea. Because he weighs about 180lbs, and no way could I get him out of the water. And so...

Bury him, thought I, with his faithful sledge hammer. Bury him with beer, and floral tributes, and plenty of duct tape to sustain him in that Great Workshop in the Sky (the one around the back of the Halls of Asgard, where the Valkyries bring in their helmets and armor to have the dents beaten out after they've been brawling again down at the tavern). Bury him with his loyal Crocs, and all the accoutrements of the intrepid handyman for whom life has been a grand tale of mashing hammers and tech screws -- a tale such as might be sung for a thousand years. Or at least till next week.





And so he lay buried at sea, in the pool, surrounded by his loyal and faithful minions, and I stood on the poolside, groaning softly as I tried to work out what I'd done to my lumbar region in the course of getting him and that damned sledge hammer arranged on a tippy little air mattress.

But as readers of this blog know already, the story has barely begun...

{Insert cool narrator voice here}

Wifey-Poo had not, however, known that a strange lightning storm was fast approaching Yours Truly's final resting place...

{turn off cool narrator voice here}


***********************************************************************

Just in case some of you are wondering: Yes, I still can make dinner!





And how's abouts a closeup of that 15 inch long strip of ultra thin-sliced Tasmanian smoked salmon that I tied in a knot for the centrepiece:




Stay tuned to this channel for Alien Abduction Act IV.

My Final Meal...

... of The 2009/2010 Holiday Food Orgy Extravaganza Down Unda!

Dessert was easy. Just crumbled up some of my cinnamon bread, then cut in some butter, and tada: instant pie crust. Hmmmm, let's see, these apples and pears look like they need stewing... I'll just add some sugar, cinnamon and cloves and boil it up! Tada: instant pie filling! Hmmmm, better use up the last bit of whipping cream... 5 mins and some sugar and beating later, tada: instant pie topping!

There were two main dishes served, both simultaneously. One was a rather healthy nacho platter. The leftover pork from the polynesian banana leaf wrapped pork forequarter was shredded for two huge mexican food feasts AND THERE WAS STILL SOME LEFT! Nachos it is! Chips were easy, just cut up some wholemeal flatbread, baked them, and Ta-Da: instant nacho chips! Cheese was from just over the hill in McLaren Vale whilst the tomatoes and chillis were from some plants right next to our pool.

So even though it was nachos, it was still pretty healthy with no chemical gunk in it.

The OTHER platter was... Sushi! And I had even made my own tofu from fresh, organic soybeans. The tofu was marinated and then pan fried --awesomely good. I used the tofu in both the maki-sushi (along with smoked trout plus avocado) and also on top of some of the fresh basil leaves (my own, of course) that garnished the platter.

Just to make the platter look purdy, I went out front and snipped an hibiscus flower to add to the garnish.

Finished off with homebrew.

I even have proof:




I couldn't see any reason to take a pic of the nacho platter. I mean REALLY, it's just nachos.