Epitaph to a friendship...

I had to bury a friendship today.

Guess we all have friends who are concerned with ISSUES. I had one who I respected very much for their convictions and admired them for it. Yet we had a very nice relationship as friends. Their warmth and generosity of spirit was something I valued highly.

And yet friendship took a back seat when I ran afoul of their views on an ISSUE. Despite an effort to steer it back to what we had in common it was instead dashed on the rocks by fanatical zeal on an ISSUE and rather shockingly vitriolic diatribes showing a disappointing disregard for the person it was directed toward.

In this case, me.

How disconcerting to find out people you counted as friends have "yardsticks" that they use to measure the worth of the people they know. Little realizing that one day they will most likely be left, sitting alone and bitter, chewing their principles with toothless gums, calling everyone else a**holes. Never really knowing that it's all about how you touch and connect with people for all their needs and despite what you might see as failings that truly define a friend. And makes you worthy of being a friend yourself. Much like in the song "I Am One" by Chrisette Michele.

So I write this epitaph to a friendship. And I wish them peace. And wish them joy. And above all understanding.

- Farmer Ted

Observing the Aussies: Pharmacopeia...

If you've been reading this blog for any amount of time, you'll know I suffer from chronic sinus infections. Anyone who's ever had one knows the full agony of it; something that's hard to describe to the uninitiated. In the US, there are an array of over-the-counter (OTC) medications that can help you through it, alleviating the symptoms enough so that going postal because your favorite TV show isn't on doesn't seem like a Perfectly Reasonable Response.

But none of those products are available here in Australia. Not sure why given their ready availability throughout the rest of the civilized world. For example, NyQuil; for those with a cold or flu, the greatest invention known to man. One little cap full before bedtime and you sleep so deeply even Rip Van Winkle is envious. But here in Oz? "Sorry, it has both pseudoephedrine (decongestant) and diphenhydramine (antihistamine that also makes you drowsy) in it. You might overdose, or worse, you'll shoot your eye out, kid" the Australian Ministry of Big Brother Knows Best scornfully opines.

So you trek to An Australian Pharmacy for something. Anything.

Now, everyone here knows about The Fetching Damsel (TFD) that inhabit the front of every Australian pharmacy; young ladies they put in your way so you can't get what you want. With a cheerful "How ya going?" they are there purely to deflect supplicants from The Pharmacist, who appear to be held in the same regard as Don Vito Corleone in The Godfather. Here's an actual dialog of me trying to get men's multivitamins:

TFD: Hi! How ya goin'? Can I help you find something?
Me: I'm looking for men's multivitamins.
TFD: [leading me] Sure, all the vitamins are right here.
Me: [peering closely at the labels] Umm. All these have herbs in them.
TFD: That's right. So they're also GOOD for you.
Me: Maybe, but have the herbs been tested for interaction with the other ingredients?
TFD: [appearing confused] Tested...
Me: Yeah. Some herbs have side affects with other drugs. And hey! These men's vitamins all have iron in them.
TFD: [warily] Yes...
Me: Didn't you know too much iron may contribute to coronary heart disease in men and lead to heart attacks?
TFD: [slowly reaching under the counter and pressing a buzzer] Interesting...

At this point Don Vito appeared in his white coat, sporting a huge signet ring with a diamond crusted Rod of Aesculapius. After calling me a troublemaker I was unceremoniously hustled out of the store.

And I still didn't get any NyQuil.

- Famer Ted

Peeking out at Robe...

What I neglected to mention when I talked about the trip to Robe were the stunning views of the Limestone Coast:














As long as you stayed on the main paths, that is.


- Farmer Ted

Observing the Aussies: The Outback...

I've determined that as Americans we have no idea what is meant in Australia by the outback. The first thing that springs to mind of most of my countrymen is, of course, Outback Steakhouse; little realizing that coming to this country and asking an Aussie for a Bloomin' Onion is like shaking a red cape in front of a bull.

This past weekend I had the chance to travel about 4 hours from The City out into South Australia. Now to a person from any normally dense country, this would be an ideal outback. After all, dotted with the towns having names like Elwomple, Meningie, and Willalooka, all having populations of less than 200, a couple of grain silos, and a half-blind stray dog hanging about this would be my idea of an outback. Places where "going downtown" usually means a visit to the general store-slash-post office.

I could swear I saw Sam Drucker waving from the front door of one as we passed it.

And for all that, Australians STILL would not call it the outback. I'm not sure why. I think because you can drive from one town to another on a tank of gas. Or perhaps because you can make the trip without seeing more than 10 wombats in full rigor on the side of the road.

The destination of this excursion was a coastal town named Robe (for a past governor of the state and not a fuzzy garment, thank you very much). Robe rates a post office AND a supermarket so you can tell it's a virtual metropolis. I got a lot of stares when I went into the only hardware store and asked if there was another supermarket in town besides the IGA (every town has an IGA). After an uncomfortable silence there followed such a sonorous "NoOooOOOOOo" it set my teeth to rattling. I felt like such a city slicker.

So just what does make a place the outback? To me, it's any place in Australia where there are more koala crossings than people crossings. Yeah, that'll work.

- Farmer Ted

New World Order by the numbers...

Let's face it, when it comes to self-assembled furniture no one has it down to an art like Ikea. In Pennsylvania, we had the privilege of having the first Ikea in North America so I've been shopping at the place for a long time. Heck my very first apartment was furnished pretty much courtesy of it.

So when I came here On Station, imagine my surprise to find Ikea had invaded Down Under as well. Meaning I've used them AGAIN to complete furnishing my abode here. But not seeming to have learned, I still approached the assembly endeavor with enthusiasm and optimism. Only to be left 6 hours later with 1 misshapen TV stand, 1 cockeyed coat rack, and two partially assembled items because parts were missing. I tried not to collapse weeping.

I think from having been punk'd by Ikea on two continents, that gives me the unique qualification to offer these suggestions:

1) Include a level-of-difficulty on the products. Perhaps 1 for EASY, up to 5 for DIFFICULT. For example the BILLY bookcase with its myriad of parts was a snap to put together. LOD=2. Meanwhile two simple-looking NYCKELBY glass doors where a b*tch to attach: LOD=5. While I think this would curtail sales for some products, it would cut down on the incidence of kickus-ikea-productus that seems to happen to all of us at some point.

2) Use product names someone not from Sweden can pronounce. Don't they realize it makes you not want to ask for help in finding something you can't pronounce because of a poor consonant-to-vowel ratio? Like BJURSTA. Although I'll admit, it is funny seeing a shopper keeping a 3-yo kid in check while attempting to pantomime "glass-door cabinet with five shelves in white foil" just because the product name is unpronounceable.

3) Use WORDS on the assembly instructions. Sure I know it's supposed to show how friggin' international Ikea is, but a set of visual instructions like this pictured is why it took hours to get those damn glass doors on. Observe an actual step. Given there are two hinges, what does "3x" mean? And is the word "click" the same in Finnish? I don't think so. Hypocrites, the lot of 'em.

I guess the conspiracy theorists would call Ikea the harbinger of the New World Order; or more appropriately FLARKE: but only if you want it in beech veneer.

- Farmer Ted