Lazy Days.

Thermometer-lazy-4 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

On Thursday, I was collecting my two boys from school. I parked in a secluded parking spot that's quite close to the school and the other parents haven't discovered yet. I waited at my younger son's classroom, because my older son always comes running over eventually and if I go looking for him we'll just end up chasing him around the school grounds.

Sometimes I guess I can seem quite lazy, searching out the closest parking space to the school and not bothering to chase down my eldest son. However, I do work extremely hard when it matters. Honestly I do. But I despise wasting effort and will always look for easier and faster ways to get stuff done.

A lot of the other parents at my sons' school park their cars, err... disrespectfully(?) They block driveways, double park and recently I came across someone who inconsiderately took up three spaces so that they could be parked under the shade of a tree! This Thursday however,  it became clear to me that all I thought I knew about laziness was nothing. I was an amateur.

At first I didn't understand what was going on. An older lady appeared to be idly rolling about on the sidewalk, however as I got closer I realized she had fallen over and couldn't get up. Along with another parent, I helped her to her feet. She said that she was fine and just had a weak, sore knee. Then the passenger window of a double parked Porsche lowered, and a woman shouted from the driver's seat, "You ok Mom? Do you want me to get *child's name*." Now grasping the school fence for balance, and shuffling towards the gate, 'Mom' shakily replied, "No, I'll be fine."

I'm not lazy. Neither is 'Mom', but there's a certain Porsche driver...

Thankfully the police have started a crack down on lazy parking at my boys' school.

However, this cop wasn't exactly parked on moral high ground... unless it's marked with a red curb!

Doesn't that red paint mean something?

Please note that if you are a cop then I have the utmost respect for you. And further, if you are the cop I photographed giving out tickets, then I thank you. Those tickets were well worth your minor parking indiscretion.

But let's face it, if I possibly can then I will poke fun at the law and law officers. Like the scorpion and the frog, it's in my nature. And if law enforcement officers would like to target my car with tickets, then I drive a silver  Porsche... *coughs nervously*

Fear of Hot Dancing.

Jeez it's hot!
Not Hollywood sexy hot.
Hot, as in sitting in an oven, hot.

Last night was a record for our neighbours in Burbank as the minimum night temperature was 77F (25C).

Coming from the UK I always said I'd never complain about the heat, so I won't. However even though I won't complain, I never said I wouldn't get scared...

Yesterday we had a power cut late in the afternoon. The house became silent...well apart from the annoying beep from my computer's UPS and the automated phone call from the alarm company. The silence of the air conditioning was unsettling. I even could hear it above the noise created by the long queue of impatient motorists leading to the dark traffic lights.

Our house has a reasonable amount of insulation, so the heat increased gradually, but it was foreboding. Lynn was away in New York and I was to take our boys to see the LA Philharmonic at the Hollywood Bowl.

I worried that if the power issues spread it would be a catastrophic mistake to be at the Hollywood Bowl. This seems so alien to me. Being scared to go out because of 100mph winds or severe snow storms feel much more natural to me...so much so that I'm not that scared, I have a level of experience and hence over confidence. ;) To be scared of sunshine and heat is still new to me.

I gathered together flash-lights for later and considered not going to the concert. It was going to be a risk even without the heat issue.  Our boys might not appreciate the old music of the orchestra or the art of the scheduled dance performance by Diavolo.

Fear sucks. So we went. The boys loved the orchestra and even stayed reasonably quiet, only once asking for more snacks. Then the Diavolo dance performance started. They were totally blown away, completely engaged in the event; the orchestral sound and the acrobatic dance. Especially Lachlan, our 6 year old.

The artists were amazing, though from our seats way back almost at the lip of the bowl, the dancers were almost a blur, even on the large video screens. Mind you perhaps that was for the best, it was so hot that it was probably better that we couldn't see every bead of sweat on all that Lycra.

Within 2 minutes of arriving home, power was returned and our aircon resumed its calming drone. I needn't have worried a jot.

This morning, however, grandiosity got the better of me. I sneakily thought I'd remind Lachlan of the performance as he entered his classroom. He was exhausted and I thought if he told his teacher why, she'd surely understand the value of the experience and cut him a bit of slack. And if his teacher got the idea that I was a great dad, so much the better.

So I asked him what his favourite part of the performance was and he replied, 'The Dancers...did you see? They were naked!' And with that he entered his classroom.

Now I have a new fear, a fear of what my son told his teacher about the hot, naked dancers that Daddy took him to see.