Talking shi*

Firstly my apologies to any faecesaphobes out there (or anyone taking a quick peek at the blog between courses) as herecommenceth a wee dollop of poo chat with the odd crapism thrown in for good measure. Now lots of our friends & family have joked in the lead up to Alexa being born that we would soon find ourselves "buried in it" if you know what I mean and frankly alot of you appeared to doubt our abilities to deal with the dreaded "nappy change". Well let me tell you... Kirsten and I have turned what you ladies and gents might consider (and some of you guaranteed would be) a fairly grim task, yes I am talking about the NC, into a precise military manoeuver. For Boothy's benefit, think F1 pit change with KH assuming pit manager role and DCS being relegated to the unenviable position of grease monkey. Suffice to say we have now got it so unbelievably sorted... Lynne will testify to that. Boothy, the pit times are outstanding mate. They have to be. Anything over 15 seconds and Alexa (think wee little unlicensed prima donna driver) sure as hell lets us know all about it! The real breakthrough for us came while pondering this blog and my use of a cheesy racing metaphor - it struck me that all half decent racing drivers (at least the ones in movies) like to listen to music while doing the business - take Tom Cruise burning rubber to Break Through The Barrier by Tina Turner in "Days of Thunder" (then passing the time of day with Nicole Kidman while Maria McKee belted out "Show Me Heaven"... but I digress). Now Alexa's music of choice whilst doting parents clinically execute Operation NC is, wait for it.... Dido. How apt.

If you ask me Kirsten (of Henderson milking stock) was always going to perform well when it came to cleaning up Alexa's No. 2s so, come to think of it, I was probably the true butt of all the poo jokes. Well I'm sorry to disappoint all of you funny funny people, but I can't get enough of it. I really don't mind mucking in. I must have inherited 1 or 2 of Grandad's farmer genes after all. In fact the only person I know who gets more excited about donning the overalls and hosing out the yellowy brown goo more than me is Stanko but he's a bit weird like that.

OK - I'm off to bed as I am well short on sleep and really starting to talk shi*. Just before I go I thought I'd leave you with THE POO SHOT... (I hope you can forgive me one day Alexa). Now if you are just in the process of lifting a tender morsel of medium rare eye fillet steak or Snapper pan fried to that glorious Anchor Butter golden brown or perhaps even a scallop or 2 fresh out of NZ's lovely waters to your lips, and maybe just maybe washing said morsel down with a glass of chilled Cloudy Bay Sav Blanc then PLEASE DON'T SEND ME EMAILS TELLING ME ALL ABOUT IT (I hope you are reading this Jonsey) and best you look away now...