The Walk in the Rain, by McKeely

May 2:  Last day of the two week school holiday.

(L to R)  Joel, McKeely, Gina and David B.

     Yesterday, Gina and her dad went on a walk with me, my dad, and my brother.  We went on a walk yesterday in the rain and windstorm.  How did we get there?  We drove for awhile on a gravel road.  We went for a walk in a forest.  First we walked in a paddock, then we went on a bridge, then....boom; we were in the forest. 

    
     Why did we go for a walk in the rain and the wind?  Because our dads are crazy, that's why!

After two weeks of school holidays, this is why dad is crazy!

     Anyway, it was so fun, even though it was wet.  I loved it!  I loved it because I love rain.  If I had to, I would go out in the rain with a singlet and shorts!  It was the best day of my holiday!

The dash back to the car from the forest

Run Kiwi Kids!

       To follow in the footsteps of some of the great New Zealand runners, you must first take off your shoes.

       Last year, with our arrival in April at start of school year term two (the fall quarter), our children experienced their first change from US schools.  Routine physically challenging sporting activity remains a vigorous part of primary school education in New Zealand.  As opposed to the US where physical education programs seem to be the first on the chopping block during times of budget constraint, New Zealand schools have maintained the priority that a physically fit child leads to a mentally happy and teachable child.  Yes, in New Zealand little Johnny can run (and his parents do not sue the school district when Johnny does not finish first).

      Three days per school week throughout the term, the children were led on training runs by their teachers.  Children were expected to complete an increasing distance based on their age.  Wonderful to see 360 children out running and talking together as they rounded the the neighborhood block, when I had a chance to observe them on a day off. 

       A year ago, at the end of the term, the cross country race day was held at the local rugby grounds.  A flat course with only a slippery mud pile to run over for the kids.  This year, the buzz around the school and word from the principal was of a "proper cross country course" on a local dairy farm.  A course, which, after the recent rainy fall weather, would include some "water crossings and challenging terrain".
       Last year, Joel and McKeely were still establishing their footing (sorry for the pun) in this new country, and were a little intimidated by the events of race day.  Now a year later, with many friendships in place, and a school year worth of experience, both were keen to take on the "proper cross country course".  As we packed their rucksacks with supplies for the day, one thing on the list of recommended items that the school had sent home, caught me by surprise.  It read, "Running shoes optional, barefoot running encouraged". 
       Many thoughts crossed my mind.  Most of them would get me in trouble,  since there happens to be a runner with a minor shoe fetish in the house.  Fortunately, Joel spoke first before I was able to insert a running shoe clad foot in my own mouth.  "Dad, I am running barefoot!"  Thanks, Joel, your words distracted me from my own stupidity.
     Race day was today after a weekend of some good rain showers.  The kids had a wonderful time attempting to follow in the footsteps of such Kiwi running greats as Arthur Lydiard, Peter Snell and Kathrine Switzer.    The farm paddock through which the "proper cross country course" traveled, looked to be in perfect condition.   Yes, one child did slip and fall face first into mud and cow poo.  Yes, a few children developed tears as they attempted to surmount the large hill on the course.  Stories of which our children happily reported around the dinner table tonight. 

Check out the feet.  Loving our children's shoe budget in NZ!

     The best part is of the shared physical exertion of 360 athletes.  The smiles on the majority of participants faces.  Exposure to an activity that will have lifelong health benefits for all of them.  To that I say, Run, Kiwi Kids!  Run!

Top 5 Reasons: Why a bad day fishing is better than a good day working.

5.  If a fish rises when you do not have your fishing rod in the car, did the fish actually rise?
     Note the ripples on the water. 
     Wanganui River on a fall day.  Southwest of Taumarunui on the Forgotten Highway.

4.  Keep fishing and you might find gold.  Upper Clutha River near Wanaka, South Island.

3.  We practice, we try, but there is nothing better than the real thing.  Lessons done.  Time to go on his own.  Upper Clutha River near Wanaka, South Island.

2.  Positive reinforcement goes a long way.  Joel with his first New Zealand rainbow on a fly.
     Lake Manuwai, Northland, NZ.

1.  Earlier in the series of pictures, gold was found on the river.  On a little stream near Glenorchy, South Island appropriately named Diamond Creek.....

  The camera caught a keeper of a memory that is more precious than diamonds.  McKeely's smile and eyes as she successfully placed her cast on the water. 
    No such thing as a bad day fishing.
    Fish On!
  

The Power of doG

     Back in the summer of 1982, while staying at a hotel in Ames, Iowa (more pigs than people), where our family was dropping off my sister for her sophomore year at Iowa State University, I happened upon a new cable television channel playing music videos.  The video playing at the time was of a punk rock group assembled in front of an oil rig, blasting out the lyrics of "Rock the Casbah".  A teenage event that has moved on to define a part of my generation.
    Thanks to that, nearly 30 years later, music from the Clash has found its way onto my itouch music list.  Instead of "Rock the Casbah", the questioning lyrics of another Clash song have dominated the conversation around our home in New Zealand (more sheep than people) for the past several months.  The question has a bit  to do with the fact that we should have planned a definite exit strategy for my working sabbatical (or we should have planned not to fall so hard for the beauty and friendliness of New Zealand).  It has alot to do with living internationally and learning a different perspective on family/work/life balance.  It has somewhat to do with the final resolution of a malpractice lawsuit that drudge on into absurdity over an eight year period of time (over half of my professional practice life).  It has much to do with relationships and support of friends and family.  It is partly related to my loyalty to my patients and professional colleagues that was attacked by the insurance (malpractice and health) industry years ago.  Finally, it could have heaps to do with the unfailing loyalty of our dog, Nellie.
     "Should I (we) stay or should I (we) go now?"  (Clash, Combat Rock circa 1982)
      As I write this, Kim is winging her way back to New Zealand from the US after her successful run at the Boston Marathon.  Thanks to Skype, we have been able to keep going with (webcam) face to (webcam) face conversations.  While there, she has had to be the one to answer the question many times of "When are you coming back here (USA) for good?"  Much like our old Christmas drive to Montana through highway 12 in Central Idaho, I knew how to beg off and be the childcare parent while Kim took the wheel to struggle with the difficulty of the river's edge, ice covered and whiteout conditions of the drive (hey, I was worn out by that 2 1/2 hour drive from GTF to Mizzou).  Letting the better looking, most verbally skilled member of the family take on the question was probably a good decision on my part anyway.
      First we are extremely blessed to be able to have to answer the question.  We are blessed by incredible friendships in two hemispheres with people who are concerned about our family and ask the question because they enjoy us in their lives as much as we enjoy them.  (Life lesson 1:  It is about the people you love, not the job you have, the places you have been, or the money you make that defines your life).  So thank you to those who have asked, and sorry that at the moment our answer has been vague.

      "If I (we) go, there could be trouble...."
       I now wear the scarlet letter M of malpractice settlement after my name in the National Practitioner Data Bank.  Real or imagined, I have angst about reapplying for malpractice insurance in the US.  I am a bit snake bit by the way my malpractice carrier treated me when the suit was filed (if you are insured under CNA Healthpro-Continental Casualty, I'm sorry for you).   There could be trouble in gaining insurance again, but my thickened skin should be up for the task.  Occasionally my colleagues in New Zealand ask, "Why would anyone want to practice in such a dysfunctional lawsuit happy society."  On days when my skin is not feeling very thick, that question makes alot of sense and my answer festers with indecision. 
       "If we stay, it could be double..."
       Well half actually.  Financial reality check number 1.  April 15 has come and gone.  IRS deadline was met.  When we gaze upon the final numbers, the answer to the question I had about why US physicians usually only work here for six months before returning to the US becomes clear.  If money is our only goal, it makes no sense to stay.  Reality check number 2. Dumping the mortgage back in the rapidly depreciating  "ownership society" (G.W Bush, Misinformation Campaign in  the USA, circa 2003) would make things easier.  A trip back to the US is necessary to take care of that.
       "Come on, ya gotta let me know...."  
       Our family has moved twice now since the children have been born.  We are not restless people. We have learned heaps from each move.  I felt the reasons for each move in my gut on both of those occasions. We had to have some extra resolve to navigate through  Immigration NZ and Medical Council NZ system to make this move.   It has been more than worth the effort.  Now that we have moved here, have we found complacency?  What a word.  Aware of the awards and dangers on either path that we may choose, we have been slow to choose.  Life is awesome here (NZ), but life was awesome there too(Idaho and Oregon).  How's about that for blessed indecision!
      "Should I (we) stay or should I (we) go?"
       Then there is Nellie.  Dogs know (I agree with the article below). 

   Nellie becomes Nervous Nellie when poked and prodded by doctor types (People do too.  I hope that does not mean that I learned my empathy at the veterinarians office!)  Multiple blood tests, immunization updates, implanted identification chip and one month quarantine upon arrival would turn her into Psychotic Nellie.  Once she arrives here she would be limited on the activities in which she can join us, due to Kiwi protection zones.  I completely agree with protecting the Kiwi, and only mention it as it limits where we can tramp with Nellie.

     She is a spoiled dog who, thanks to our living in rural areas, has never had to be trained to be on leash.  I trust her more off of a leash anyway, and at nearly age 10, I do not want to untrain her bird instincts.  
      For the past 9 years, she has been a loyal companion and family member.  All those years, Nellie and I have made our morning walk, me with cup of coffee in hand, her with a chance to poo in the bushes (hope I have that order correct), as our bonding exercise.  A routine that has been carried out through rain, snow, summer morning sun, and winter morning darkness.  Starting from the time of a single newborn child in a relatively new marriage, to the two children in their wonder years and a more experienced marriage household, Nellie has been there.  When Joel learned to crawl, she gently allowed him to pull on her scruff without an ounce of upset.  She has grown with our children, in fact almost a third child herself (easiest one to train by far). 

     More importantly, back in April 2005, Nellie was there.  After spending two days being twisted, turned and raked over the coals by attorneys in a deposition, what was left of me returned home to my family.  I knew then the same thing as I know now.  I had tried my best as a doctor (I am a "GOOD, not Great doctor", K.B. Lowder, MD, intern year evaluation, circa 1995). Even so, that did not prevent what was already destined to be the patient's final outcome. Inevitable even before I was asked to provide his care.  My Family Practice peers and Neurosurgery specialists have since confirmed that truth, but in the greedy, parasitic hands of a malpractice lawyer, that truth has been twisted into a massive settlement.

    Thankfully Nellie was there.  I had had enough talking and questions those days in 2005.  Enough rehashing of events that had occurred two years previously.  The emotions of two days, combined with my sorrow for the patient and his outcome, left me so empty that I could not appreciate the love offered up by my innocent toddler children and Kim upon my arrival home.  I chose my easiest option.  Escape. Using Nellie as my excuse.  Her loyalty snagging what was left of my spirit.  A walk to the river on a chilly springtime mountain evening.  She untiringly fetched the tear, snot and slobber (all secretions mine) coated stick from the cold waters of the N. Fork of the Payette.  My tear blurred eyes lost track of time.  We stayed at the river well past sunset.  The cold night, casting me literally into an emotional and professional darkness that would take another six years to reach closure.
    Back when I was nearing my tenth birthday, I knew I desired two things.  I wanted a dog, and I wanted to grow up to be a doctor.  My parents relented on my birthday with the gift of my first dog ( I had to promise to pick up the poo that dog, Mitsy-beagle, left behind.  As noted above, Nellie is trained to poo out in the bush, so I guess I am still failing on that promise).  My parents fostered my other desire, providing education, work ethic and opportunities.   As I walked up the hill from the river on that day back in 2005, absolutely shattered,  my only saving thought was,  " If I can do nothing else right in this world, at least I can still throw an effing stick for my dog."  Nellie thanks for being there to bring back the stick and my spirit. 
    Nellie patiently waits for us in a house that overlooks that same stretch of the Payette River.  Cared for by two of the world's best dog lovers.  Meanwhile we explore all of our options, with the realization that we are not done with work and travel in New Zealand.  Blessed by opportunities in many directions.  We pray, ask, question and try to plan.  We appreciate the patience of our family, friends and colleagues as we reach a conclusion.  But when it comes to the question of "Should we stay or should we go?" the answer is....Nellie knows!

Sound Advice

   Exactly one year since our departure from the US and immigration to New Zealand, we again found ourselves arriving by plane at the Auckland airport.  This time though, it was only a domestic flight on our return trip from Queenstown.  It has taken us a year to finally see a portion of the other island of this beautiful country.   A week long holiday that was only enough to wet our appetite for a return trip for a longer duration in the future.
     As I retrieved our car to load up for the drive back to Kerikeri, I had the chance to reflect on how much we have grown as a family and individually in this journey of life over the past year.  No longer are there fears of what life might be like if the rules suddenly were changed and we end up literally driving on the other side of the road.   Confidence has replaced anxiety for us as parents and professionals, while our children have flourished in making friends and adapting to a new culture. 
    We have found lots of answers for our family over the past year that have made us stronger.  Yet that does not imply that we have stopped seeking advice.  Nor doe it imply that we have all the answers.  After our travel to the South Island though, there is one piece of advice that I wish to pass on to anyone reading this:  Put a visit to Milford Sound on top of your list of things to do if you travel to New Zealand.  (O.K. I admit stealing this from AA Travel Services New Zealand)
    AA Travel puts out a list of "101 Must Do's for Kiwis" that is updated with routine voting online.  A visit to Milford Sound ranked number one on the original list, and has remained there ever since.  Our travels to the Sound completely affirm the reason Milford Sound remains at the top.

    Milford Sound is an approximate 4 hour drive from Queenstown, and the drive to the Sound is in itself beautiful for those who enjoy mountain vistas, farmland, and lakes (you can take the family out of the mountains, but you can't take the mountains out of the family!).   The first snowfall of the season, that had taken place the preceeding day, capped the Remarkables mountain range to add to the beauty. 

The first hour of the drive took us along the shoreline of Lake Wakatipu, the second largest lake in NZ (sort of like Flathead Lake without all the golf courses and McMansions).

         Arrival into Milford Sound is through the Homer Tunnel, formerly the longest unpaved tunnel in the world (they have paved it now, so it fell off the list) through the natural granite of the Main Divide of the Southern Alps.  Typical Kiwi industriousness, the tunnel started with 5 good keen men, armed with pick axes and shovels (maybe that's why construction lasted from 1935 to 1954, with some non work days from 1940-45 while the ANZAC boys were off fighting).  Since it was late in the day and now into the shoulder season without as many tourists around, we missed out having to stop and wait very long to proceed through the stop light controlled tunnel.  Subsequently we missed out on seeing any of the native Kea birds (giant parrots) who are said to be notorious car trashers around this area. 
   I will let the following photos taken during our boat ride on the Sound (it is actually a Fjord.  Sounds are formed by rivers giving them a geologically flat bottom, where Fjords are glacial carved and have a concave bottom, tour guide trivia. ), tell the story.  The dramatically changing light and cloud cover, coupled with the recent snow and rainfall building up the waterfalls and capping the peaks, was spectacular.  It left no doubt that despite being in a country filled with many amazing vistas, Milford Sound is definitely at the top. 
     Best to click on the photos to enlarge (my camera (poor) skills will leave you wanting to see it for yourself).

  

Sleeping dolphin pod

Lengthening shadow of Mitre Peak





Even more sleepy group of seals



  Sun setting on the end of a magnificent day.

Mom is on the run.

   It has been a bit since the last post and many things to catch up on, but I need to get this post up first. 
   On Monday, April 18 at 1040 am, Kim will be running the Boston Marathon.  Go to http://www.baa.org/. Click on "Race info and registration", then "Boston Marathon", then find "Event Information" and drop down bar to click "Spectator Information".  Scroll to AT+T Athlete Alert to register to receive updates from Kim's timing chip to your email.  Her race bib number is 18240.
    Joel, McKeely and I will be getting Kim out of bed via Skype (our 10pm Monday night is 6am Monday morning Boston time), then awakening to try to catch up to her time with our email alerts on Tuesday morning. 
    Cheering on my bride, who has been through a lot to get to the starting line in Boston.
    Run! Mommy, Run!

    And thanks to Grammy who will be Kim's support person in our absence.

It's Madness

   
     With a much anticipated trip to the South Island coming up in a couple weeks, that will include fly fishing, it's time to break out all those fly tying supplies I scored from Trademe.co.nz (Kiwi eBay).  It is getting into fall season over here, as the springtime March Madness arrives in the northern hemisphere.  
     Enlisted a couple of newbie fly tying trainees on a rainy evening, hence the laundry drying around the fire place in the background.   A great way to end a day that started with a cup of coffee and live streaming internet of the North Carolina v. Washington NCAA game.   Yes, a good day at the office sandwiched in between.
      Just another day in this Southern Hemisphere life.

 

Withdrawal

    I am shaking, sweating and a bit nauseated as I write this.  I can not concentrate.  No, we have not been anywhere near the earthquake devastation that has recently happened on the South Island in Christchurch.  Our thoughts and prayers are with the people affected by that tragedy.  Instead my shaking, sweating and nausea comes from the fact that it has been over 10 months since I last wrote a prescription for those desperately sought after pain medications of Vicodin, Lortab, Oxycontin and Dilaudid. 
    What is it with these Kiwis?  Why do they not need massive amounts of pain medication?  In ten months I have seen only one bonafide drug seeker.  What the heck.  I am missing being told I do not know anything about pain.  I miss the threats of being sued for misdiagnosing the chronic abdominal pain that has had three CT scans,  2 ultrasounds, 14 xrays, and multiple non diagnostic specialist consults in the greater Central Oregon hospital service area within the past year.  Definitely signs of craving as I go through withdrawal.
    So imagine my joy when I had a twenty something year old male in the office a few weeks ago complaining of dental pain.  I sat back and enjoyed watching the 5th year medical student from Auckland work his way through the patients history, waiting for my chance to discuss the difficulties of assessing a patients pain level and need for medication.  Especially in the setting of dental pain where some relatively benign exam findings can be very painful and severe dentition can be painless.  As the medical student finished his exam, I shifted to the computer to search Pharmac (subsidized medications from the public health care pharmacy schedule and not to be confused with Big Pharma in the US) to find an appropriate narcotic containing pain medication for this patient who had a very painful looking dental infection with a fractured tooth.  I felt a euphoric rush as the patient stated " Can I get something else for the pain?  I have been taking Panadol (Tylenol) and it has not helped."

    Relief in site?  I will possibly be writing my twentieth narcotic pain medication prescription (the other nineteen were for incarcerated patients on methadone withdrawal programs or hospice patients, no chance for misusing the drug) since I have been in New Zealand.  A minuscule fraction of what would be expected of me in practice in the US.  I am conditioned to know what is coming next by all the similar patient encounters in the US.  I can hear it, almost music to my ears... "Doc, can I get some of that uh Vik..uh Viku..uh...Vikudin stuff?"  Yes, say it.....But wait, this is a Kiwi patient.  "Can I get some of that stronger pain medication called Brufen?"  Aye?  Brufen is ibuprofen.  Mate, that looks painful, are you sure?  Lots of guys in your demographic in the US  claim they are allergic to brufen or it does not work to relieve pain.  "Brufen works really well for me, thanks doc."
    Bugger!  My withdrawal from patients demanding high strength pain medications will continue.  What is it that makes these Kiwi patients have a different perception of pain.  Pain results when our body suffers physiologic damage to tissue which releases inflammatory chemicals and neurotransmitters to stimulate pain fibers in the nervous system.  Our perception of pain is then modulated by the brain and is influenced by many factors including previous experience with pain and socially accepted expressions of pain.  Socially acceptable such as the difference between a Hmong woman delivering her child and placenta without a whiff of noise and a Caucasian diva screaming for an epidural the minute her uterus thinks about having a contraction.   Time to do a little research...

Ouch

    After exhaustive research, (exhausting work goes better with a cup of coffee and newspaper to start the day) I realized I had to look no further than the Monday morning sports page (get your pain right here)!  What makes Kiwis different from Americans in their demand for pain medication?  Look no further than the national sport and pride of New Zealand:  Rugby.  Not by coincidence I started my research on the weekend that coincided with Super Bowl weekend in the US.  What better way to contrast the social understanding of pain than to see how the gladiator heroes of a country respond to their injuries and pain. (Biased research disclaimer:  I tend to prefer sports stories like the 2010 Crook County High girls volleyball team who washed cars, had bake sales, and carpooled to games to overcome school budget cuts to go on and win their fourth straight Oregon state volleyball title as opposed to hearing about how much money Brett Favre will earn to lead the Vikings to another mediocre season).
    Luckily on Super Bowl weekend, the research project came to us. (Any Big Pharma out there want to sponsor my next project?)  Self funded research only provided tickets and transportation for my research assistants and I to the Kerikeri Domain where the final preseason test of the Auckland Blues and the Wellington Hurricanes would take place.

    The Hurricanes and Blues field 14 present or former AllBlack national team members, so bonafide heroes for the nation.  Pain is definitely part of rugby as it basically involves guys the size and fitness of football middle linebackers and free safeties pummeling each other without padding, colliding at high speed, (occasionally getting their heads squeezed between the sweaty bums of two front line players, but I'll save that detail for the scrum) until the ball is advanced over the try line.  It took until the middle of the second half to find the subject for my research, when not one, but two rugby players lay injured on the pitch.

     Observation One:  If you are hurting, the game still goes on.  Both players went down after tackles within an approximate one minute time span, leaving them writhing on the field in pain.  Yet the game did not stop.  Play continued around them, risking further injury to the players, but on the other hand an acceptance of needing a quick resolve to get beyond the pain and get out of the way.   Contrast that with professional football's game stoppage (commercial time) and speculation from the announcers regarding the nature of the injury (dwell on the pain).

Medic One

     Observation Two:  All bleeding stops, eventually.  Not to ignore the risk of the spread of infectious disease through contaminated body fluid exposure, but there is a little less focus on removal of blood stained jerseys and universal precautions during the game than there is in the US (not a lot of rubber gloves on the sidelines).  A good compression dressing around those torn earlobes and you are good to go again, mate.

Water boy/medic two

     Observation Three:  You are long way from complex medical care, so you might have that pain for awhile.  Note the orange medic clad individual on the lower right observing the pitch, and in the second picture the green shirted water boy/medic two.  These two fellows are your primary responders in this test.  This game is taking place with the nearest complex medical care nearly an hour away.  There is a volunteer ambulance crew stationed nearby, but no doctor scheduled for sideline care.  The volunteer ambulance crew has a limited amount of ability to administer pain medication.  Knowing that your national hero could be suffering through a long ambulance ride in pain from a broken leg certainly sets the socially accepted level of complaining about pain a little higher.  Contrast that with in training room xray machines and sideline physicians all the way down to the high school level in the US.  The US wins this one with the ability to provide immediate care for the pain, but it shows how the New Zealand psyche has a different tolerance for pain.
    Both players were able to be assisted off the pitch under their own power.  Applause for their recovery as the game continued.  I contemplated the following headline (click on it to read the fine print)



as I drew up conclusions to my research project.  I am thrilled that the Oregon legislature enacted the Web-based computer monitoring program so that physicians can have ready access to determine if a patient has recently been prescribed narcotic pain medications.  It is not an invasion of privacy for a physician to have access to this data.  It is data that can mean the difference between life and death from a drug overdose for a patient.  For those 18 to 25 year old who show up begging narcotics from their dentist or doctor, instead of being coerced into prescribing to them the conclusion of my research shows that the medical provider should take them outside for a good game of rugby! (Now who in the FDA do I need to buy in order to sell my billion dollar medical solution?)
    Addendum:  Watching New Zealand respond to the crisis in Christchurch has been amazing.  Calls were put out for assistance from all professions including medicine.  Within one day, the Cantebury GP service coordinators had to tell physicians from throughout the country to slow down on sending in the volunteer forms.   They were overwhelmed by the response and had enough volunteers to cover over a month of relief.  Just another way in which New Zealand deals with the pain.  Pick up your mates, and help them move on.
    Kia Kaha = Stay Strong.

Down Under is West of New Zealand

      A point of correction which many New Zealanders have offered to us Americans who are generalized into the category of geographically challenged.  As in "We New Zealanders know where America is located, but you Americans sure do not know where New Zealand is located."  So we are living in New Zealand and not "Down Under" aka Australia.
     We did enjoy celebrating the start of 2011 by traveling  "Down Under"  from December 29 - Jan 10.  (Travel Advisor: not a good time to travel in Australia as it is school holiday, prices are increased, hotels are booked, beaches are crowded.)

Bondi Beach 30 December!

    The pictures will help tell the story of some of our experiences.
You can click on the pictures to enlarge in a new window.

If you don't want to wait in line to surf, wait in line here for ice cream.

    The Opera House was a highlight of out time in Sydney (Travel Advisor: Highly recommend the guided tour to learn the history of its construction).  Truly an architectural and engineering marvel.

Man made and natural beauty all in one.



The tiles for the arches were templated five at a time.












      We were thrilled to have my parents in good health able to make the trip with us.  (Trip Advisor:  make sure your parents are good sports for travel before stuffing six family members, the luggage for the trip, and a grandson bursting with flatus into an small SUV for a week).  Our family is blessed like the opera house to have good bones to last through the years.

Smiling:  Have not had to be in the SUV yet!

The inside is stunning in its own way.

The Sydney Coat Hanger/Harbor Bridge

     Ten and a half years ago, while watching the Sydney Olympics and pregnant (Kim, not me thank goodness, but I'll take some credit now) for the first time, we chose a name for our child if it was a girl.  Michelie Jones raced along the Opera House footpath to her Olympic silver medal in her homeland.  (Trip advisor:  Way cool to see her namesake run the same path.  Dream for your child and it may come true!).

McKeely chasing Michelie

     We departed Sydney on New Years Eve (Trip Advisor:  Yeah the $625,000 dollar fireworks show that night would have been awesome, but the explosion of a $1200 a night hotel room bill sort of rips a hole in your back pocket).  After a few wayward driving directions from our TomTom GPS (Trip Advisor:  We affectionately dub thee Tombyatch), we made our way not to the Big Apple of fireworks, but the Big Banana of Coffs Harbor. 

For you Minnesotans out there...this is Paul Bunyan's breakfast snack!

    After a not so refreshing nights sleep in Coffs Harbor (Trip Advisor:  At 3 am drunk people sound the same no matter what language or accent they may have.), we made our way to Mooloolaba (Trip Advisor:  say moo LOOL uba).  A good day to drive as we experienced a taste of all the rain that has plagued Queensland Australia this year.  We missed the flooding in Brisbane by only one week.  With the rate and power of the downpours we witnessed, the source of the flooding was simple to understand. 

    Three sunny days on the Sunshine Coast were celebrated with time in the warm waters of the Coral Sea.  Surf lessons were in order, as they were promised to Joel for his birthday.  (Trip Advisor:  9 year old 5'4" surfs way better than hair thinning old 6'7").  Our generalized American obesity epidemic surfaced when the instructor at the end of the class chided me by saying "You're pretty fit, for an American." 

A reminder to swim between the flags.

 

Ready for more.

A little birdie told me.

     We beat the rain for part of the day as we drove back down the Queensland Coast.  We had opted on the advice of our New Zealand friends to skip the more commercial Australian Zoo (Trip Advisor:  Do not tell your kids that you skipped seeing Bindi Irwin) instead choosing to visit the Corrumbin Wildlife Sanctuary.  Excellent advice it was, as the Corrumbin Sanctuary allowed for a more intimate experience with the animals.    

Joel's scalp massage during the lorakeet feeding.

    The children were thrilled to see the animal hospital which takes in the injured or rescued animals from the region to nurse them back to health.  (Trip Advisor:  Surgery on animals that can bite or scratch you while inducing anesthesia is more risky than working in an ER).  We were able to observe as a sea bird received induction of  anesthesia for surgery.  (Trip Advisor:  veterinary assistants would make great ER nurses, as cleaning up bird squirt is just like cleaning up the drunk guy!)

    

Spoiled Roo!

    We finished out our trip with a stop in Yamba on the northeast coast of New South Wales.  Booking the trip as we traveled added to the adventure as one accommodation was overbooked and subsequently we ended up in the Angourie Rainforest Resort in Yamba.  A beautiful place, if it was not raining most of the time we were visiting (Trip Advisor:  What part of RAIN forest did you not understand?).  Yamba is a quaint little town with some great surf beaches that have yet to be built up like the coast along Surfers Paradise.  Have put Yamba on the list of places to go back to visit someday.




    We completed our travel back to Sydney and returned to New Zealand to our transient/permanent home.  Like any good trip, it was fun while we were there, but also, good to be back home.  First night back in a familiar place and the kids thought dad looked something like this:

   Belated Happy New Year to you!