Here Come the Caution Horses

This page written circa 16 August, 2004.

I do not think my family qualifies as "normal". I am quite happy that this is so. In fact, if I have a complaint about my current existence it is that I am negotiating mires of conventionality that have caught others of my acquaintance before: Having children, living in a suburb, etc.

Most of these Soapboxes take their titles from song lyrics. The lyric either summarises the theme of the essay or the associated song itself does. To elimiate your need for research (and confident that few will know this song), the title above comes from an Infidels song, inspired by the sign you see near stables and on trailers, but relating to the reaction one meets when doing what once you did whenever you liked. For the original songwriter this meant making love in the morning, running naked through the house, ignoring the phone. Oh brother, is he in a bad way! We still do that sort of thing, albeit less freely.

For me it is not being free to walk out of the house whenever I like or at 20 seconds notice, not being able to leave delicate things and expecting them to remain safely where I left them, getting woken up on weekends when the kids need something, not living in an immaculately neat home, rarely seeing the sound level meter sink below 50dBA, not going to riotous parties, etc. Speaking of decent parties, the photo adjacent was taken as Kay and I left for what was a wonderful party at a colleague's house. Were it not for photographs I would remember little of what happened, but I recall enjoying myself enormously, though it took most of a day to recover from the margueritas and a week or two for the ribs.

This life in Santa Rosa is good; we all of us have plenty of toys, a great garden with masses of flowers and fruit trees and herbs and vegetables, I have an enviable job, we have found a wonderful school for the kids, we have loads of friends. Santa Rosa is a good place to have kids. However, I would like the kids to live in a city once they reach high school. The time of garden play and toys will give way to a time of socialising, studying and partying, and for this I doubt much could compete with a large city such as Paris or Sydney or San Francisco or London. If Merinda or Edwin warrant a "selective" school, I would expect to find a suitable one only in a big city. For me it will be to regain some of that feel of living somewhere like Newtown or Notting Hill.

In the mean time, we need to defeat the caution horses. Not that you city dwellers have a better chance: An old friend, once wild and a teacher of the house music now has a family and eschews my company on the basis of her assessment of my politics (based apparently upon her inability to tell if I am speaking satirically or no). Another one bites the dust. When I cannot find images like the one above, it will certainly be time to jump.

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