This is the last day to donate to my profile on movember.com. I am Steve Snell and the team name is ISB MoDragons. It’s not a complicated process and only takes a couple of minutes, so if the time factor is holding you back I urge you to give it a go.

Tomorrow our school has the last Movember function which is a fashion parade. I am going as a communist guerilla, which means I have a wig, a green shirt and a plastic gun. I don’t know if I will post the pictures. Maybe if I can wheedle some more donations…

It is still possible to donate to my Movember page.

It is not too late to donate to my Movember effort.

Our efforts to raise money for Movember have appeared in the Global Times. I wonder how it got in there? Anyway, the blue board with the photos of the four guys is a display outside my classroom.

I am growing a moustache for mens health and so far (with my class) I have raised $160. Here is a photo of me with the moustache obscured.

If you would like to have a photo (I’ll email it to you) with the moustache unobscured, simply go to the Movember website and donate 5 bucks; it’s for a great cause.

If you do decide to donate, you will find me in there as Steve Snell and my team is the ISB MoDragons.

So I am now about 4 weeks into the diet which I have taken from a website about beating psoriasis.

I have taken pictures from the same angle as the first ones and they definitely show an improvement, even if it is only minor.

I was in the local village buying sweet potatoes which is a food that my crazy diet allows me to eat. The conversation I had with the farm lady is too incomprehensible to do transcribe, but the jist is that I wanted 4 sweet potatoes and because I am a rich westerner* I got 8 and it cost me 10 RMB. So for 3kg of sweet potatoes I paid about a buck fifty. I don’t know how this compares in Australia or America.

The real conversation that this post was designed as a vehicle for was with M. We were in the grocery store looking at the vegetables and about to choose carrots, of which there are two kinds: dirty and washed.

M: Those are for the bunnies (pointing at the washed carrots)
Me: Who are those for (pointing at the dirty carrots)
M: Those are for the dirty bunnies.

*Her opinion, not mine.

Last weekend we had our trick or treating excursion. Alex is pretty anti halloween, but I am in it for the costumes and the silliness and it is worth it just to see Lukas as Tigger.

I had a devil of a time uploading these photos and the only reason I can think of is…

M walked in on me while I was shaving this morning and quickly closed the door and leaned on it. She smiled and said hello and then turned around and looked at the crack between the wall and the door. She turned back to me, satisfied with something that was escaping my sleep addled brain and chatted about three year old things; a dream about horses and going to school today and the like.

After about half a minute later she paused, inspected the door again and pushed on it so it closed again.* The door squeaked, she looked through the crack and then leaned back on the door and started talking to me about visiting Kellen or Locky today. She talked about her friends for about another half a minute before doing the door inspection again. At this point I realised something was up.

“What’s going on M?” I asked.
“I’m looking for the lion.”
M peered back at the door again and I followed suit. She looked back at me again with a slightly anxious expression.
“I don’t want the lion to get in,” she said.
I frowned at the door as it all suddenly dawned on me; the storybook last night.
“Do you mean the Library Lion?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
M looked back at the door and took a step away from it as I put my hand on the handle.
“I don’t think there are any lions in our house,” I ventured.
“Why?”
“Well they can’t fit through our front door,” I said.
M looked out the slowly widening gap as I opened the door to the bedroom.
“I’m pretty sure there are no lions in the bedroom.”
M took a further step back and around behind the opening door; I hadn’t inspired her with confidence.
“Yep, just as I suspected,” I began. “No lions.”
M peered around the door into the bedroom. Seeing no lions she followed me out of the bathroom and paused staring intently at the next door; the one to the hallway. I noticed her mental leap straight away.
“Do you want to know another reason why there are no lions in our house?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“There are no lions in China.”
“Why are there no lions in China?”
“Because lions come from Africa.”
“Oh,” she droned as she looked at me thoughtfully. “Are there lions in Australia?”

We chatted about lions as we went downstairs, but the knowledge that there are no lions in China, reinforced by the fact that lions are from Africa was what she needed. I think we might shelve that book for a while. It is a fantastic book, but we don’t need M freaked out again.

*Our door was made and installed in China so it was disadvantaged from the start.