We threw a party last weekend because someone had to do something about the drought.
It's dragged on too long.
We'd made a half-hearted attempt to bring the rain the month before by helping someone move house, and that had drawn a bit of precipitation.
But we figured because we'd hired a covered trailer, thus protecting most of the furniture from getting wet, the clouds had held back.
Rain can be cunning and illusive like that.
Falling short of hosting Newcastle Show, we knew we had to do more.
So we decided to throw a party.
Centre it round a landmark event.
Send out invites a month in advance, organise food, fret over menus, toy with ways of cooking things, particularly outdoors, and then add the little kicker about "don't forget the swimmers".
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If things worked out, people would need scuba gear, and farmers up and down the East Coast would be thanking us for at least weeks to come.
Planning events can be an inexact science, that's for sure, the only certainty being uncertainty.
But BOM will tell you, unstable air like this is historically very conducive to generating rain.
Particularly around social engagements.
Back in the old days water diviners used to walk around your paddock with a stick searching for H2O.
The modern version of that would have to be erecting a pop-up gazebo next to the pool.
Rather than take you to the source, the pop-up gazebo draws weather into your back yard, experts theorising clouds and wind can sense you're planning to cook something under it.
The fact that you weigh the gazebo down with various bricks and occy-straps increases the appearance of hopes and dreams, making it irresistible to target.
Cap that off by placing under the gazebo a cooking device that requires a reasonable amount of meteorological stability and the trap is set.
Of course, it's one thing getting the attention of the weather gods, it's another getting them to really unleash.
That's where table and chair placement comes into it. Ideally located casually around the back yard suggesting people can chill out through the arvo while the barby cooks and the kids gavort.
The Allies used this type of misinformation routinely during World War II to keep Jerry guessing.
With the al fresco vibe/ruse in place, all you need then is a fallback plan.
Ours was to retreat behind a weatherproof wall of tarps and cafe blinds, hastily strung together with cable ties and crossed fingers as the wind and rain duely pelted down.
The plan worked perfectly and rivers are now running again, for the time being anyhow.
You don't like to take too much credit, but we may have to throw a couple more shebangs before water restrictions really ease.
