blogorrhoea

2010-03-12T14:20:00.003+13:00

An afternoon spent on research. It's been a while.

A workmate sets out Lindt dark chocolate with orange bits in it. It proves the theory that with really good chocolate, one piece is plenty.

The din of torrents through the gutters as I walk up from the station to collect Becca. You have to have a sort of grudging admiration for a storm like that.

To my relief, Jack picks us up at afterschool care. I clamber, drenched, into the car and he hands me a punnet of Bluff oysters and a flagon of ale. Poverty food he says, grinning. My hero.

2010-03-11T20:46:00.003+13:00

This morning I notice small round green fruit on my cherry tomato plants.

Playdoh at the kitchen table in the sun with Maggie.

J comes home and tags me out: I go and have a beer in front of Family Guy.

And finally, here is some footage of me crushing a car with a Centurion tank.

Other tank photos and video files available on my flickr page. I feel so butch!

2010-03-10T13:44:00.007+13:00

Another rose shows us its colours for the first time, pale yellow centre blushing outwards into crimson, like a botanical Tequila Sunrise.

What I thought was a dark purple rhodo turns out to be a frothy mauve-pink speckled azalea.

Becca's mermaid costume for her school's Sea Day: blue beaded sparkly headdress brought back from Egypt several years ago by Aunty C; royal blue shimmery Middle Eastern dancing top from my pre-pregnancy days; J's sky blue fish scale sarong. Not a bad effort for a 10-minute rummage in the dress-ups box. Mind you, one kid showed up wearing a huge papier mâché Nemo outfit – actually, it was more like it was wearing him...

To my surprise and relief, Maggie sleeps, so I potter, and drink coffee on the deck, enjoying the late summer and the cicadas, and make silly alternatives to the Wellywood sign.

2010-03-10T12:55:00.004+13:00

2010-03-09T15:54:00.008+13:00

In the frizzly, yellow-cream centre of an old-fashioned rose, a tiny, emerald green grasshopper about the length of my little fingernail.

J comes home from his work Oscar party buzzing about Avatar's brace of technical/artistic awards. It's lovely to see him so happy at work.

A solitary fantail's aerobatics in and out of the branches of our huge pine tree: flashes of long white tail feather in the sharp autumn sun.

Maggie in the bugs and butterflies apron her sister insisted on getting her for Christmas, and which comes down to her feet, standing on a chair at the bench helping* J bake.

*for the values of 'help' that include 'getting in the way', and 'making a mess'. But she's having a lovely time.

2010-03-08T10:15:00.005+13:00

I watch Last Chance To See, and learn that what woodpeckers and aye aye lemurs are doing is called percussive foraging. Like percussive maintenance, I guess, but probably more fruitful.

I miss M's reaction – amazement and joy – at waking to discover a huge and populated fish tank in the kitchen, so J reenacts it for me.

Exploring J'ville on a hot clear day with a hint of autumn in the air, Maggie in the pushchair still poorly and thus happy to enjoy the ride.

2010-03-07T18:19:00.005+13:00

Maggie examines the large koru tattoo on her father's calf, tracing it with her finger and repeating Look, Daddy, a SNAIL! You gotta SNAIL in your LEG!

A card from Urs and Em, who love the stripey baby duds I sent, and a photo of the happy family in the bush.

Even though A&E's ridiculously busy even for a Saturday night, a nurse takes the time to bring us some bubble mixture to entertain Maggie with. M's delighted, especially when she finally gets the hang of blowing them herself, working out just how much puff she needs, which takes more finesse than you realise.

Late that evening, M's pronounced well enough to be taken home. When we get in, I check the voicemail: there's a message from my sister asking me in an excited voice to ring her as she has some news.

The next morning, as soon as the hour is decent (enough), I ring Ruth. So what's the news? – I'm pregnant! – I KNEW it!

Merridy has made two-year-old Timmy a Timmy-from-Shaun the Sheep birthday cake covered with white marshmallows, with paper cut-outs for his head and limbs. Simple, and really clever.

After a cool start, the morning sun turns suddenly hot and Timmy's guests are able to clamber excitedly into togs and ride the Zoom slide in the back garden.

2010-03-05T10:06:00.007+13:00

It's 7.15am. My bus card's run out and I have no money. The driver lets me on anyway.

As we trundle down the hill, the sun, about to come up over the ridge before us, is casting a pale yellow tinge across Johnsonville to Mount Kaukau. The early morning sky's completely cloudless.

I overhear a fellow passenger gleefully recounting a perilous bus trip the previous night: ...by the time we got off, we were ready to kiss the ground!

Sharon, who watched me drive a tank in Christchurch, meets me outside work to give me a CD with some photos and a video file of the whole glorious experience. She was there with her husband, whose birthday treat it was; we hadn't met before that, but it turns out she works for a government department five minutes away.

This so beautiful I got slightly choked up at the end. If you haven't watched it, you should:

And finally: the ToneMatrix sinewave synthesiser will make you happy. I promise. Go and play now!

2010-03-04T19:18:00.003+13:00

Melting Black Doris plums that leave inky purple streaks on my hands.

A trip to the playground at Central Park with Aunty C and Baby L. Some perilous moments as Maggie climbs to the top of the 3D spiderweb; I scramble awkwardly after her and catch her by one wrist as she dangles eight feet above the ground, and we climb back down together. I admire her ambition, her daring, her tenacity and the fact that she seems to think she's much bigger than she is.

Baby Lucy in her little bucket hat reminds me so strongly of Becca at the same age:

2010-03-03T13:11:00.003+13:00

The train trip through the Ngaio Gorge; looking down steep, bush-covered slopes to the track through the park below where joggers jog and walkers walk and dogs are happy; glimpses of sparkling creek, and bridges.

A long walk around the waterfront in the bright sun. A pair of English backpackers exclaim at the stingray churning past at their feet as they struggle to assemble roll-ups in the stiff breeze; a black swan bobs in the harbour, looking confused.

I wonder what the little fat russet-throated sharp-beaked pair of birds sitting on the flax bush are until they both fly off, spreading forked tails, and I realise that they're swallows. Welcome Swallows, as it turns out.

Golden Queen peaches in the supermarket! I thought they'd gone out of season but there was a big juicy pile of them at Countdown today.

2010-03-02T14:18:00.003+13:00

Long overdue catchup with the lovely Ben; passionate discussion about, among other things, dangling participles.

The dicovery via Ben that there's a Malaysian café just over the road from work that serves fragrant curries and sweet, flaky rotis.

Enthusiastic reaction to the Klezmer piece (still untitled) I composed last year and finally got up the courage to send out to the band.

2010-03-01T11:08:00.003+13:00

Hadn't paid the tall flourishing bush by the shed much heed until today I notice buds beginning to unfurl, revealing glimpses of magenta, and realise it's a rhododendron.

When you are two and three quarters, popcorn popping on the stove is the most exciting thing ever.

Hilarity as we learn a new song: 'Blue Klezmer Moon'. I improvise a doina as David calls out the key changes as though they were driving directions: C minor! D seven! G seven! C minor! C diminished! (Me: What the fuck is a C diminished?! Rose: C-Eflat-Gflat-A! Me: Oh OK, thanks. Actually that sounds kinda cool...)

house-warming

2010-02-28T13:42:00.010+13:00

A friend arrives and I ask her how she is. I'm pregnant! she replies, with joyful disbelief.

Becca spends the afternoon proudly leading expeditions through the bush up the steep bank at the back of our property.

Sun so strong that the deck is too hot for bare feet.

I give Amber the Ridgy cross a dish of water. Then 18-month-old Sam toddles over and helpfully tops it up from his bottle of bubble mixture.

Reb Jonathan arrives bearing a pie with a magnificent lattice-work crust. It's apple and blackberry, and all those lucky enough to get a piece devour it with exclamations of wonderment.

Cal presents the girls with little lavender pillows she has made from fairytale fabric and appliquéd their initials. The scent fills the house.

Looking up the Cal's blog for the link, I discover she's doing 3BT too! Yee!

Our house feels well and truly warmed; while we wander around the house clearing the floor of popsicle sticks, cast-off dressups and crushed flowers, something of the day's sunburned, benevolent chaos lingers behind in the air.

2010-02-26T14:37:00.004+13:00

My mother-in-law tells me that on our wedding anniversary she looked through our wedding photos: I'd forgotten what a beautiful bride you were, she says.

And I had forgotten how sharp J looks in a suit.

An evening spent making the sort of barbie food I'd normally buy in tiny tubs at the supermarket: mango and tomato salsas; baba ganouj; industrial quantities of hummus out of $3 worth of dried chickpeas.

2010-02-25T16:09:00.005+13:00

When I drop Maggie at crèche, her best friend Georgina is there. Georgina was born the day after Maggie, in the same hospital; the two first met at when M started crèche. They beam with delight to see each other, and immediately start tussling.

I love shopping for new babies, and manage to find a very sweet red stripy (gender neutral) outfit for Urs and Em's wee boy.

Potting up two bushy, sweet-scented basil plants into a window box next to some rather timid coriander, hopefully to lead by example.

After school I greet Becca with the usual Hello, Stinky! – Stinky? Are you stinky? asks my mate Peter in mock horror. No, Becca corrects him firmly, she calls me Stinky and I like it.

2010-02-24T14:21:00.007+13:00

Becca shows me what she's learned on her new (+ turquoise!) recorder. I tell her that in a year or so, she can pick another instrument to learn at Saturday morning school. I want to play the violin, like you, Mummy! she exclaims, seeming surprised that there should be any doubt about her choice.

Suzy is back from summer in South Africa. We meet at Mainly Music, and then she comes over to have lunch and admire the new house.

On stayhome days, running into my old mate Brian in the playground. Brian and I flatted together when I first moved down here, 15 years ago, and it was through him that I met Jack (in a typical Wellington, two-degrees-of-separation sort of way). Brian and I went our separate ways for the best part of a decade, intermittently catching up on one side of the globe or the other, between acquiring spouses (Brian took our wedding photos; I missed his nuptials by two weeks because I had to matriculate at Cambridge) and children. I couldn't have predicted back in 1995 that we'd be waiting for our daughters at the same primary school, but I enjoy seeing him there not only because he's a top bloke, but because it reminds me of what a lucky choice I made in coming to Wellington.

2010-02-23T22:38:00.007+13:00

J:...they're called vagrant spiders because...
H: ...they wander around looking for pussy?
J: Well, cephalothorax, technically, but yeah.

2010-02-23T12:34:00.005+13:00

An invitation to play at Bar Bodega on St Patrick's Day, 17 March at 9pm, sharing a bill with Oy Azoy.

Stepping out of cool marbled halls into the bright din of cicadas.

A workmate greets me with Hey, Tank Girl!

And finally, some musical awesomeness from the Maxwell Street Klezmer Band:

2010-02-22T14:24:00.009+13:00

Ten years of happy marriage to my best friend and favourite person are a very Beautiful Thing indeed. Celebrating this involved many other beautiful things. Here are some edited highlights:

The long-awaited Mystery Destination turned out to be Christchurch, It's the closest I could get to Cambridge, explained Jack when we arrived there on Friday night. We spent a couple of days ambling about enjoying the sun, the gardens, watching punters on the Avon, finding good places to have a beer and generally enjoying being sprog- and schedule-free.

Mostly schedule-free, that is: the real reason for Christchurch emerged the next day. It was so that I could drive a Centurion tank over a car. Mere words alone are inadequate to convey the awesomeness of this experience; photos and footage will be supplied as soon as I get time to suck them off the camera. Suffice it to say: Best Anniversary Present Ever.

The spiny and rather Gigerian Nepenthes hamata at the Christchurch Botanic Gardens, and Jack's great pleasure in seeing a specimen for the first time in the flesh.

Sleeping in. Both of us, at the same time. Two days in a row.

Arrived home to a rapturous reception complete with shrieks of joy, bone-crunching embraces (for her size, the Magster packs a lot of wallop) and cries of Mummy! Daddy! – or in Maggie's case MummyDaddy! (apparently we are a collective.)

That night I rounded off the weekend by taking my mother along to band practice on Sunday night. She seemed to enjoy herself.

2010-02-19T09:20:00.004+13:00

A workmate orders a copy of Just add shmaltz for a friend who's enjoyed listening to her copy.

Tackling a daunting-looking Friday afternoon client request with a workmate, and finding that together we can get it sorted in no time.

Bunking off early. Mystery weekend, ho! I may even Tweet.

2010-02-18T09:29:00.008+13:00

A morning to myself, as my parents take Maggie on an expedition. I spend it pottering, practising, cooking, reading, and even manage to sneak in some gardening between showers.

A yellow dahlia's razor-edged, hyperreal symmetry.

Becca very excited that her Gran walks her to and from school, and proudly introduces her to her teacher.

It's our wedding anniversary on Saturday. I'll be somewhere else, celebrating ten happy years with my amazing husband. Love you, dear.

2010-02-17T18:49:00.006+13:00

A mix-up with an appointment gives me the chance to take Becca to Te Papa for the afternoon. When we arrive, an artist is putting the finishing touches on an installation on the forecourt. Giant Diamonds! Becca exclaims, although the work's real title – its 'pretentious, arty title' according to Peter, the artist – is Mimetic Brotherhood. But he agrees that Giant Diamonds is a pretty apt name.

As soon as we get into Te Papa we have to go straight to the colossal squid 3D movie because she loves being scared by it.

We run into Aunty C and baby Lucy on the waterfront. Lucy is grumping, but cheers up when she sees Becca, and gives her big gummy grins.

More and more hints about the forthcoming Mystery Weekend. Apparently I may need a cycle helmet, which sounds promising...

2010-02-16T12:08:00.006+13:00

Becca's face lights up when we tell her that her grandparents will be waiting for her when she gets home from school.

First photos of Urs and Em's new baby, who is a splendid wee chap.

My Dad watches Becca assemble her Star Wars Lego, and kvells. I know it's sort of tryhard for a goy to use Yiddish, but 'kvell' really is the best word to describe what Dad's doing, bubbling over with pride and love.

2010-02-15T23:03:00.003+13:00

The slow movement of Tchaikovsky's first string quartet. Brings back memories of playing it at a wedding in Brisbane, a million years ago. The bridesmaids wore shiny black satin dresses with huge Eighties peplums, and looked like a row of big black beetles lined up at the altar.

Distracted, I wander into a lady on Lambton Quay. She gives me a huge, friendly smile.

Becca insists that in lieu of a bedtime story she will get the spare room ready for her Gran and Grandad, who arrive tomorrow. She spreads her pink fluffy fleece blanket carefully over the futon for them.

2010-02-13T14:27:00.006+13:00

At the music shop, she chooses the turquoise recorder.

A baby boy for Urs and Em!

Previous owners left behind an old hand mower in the shed. It's deeply satisfying to use: much more so than a powered one, for some reason.