Chocolate Funny

Golden Sand Prawns or Gum sa

2011-06-04T02:56:00.004+12:00

I tried these at my favorite Chinese place in Panmure Auckland called Beijing Duck,where they are called salty duck yolk prawns. I indulged in them, again at a lovely loud and crowded chinese BBQ Seafood house in Melbourne. I did a little reseach and discovered they also go by the name of golden sand prawns, a gentler name, for sure. The Chinese name for them (which could come in handy if you are in the right restaurant) is Gum Sa Shrimp. Recipe:

It's actually very simple, you boil a couple of salted duck eggs for 9-10 minutes and extract the semi-cooked yolks. Then batter and deep-fry the shrimp as normal with any batter you like. More often than not I will just use a quick and easy cornflour/flour coating. Set the crispy coated shrimp aside then add the yolks to a tablespoon of fresh oil, not too hot, you can mash the yolks beforehand but it doesn’t really matter as they dissolve readily in the heat of the oil. Toss the shrimp back in, coat them with the eggy golden sand and season with just salt or if you prefer a little spiced salt. Don't overcook and serve.

Hints

2011-05-20T10:41:00.005+12:00

Adopting a healthy lifestyle is so easy! Take that annoying spouse who likes to park so far from your destination on shopping trips to get a few more steps in each day (you might save money, too) When you are having that morning coffee, why not forgo the cream and add a dash of cold pressed olive oil for a healthier start to the day. Carry those lazy children to the car if they are reluctant to go on an outing, weight bearing, for sure! Try boiling those falafel in water instead of oil and save heaps of fat grams!. Carry a large old milk jug in a day pack with a flexible polystraw for constant hydration. Try adding a slice of lime for that extra zing. Sante!

Carmel corn

2011-05-18T10:39:00.002+12:00

I remember the way the old payless mall smelled like carmelcorn.
Intoxication.
The rectangular white box with red K. Mr. K. Karmelcorn, Might I remember...?

Jordan made some quite delicious homemade crackerjacks, once, I wish I'd taken notes.
In choosing a recipe I know I don't want the method that you stir in the oven. I want the crystaline molten syrup one. I want crackerjacks with darkly roasted red valencia peanuts. Maybe I'll let another nut in there, or two. Definately want to temper the sweetness with some salt. It's indulgent, but it's whole foods, lotsa fiber, too much work to make regularly but little enough to do once or twice.

One more question. If I make homemade crackerjax do I get/have to make the prizes as well?? HMMM>

Racism Reflection

2011-03-02T16:38:00.003+13:00

Five years of living in New Zealand has been challenging in plenty of ways. While living here we have moved 7 times and had the children in the lowest decile schools and the highest. (Decile is a system of catagorizing the income of communities that school districts are in) While the low decile school experience was rife with the struggle to get basic needs met( breakfast and lunch programs and (licey) sun hats for everyone), the high decile school had it's challenges as well (hiarachies and croniism). I will resist turning this blog post into a vent session and steer myself back to musing here.

Being from America is an interesting, challenging orientation. The resources that I have always known, from consumer agility and community inclusiveness are not abundently flowing for us here. The New Zealand society has had to pull itself up from some pretty dim financial scenarios. This, in fact, has something to do with America. When New Zealand resolutely refused to allow US Nuclear Submarines and other US nuclear vessels docking privledges the US responded with a host of trade restrictions. This kept New Zealand economically disadvantaged for over twenty years. The fallout (and forgive my pun, here) is that there are deeply rooted resentments of America. They are covered up by lush green grass, but they are there. I expect that they do not interfere with the tourism experience because that is a world of mandatory friendliness, but the resident American will always be an "other". It's too easy to take it personally. I have seen my children bullied at school, adrift without teacher support, left to wonder what is wrong with them. I have felt that myself. So I suppose the lesson for me and my kids it to learn to not give a whoey about what others think, develop a thicker skin and forge ahead. There certainly are some new Zealanders who do not succumb to the ambient prejudices, and there are many other resident aliens and immigrants who don't have the invisable repulsion toward my country. So we just get over it. Still it's a challenge.

I learned to thicken my skin when I worked at Wild Wheat, a bakery that had a good percentage of it's staff from a Vietnamese family. They had escaped during the war and had a knee jerk reaction-repulsion to anything American. It was bizzare to be estranged without having any foundation of experiance to attribute it to. I couldn't even see the racism until I left and got some perspective. These were people who physically buried themselves under earth or vegetation when the Americans came near. They did it for survival. I suppose that stays with you. The woman at my work, who glowered at me each day had raised a dozen children that were orphaned by the war. Although I had nothing to do with the decisions made (when I was a few years old), I was paying the debt. The strangest thing about it all is that it is hard to talk about. The vulnerablity to expose it for me and the embarassment of acknowledging it on the New Zealander side keep it neatly tucked away under the carpet.

What doesnt kill you will make you stronger... and more empathitic.

New Day

2011-03-02T13:58:00.002+13:00

I recently wrote this poem:

Driver

On this everyday road
I see the carriage start to jar.
The horses that have pulled me for years act up.
It's normal, I guess.
I take a moment to consider,
Thank Goodness.

I can take these loyal, haggard beasts and let them loose
to run where they will and eat sweet grass.
I take these tired animals off the job.
They need not be weary and afraid anymore.

I can choose new ones to drive me.
I decide today.
I pick tigers.
Brave, strong characters.
Velour on muscle.

Their beauty fuels me.
Their beauty is me.

I leash them into ornate leather holds,
softened from age,
giving them encouragement and thanks.
They are eager to take me gracefully
back onto this everyday road.

goofing around

2011-01-29T20:39:00.001+13:00

Summer. Really?

2010-12-07T13:43:00.003+13:00

I get two summers this year. I keep interpretting spring as Autumn. My biological calander is doing a double take. I am happy to report that I am wrapping up a quarter at Evergreen and planning the next ome. The next contract which will start in January and end at the end of March is a challenging prospect. It involves writerly deeds, not just talking about them or reading about them. It involves publishing. Here we go.

I have been on an herbal detox diet. I take 40 capsles a day and have restricted my diet to fruits, vegetables (no Bananas and potatoes)plain yogurt, cold pressed oils and herbs, spices, and vinegars. I'm on day 7. I feel great. I do get grouchy in the morning if someone is cooking bacon, though.

I think that even more than the herbal aspects of the clense, the fact that I have made a plan to do this and even though the urge is stronge to eat things I have enjoyed for decades, I have control over myself. I think this is the bigger progress.

I still cook with relish (the feeling, not the ingredient)and my family gets to enjoy the foods by tasting them, I only get to smell and feel and create. Jordan says we have better meals when I am on this regime, which I find funny. One problem is I don't taste my breads. I just have to hope they are up to snuff.
I have been making a lot of progress on the bakery, or as we now call it: the baking studio. It turns out to be better to use it as a teaching facility instead of a "bakery". that is because of council restrictions. Financial comparison shows that the classes are a better business than selling 5 dollar loaves of bread, as well. I will still bake for my neighbors, especially the ones who come and get it at my house and trade me cool stuff for it. I am thinking about coordinating a culinary weekend retreat out here in Karekare.

Gem, the wonder dog is under fire (literally) from a neighbor who saw her 'worrying" sheep. I now worry, myself. She is very curious about other animals. Being part standard poodle and part lab, she loves to chase birds (including the same neighbor's chicken ($77 dollar vet bill, but bird did survive, whew) She was eagerly chasing the young cows a while back, but got kicked very near the eye and that showed her. She hasnt looked at them since. I just hope I can infuse the message about the sheep in her, myself. It would be heartbreaking to the kids, to us all to lose her. I have her in my presence all the time, now. She's smart, we'll see. I must resume my fiction now. Enough of real life for a while. May your smile be on duty.

getting better

2010-11-11T22:38:00.006+13:00

I am feeling the old skin peel away, finally. The new one is a little thicker, and a bit softer. Spring is here and the kids and I have been getting out on little mini hikes. I always want longer hikes, but they come with arguments from the shorter legged relations. So we go to the Lucas's (neighbors)and race around their field, or to Linda's (another neighbors)swing, if there arent any guests using it. Yesterday Lil and I went on a walk to the watering hole. I didn't want to go in, we had missed the sun in that spot and I was feeling wimpy. Lil would take none of it and insisted I help her on the virgin voyage of Desmond's new air mattress. She managed to let the thing go in the rushing stream that enters the pool and it quickly went out of reach. Since we had pleaded with Desmond to let us borrow it, we needed to be very careful and responsible with that birthday air mattress. I had to get completely wet to retrieve the thing. Then I insisted that Lil come in too, and she did. It was very brisk! It was when we made the whoodledor come in that things ran amok. She, has sharp claws, need I say more? Where is the patch kit...? I put it somewhere odd like in the pantry or in one of the 37 drawers we have on our little estate.
We didn't mind, really because she (the dog, Gem)put on such a ridiculous show after she got out, tearing back and forth. She is really a comedian, enjoying our howling hysterics and providing yet, more fuel, for the laughter engines, already at a good rpm. We walked home and enjoyed about nine types of weather on the way (about a weather type every 3 minutes for them that's counting.) That is the update from yesterday. I am supposed to be writing other stuff, so I'd better find the whip and crack it. Cheers!

Springing ahead with thumping galumping grace

2010-10-05T00:05:00.003+13:00

I just deleted a bunch of mush from this posting page. Start over.
I am in school full time again and I am making myself perform. On to that now. Watch this space for written works in progress.

Rationalle

2010-10-01T10:55:00.003+13:00

I recently bought an android phone. It wasn't cheap, it does a lot. I can scan bar codes in stores, I can detect speed detectors, I can download David Sedaris's new book and listen to it, I can use the GPS for free anytime and I can even save my parking space (but how to 'unsave' it has me stumped).
I now have a real contract for my cell phone. Before that I was on the "denial-lite" plan of prepaid service. I always bought the cheapest phone and then added time onto it as I needed it. It was pretty expensive in the long run, I added 20 or 30 dollars in a months time and there were times when my minutes would run out that were very inconvenient. This is all smacking of rationalization, isn't it?

I have a little voice in my head that says "do not rely on such things! What about if it all crashes?" Will I still know how to find my car,orhave the capacity to actually ask with my mouth for product information? (will I be able to find a salesperson) What if I can't check my email from anywhere my busy schedule takes me? Am I spoiling myself? Am I investing in a faster vehicle to race the other 'rats'?"
Well, those are questions, I am guessing, others ask themselves as they indulge in technology. After the questions of whether we deserve the luxury of such a convenience, then the questions of how can I justify the expense come up.

Now for this I AM well prepared!
Here is my list of why it's ok to have an expensive phone. I could have spent the money on...
1. Years of hair dye. I don't dye my hair so I have saved a lot, so the phone is ok.
2. Minimal speeding tickets, lower insurance= budget for a phone.
3. the phone costs as much as a root canal and is so much easier to handle!
4. How much is connection vs isolation worth? It's a bargain, really.
5. I buy clothing and cars second hand, so I deserve to have a new and facile phone.
6. It's (cleverly)insured, so I can't loose or break it!
7. I may get that message for the perfect publishing connection or alert earlier, and thus, harvest the opportunities and launch myself as a writer.

I think that's enough for now.

how does it go?

2010-09-26T23:57:00.001+13:00

I am sitting here, husband gone to his world of science and validation. I love the space and I love him.

Downside Up

2010-09-25T13:23:00.002+12:00

New Zealand. New Zeal.
auto mobile
Zip and Peal
Careening Caravan.
lego lands
Mermaid Flirtation
and boiled potatoes for dinner.

Life Gardening

2010-09-22T13:04:00.001+12:00

Grafting Hope

Grafting something is defined by Webster's online dictionary as:
“Cause to grow together parts from different plants.”
If plants can be grafted and skin is grafted, can other less tangible attributes be established through a sort of spiritual grafting? Can we hunt down what we need externally and plant a little bit of it onto our self and nurture it until it is part of us, alive and helping us further forward?
Some might argue that such a practice is unnatural and thus, should be avoided; One must find what one needs within themselves.
I am, however, considering it can be done.
If a sturdy stock can feed a new desirable branch and fruit, then who's to say we can't graft things we need into our lives, like hope, confidence,and forgiveness. These things can be hard to sprout from seed, particularly when there is a tangled crop of things already growing, competing for our attention and energy.
What a great tool to carry. Just think, if something stirs up envy like someone else's success, gift or attribute, don't get jealous-just take a little cutting! Perhaps write it down so you remember what it is you are growing, have a grafting ritual, if you think it will help- maybe even every day for a while. Good crops take attention.

Another definition is “To implant a portion of (living flesh or akin) in a lesion so as to form an organic union.” (Websters) I like this definition because it talks about putting something specifically on a wound or lesion. Each human has challenges of some sort or another, wounds are part of the show, here on earth. Just as the irritation of a foreign body in the oyster makes a pearl, so can the wound be a place to graft something intentional and beautiful.
So go forth and garden, make your life an interesting and fruitful orchard, there's plenty.
There is Plenty!

Waking up Chocolate funny

2010-09-22T04:55:00.006+12:00

I am beginning to feel like writing again. I have had seasons within myself and now I am unzipping a door. I sit here in my dark dining room with the sounds of Gem (the big young terrier- labradoodle) gnawing on something and the wind wrangling the trees outside. Please leave some trees for tomorrow, breathy god. Karekare is so untamed. The sooner I get that in my head, and accept it, the better I am. It's not a tranquil place to spend the spring (or winter or fall) It is vigorous and persist ant. Rain splatters on the windows that face the west, maybe it's salty from the Tasman sea below our house. Maybe it is some sort of seasoning the earth wants me to have.
Let's keep her up with the wind and pelt her with salty rain until she's tender and seasoned. I'm getting there.
I just returned from a trip back to the United States. I sold my delicious car, a pearl shaped and colored Borgward Issabella and a few culinary tools to finance the trip. My mission was to see if San Juan Island still felt like home, to give my home there some much needed attention (it's been rented out for four years)and also, quite importantly, to introduce my children to their extended family. They have spent four years in New Zealand and although we are happy to have had a hand full of guests, including two sets of grandparents, they have been out of the loop on cousins and aunts and uncles. This became apparent when I had to explain the definition of Aunt and Uncle to them at 6 and 7 years old. The trip was a team building one and I found myself intermittently choked up with reverence for the little dears and wondering how to humanely sedate them. Desmond and Lillian have a bond that somehow gives them latitude to be painfully honest, refreshingly allied and fiercely opposed, (all in the space of five minutes, sometimes) I had to pull them apart (and remove claws) after Lillian called Desmond's sweater "girls" or when Desmond started sputtering with clenched fists, not liking the way Lillian was using the flat airport escalator as an exercise treadmill, staying stationary (come to think of it no one on the escalator liked that routine) The moods and charm moved like mercury and I got better at diversion rather than logical conflict resolution. One day, I was in the library using the computer. (An accident with my computer early in the trip had snuffed out my new lap top.) Lillian, playing in the chidren's section, became quite restless. I told her to go pick out some books to check out. I was trying to fully utilize my half hour slot of time online. All was well for a while until I started to hear an argument. I only heard the librarian, not Lil, she was quiet ans resolute that the 40 or so books she had picked out were all necessary and would certainly be acceptable to her mother. I ignored the conversation as long as I could. Lillian started shuttling her selection of books over to me in several lots. We sat next to a pretty tolerant woman, negotiating about the cache of books. The woman finally looked at me and advised me that some expert once told her it can be fruitless (and inadvisable) to reason with your child in some circumstances. Thank You. Reducing the books down to even 20 was a process too loud for my comfort in such a hushy space.

I had some renovations in mind for the house. It needed a new deck in the back and the bathroom needed to be revamped, Jordan (pleasingly) procured some funds and a volunteer to help with the project. Justin, Jordan's stepfather offered to come and help for two weeks. This was an exceptional opportunity for affordable progress and some family connection. I had never spent any time on my own with Justin and it seemed a little nervy at first, but in the end, it turned out to be a great visit (and very productive, too) Justin got put through the test by the kids. One day I had to go to the mainland to get some materials. Justin told me he thought he could get plenty of work done while he watched the kids. Hmmm, I wondered, what will they try and get away with under those circumstances? Lillian, with her bird dog nose for sugar, found her hidden collection of pinata candy as well as a big bag of gummy worms. And let the wild rumpus begin! Justin seemed a little shell shocked when he told me the story. I just patted him on the shoulder and said, "If that's the least of your worries, your doing just fine." I feared they had burst his bubble though. Justin was a wonderful Grandad and gave the kids a chance to do some 'important' jobs to help with the remodel. He was a damn fine father in law, as well. We had plenty of good conversations about our own challenges and delights.

2010-06-12T13:01:00.001+12:00

Reflection Essay: The Bread Route
Kate Stone

Creating a local bread service in Karekare, New Zealand has certainly been a colossal experience. With basic objectives being to trade locally and experiment with barter, the bread route has fulfilled it's aim. I made many decisions to get it set up, as well as business projections which varied, somewhat, from reality. There were unique physical challenges to operating a wood fired bakery. I learned a lot about structuring successful trades. I experienced benefits of enhanced community connection and personal health from the project. Finally, I have a few ideas to improve the bread route.

To establish the route I first had to put together a baking facility in an unused greenhouse on our residential property. I articulated a mission statement, promoted the bread and ideas about bartering, I had to expand and modify home baking recipes and techniques, balance supply demands with production capacity, source firewood and other raw materials, negotiate trades for the product, and keep track of the transactions.

In the planning stage I estimated I could produce between eighty and one hundred loaves a week with at least 75% of the transactions being barter deals. This estimate proved optimistic and was based on baking done in a conventional gas oven. In actuality, the wood fired oven takes about two hours to get up to bread baking temperature (and that's if the darn fire stays lit when you leave to do other tasks like mixing and shaping dough, chopping wood, feeding starters and rinsing sprouting grains.) The very first barter was a week of guest lodging and meals in exchange for a custom steam system for the new Fontana wood burning oven. It took some cash for the brass fittings but the vacationing plumber was a heck of a lot better than I am at dickering at the hardware store ( I took notes as Dmitri talked the bill down from nearly 200 dollars to just under 140) With the steam vent converted into a steam injection, it was time to get baking. I had one week to figure out the best way to use the new set up before my first bread class. There's nothing like a deadline to get things done. I set up the greenhouse by replacing missing glass panels, putting crushed gravel on the earth floor, installing two tall racks, trays, wood bins, a large wooden slab table,lots of proofing boards and a few kerosene lanterns. We couldn't get permission to wire the space with electricity, So I decided to name it Greenhouse Daylight Bakery.

When looking for bread route customers, I initially spent a lot of breath talking about bartering. The idea baffled many people (not knowing what they could trade). I eventually decided to work on getting the 'account' first and the bartering aspect later; let the bread do the talking, My bartering pitch was becoming increasingly apologetic (which was not very fun or effective). Eventually with a few trading customers locked in I decided to take more cash customers, since insisting on barter seemed to be limiting my new venture. Some people are naturals at barter and they actually light up at the mention of it. My neighbor Diane, for example, immediately offered to trade honey from the bees next door (coincidentally, obtained through a barter like collaboration with Olivia, the local beekeeper) and her partner offered wood cutting. With a wood fired baking operation, we were going to need help cutting all the wood. As I slowly found more locals to trade with my sense of hope for a barter based bread route returned. By the fourth week I had a growing list of cash customers and the baking route had momentum. People started calling for bread and when I promoted the bread to new customers, to my surprise, some of then had already heard of it. The situation of having bread with no place to go was no longer a problem. I started to add variety to the bread selection, expanding beyond sourdough to yeasted breads, mainly ciabatta and baguettes. Planning was essential considering the need for daylight, the temperament of sourdoughs and the three day germination of grains. In the beginning I had a couple of batches of bread done at bed time, not so good for distributing the fresh bread (although it was still fresher than the store bought alternative thirty minutes away.)

The whole operation proves to be good exercise. I find myself moving the wood a few times to split it and stock the wood bins. The best variety of firewood is Manuka or Puhutakawa which are sometimes called ironwood because they are so dense and burn like coal. There is no need for a visit to the gym if you lug a 20 quart mixer bowl full of dough all around the show, either. Some doughs are mixed and kneaded by hand, depending on size and viscosity. Then I load the loaves into baskets, change my dough encrusted clothes and zoom off to the school to distribute the bread. Sometimes, though, neighbors come to pick up the bread and oogle at the oven or the new pup.

About 75 percent of the new customers are paying cash with new trades being struck occasionally. I have to remember that there were two objectives to this sustainability study, bartering and local food production. Most trades have a self equalizing tendency. One local painter is very liberal with his valuable paintings while another neighbor decided he wanted to trade his sanding labor for plywood instead of bread after getting bread delivery for over a month, frustrating, but handled eventually by (uncomfortable) communication. In the worst case, one can simply stop trading if it doesn't 'flow' with a particular trader and communication doesn't solve the problem. Issues arise when people have different values in their minds for goods and services being traded. A thorough pre trade interview on the front end of things can bridge a value gap. In the case of the sanding trade, I should have discussed the market value of the bread with him initially, he didn't seem to value the bread at the same level as customers willing to pay between five and seven dollars a loaf. I expected there would be some trades that would 'get my goat' and I am surprised how few snags there have been. It is, after all, an experiment. I don't get to up in arms about things. Barter seems to have held in a more tolerant vein than straight cash purchases (something I have read in my research of bartering as well).

The social/community building aspect of the project has been a real bonus for me. I have a role here in Karekare that I didn't have before. Peoples hearts are warmed when they get a call from me when I think they might appreciate a particular bread or I check to see if they want a delivery. Bread has historical significance as something shared or broken together and people still do have a fondness for a handcrafted loaf of bread. When the loaves come out nicely, all lofty and full of luster, I feel just great.

Improvements I might make to the ongoing operation is to modify the steam system so the the water is channeled down the sides and not in the middle, thus increasing the capacity of the oven by making the center space available, now it has to be left empty. In a perfect world I'd get the bigger oven from Fontana and really ramp up the production. I could source the organic wheat berries directly from the growers and buy them in larger quantities. It would be good to get a wet grinder to mash the sprouted grains, since my food processor doesn't do the job that well and doing it in the mortar and pestle is... although meditative, very slow. I would confidently charge more per loaf. There must be a pre printed carbon copy receipt book out there that I could section off so I could give trade bread clients a running tab and keep all the details in one place for my accounting. New Zealand has such a smaller selection of office products, maybe I'll find one in the States that will suit the unique system, I suppose I could use the computer for this. In the future, I would make sure there were no brittle eucalyptus trees near the GLASS house where the lovely Italian oven is located! All in all, I'm very pleased with the project and now I even have a fine little cash/barter business, as well as a lot of practical learning under my belt.

Cloud Nine... Again.

2010-05-19T00:58:00.002+12:00

This photo is of our front yard, which I take a lot of photos of. It puts on a show every day. This cloud event happened this morning. I got Jordan out of bed to see it, he was a little groggy or maybe jaded and wandered quietly back to bed. But don't you agree, that is a lovely sky! Ever since I chose to name my catering business Cloud Nine, I have started photographing clouds, maybe for advertising... but until then, I marvel a lot. This is, as they say: Aotearoa, land of the long white cloud.

Little demon Lil

2010-05-19T00:49:00.003+12:00

Lil is a resolute gal. If she says she doesn't want to eat something or do something, she usually wont budge, a millimeter.
This endearing look is one we get a lot. I'm not complaining, she gives wonderful hugs and sweet eyes, too. This look is a classic Lillian, though.

New Zealand, Ehhh?!

2010-04-28T12:51:00.002+12:00

I am letting myself not like New Zealand. I know, it's not correct, I'm supposed to look at the things I like. I'm not supposed to bellyache or complain. Just smile along. Well. Maybe it's more interesting to get it out. Maybe the public appreciation of my homeland would be worthwhile. OK then,Here is my list

1) everything is expensive, even dried beans, DRIED BEANS ARE EXPENSIVE!
2) New Zealanders are in love with the grindstone. What else could there be??
3) "Innovation" and "Clever" are dirty words. Now we are getting into it!
4) Stores close at 5:30.
5) All decisions are made complacently and together. (other ideas shall be set aside.)
6) Change is treated with suspicion.

I now will repent for my vent.
Which god should I choose, nothing is ever easy.
Har rumph

2010-04-23T15:47:00.000+12:00

early duet, and then solo

2010-04-23T15:36:00.002+12:00

2010-04-23T14:56:00.002+12:00

Autumn is welcome

2010-04-14T15:25:00.002+12:00

I am usually surprised at how I think I am not ready fro the next season, but by the time it really sets in I welcome it. I have 'lost' two summers since we started the New Zealand adventure four years ago. I mean that we left one sunny hemisphere for a wintery one. I will have to pick up those seasons some day, but for now, fall with it's crickets chirping and earlier sunsets and the need for the cozy bedding again feels nice.

My baking class went well and had 10 students in all. We had pleasant weather and the group was about half men and half women. We used the wood fired oven and made doughs to bake the next day. Sourdough is such a personal artform. A lot of things work for a lot of different people. It was nice to have a spiffed up house and some nice refreshments. Many of the participants were from the Slow foods Waitakere group.

Here are some photos of the event.

New Auntie, wet kids, the front yard at evening, and the sun room (a favorite spot to sleep and read and eat a tomato)

2010-03-24T13:54:00.006+13:00

Remember to click to see closer...

Torture the statisitics long enough and they will confess to anything.

2010-03-23T12:13:00.002+13:00

This is my latest cloud nine photo for you.

Sourdough class coming...

2010-03-10T17:21:00.001+13:00

Sourdough bread class in Karekare, Sunday April 11
Kate Stone has been romancing yeasts and fashioning simple ingredients into bread for decades. Sometimes using sea water from her tiny Alaskan fishing boat, or, dressed in regulation uniform at culinary school. Daily production at her restaurant Katrina's perfected her baguettes. Working as a senior baker at Auckland based Wild Wheat rounded out her bread skills with a focus sourdough breads.
Kate will be sharing her bread skills and anecdotes in upcoming one day bread making class on Sunday April 11th. In conjunction with Slowfoods Waitekere, Kate will share how to make and use a sourdough starter, as well demonstrate and explore various sourdough and wild yeasted breads.

With attention to both crust (exterior) and crumb(interior) students will learn to engineer their own perfect loaf. Students need to bring a medium glass or plastic container to store their new starter, and a mind to keep a sense of humor in. Dress appropriately for cooking.

Classes will be three and a half hours ending with a splendid bread tasting and serving ideas for fresh and day old breads.
Cost of the course is 60.00. Barter offers are welcomed.

Secret recipe revealed for limited time!!

2010-02-25T14:42:00.005+13:00

OK Folks, this will be here until Tim tells me to take it down. This creme brulee has made tens of millions of dollars and Tim is a very good teacher. I just spent a ridicules chunk of time documenting this recipe for my boss and wanted to have the effort go farther. So I'm sharing it with my wide and faithful readership (also tens of millions) Consider it a math task to reduce the recipe, if you don't have 25 guests coming for dessert. I tried to call Tim three times to see if I could share it with the world at large but that rascal doesn't answer the phone. So I'm guessing he wont mind....

Tim Barrette's Creme Brulee
Makes about 52 food service sized portions or 26 regular dessert portions
4 split vanilla beans
3 litres (or quarts) fresh cream

Combine in stainless steel pot and heat until almost boiling.

Remove from heat, set aside to cool, a little.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Separate 24 egg yolks and two whole eggs. (Save whites for meringues or pavlova, or low cholesterol eggs or discard)

Beat yolks with barely two cups (scant) sugar.

Slowly add 1 or 2 cups of the hot cream into the yolks and stir briskly to avoid cooking the yolks!

Continue adding hot cream in small amounts until it half of the cream is added and then pour the rest in at once- no need to beat. Stir gently to avoid foam.

Pour through strainer, scrape vanilla beans and add to cream mix.

Pour into 50-55 catering sized ramekins (or 26 larger full dessert sized ramekins). Important to fill them as close to the top as possible in preparation for the torch to not make black marks on the ramekin, (marring presentation).

Place them in a hotel pans (2 inch pans)

Pour water 1 inch (2.5 cm) high on the outside of the cups (do this close to or in the oven).

Cover with foil and bake for 45 minutes in a 150 C (300 F) degree oven.

Take foil off and bake for another couple of minutes, uncovered.

They should be barely solid when you jiggle the pan, do not overcook (they puff up when they are overdone). Refrigerate uncovered until cold (then you can cover them, if need)

Important Serving time tips

Use white sugar if in hurry, otherwise brown.

Sift or spread the sugar to fully cover in a thin 2mm coating on the custards.

You can only do a few at a time, because the sugar can melt onto the cold custard before you get to it with the torch (and the liquid sugar won't caramelize). DO IN SMALL BATCHES of 4 or 5 at a time (or more if you are fast at it.)

Hold lit torch pointing up and turn the custard in the flame sideways to guide the carmelizing sugar, if necessary.

update smupdate

2010-02-24T11:48:00.005+13:00

All Is Well, this is to give folks the latest on the baking scheme and the lifestyle happenings of the Alexander Ganty gang or do you like the sounds of Ganty Alexander gang better?? (Ganty is my given surname, being dusted off for use)
Turning from tangent just in the nick of time.
I have the beautiful oven, with the steam injection rigging that Dmitri has masterminded, and all. Now we have to find a reservoir for the thing. It would be nice if it was thick old glass, but Dima says it will be a section of larger pipe with a cap.
The reason I want steam in the oven is to penetrate the bread dough as it first arrives in the mightily hot oven. This makes the bread rise, or as we say in the baking world, "jump". It also makes it blister and come out shiny (people love shiny) and crackly between your choppers.

Life will soon have a wood gathering element in it, since the oven is wood fired. Thankfully, we have Manuka and Kanuka wood laying all around on the 15 acres here. Were just waiting to get the thumbs up from the landlord to put the thing in the house. Originally, we thought we'd put it in the garage/greenhouse but it's such a queen of a tool, it would be nice to have it inside. It fits right into the space where the current woodstove with wetback hot water heater is now. Moving it may take some baked bribes.

I am making a system for chores and I'll have to add a couple of wood jobs in the "FUN HAT" that you draw your chore out of, after you do (or refuse to do) your other chores. I'm cracking the whip, for certain. These guys haven't had chores much and my new cork tiles on the wall system is going to give us the room to do that. I'm irradiating drab paneling with cheap cork and lovely little copper nails.

I have been working a lot to justify the $3500 that the stove set us back. It's the Kumeu Valley Estate job where I perform wedding food feasts. It is good exercise and good wage and hellaciously long shifts. Sometimes I come home after 3 or 4 AM, having left at 11 AM. Then I can't go to bed without unwinding a little, sometimes I whip through the tiny mountain of dishes, other times, like when Dmirti is working the same shifts, we wake Jordan up and open a bottle of wine, other times, I call Nina who has just gotten off work a few timezones over. It does turn my internal clock sideways (maybe it is so I can keep in touch with Nina's world, where she reluctantly works at the donut shop all night 2 days a week. Nina, girl- go get the Mcminiman's job next door, fa gads sake! Please encourage Nina to go for it, (anyone who knows and loves her)

In fact give yourself a big long overdue hug and then grant yourself permission to Go For It -as well. It is the job, the rest, the anything, the person, the companions, the health, the accomplishments, the release, the get up and go, the persistence, the spontaneity. Any darned thing you think I WISH about.

photos of late

2010-02-16T12:02:00.003+13:00

When life gives you soft cherries, make cherry ice, mwa!
Plus! Lilli and her first published Dirt Cake...

bread on my mind

2010-02-11T12:12:00.003+13:00

I have finally done it, I am setting up shop in New Zealand. There is a bootleg bartering bakery in the birthing. I got a Fontana wood fired oven coming my way from Italy (via Dunedin) and last night I picked up a mixer a lovely brute of a fella- Robot coupe brand, pre bumped and scratched and priced right. Fingers crossed that Evergreens favorable feedback for the project will result in a contract within the month. This time my studies will be in alternative and sustainable business and finances. I will focus on bread, gelato and Friday sweets. Later there may be some pizza production, if the first stages of bread route are manageable. Jordan is home a lot right now, since his work has him writing. The kids are launched into the second week of school and are getting used to it. Desmond is reading so nicely and Lil is excellent at acting out reading. Nina is doing well juggling her studies and work and had them laughing in her improv theatre mid term exam. We just had a nice dinner party of about 20 people for J and my birthdays with some good southwestern food including picadillo and chili verde on rice and a tostada bar with summery toppings like fresh corn and prawn and nectarine and mango salsa and canned refried beans (at 4.59 per can!) we had a collection of desserts, too. The show stopper was the flourless chocolate cake with raspberries on top. My neighbor, Sue, brought a cozy little plum cake which I have been having for breakfast with cream the last couple of days.
The red wines were from France (meek and well behaved) and Spain (a bit louder and more willing to spin you around on the dance floor) The white whine was a Sicilian number very dry and crisp. Jordan made apple martinis which I didn't even try. It was a nice party with only grown ups and I managed to be prepared enough to not have to scamper around cooking and apologize for messes.

Life is pretty good.

Finally in Friday Harbor

2010-01-04T18:52:00.004+13:00

It feels good to be here. I have had two walks already. Tonight we had a rolicking dinner with Nancy and some guests. After dinner we broke into song. First there were peace vigils and then sea shanties. Desmond and Nancy are chasing gems on her computer screen and Jordan is setting up the bed. We have a big bed and a big cushion on the floor.
Before Nancy's house, we left Nina's house where we all (that's 4 of us) shared a queen sized bed. We nurtured our old kitty Samoa and ate lots of (actually delicious) donuts. She'll be getting to know two campuses of PCC. I helped her to register. Well I hope it was help- she had only two registered classes and lots of wait list. I know it will be a big change for her and send her confidence for tomorrow.

COLORADA ON MY SHOES...

2009-12-15T17:08:00.002+13:00

We are having our final night of the Boulder portion of our trip. Tomorrow we head for a night at Saratoga Inn, which our friends Deb and Don told us about. We are going to soak in the hot pool in the falling snow of Wyoming. It's a little time for our family to be a unit by ourselves, which can be good if you are breezing through households and always engaged in being guests. I look forward to some solo time in the snow, possibly on skis. I'm working on developing my exercise addiction, so far, so good. Ive been walking plenty and have had two swims in the pool this week.

Other things of note here in Boulder were the Philippine Christmas dinner we went to on Saturday night. It was in the VFW hall in Longmont, 20 minutes away. The hall was windowless and filled with a few dozen round tables. The Boulder area Philipino community gathered, which was mostly Philipa women and Western husbands and lots of fruit borne thereof. My sister in law is from the Philipines and I could see that she really reveled in the company of fellow Philipinas. There was a big buffet and all who came brought traditional dishes and the spread was long and varied. I had a couple of Tonics and noticed that the people drinking were the whites. The cousins, Desmond, Lil and Philip forgot their threesome woes and strife and became a team together. They roamed and stared and giggled together. After dinner Santa came and handed out gifts. this put a damper on things for us, since we didnt know we were supposed to be the source of the gifts for the kids. Santa left the hall and there were some faces longer than a starving pony. I liked the elegant noble elder women of the community.

Another event was a child health and harmony fair. It was in a fancy hotel called the St Julien and the kids enjoyed art, performances and lazers and balloons. Bed time now, Good night. I need to roust Jordan's ass to help.

While on vacation...

2009-12-11T17:35:00.005+13:00

We have just touched down at Jordan's brother, Rucell's house in Superior near Boulder. Rucell lives with his family, Corazon, his wife, Bob, his father, and last but not least, Philip- his son, a beautiful boy of 7 years. We just left our friends Deborah and Don in Laramie.

Deborah is an old friend from my New morning Bakery days in Corvallis. I was a new mother and eager bakery worker and Deb was a senior baker.
Deb and Don... They sure will be getting some good seats in heaven for putting up with us and our noisy swings of character and family dynamics. Don is a professor of Economics at U of Wyoming. He has always had flash lightning wit and was a admirable host. He also sauntered about the campus with Jordan, introducing him to the various luminaries and drips at the Physics department. Laramie has a nice feel.
I'm impressed with Deborah's role as the Bakery manager for the University. I got to tag along on a catering job where we prepared a nearly obscene array of desserts for a hoity toity tree auction affair. 1600 sweets for 200 people. Luckily they had lotso wine, salmon and crab cakes and beds of sushi to offset the sugar. A snow storm stretched our stay from two nights to six.

2009-11-02T08:19:00.000+13:00

Photos

2009-10-19T20:30:00.004+13:00

Here is a photo of the kids. Desmond had a birthday party recently, the do it yourself cake decorating was a real hit. We had Lasagna with sausage and homegrown spinach and one made with a lentil sauce without cheese for the vegans. I never tried that one but it disappeared, so I guess it was good.
I'm spending as much time as I can in Piha. I'll miss this place and it's peace.
You can click on the photos to get a closer look.

Sunday Settles into Serenity

2009-10-18T22:23:00.003+13:00

Im sitting on the old wooden floor of the bach in Piha. It's 10:30 at night. I am stuffed with Jane's delicious cheese free garden Lasagna and salad of ripe avocado, the first tomatoes this spring that really taste sweet, red lettuce, tender green fingers of sprouting cauliflower from the greenhouse and antiquey looking arugula flowers. After that, I had two servings chocolate ice cream. I went on a good long hike before the meal so guilt cant even show her face anywhere near me now.
I am still emphatic about exercise, even though occasionally I miss a day or two, for the most part I get at least an hour a day. It is such a great reset button. Today I walked about 30 minutes down Lone Kauri Road to Karekare beach and then about half an hour on the beach where I saw some amazing gooseneck barnacles and intriguing stages of lifecycle in blue bottle jellyfish. The sea, as green as ever was lovely. I had to then hike back up said hill, though which was, as we say, a real butt burner. I took some flowers to my friend who had a recent health scare; a large bunch of stargazer lilies for the patient and an edible bouquet to his chef wife. They are a family from the Lone Kauri school community (where Des and Lil enjoy idyllic uniform free scholastic life.)

I bought Agave syrup, lemons and cayenne today to do a cleanse for ten days, again.
Eliminating the acquisition and preparation of food frees up a lot of energy and time, though it feels spiritually naked at times. I still plan to bake bread, even though I won't be eating any. I love making sourdough bread. My bread operation is back to a simpler 'plan a' and tomorrow I must return a very sexy Leventi oven to the place it came from and get on with baking (instead of wiring).

Nina is due to show up in 3 days and we are all excited! I am under self imposed house arrest, here in Piha, writing until she comes. I had some nice time with the family over the weekend, including watching some indulgent DVD's and cozy time with Jordan and some nice neighborly encounters at a street party at the local firehouse up the road on Saturday night and 'special time' with Desmond today running errands. I finally have a New Zealand driver's license (obtained on a Sunday!) I need to sleep now. Good Night!
Photo by J. Best

some old writing... Lance

2009-10-13T19:50:00.000+13:00

I read that book, Women who love too much and always I wish I hadn't. It so clearly defined me, yet didn't tell me how to solve the problem. I have been approval seeking and pleasing my way through men for decades. There comes a bitter resentment when that pendulum swings. My first marked choice of an emotionally unavailable man was Lance. He was thirteen years older than I, yet retained some personality attributes of a teenager. He was an Alaskan crab fisherman who strutted though life charming and or revolting those he met. He seemed to have colorful nickname where ever he went. The son of a miner in Butte, Montana, he had substance use and infidelity modeled for him in his formative years.

Upon my first visit to Butte I had a claustrophobic sense with a yearning to turn back the clock. The dilapidated town, loaded with once opulent churches and bars and hidden naughty nooks seemed to be in its geriatric stages. Oh, how I would have loved to see the ruckus of that booming mining town, it's style, bravado and decadence. In the 1980s Butte was living on gray canned peas, its teeth just too tired to bite off much more. There were thriving motorcycle cults and junkyards that seemed to be doing o k, but for the most part the town was hurting. Folks with money from other cities were coming to Butte and buying up low priced properties to deconstruct the buildings to relocate the materials to their primary, more desirable area of residence. That architectural salvage brought a new kind of shark into the wild west of Montana. Artful features, the grandeur of yesteryear, in Butte was getting appreciated, only it was getting appreciated in other towns, ones that didn't court suicide so frequently.
Lance's family had lived there for as long as I can remember. His mother Elza was from a Hungarian family, she was the first generation to be born in the United States. With a healthy dose of Hungarian verve she kept the culinary traditions (cabbage and paprika centered as they were) alive. Elza was a short woman with a girth that didn't factor in well with her arthritis. Her toes looked like they wanted off her feet, protruding in different directions. She didn't move much and wasnt very comfortable.
She loved all three of her children, but I suspect she loved Lance, her middle and only boy with a special flourish. The girls, Little Elza and Lorraine tried not to take this to harshly. They did however, occasionally team together to compensate for the inequitable treatment. Lance told stories of the tricks they would play on him while he held a washcloth over his crusty eyes during hay fever mornings. All of the children had gotten their father's facial structure, long angular faces, with rakish bird noses.

Lances father, Alfred Nygard was a first generation Norwegian. He was tall and lanky and had some quiet pluck, that could creep out and surprise you. He was, in contrast to his wife, stoic and observant. There was not room for more reactionary fanfare, Big Elza had that covered. I wonder if she got that way from the insecurity of her husbands conduct earlier in life. One time when I was visiting Butte, with new baby Nina, Lance failed to return from his fraternizing one night. I was seething and inconsolable. Big Elza said, I had better get used to it, that there were times that her husband didn't return for days on end.
Well, I didn't want to get used to it. I wasn't going to get used to it. She seemed baffled by my belligerence and defensive of Lance, when he finally returned home having been away “just” one night. That trip to Butte could not end too soon.

I much preferred the Lance that took me out in his boat, that helped me and my skipper collect gear that the storm had put out of reach. The joking, grabbing, gleaming eyed sailor I had to myself in Alaska. Of course, I never really had Lance to myself. He had such an inclusive yet irreverent manner, people were drawn to him. He was fun. He could get you laughing. Lance seemed to have more male admirers than female ones. He was so robust and cocky that he scared away most women. His attention on you was impossible to ignore whether he played the coy innocent boy or the groping caveman letch.
Much later...after Nina was born!

Wednesday had come and gone. Wednesday was the day that Lance was to call me to arrange our next meeting the following weekend in Corvallis, where Nina and I lived. He had obligations back in Seattle to help clean up and batten down the boat that he had been working on. It was a crab fisher /processor called the Deep Sea. Lance had spent close to three months on board crabbing. Nina was just about to turn one. We had purchased a plethora of toys for her, the weekend before. The end of crab fishing season was usually punctuated by lavish spending. In the past, if I hadn't been in Alaska myself, I would meet up with Lance in Seattle where we would dine and drink and shop to our hearts content. Sometimes Lance would dabble in harder celebratory substances like heroin and cocaine. It was a slow dawning for me realizing that Lance had a weakness for such things. When we were in remote Alaska there weren't temptations like that. There were plenty of warning signs of general substance dependence, though. Lance could usually be seen walking with at least a half case of beer, regardless of the time of day. When I pestered him about his apparent alcoholism, he gave me the “It's only beer” disclaimer. Lance was a robust viking of a man. He was Norwegian and Hungarian. He had a long face, wild golden straw hair, bold white teeth and a strong nose that I can see in Nina today.
Lance was grounded at sea, a huge asset to any crew. He was fit and fast and smart. Having fished the “big king crab years” and then a couple more decades, he had experienced many episodes and managed through plenty of rough seas. Lance was less dependable on the land, however. Like most extreme laborers (like miners, fishermen and oil riggers) he played as hard as he worked. He had lots of tales of his mischief after loosing himself from a fishing vessel. I think I was one of those in my earlier meeting with him. He was one of the few men in Sand Point Alaska who had a girlfriend, but he wanted me, too. Judy was his girlfriend when I first met Lance in 1981. I found her a fascinating character . When I met her she was hauling a huge load of groceries to the dock. She had a bit of a slur in her speech. I imagine she had been trying to drink alongside Lance (a dangerous thing I tried a time or two, myself.) She had cases of Grosch beer that came in levered stopper bottles, she told me she was to make rhubarb wine and refill them. I asked her where she lived and she told me Unga Island. Unga Island is a ghost town. It had been a thriving prolific gold mine community, and then a cod processing plant until all the residents bailed out quickly, partly due to diphtheria blowing over from Europe, but mostly the gold mining technology couldn't remedy the seeping sea water. In later ghost town years there were many homes to choose from, since they had just been abandoned. There was also a variety of tools and crude appliances to adopt. In my own later exploration of Unga Island I found misshapen marbles on the beach that had been rolling for decades and old fashioned stationary and an exquisite peacock blue wool gabardine shirt. That lovely shirt was ripped off my back by an angry Aleut woman- Shirley, the growling woman of steel, my skipper's big sister. It only lasted about a week, but that's another story.

Unga is geologically much older and larger than Shumigan Island, which is where the population lives and fishes today in the little town of Sand Point. It has beds of fossilized oysters and eerie, compelling, lonely shacks. As far as civilization goes, Unga Island had a village called Squaw Harbor, the Apollo Gold mine, (complete with two curmudgeons) and the old Unga Village.

More to come if you like it...

Finally a little sun!

2009-10-11T20:33:00.002+13:00

I am relaxing after the last day of the two week school holiday has passed. we are tucking into bed and reading library books. We ate fish we caught ourselves for dinner! The day was just spectacular. I have bread in the oven and am getting ready to teach sourdough.this November. School nips at my heels and I fear I will be torn when Nina comes in a week or so.!

2009-10-05T22:23:00.001+13:00

Lovely Lil

2009-09-17T10:29:00.005+12:00

Lillian gets a lot of photo space in this blog. I can't help myself, she is such a unique girl in such a wonderful stage. Five years old is a wake up age. Woken up intellectually- but not thrown, quite yet, into the whole wide complexity of the 'grown up' world. Ive been reading a lot on early child development and I am reminded that these years are a treasure and to engage in them as often and as fully as possible.
Yesterday we played hide the five dollar bill. It was a compromise between hide and seek (Lil's suggestion) and Desmond's recent currency obsession. We got our moneys worth. The acreage where the main home is is spectacular these days with lot's of blooms and exotic bird conversations. Spring is here, it seems (finally).
Ive been on a fitness 'thing'. When my friend Carol Jackson came for a visit and she was so slender and elegant I asked her about her secret. She said she took two substantial walks a day and continued to eat healthful, moderate meals. I decided to try this out. I vowed to exercise 2 hours a day at the beginning of September. I live in a gorgeous walking locale so I usually get at least half of my daily dose by strutting up a coastal trail or just walking the beach. I have been doing yoga and other movement classes, too. I don't know about lost weight, but I feel good and my skin is revitalized. I have also tried to eat more fresh foods with high moisture content like fruits and veg's, since I can easily get in a rut of forgetting to do that. It's pretty simple, I don't buy or bake the stuff that I would eat impulsively that has lots of calories and fat. It's easier to do while I'm in my Virginia Woolf retreat, I must say. Speaking of that, I gotta write, now.
These beautiful photos are the work of photographer Jane Best who lives in Karekare, the other little girl is her daughter Eve.

Wide Screen

2009-09-11T16:44:00.004+12:00

Why is it that when I have something pressing to do, all the other aspects of life seem so inviting? I have a Poetry portfolio due and I keep wanting to read Peter Reinhart's The Bread Baker's Apprentice which, by the way, went ignored all last week, but now is very captivating. I do the dishes right away, I read more books to the kids, I pay my bills-early, open emails I would usually neglect and have been cooking with extra flair. Oh and the birds! Why haven't I noticed them before this?

Alas, I'll snort and whinny and stamp, then push the blinders back to restrict my peripheral vision, again.

...But I do have this fantasy about just buying a lovely little portable Italian wood fired oven and trooping around to peoples dinner parties, film crews and festivals and cooking amazing breads and pizzas and telling stories or teasing them out of the guests, even better. I could go to schools and bake with kids, I could show up at Farmers markets and cook up the wares into lunch. I'd take artful photos and put them here. In the mean time, Ill knock out those assignments, I guess.

poems revised

2009-08-30T13:07:00.004+12:00

Here are some of my poems from my course...
Remember that some poems are not literal or personal narrations. Today is my second day of a contact course (retreat study) of Five classic Novels. We just got done with Tess of the D'Urbervilles and now onto Conrad's Heart of Darkness. My favorate book of the five was Silas Marner, It is a quick read, too. Very refreshing. Jordan and the kids will pick me up at 7 or so tonight. I've really missed them. I will fill the three hours with some writing in the library, now nice.

It was raining

The first time I robbed Tiffany's it was raining.
I, myself, had been robbed earlier.
The elevator man had taken my smile
a returned me a concealed sneer.

The rain, a thick variety,
drops clumsy and uncaring.
This day was in debt to me already.

Rain like this came once before.
I remember,
awakening my humiliation.
I run my finger on the groove where the ring used to be:
The promise expired,
it was gone.

Tiffany, though not her name,
behind the glass, smiled warmly.
Invited me.

Two dozen or more rings I tried.
Each one could be
a new spouse,
proof of desirability.

Then my phone rang and
my Tiffany did wander.
It always ends this way.
But this time, I'm keeping the ring.

Horatian Ode

Haphazard Orchestra

Echo of waves
may become background noise,
but a splendid promise lies over the berm
for anyone who takes the path

Wind rustles winter
pocks on the gray sand agree
but- the sun does show up
lighting vapor, freed by wave

Pale blue, clean sky
barely tasting of salt
Green wave
rolls into a riot of lace.

Curly dog, licorice surfer make
movement in the passage
Tempos individual.
Oblivious and coordinated.

Heart beat and blinking eye,
footprint measure:
can this be my song?
Am I musician or audience?

The slowest rhythm, craggy rock, rests
beneath a stalwart tree,
Yellow moss picks up the beat,
and the dipping grasses stir it up.

Stream glitters.
Undulate diamonds going flat,
I am part of the geometry,
moving in thousands of scales.

Creative movement again!

2009-08-22T15:34:00.008+12:00

I had a nice experience, recently.
I took a guided creative movement session that lasted about two hours, last Friday.
The instructor is a woman named Louise Taylor. Chatting at a yoga class we discovered that we share a teacher and study in Halprin technique.
For those of you who don't know what that is, Ill tell you.
Anna Halprin, a celebrated modern dancer of many years set up a school called Tamalpa Institute. When I went there, it was only a couple of years established. One could take a full certification over about nine months or, take the month long intensive summer "dancer's workshop" (like I did). In later years Anna had experience using movement as a healing art form. Her patient- herself

At Tamalpa, Anna had two sides to the work. One movement study was developed towards performance and one of a kind rituals while the other was the daily practice of her signature Movement Ritual.

There were plenty of learning mediums utilized at Tamalpa. Everyone was issued a yard wide pad of newsprint and a box of pastels. We would routinely draw "visualizations" of concepts being worked on in dance wit the body. Every day involved at least a couple of drawings. Some of the drawings I can still remember, although I have no idea what became of them in my fast lane twenties.

After arriving from our host houses each morning, we had the choice of group meditation or running meditation for an entree to the day. I usually chose running. The school is halfway up Mount Tamalpias, It was summer in Marin County. Sweat.

We practiced a routine, fluid yoga-like sequence of movements that is Anna's signature choreography/ therapy. Exploration using breath was an essential part of the daily movement routine (this was a spine fluxing, thorough, kinetic routine that really did make you feel good, especially afterward.)

My classmates were mostly European Doctors, therapists, resort owners, and performers. I was nursing my first broken heart. Twenty years old and whittling away my grandfather's money.

Anna's brush with cancer compelled her to design (or perhaps devine) and execute personal movement rituals. Her intent was to face and clear blocks that had developed over time that she believed were manifesting in her body as ill health. One such ritual she made for herself was at her SeaRanch home and took a couple of days. All the students, "dancers", had a week long retreat at Sea ranch as part of our schooling.

Community rituals were also created, like the one where they staged an elegant, and theatrical, yet dead serious purification ritual of Mt Tam, (which was having a mad serial rapist problem). Elements of Nature were revered in the dancing. Huge silk sails were held and wafted by costumed dances, symbolizing wind. More natural forces were called to power with equal grandeur.

Louise Taylor studied these ideas more than twenty five years later than I, obtaining the teaching credential. She used many techniques I had forgotten. The movement has quenched a thirst I have had. It is to nice circle around,reconnecting with an earlier part of my life. I cant wait until next Friday for another go.

2009-08-21T01:05:00.000+12:00

trickle of progress

2009-08-16T15:58:00.003+12:00

Passion Vs Procrastination
Its a persistent game schedule
upward eyebrow of promise
what a boss we must make of ourselves once we learn
of our charge
of our own life.

Sunday afternoon after some wholesome family time and a good meal and shower. I'm back in the bach. Rain drops and sun rays toss around together outside in the west.
School calls. I am now reading Wuthering Heights
I am inspired to open my email and see my friend Beth Helstien's graduation announcement for Master of Library science. 3.97 GPA, way to go, Beth! She is one of several scholarly librarians in Friday Harbor. I know of her as a initiate priestess of ritual, friend and gardener, though.
Speaking of gardening, I had a wonderful community feeling dream about gardening last night.
I took Desmaond to a Naturopath yesterday to address his chest rattle. It was amusing, her interview with him and how he sparkled under her interest. He told of dreams of spidermen, red and black and spiders crawling over him. (She said even creepy spider dreams are a good sign) He got some herbal concoction he has to shake 6 and a half times and 10 drops into water. Apparently there is Pine pollen and plenty of weed spraying now, not to mention the hospitable environment for mildew of wet warm New Zealand climate. She give good herbal prescriptions and is very intuitive in general with her advice.

Birds

2009-08-11T09:38:00.002+12:00

The Birds are twittering and walking on the roof. I have a sinus bug and have slept in. there are people on the rise outside my front yard admiring the sea. I see them everyday. People are in good spirits when they come to take in the sea. Today the air is so still that the shoreline is mostly blue and green instead of the usual frothy white. I'm trying out a new spend free living. Im going to see if I can go all week without spending ANY money. I have food in the cupboard and plenty to do and eight punches left on my yoga card.What more could a girl want?
I am on a new novel, Tess of the D'urbervilles It is amusing so far, I have it on audio cds from the library. Id better get on with the day.

Deadline lifeline

2009-08-09T13:29:00.006+12:00

I'm dashing out for a walk on this windy bright Sunday. I have just finished reading Persuasion for my novel assignment. As things turn out, I have had to read it very quickly. I read two novels already that are part of assignment two, still to come and hadn't read the assignment one books. It pays to read the study guide after all... Ive been on Jane Austin marathon mode. Gratitude for the Gutenburg Project is in order. I was able to download the text and the audio for free so I read and was read to last night as i delved into another century. Cool. Now I walk, Gamily for Pizza later. Lil, her usual pesto with a kalamata or two, no cheese. Desmond, his Hawaiian (how do I do that one without pineapple OR ham???) And Jordan and I the whacha got in the fridge pizza. Im practicing my piza dough so I can send it ti Linda. Maybe Ill post it here, too.
Into the wind, with me.

Something for Paul Loeb's book : Soul of a Citizen, a book on citizen involvement

2009-08-07T23:15:00.006+12:00

Paul asked me for an account of my recent years in a couple of paragraphs for a profile in his book. Being quite darn busy with school assignments... I agreed anyway and wrote this up. He can edit the thing.

I am an American woman who lived on San Juan Island, an idyllic little
spot, for about 20 years. After retiring from Restaurant ownership (with
plenty of hosting of political community events) I married a customer,
Jordan, who happens to be one bright physicist. He worked at a tiny high
tech company on the island, eventually collaborating on "Dept of Energy"
research. I had a couple more kids directly (I already had one on my own
then, a ripening teen) and continued my lifelong avocation of peace
activism, sometimes even dragging my babies to frozen Washington DC or a
sweltering Cancun WTO meeting. This was in the early 2000's, after 911 and
leading up to the Iraq invasion. My husband and I clumsily and naively
reinvigorated the local public access TV station. We had to
storm a few city council meetings to keep the right to air Democracy
Now! We were like a pesky fly to the local Adelphia cable office. Jordan
got the submission and airing of material functioning digitally and made
an automated schedule. We were bumping along. I tried my hand at board
membership for Peace Action of Washington. This experience, while
inspiring, (after all that's where I met you, Paul) had some unsavory
feuding unraveling and it made me sad and a little queasy. The
disturbing turn of events as the election seemed to be rigged again got
us even lower in morale. When I added this to my guilty enjoyment of
money from the dubious funding source, Jordan's spooky fusion puzzles; I
started thinking of my lifelong fantasy to move to New Zealand. We just
didn't want to participate anymore, paying the taxes or supporting war
technology.

We decided to get more neutral (remember that naivety) We sold
everything but the house and got wills drawn up and we split the
country. We cashed in retirement accounts. Some of our friends implied
we were shirking our responsibilities, but we went anyway. Jordan forged
ahead to get his PhD from an Auckland University so he could eventually
teach science for a living. I delved into a new and quite different
culture. We started our residency by touring New Zealand in a van for
four months (that's five people.) We participated in some Wwoofing, a
farming labor exchange, and got to meet some very resourceful people and
revel in spectacular locales. Later, we struggled to find our place in
Auckland, moving six times in three years. We remembered what is special
about America and Americans by removing ourselves from them. It was a
great day when we got the Obama election results. We celebrated with a
dinner party with some English folks. We all met again for a 5:00 am
breakfast party on inauguration day. Despite the struggles evident these
days, I feel renewal and optimism. I can say without hesitation that I
look forward to coming home.

2009-08-02T11:47:00.004+12:00

It's sunny Sunday in Piha. Last night Jordan, my friend Kat and I went to a dance at the local hall. It had a theme of WILD. I went as an ocelot or a jaguar and Jordan went in his bathrobe with his scruffy Hugh Hefner look. We showed up in the cherubic white Borgward with wide smiles, ready to boogie. There were all interpretations of 'wild' in the crowd. The DJ music was a little techno for me, but it was fun to shake a leg, well ok, both of them. Yesterday during the day was a fun family day. The gang had spent the night at my place and we had some delicious breakfast and walked to the library, via the beach. After we got in the library the dark gray cloud opened up and poured for at least an hour. I left Jordan and kids and jogged home and got the van to transport them all home to Karekare, full of books and movies.
I wondered if I would be depressed by my move, separating myself from the rest of my immediate family. I have moments when I think what the hell am I doing?! But overall it has been easier than I thought it would be. Taking time to rest and assess one's approach to life is a gift I am giving myself and my family. Since stepping over one coastal ridge to Piha two weeks ago I have spent a lot of time with both the kids and Jordan and have been doing the grocery shopping for us all, still. I cant seem to help myself, I fed my family for so long, it has some momentum, I suppose. I also go there and bake and start loads of laundry. Can we just call it interdependence?
Piha... The village aspect is very welcoming. There is a new Cafe (the first one besides the Bowling club and RSA legion halls) opening up soon and I am sending in my resume, for a baker's position. I find it exciting, the possibility of being in on the ground floor, designing the menu.

This week will be a little more independence, though,with assignments due for Journalism and Poetry. Jordan is pleased to have started teaching math at AUT and I take the kids on those days at least. Lillian is a gem of a student at her new school. She came home on her fifth birthday, her first day, reading a little reader, with her stern teacher, Desmond, keeping close attention. Lilly is the most Kiwi of us all, understandably. She comes to me often, addressing me as Mum, asking fresh questions and stating her observations. She has spent three years here and only two in America.

Speaking of America, There is talk of returning going on. First for a visit, but then maybe to return for good after Jordan get's his PhD. I can't think about where, yet. It seems our house on the island may be too small for us now and Jordan's desire to teach at the university level point to some new place. In the mean time we are expecting a visit from Nina in Northern hemisphere Autumn. YEAH YES HOORAY! I really appreciate her and look forward to the kids reconnecting with her. She has discussed it with Larry and he is open to bachin' it for a few weeks and covering the bills in her absence. Nina is considering school in Portland, but I secretly hope she falls in love with Ashland while visiting her friend there this summer. She is a good actress and that town is somehow big and small for studying things theatrical. Nina was in a play at Shackleton and I was amazed at her stage presence. If anyone out there wants to encourage Nina in my absence, Go ahead, she's a lovely flower who could use some watering and rich dark compost.

Piha beach is stunning and from my front windows, which are large and slightly elevated I can see the waves; White horses tossing and frothing and curling into new waves. Just a glance to the south is lion rock, which is a big beast, with a steep trail which one can ascend in about seven minutes. It's a great pick me up if one needs to refresh, quickly. There are lots of trails, both shoreline and up the hills to waterfalls. Now to find the time! Speaking of that, my Journalism book is hissing at me now, I must go.

Wow where do I begin?...

2009-07-22T16:38:00.003+12:00

Hello from Karekare. The kids are designing a fort out of all the pillows and duvets they could find. They were fighting at first, then they switched into playing, aauugh... Now with the update... I would like to thank My Husband Jordan for his open mindedness and love. I also have reconnected with my sisters, hats off to them and a salute. I especially have enjoyed correspondence with Susan. Her letters are a delight and they reveal what a capable, generous, honest and earnest soul she is. Then there's the crazy improv acting Susan, acting like an insurance executive! Very well. I'm steeped in school and have 4 papers at Massey University. Novels, Poetry, Journalism and "Media Skills". Media skills is the only one that actually meets. I have a three hour class in Albany each Thursday, just under an hour away. Im hoping to dovetale in some novel writing through Evergreen. That and everything else! I can work now 192$ per week. , also- so I dropped off a loaf of bread at the Piha store. Im romancing a kitchen there. It would fit in in the early mornings nicely.
I'm on the breeze again. To be explicit here, Ill say that I have made our family into a two location group. We now have our Karekare home (we've been in for a few months)which is up a coastal ridge with lovely grounds. The family that bought this place over thirty years was the first buyer in sales of a thousand acres and they landscaped and even produced crops for sale, lavender. Then we have the Piha Bach. It's kind of Old worldy like from Finland or something. Ill post a photo of these places, perhaps...
I am incredibly lucky to get a chance to tune inward at that little black with white trim. It has a wonderful wooden floor. The invigoration of the sea is wonderful and I'm still getting used to it. I notice that I keep sneaking home, too. Lillian spent the night there once and is due for another. She finished with preschool on Friday and has her first day of school on her birthday- Monday. Is this Minutia? Anyway. The new house has two TV channels and we are going to watch a parenting video this evening. Jordan likes the bush, wide space and private. I am enjoying living in a more central place, for a change. There is Yoga class twice weekly and Writer's group every other week. It still is pretty pristine, for a modern village. I need to wrap this up for now. I have an errand and then back to austere land. It will be full if life tonight, though with all of us over there. We'll have some koala bowling to get things warmed up. Here are some photos.

Resurfacing from winter colds

2009-07-06T10:54:00.005+12:00

Finally I am able to breathe! Jordan and I have both had sinus colds. We went into survival mode with the kids watching more videos than usual as we nap and drink tea and patch together meals. Our trip has been put on hold as we need to start out somewhat healthy. I'm launching into registration for school, having decided to pursue study in NZ. So much for the three months off! When we return from our trip I will be moving into a little batch in Piha to have a sabbatical. It is an experiment to see if I can get my writing back on track in a more uncomplicated environment. Hopefully it will bring on a new perspective and renewal.

Piha has a different feel than Karekare. The history of the two places are very different, even though they are just a few kilometers from the other. Karekare has a severity and epic essence. Nature is awesome and seems to be in charge in Karekare. There are no stores or amenities of any kind, except the volunteer operated fire station. Piha, on the other hand, is historically a surfing village and has a peppier social vibe. There is a store, a bowling club, a surf club- which seasonally serves food and drink, and the rugged RSA which is like a American Legion hall in the states. The man who owns the store, Pete, has offered me a job and it is tempting to do a couple of shifts a week. I know the wage will be lower than I get as a chef but Id be willing to take it if given creative latitude. The timing is right because there will soon be a new cafe just next to the store and the competition will be fertilizer for new ideas, I suspect. I need to get going on school business. Here is a recipe for Brownies with some decadent toppings.

Good Dark Cocoa Brownies

10 tablespoons (1 1/4 sticks) unsalted butter
1 1/4 cups sugar
3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder (natural or Dutch-process is fine)
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
2 cold large eggs
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
Position a rack in the lower third of the oven and preheat the oven to 325°F. (150°C) Line the bottom and sides of an 8-inch square baking pan with parchment paper or foil, leaving an overhang on two opposite sides.
Combine the butter, sugar, cocoa, and salt in a medium heavy bottom saucepan, turn heat to low. Stir from time to time until the butter is melted and the mixture is smooth and hot enough that you want to remove your finger fairly quickly after dipping it in to test. Let cool for a few minutes.
Stir in the vanilla, then add the eggs one at a time, stirring vigorously after each one. When the batter looks thick, shiny, and well blended, add the flour and stir until you cannot see it any longer, then beat vigorously for 40 strokes with the wooden spoon or a rubber spatula. Spread evenly in the lined pan (the batter will be very thick).
Bake until a toothpick emerges with some moist crumbs sticking to it (but not wet with batter), 20 to 25 minutes. Cool completely on a rack.

FOR EXTRA INDULGENCE: One can make a peppermint topping out of ½ lb powdered (icing )sugar with ¼ cup melted butter, 3 TBS cream and 1/2- 1 tsp peppermint extract or oil. THEN (and this is crucial) spread 4 oz melted UNSWEETENED chocolate over the top. Let the thing go solid and cut with a sharp knife.

If you are not a mint fan you can do the same layering thing with Mascarpone orange filling instead of the sweet mint layer. Make sure the brownies are cool for the orange version and lightly sweeten the mascarpone with sugar and add some fresh orange zest and 2 TBS OJ concentrate (full un diluted strength) top with high cocoa solid dark chocolate that has been melted and cooled. Let me know how this works for you, why don't ya? K

Here is a recipe that is very simple- Dutch Baby or German baked pancake

2009-07-04T11:03:00.004+12:00

This is a recipe that my Grandma Cora saw on the Galloping Gourmet cooking show. It was named Swedish pancake by Graham Kerr (the Galloping gourmet, himself) It is not a flat crepe ish pancake but a grandiose event that you bake in a nice hot oven in a heavy skillet. I have also seen them called Dutch babies and german pancakes. They are incredibly simple to make and takes only the most basic of ingredients. To serve it traditionally squeeze lemon wedges and sprinkle with Icing sugar. One can also serve with syrups, fresh berries and cream, cooked apple slices and even fill with savory filling like sauteed shellfish or herbs and mushrooms or whatever you got kicking around. My kids love them with the lemon and sugar the best, though.

Heat oven to 180 degrees(C) or 400 degrees (F)
Place a 9 inch cast iron or enameled iron skillet in the oven to preheat. A nice hot pan is essential to success.

In a medium bowl place 1/2 cup white or zentrofan (a finely ground whole grain wheat flour) flour add 2 eggs and 1/2 cup of milk. Whip with whisk until combined, (a few small lumps are fine) Once the skillet is good and hot add a knob of butter (about 2-3 tablespoons) place back in hot oven and wait 5 or so minutes until butter is melted and bubbling. Pour batter into hot buttered pan and put back in oven for about 15 minutes. The batter will crawl up the sides of the pan and form a big golden crown around the sides (something like a Yorkshire pudding) Remove from oven, being careful of hot skillet. squeeze lemon around and over and sprinkle with icing (powdered)sugar- or try your own topping. Kids like to make these as they are very impressive. Bon Appetite.

Ritual at Mercer Bay

2009-07-02T23:44:00.004+12:00

One Astonishingly sunny winter day last month Jordan and I went on a mission to execute a ritual. For school at The Evergreen State College I was winding up the quarter and wanted to add a final grand finale of a ritual to my collection of them that were part of my study.

Here is a quote from my evaluation.

"I have cultivated a practice of Earth or nature based rituals. I invented rituals which had validity for me and kept them in a journal, studying their effectiveness as therapy. Assessment of today's mental health statistics and my own transitions compelled me to focus specifically on depression. I confirmed my notion that the study/enjoyment of nature and movement (or exercise) are two essential components for health that almost everyone has access to without cost. I gained knowledge of Maori and Wiccan philosophy that employ rituals. I wove flax ropes to use to secure flotation gourds in an ocean swimming ritual as well as making a hanging installation 'room' in which rituals can be performed. Daily walks on coastal tracks gave me inspiration."
Here is an exert from my log book

"Rituals were performed an average of twice a week. Keeping a journal of rituals cultivates intentional living as well as helps the author recognize the progress rituals provide.
Some rituals were simply mundane tasks taken on with special intent and mindfulness. Others were more orchestrated events. The general purpose of these rituals is to progress past obstacles and alleviate stress and byproducts of stress like depression and struggling with unpleasant emotions. It is also to remember and celebrate what is right with life, whats working and feels good. It is my hope to continue this log and to document a wide variety of rituals that others can utilize. I will pursue refinement of the process and look for a realm for publication in the future.
The statistics for depression in Western countries are staggeringly high at around fifteen to twenty five percent. Developing strategies to handle stress and overcome depression brought on by situational triggers ourselves, internally, without the use of chemical or electroshock treatment is essential and possible. Rituals have been tools for people as long as there have been people. It is empowerment.
Within my study of ritual, Nature is viewed as a teacher and often plants, seasons, celestial observations and even dreams and body sensations are 'listened to'. When logging a ritual, I usually state intended lessons or benefits, describe the ritual itself and state the apparent actual benefits."

The whole idea was a revisitation of some dance training I did in my twenties with Anna Halprin, who designs rituals for herself and for communities (she claims to have arrested her own cancer through a 48 hour ritual she orchestrated at her Sea Ranch retreat in Mendocino.) If such tangible results have be achieved then maybe I could address my 'middle aged with young children and self absorbed physicist husband in remote New Zealand blues'.

I took Jordan, a 'Mercer bay virgin', to the gripping (we were- to ropes with knots, over rock faces) trail down to the pristine isolated bay. I showed him the little rock cavern cafe where the sea ogre likes to eat and the eerie cave with the light creeping in from above and we were spooked by the roaring waves occasional deep rumbling. We saw the soft sparkling sand bosom and we took a couple sips of the grandeur before heading over to the actual mission. The reason for our excursion: the rock that looks like a head. I was to swim to and climb out onto to hold a ritual as the tide shifted and I would(??) whatever came into my mind to do. Maybe I would sing loudly and then softly, maybe I would weave the gorgeous kelp that was strewn all over, maybe meditate or do yoga postures or laugh or cry. I knew I wanted to be aware of tides, metaphor for life's cycles and reassuring and predictable changes. If I am in a funk, not to worry- the tide comes and goes and things are guaranteed to change, it's only natural.
I had previewed Mercer Bay as a ritual site on my own a month or so before, finding the vertical path pretty much by accident. I had hounded my friend Mike to tell me where the trail started but he wouldn't tell me. One needed to be shown, he said. He was right; I had a very nervy climb out from a wrong turn with a sheer drop. I lived to tell, though. It was interesting, my body seemed to know I was going in the wrong direction and it gave me some chances to think it through via ankle writhing and kneecap agony sessions that slowed me down enough to think of consequences and dependents who still haven't grown up and need a mother.

Anyway, I didn't go out to the rock in the end because there was a big slumbering seal right on the rock I needed to cross. It was so large, I thought it a sea lion at first. It stirred a couple of times and didn't seem to mind me. I didn't feel like climbing over it, though, really. So I went out into the surf in my birthday suit and Jordan took photos from a cozy rock he found. He made some funny narrated videos with a breathy story of my merging with the sea, but I have spared you that, but here are a couple of photos. By the way, I think it was still a ritual,and A fine one, anyway. Sometimes the plans are changed but there's enough to satisfy you just the same.

2009-07-01T10:25:00.001+12:00

That's our Lillian. Such a character!

Here is something...

2009-06-23T14:57:00.004+12:00

Today is a spectacular winter day. The wind is still, the sky pale blue and the greens are celebrating the sunshine. It feels strange today to have Desmond and Jordan home from school and Lil in school. Des had a teacher conference this noon and that is why mid week we have extra daytime residents. Desmond's teacher who is affectionately called Mrs. Parks, says he is stepping upwards on the ladder of learning. She speculates that our six moves in three years and particularly his last school in the slums (excuse me) have caused a below level standing that is finally shrinking. He gets above average in Math, enthusiasm, and focus. He's catching up on reading and writing. This is apparent with his growing interest in his chapter book about a goblin. He can hardly hold back and is creating multiple chapters a day.
Desmond finally tried on the elegant silk long johns I ordered for him. Lillian has been reveling in her glistening white ones for weeks but Desmond only just discovered the weightless warmth of his jet black ones. Now he wears them under his clothes. Ive been on a silk kick. I realize that this is not a vegetarian fibre. Hopefully Desmond wont figure that out. He has fierce vegetarian opinions and has had big noisy conflicts at school after someone wanted to kill a cabbage moth, which Desmond termed a butterfly, and deserving of it's life.
Desmond, a Libra, sure does want things to be fair and even. He takes it upon himself to reprimand any of us who have stepped on another's toes. Des says new bigger boy phrases like his "Mean Lego plane" and "cool as". Lillian has a wider vocabulary, though and entertains me to no end with her tales of meteorites and renditions of her favorite songs with her own, often hilarious, lyric alterations. The kids read about 25-30 library books a week. We don't have television reception and I cant bring myself to spend the money (but really it's the time I don't want spent)on satellite TV.

We have swimming lessons tonight and we are going to head home for some burritos instead of our usual dining out Friday. We head out on a trip next week and we're trying to save some money for that. Our first stop heading south wil be the hot springs that Jordan found where two rivers come together, one hot, one cold. We will then be heading down to Te Haro on the southern west coast of the North island (did you get that?) We will be picking up a Borgward there. If you dont know what a Borgward is then click Ours is a white sedan just like on the Wikipedia page. If you think they are impracticle, I dont want to hear it. This will be my sixth one and I just love them. They are a good daily driver, I promise. They used pretty good materials in the sixties in Germany. Anyone who has had an unusual car knows that it's fun. It causes all kinds of conversations, not to mention the steadfast fellowship with other owners. We pay something like 400 a month in fuel for our cars and the Borgward gets much better mileage than either of our existing cars. After the aquisition of the car, a spare engine (just in case) some bumpers and other stuff that comes with it we'll have an urban episode in Wellington for a few days with trips to the Te Papa national museum and reminisce about the times we enjoyed with Nina in that hip and colorful city. Hopefully they'll put us in the garden cottage at the Beethoven house where we'll stay. It's a quirky hostel we found a few years ago. Then we go to Toro on the East side of the north island and have a few days with our friends the Hunters who I met while on a writing class retreat a while back. While we are down that way we'll stop in and see Ollie, who is bachin it without Addie (she's in the US) and we'll look at the handiwork that Gary Miller contributed to their home- new French doors. Ollie and Addie live on acreage that has Ollie's vineyard growing. We have visited them routinely over the three years we've been here and always inspiring to see the progress they have made turning a barn into a living space. There is usually beer brewing and onions drying and darn good food and wine. They have a lovely carmel colored dog named Argo, part Ridgeback and part Mastiff. He's very good natured.
Then we will head home in two vehicles and probably stop back at the hot springs just to warm our wintery toes up.

Changing

2009-06-06T10:58:00.006+12:00

Life here, the winter, is good. It's been colder than Ive felt in Auckland than I remember. Ive been working on school a lot. I have also been toying with some pretty profound ideas regarding reorientation of self. I look forward to finishing the book Im writing on the subject of Rituals and personal health. Ill keep you posted, Ive got a date with a gum tree now, though, gotta get choppin!

Autobiography 101

2009-05-19T15:38:00.008+12:00

Last quarter I decided to put a fire underneath myself and make autobiographical writing the focus of my studies at Evergreen. I had naive notions that I could get a chapter written, rough draft per week. One "I dont care what it looks like-just a finished chapter" per week. I started by making a time-line. You should give that a try some day. It's quite a captivating, reflective process. First I brainstormed my better moments, then all kinds of moments. Scenarios wafted up from the murky archives in my mind. After collecting a bunch, I worked them into a chronological sequence. This was trickier than you might think because some spanned a long time and other parts were appliqued over the top. Life isn't that linear.

The dredging up of my experiences was a more time consuming and tumultuous process than I expected (albeit pretty therapeutic). In contrast to my recent fictional works the autobiographical stories had a predetermined outcome and I had more concern whether the stories were moral, worthwhile and compelling, since they were about me. The initial process of putting my life experiences onto a time line and then taking isolated pieces of it didn't work well. I had to force myself to take a more organized approach. For example, if I felt compelled to write about a certain event that happened in my thirties, I would have to speculate what my reader already knew about my life from previous chapters (that have not yet been written). This impacted the writing of the piece and was bound to increase editing work later. I needed a more linear approach.
Eventually, I went back to the beginning, and started again, researching my grandparents lives for the beginning of my story and then my early life and so on. This process filled hours, but not pages. It is clear that I had not been realistic to expect to finish ten chapters in ten weeks.

Nonetheless I managed to write several chapters. I still think about my time-line and ruminate over the project. It has to share my attention with the kids and their needs and curiosities. There are new shoes to buy and then search for and the swimming lessons on Friday afternoons to be on time for. Jordan could use more support also, with his deadlines for observation proposals and his self absorbed scholarly doubts and presentation jitters.

Ill choose a chapter to put on here. I just need to pick out if it will be one prepared for my straight and narrow teacher or a more raw draft that feels more like my voice. Stay tuned I'm still here! I'm teaching sourdough class tonight, though, so it wont be for a couple of days.

Dreaming

2009-05-04T14:49:00.003+12:00

My family are dreaming like mad these days. Each morning we venture all over the place relaying our dreams. The sleeping situation is very fluid in our new house. There are three bedrooms but we all end up in the solarium add on room, usually- by breakfast time. The elements are right there! There are big gum trees that dance around when the coastal breezes rise (and they sure do!) The stars are nice these nights with some sparks seen as Haleys whizzes by (or is it us whizzing..?) Ill have to ask my astronomer that one. Off to get Desmond and go to the library and get groceries. I promised we will make a cake. It's design looks to be a round, chocolate, fluffy, but mushy, cake with minted green whipped cream and m and M's. Wow.

refresh...

2009-05-01T18:34:00.002+12:00

The kids and I went for an evening dip in the sea today. It was just the ticket to clear out the cobwebs. The season here, just really plunging into autumn, is spectacular.

Home again home

2009-05-01T09:27:00.003+12:00

I'm back from a sojourn to Australia. I saw my favorite thinking person's rock band, The Church. I'm making an effort to have an independent life. When I go away from my role as mother and wife, I resurface. I get perspective about my worth. Being an immigrant, that is to say, leaving all my social network and family was a bushel of stress I never expected. New Zealanders are a hard working lot, god bless them. It takes a lot just to survive here. Being in Australia reminded me of America. Wages are higher, costs are lower. There is a certain bravado, an easier mode of being. It's subtle, but I noticed it. Certainly, one good thing about our New Zealand adventure has been to gain appreciation of the U.S.

On a more positive note... The boys, Steve Kilbey and Marty Willson-Piper were a fine pair up there on the stage at the Vanguard in Sydney. The Vanguard is a little supper club with a balcony. It has the feel of an old time show house with red velvet curtains and settees by the powder room. There were about 15 tables down in front of the stage. The menu was Italian, a little dense looking, so I opted for Indian Dosai down the road and just went in for the show. I found one solo seat in the front row that didn't have a reseverd sign on it and I quickly made one and proceded to a red velvet chair to write and pass the 90 minutes before the show began. I'm enjoying The Right to Write by Julia Cameron, (again) Its very inspirational following my recent quarter of writing.

Upon reflection, the last time I was reading that book I was in New York. It was years ago; Nina was 13. We were attending a wedding and I saw The Church in concert at the Bowery Ballroom. It was a wacky night, actually. I must confess that I left Nina in our Hotel room while I went to the show. She knew this was part of the deal and we chose the hotel carefully. Unfortunately, when I returned, she was sleeping like a log and had put the chain lock on the door. Luckily, I could see her foot on the bed through the three inch view I had into the room, so I knew she was in there. I had to sleep in the hallway, waking up every half hour or so to knock on the door. Finally, her sleep cycle lightened up and she heard me and let me in. Nina and I had fun in New York, that time and another time as well.

It's odd, but that is one place that I had so much trepidation about as a teenager, and that is right where I went when I turned 18, straight into the fear. We used to see these movies in school about cities, particularly New York. They were quite terrifying. I need to go now, More later.

Finals week, Moving and Surfing

2009-03-18T09:46:00.006+13:00

This week has one of those typical crescendo effects, the full week works like a magnet for opportunity and more intriguing prospects come into view. We have decided to move two doors away to a new rental home. It still has a sea view, just not the stunning beach view we've had. There is more park like yard for the kids, a greenhouse, lots of garden beds, a solarium, a good efficient wood stove and wetback wood fired water heater. We will be saving 200 dollars per week on rent. I will miss the aesthetics of our current home, but taking the financial pressure off ourselves should be more than enough of a reward. This will be our sixth move in three years here, wow.
Ive had two catering jobs in coordination with the neighboring B and B and that has been satisfying. It's good to add a dash of something I do well when I am learning new things. It reminds me that I am are good at something. Lillian is all questions when I cook. She is my only child of the three with a natural interest in food preparation.
My Evergreen studies have been sluggish this term. This is my final week to get all of my writing work done and submitted. I lack motivation for the writing and have focused on the other aspects of my learning contract. This week I have put in about 8 hours in the water with my surfboard, which translates to about a total of one or two minutes standing on it on a wave. I'm getting strong arms, though and less intimidation of the big waves that come and relentlessly rearrange me and my little white board. If nothing else, I'm more water worthy in general. Desmond shows promise as a surfer. He has always had impeccable balance, even as a toddler he would prance right across beach logs.
Surfing is an apt metaphor for many things in life. When your wave comes, you might have to forget about your fear and misgivings and just take it. If you take the wave, you can be transported, if you cower, you'll get rolled over in the crush of a powerful (and impartial) wave. It's best to just face the beach and take the wave. I feel hesitation and eagerness dovetailed together for surfing and after my final lesson today, Ill rest my weary arms and shoulders and consider if I'm really up for the pummeling of it all. I never thought a simple P.E. credit would result in such reflection.

Karekare Beach Races complete

2009-03-09T12:59:00.003+13:00

The day was fun, exhausting and goose bump worthy. The sea was rioting with lacy pale green grandeur as the horses came thundering down the beach. The announcer had such infectous enthusiasm in his voice that several times during the day I had to finish my customer and drop my tongs or my shovel and run towards the race track along the shoreline and join the country betters and family members cheering on their riders. I was in charge of plenty of baked goods and hustling up prizes as well as the design and construction of the kids area. The kid zone was a big dug out hole in the sand with a deeper hole in the middle. There were six huge flags around it and flax flower wands were woven with flax reeds to provide wind shelter. Our Kite made its final all day flight (with us) before meeting it's new owner, who it surprised by breaking free of the spool and darting to his heals, finally resting like a needful puppy looking for a new home. Jordan won third place for his hat. We all are now aloe vera users, having forgotten our usual sun hats.

Alligator Galivanting- children's picture book by Kate Stone

2009-03-07T15:55:00.007+13:00

Louisa, a lovely little lady, looked in the lavatory.
It was her week when washing the water closet was warranted.
She safely slid on size small sheaths and surrendered to the situation,
Suddenly, she seemed surprised!
Wow! Wandering wet and wide eyed, was a weird and wild thing!
After ample attention, the animal offered its autograph- “Ally Gator”!
Loudly, Louisa let out a laugh! Ludicrous! Lingering in the loo with the Lizard...
After the gator greets girl, gayly gallivants and gambols.
Watching, she wondered, what would a wise one do...
Should she scream and shout? Should she simply scrub (away from the snout)?
What would you do with such a wild wonder? Well...
“First things first”, she said, fussing and fretting:
She must move this monster making a menace of her mission.
She fetched a fragment of fabric and fastened it 'n front of the fierce little face
To tame the temper she tickled the tummy: trying to tease it.
When- what do you know!
Why-the wiggling wet wonder wailed “Wait!-
When will you work on your washing if your wrestling with me?”
Surprised stopping her struggle... "Suppose such silliness!
Saying sentences! Shocking!"

Not knowing the nature of the newt, Nice.. Naughty... she'll never know.

Zing, zap zoosh! zipped the zoological zealot.
Down, down, deeper down, in a deluge of dampness
Then Louisa lamented a little
For flushing her fiendish find,
Looked around the lavatory
And left.

Karekare Beach Races

2009-03-05T10:03:00.002+13:00

Im busier than 700 elves this week. The Karekare beach races are a few days away and Im in deep in the bake sale and kid zone department. Check out this Karekare site to see what Im talking about. Ill be back to writing in a few days. Kate

working gramps

2009-03-02T16:16:00.003+13:00

My grandparents operated as a team. In fact, when my Grandfather was diagnosed with lung cancer it was not completely surprising, as he had been a smoker for many years. What was surprising was that my grandmother died quickly before he passed. Was it that she had always spent her life as his assistant and wasn't keen to change her role at that late stage? Maybe it was that he had the stronger constitution for coping without the other? They, The Ganty's, were from an era when you could sculpt your fortune with hard work and focus. In their home, in which cocktails each evening were a given, there were small silver boxes filled with cigarettes on the coffee table and in the den. You could almost always find a little blue can of macadamia nuts in the bar refrigerator. There were always square loaves of homemade white bread that was good toasted. Grandma Caddie prepared top notch dinners every night. Sometimes it was Lima beans and ham, other times, corned beef. I remember the cheesecakes and the aspic salads with the precious crab legs encased within them, usually she finished them with a dollop of mayo' and a sprinkle of paprika. During the day we ate grapenuts with cream and plenty of sugar (which was freely and openly positioned on the breakfast table, on top of an ironed tablecloth). Grandpa had a boiled egg which was runnier than my sister and I thought palatable, he quietly read his paper and drank his coffee each morning. At lunch time my sister and I writhed over the option of tongue sandwiches. Even though my grandmother did a lot of ironing, of which she would break from, to drink a glass of buttermilk, she sent out Grandpa's shirts to be washed and starched or pressed or whatever they do to shirts that businessmen wear. We got to draw on the stiff white cardboards that they came back on.

They were the only 'complete set' couple I had to observe up close in my early years. Prosper and Clarabelle (although everyone called her Caddie) Ganty were an old fashioned couple. Pros was born into a poor family and I wonder if he was named Prosper to change that fate. Caddie was from Jessup the family. The Jessups operated the local paper in Bremerton, the Searchlight, for years and years. Caddie's family was known for humor and ridicules antics. Pros's family, who were from Alaska, was more stoic, although both sides had some colorful characters. By the time I came along Caddie and Pros were spending their time between their home on Lake Washington and South Eastern Alaska. They shuttled between in the Cessna that floated out in the boathouse on the Bellevue side of the lake.

Recently, the history of the Ganty's has been pieced together with the help of my Aunt Maryjane. Maryjane, my father's sister, who lived in Seattle throughout my youth, has very good taste in hats, she can pull off hats that you'd look silly in. She has a lovely rustle in her voice. She has three children who were close in age to my sister Gretchen and I. Gretchen lucked out with a cousin, Jennifer, who was exactly her age. Jennifer had a brother on either side. I was often matched up with the Johnny, the youngest. I remember we had baths at my Grandma Caddie's, with Mr. Bubble from the pink box. I also remember the day my sister pointed out that “Ooh, you are taking a bath with a boy!” Poor Johnny, I think I refused to bathe with him after that. Gretchen also terrorized me at about age three or four by revealing that she was in fact “really a boy” Despite the obvious evidence, I believed her, and was quite perturbed. How had she fooled me all this time?

Now really, with that kind of thinking, it's a wonder us Ganty girls ever got around to reproducing at all!

Photos Anew.

2009-02-22T14:34:00.001+13:00

getting over it.

2009-02-22T14:02:00.002+13:00

Im grouchy, but its silly, yet it's real. Here is a photo, Ive got to study now.

Life is what happens when your'e making other plans...

2009-02-19T06:28:00.003+13:00

I want to write a book called "What Ive been doing instead of writing". It would be excellent reading to fellow procrastinators and cause throat clearing and critical eyebrow movement from academic superiors and checkbook monitoring spouses. Yesterday's chapter would be called "Improv Auction".
Having just gone to the library for my new study materials on Maori culture, I was happy with the variety of books Id gotten: cookbook, weaving, history and Waihine goddesses. I was navigating the gray city of New Lynn, which I am not very familiar, with when I was routed all over the place, due to road closure. I opted for a street that didn't have cars lined up in a detour route. Not knowing where I was going at all gave me the perfect orientation to go anywhere. This time it was the Green Bay Auction house. The building had panels of small windows and there were all kinds of things showing through. The doors were wide open and there was parking, so naturally I had to park and peek. As it turned out there was an auction that had just started in progress. I had the notion that I might find an under priced gas deck oven for my top secret plan to have a bootleg pizza operation a couple of nights a week. The Karekare community is itching to get together and the closest pizza is 35 minutes away (and the closest really decent pizza, over an hour away).
I got my orientation to auctions from providing catering services for the Funk and Junk auctions in the early days of my Katrina'srestaurant. There is a certain camaraderie that happens once the auctioneer starts swiftly moving through the items. I'm talking about miscellaneous gadgets, tools and collectibles here, not precious artworks. I remember Michael Adams as an auctioneer, how his wit crept out and made even the most hardened curmudgeon crack a smile by the time the affair was over. People are suspended in a balance between pointed interest and passive curiosity as they watch things get auctioned off. Ive bought plenty of things at auction that I never would have looked for otherwise. Some items are favorite tools that even got lugged all the way to New Zealand like the sturdy copper saucepan and lid from the Cliff House restaurant. It had a critical role in our camping days of the first four months in the New country. Sometimes it poached perfect eggs, sometimes it helped with Desmond's car sickness (thank god for the lid). It has seen all the facets if the Alexander-Stone family. I have bought both functioning and non functioning musical instruments. My advice is to decline purchases that include the thought "I could just get it fixed".

Yesterday, the crowd at the auction house was a mix of men of exotic ethnic origin and dress, congregating on the left side, and white women, over on the right. The men, mostly Middle Eastern and Asian bid on tools and office equipment and the odd waffle cone maker, while the white women had fierce bidding zeal for things like busts (of Beethoven?) and antique toy prams. I saw some screamin deals get made. I went to the food counter at the back, run by an old old woman. She was a dear and I absolutely had to get a slice of tender orange cake with pale orange frosting and a cup of instant coffee. In other circumstances, the cake would be easy to pass by as not worth the calories, but this scene legitimized it, somehow. I asked the woman about her offerings, "What are those desserts, there?" and she said: "Vegetable and Ham and egg". I took my cake and coffee over to the "men's side" and sat down. I thought about the school work calling, I thought about our two student budget, I checked out the drills, pressure washers, miscellaneous box lots and garden tools in a case. I chuckled at the auctioneer's wit and at some people severe faces. I ended up with a dandy office chair on wheels with up and down capacity and a box of Crown Lynn ceramic door knobs, which I think I can sell online. I spent $37.00. It was an hour or so departure from routine. Maybe it was fiction writing research. Yeah that's exactly what it was....

Writing Restriction

2009-02-09T08:58:00.004+13:00

Today is the day I promised myself I would be caught up with my Evergreen writing. It should have been sent already. I am to have a chapter a week done for an autobiographical project and three short stories, including one for children done within the next month. Yesterday, I went to the library to work on it. I got a lot done, but most of it was not writing. I bought a beautiful crystal vase at an antique shop with an invisible tiny chip, got some lovely summer fruits, including a punnet of strawberries which I ate entirely before I got home, I got a movie for each family member and checked out three music cd's, bought a 20 dollar clearance mp3 player (signifying my entry into the modern world) and then finally got to writing for about an hour and a half in a Starbucks, of all places. I cant write at home because of those loud dirty dishes and the snickering laundry hamper, but everyone and their mother ordering drinks, no problem! So that much closer to one completed chapter, I forge ahead today. Im trying the "set the timer and lock one up in the upstairs bedroom" approach, with helpful ears to receive reports of my progress. Im all coffeed up and have had my oats. I will finish the current piece, work on the alligator story (the kids one) wrap up the cat women on the roof. If I do all that I can marry the Butte Montana reflections with the Lance section of the autibio. By then the heat of the upstairs may drive me out of my cell and perhaps I can visit my waterfall for a dip. Will I ever get to the pirate fantasy? I hope so. That one is pure escapism and I could some about now.

Family Visitors!

2009-02-07T17:17:00.008+13:00

We have Jordan's Mother Linda and his Uncle Charles visiting us now. Its been summer temperature and leisure since they arrived a couple of days ago. We put Linda in the sparse, yet welcoming, Grandma room (of course) and Charles got the nice big tent, out in front of our house with a view and bird song lullabies. Charles has taken some nice photos while he has been here, including this one of Lillian. Jordan and I have birthdays on Feb 5 and 6 and its been a treat to celebrate our birthday season with family. Charles is in the country for a bug meeting. He is an entomologist He finally got to come to New Zealand for a meeting. Charles lives in Davis, California and has just feathered his empty nest with a new family, there. Linda is a nice guest, she has healthy habits like yoga and running several times a week and she enjoys a fresh and lively diet which she eats grazing style, in small meals throughout the day. I remember at first, being mixed up about my role as hostess, since she is so self sufficient. Now I know better and just let her forage through my pantry and fruit bowl. Linda is very easy going and really revels in plain and simple family time. I think we will go camping in the Northland while Linda is here.
We have some friends up near Cooper's Beach, who have a new baby to admire. With any luck, we can get some surfing time with them, too. I gave Jordan a surfboard for our birthdays. Today we borrowed another board and went out in the exquisite pastel early morning to surf. It was my second time and Jordan's first. I would be happy just hang floating from the board, enjoying the swells, but there is so much more to it. Today, there were a lot of little fish eggs in the water that I could feel when I was paddling out to "the Back". The back is where the people who already know how to surf go, its out past the breakers.
It's a 3 day weekend here and there were lots of folks looking to catch the waves there in North Piha. I like that there are all ages and shapes of people surfing, not just the Hollywood surfing cookie cutter buff bods you'd expect from the movies and TV. I need to write for school, now. G'night

Reflections on fasting

2009-02-02T15:57:00.002+13:00

I'm having my first day of eating after 10 days of fasting (well, I had an elixir of fresh lemon juice, real maple syrup, cayenne and lots of water). I have to say it was very beneficial. I know that some reading this do not approve of fasting, so you may browse someplace for this posting. One thing I noticed is that although I wasn't eating I enjoyed cooking even more than usual. I think that my family got more inspired meals than usual, for some reason. It was nice to revel in the art of cooking again. Secondly, I smelled everything very well, I could smell which family member entered the room. I smelled every persons breath I spoke with and the summer smells of nature were as vivid and a spring lilac in your front yard. It was for the most part, enjoyable. I must say, though that the cloying smell of pancakes lingers too long! The third thing is that I was much more even tempered and philosophic about things. If I did get agitated, I just stated my business plainly and got on with life's more pleasant offerings. I didn't get snagged into a grouchy mood. I was at a loss at times when I was running errands and I usually would get a cup of coffee or some cheap sushi (it's really cheap here, and it's everywhere) I had to find other ways to pause during my day. I found myself avoiding being a guest where there is obligatory feeding as a regular custom. I had a generally quieter 10 days than usual. Giving my digestive system a rest was fine. Getting the perspective that I got was the real benefit.

Im not saying that I didn't get hungry or think about food, but knowing I had set aside only ten days for the experiment/cleanse kept me from loading into the damn fine homemade pizzas that I made, with that homegrown pesto or give in while walking past the Korean seafood restaurant, the one with the amazingly gracious hosts. I did, however, contemplate grace quite a bit. Now upon reentry into the eating world, can I behave? that will be the next test.

Why am I baking bread at 3:00 in the morning?

2009-01-31T03:54:00.004+13:00

I have a story for you. A couple of years ago I found a nice hard bound book at a primary school gala (what we call a school carnival in the States). It is entitled Dining By Arrangement. It is about an Australian woman who had settled in Karekare, a sleepy beautiful coastal community west of Auckland. The woman's name was Tina Greenville. She was raising two adolescent girls on her own. She decided to put her culinary skills to use by converting a part of her home into a restaurant routinely. People would schedule meals or parties and she would develop a seasonal menu, get her girls to help clean and decorate and "play restaurant" for the night. I found the book a delight to read because I love the unconventional idea she pulled off and the stories are witty, sometimes poignant, and there are recipes with every anecdote. When I met Clair Inwood, a woman from neighboring Piha who happens to be a caterer, I asked her if she had ever eaten at Tina's eatery. She said that she had not but that Tina now lives in Piha. She added a story that she knew about Tina that further intrigued me.

Years back, Tina came to a point where she decided she must sell her Karekare home. I don't know the details of the necessity, maybe finances dictated it. She was considering the impending transition while walking on the beach at Karekare one day. Karekare beach is a hauntingly beautiful place. It has lush green mountains meeting dramatic cliffs and rock formations interrupted by the constant waves of the Tasman Sea which changes color from pale blue to aqua to greenstone jade throughout the day. It is where the beach scenes for The Piano were filmed. That day, while walking Tina met an American man, she ended up walking along with him and sharing her concerns about selling her house. It was a transition that had significance beyond a real estate transaction and she was working it through. Tom, the American man noted eventually that he was, or wanted to be, a seasonal resident in the area and perhaps he could buy the house and she could remain there until summer came and then just make room for him when he came each summer. Wow.

The offer was considered and accepted. The months passed and the first summer of the arrangement loomed as Tina wondered how hard it would be to "move over" for Tom, the new owner to have the space in 'his' house. She was pensive. Something must have worked out right during that time, though, because Tina and Tom were eventually married. I guess that summer wasn't so hard to endure after all!

I just loved the story and it fit nicely with the lore I had already collected about Tina. Occasionally I would inquire as to Tina's whereabouts. Looking up her name in the Western Auckland phone book got me nowhere. I got some more accounts of her quirky restaurant by asking locals I met about her, but noone could tell me how to find her. I was interested in doing catered dinners from my perch and wanted to consult her about it. There were a few other things on my plate, though, like Children, two university studies programs to support, immigration anxiety and loneliness and marital uneasiness, to name a few. I didn't make any progress finding Tina to meet her and share my appreciation for her book and pick her brain for advice on how to set something up, myself.

Recently I had a 'Bed and Breakfast" guest, Carol Jackson over to stay in our guest room while she was on a one woman hiking vacation. Carol, who owns Serendipity books in Friday Harbor is a great guest. She showered us with her invigorating, 'can do' style and was appreciative of both the loud but charming children and the brand new kittens (that love to sleep on the guest room bed). Carol and I went on a hike while she was here and what we thought would be a 2-3 hour hike turned out to be a 5+ hour one. We returned home, exhausted. I was able to lay down, but Carol had an engagement with a friend of a friend in Piha. I was upstairs waking when I heard Jordan on the phone that evening. He kept saying "that's amazing!" to whoever he was talking to. Finally I came downstairs to indulge my curiosity. Jordan saw me and excitedly told me he was on the phone with Carols friend. Carol and her friend had figured out that The woman had actually met me before. She had lived seasonally in Friday harbor and had ordered a cake from me. (I filled orders for special cakes from my home, after I closed the restaurant)
Jordan handed me the phone so I could talk to the warm and chatty woman myself. She recounted our meeting in my house, (complete with reports of little Lil in high chair with whipped cream all over her face). As the conversation went on she mentioned she and her husband were living here now, that he had recently moved all his worldly belongings from Friday Harbor. As we visited about Karekare, her first New Zealand home, she mentioned that her husband had bought her home, only they weren't married then. It all came together in my head. She was Tina Greenville! Id been looking for her and she had found me. I gushed forth with the recognition and told her I loved her book and Id been informally researching her eatery and loved the story of her courtship with Tom and had retold it often. I wondered if I was staring to sound a little stalker-like, so I curtailed my raving, a bit. We had a long conversation and have had some good chats since. I decided to make her a loaf of bread to take over and meet her in person. At about 10 last night I set the timer for an hour to get up and bake the risen loaf. It wasn't until 3:00 however, that I heard the buzzer going off. So now I'm baking the (overproofed) bread and telling the story of Tina Greenville. Having a friend with a business called serendipity come to stay can have it's surprise benefits. Thanks Carol, for the visit and the new friend. Carol must be back in Friday Harbor by now. Tell her hello for me if you live there. Here is a good photo of her, taken on our hike.

Every parent has a video of the school show... Des on the far left

2009-01-29T09:45:00.003+13:00

Photos of our New Zealand life ...

2009-01-29T09:12:00.001+13:00

2009-01-29T09:10:00.000+13:00

photos of life in New Zealand

2009-01-29T09:02:00.000+13:00

Surfin

2009-01-28T16:59:00.002+13:00

Hello all you readers, I want to reveal that I am goofy footed. That is the right foot forward position on the surfboard. About 80% of surfers are "Naturals" and the other 20% are goofy footed. I think that is appropriate since the rest of me is goofy, too. I went to my surf lesson yesterday at south Piha beach. I wore my wetsuit that I got for last years open water swimming and used the surfboard that came with my lesson. My teacher, Anna Jolly, is a high school PE teacher and she reminds me of my friend,Suzy Wampler, somehow. She has been surfing all her life and is an excellent teacher. The weather was rugged and stormy for my first surf, with offshore wind creating "crumbly" waves. If the more preferable winds from the east were to be blowing the waves would be slow and curly. For two hours I worked at riding the white broken waves. One watches for an appropriate wave and when it is spotted turns around with back to it and hops quickly on the board. The board is waxed on the top to help the surfer to stick to it (contrary to ski wax which makes things slipperier). The wave zooms up behind you and you are paddling towards shore and when the wave thrusts you up and forward you push up with your arms and leap into position. The proper positioning is feet spread apart front one pointing forward along with the front hip. Both knees are bent. The back foot acts as a break and the front as accelerator. I really like surfing and its a good thing because I need a hell of a lot of practice!

Hunger and feeding mosquitoes

2009-01-25T11:09:00.005+13:00

I am on the third day of my master cleanse diet. It is easier than I thought it would be. The hardest time is the evening meal, when the family is eating together. Last night we set up our tent on our front deck, facing the Tasman sea and the lovely fading sunset. First of all, the space was too small for all of us, but we tried anyway. Now, I need autonomy when I sleep, no limbs impinging on me and no snoring in my ear. So I got up and went to the Guest room (having stolen the mattress in our room for the tent bed),Jordan followed, which wasn't what I had in mind because I knew that if the kids woke up, they didn't know where the zipper pull was and they might panic in the dark without a grown-up there. Well they did. I dashed out in the dark and settled in with them. One cat had gotten so afraid from Desmond's shouting that he opted out when I slunk through the opening, sneaking under the army of mosquitoes having a collective fantasy on the outside webbing of the tent. "Look at all that veal, one little blondie and a tender curly haired one, how delicious!" I heard them saying as they stroked there drills. Not long after that the cat on the outside of the tent started frisking with the cat on the inside of the tent. I didn't want them to damage the screen by climbing it so I slipped open the door at the bottom and encouraged the outside cat, whose name is either Joey, Twinkestar or Baby Jesus depending on the day of Desmond's declaration, to come on in and join the SLEEP. He was not sure about coming through such a small opening, though and finally I unzipped the door entirely, having forgotten about the mosquitoes and then the party really got going! All three of us have the marks of an evening in a mosquito pit. It would be better if they just silently did their business of feeding and were done, with anesthetic expertise. They do that buzzing thing, though. That is unnerving as hell. I think Ill try a different configuration tonight.

Oh Yeah, and...

2009-01-22T19:07:00.006+13:00

E Gads! I forgot to report that I am having my first surfing lesson on Tuesday! I go for a two hour lesson with a board provided for 80 bucks. It is a private lesson with a woman named Anna Jolly. She apparently has a new baby and teaches PE at local Green Bay school. Her father Mike Jolly is Mr. Piha Surf; with his shop, rentals, board crafting and even accommodation in some old jalopy caravan (very charming). Anyway, he is very vocal and full of heart, yet passionate as a bulldog, somehow too. He got a bit grouchy when I inquired about repairing a brand new kiddie surfboard that never saw a wave, due to some slacker gift orientation.
I explained to him that I was a university student in charge of providing my own PE "classes". Having chosen surfing this term has me exploring a new realm of charactors. Anna Jolly has won awards in surfing competitions and she sounds like she's in her 30s, maybe? I am happily anticipating being out in the water, out moving on the waves. Yes, it'll be good to have some mermaid time.

I am having a quiet spell with my friend, Helen. She was really interwoven there for a while. I have noticed that in friendships before: the warming up and cooling down of strong willed individuals who are friends. She moved in next door and it's been great to have her so close. The owner of her place is auctioning it on Valentine's day (a B and B + rental, keepers quarters) and maybe she's detaching from the neighborhood a little. It's really not bad, if you get on with your other things and people you vibrate with. It always swings around again.

I would love to have that place but the price is at least a million and a half. Maybe collaboration would work. Calling all B and B Partners! Calling all retreat using business'! Lets get it together, Now. Speaking of the Beatles...

We went to a concert 'Seven Worlds Collide' Which was coordinated by Neil Finn and had members of The Smiths, Radiohead, Wilco, Bic Runga, JT Turnstall, Bratty and endearing Liam Finn and many more. We attended the first of the three only Auckland performances. It was delightful. There were elements of experimentation, family and friendship tucked in there. There were video cameras all over the place in all sizes and the sound was getting worked out for the recording that was happening. The singer from Wilco, Jeff Tweedy, who was the most intriguing discovery of the night, mentioned that there was going to be an album made from the endevor, there was a pregnant pause. Neil looked up at the audience and confirmed there was an album being made. The first and only other time he put "7 worlds collide" on there was an album made, also. It was about 8 years ago with many of the same folks plus Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam. Wilco who is from Chicago was there in its entirely and they had a lot of play in the second set. There were two encores. Nice. The evening was a real recharge. Proceeds from the event and album will go to Oxfam.

Sunny Day

2009-01-22T17:48:00.003+13:00

Today was a Thursday that felt like a Monday. It may have been that the inauguration made yesterday feel like a weekend, Im not exactly sure. I took Lil to her preschool in Piha for the first time in a month (due to the holiday closure). Desmond and I set off to the beach and went for a romp in the waves. There were many others there with the same notion. The Lifeguards put up flags on the beach about 200 feet apart and all the swimming and boogie boarding has to be done in that tiny section. I had encouraged Desmond to collect some swimming shorts and he insisted that he'd go naked. I asked if he was sure, that Piha was a lot more crowded (and conventional) than Kare kare beach. He stuck to his stance- fine. When we got to the beach we took care of his sweet tooth, just to get that out of the way. He chose an obscenely gooey ice cream bar with velvet milk chocolate over a layer of carmel (New Zealanders say Car-a-mel and dont know what you mean if you say carmel) over another chocolate layer and then, finally filled with vanilla ice cream. All conversation stopped for his full enjoyment. I am fasting today and only enjoyed it with my eyes. We went out to the flagged area where Desmond got a few gawks at his Greek statue self. There was every age and shape out there. We stayed in close enough for Desmond's comfort. I do have the impulse to swim beyond the breakers, though. After our frolic in the surf we walked over to Lion rock and climbed up to the top, 270 steps up. It was out of the breeze and a good place to dry off, with spectacular views down to the beaches and out into the Tasman sea. We were getting a little too much sun so we wandered back to our fresh catch of library books and found a shady spot while Desmond ate lunch and I read to him. I like my solo times with Desmond, they are very uncomplicated. I am trying to really enjoy peaceful easy moments with my kids, these days. It is silly how much Ive tried to do while parenting young kids. I am cutting down. I found my seam ripper and I'm taking the giant "S" of all my clothes. Time to be 'Normalwoman'. There, Mom, are you happy? Well,I am, too. Lillian was ready to see us when we picked her back up, although she was quite grouchy and she said the kids at school were all stupid. Then, so were Des and I. We fed her and she got better. Then she got her choice of ice creams, a decidedly more moderate vanilla bar with chocolate and toasted coconut exterior. Jordan is at school today meeting with Sergei about some observation plan they are cooking up. He was in a melancholy state this morning, maybe because of his step grandma's recent passing, maybe the wrapping up of summer vacation for the kids, or maybe he is sad because he has to spend even a moment away from my endearing company, who knows. Melancholia is ofter vague, I find. I need to get dinner aimed at a pan. This civilian cooking without any hope of eating is a little challenging. Ill be fasting for 10 days, actually Ill be drinking maple lemonade with cayenne in it for 10 days. Its a good pocket of time in between guests to do it. When Grandma Linda and Uncle Charles come on Feb 5, I want to enjoy the summer harvest and the fresh fish we have here with them, except I just remembered that Charles isn't a fish lover, huh, everthe meal planner I am....
I got an 8 day vacation recently, with my children s writing course having a retreat and some visits to friends in the southern North Island. It was great, lots of spare time, lots of good exercise, at least an hour and a half each day and clean crisp eating. I certainly felt vital centered from it. I did have a rough splash down when I got home, though, although the only thing that got spilled was adrenalin. Things have evened out now. Jordan's friend Dmitri came around while I was gone and managed to dislodge more money out of Jordan. Student finances are challenging when a person is magnanimous by nature. We have two of those magnanimous types between us, I guess.

!

2008-12-28T05:04:00.006+13:00

Its 5:30 am on a Sunday. I am recuperating from an amazing hike down the Pararaha (river, creek, canyon, not sure what to call it) I went on a 5 hour walk/swim. A neighbor, Mike asked if we wanted to go since I had heard about it and kept asking him about access and details of the hike. It was an overcast day, that's fine with me. Jordan opted to stay at home and watch the kids, with the plan of getting some school work done.
There were 4 of us hiking in total, I being the only woman along and having the shortest pair of legs. Mike, our neighbor, is American, but Kiwi raised. He lives up the road with his wife, Monde, and their sweetheart two year old BB. Mike has a business in the US, a catering company for rock bands. The business takes him back to LA for half the year. Monde is expecting her second child, now. Mikes friend, Steve, from Queenstown, the extreme playground and gourmet haven in the south of the south island is a hunter and a historian who works as an art director in the film industry. He was very helpful in providing me with a walking stick and checking up on me, at least initially, until he realized I was somewhat experienced at romping around safely in the wilderness. He had a sharp and quick wit that kept me snickering. I appreciated the stories and background information he provided. The last of my exploring mates was Marc, a guy who I know already from Desmond's school. He has a daughter Dessie's age, named Tiger. He is also in the film industry and is a director of photography. He can be seen with his camera at most school events. Marc took the photos I needed for my promotional material for the installations. We headed off at about 11 o'clock and wound downward first, then steeply upwards until we met with a river. From that point on we took turns wearing the day packs and some would swim and some stay on the trail, which was never far from the river. There were plenty of waterfalls and lots of places of various heights to jump off into the cool water. I loved the swimming element and spent a lot of time in the water. Once cold to the core there was always a good hill to walk up to warm up with. There were so many spectacular places to take in, it was very refreshing. We stopped for lunch and I had brought a can of sardines, after pawning off one or too and having my fill, I dropped the remains into the still pond next to me. It wasnt long before a small freshwater lobster came and was scouting around the area. I think I sent a chunk of fish right into the hole where they live. Soon after a large bronze colored eel was was there, enjoying the little morsels Id dropped. Then the eel had an altercation with something in the crawfish hole and he grumpily slunk away, slipping ever so gracefully through a crack in some rocks and almost coming out of the water doing so. Fascinating! Soon there was another smaller black eel swimming around. Marc referred to the eels as friendly snakes when I asked if they were harmful or any threat to swimmers. We carried on through Kauri log jams from the logging industry that used this waterway to feed the largest sawmill in the Southern hemisphere, down at the bottom of the trek. All there is left today is a huge rusted boiler, resting on the ground like a discarded spaceship. There was a tiny tunnel that the train squeezed through to take in supplies to the crew. The wood was taken by boats away from the Manakau head and shipped all over the world. Kauri and other New Zealand native timber if especially good for home construction and after the San Francisco fires there was a lot of Kauri shipped there for the housing industry. following all that amphibious travel and cold water, the hot black sands of the beach and dunes were a welcome comfort and we ended up on our own Karekare beach, peppered with people at leisure, surfing and patrolling the swimming. We finished off the trip with a last jump from a cliff into the "pearl pool". I was creaking with fatigue when I got home and relayed the adventure story to Jordan, who gets the next turn to go, or... Ill take him to the Pararaha, myself. It certainly is not a hike that my kids would enjoy, too strenuous and treacherous, so a sitter will have to be employed. How amazing to have such resources so close to home. Pinch me, do I really get all this!!?

Charades in the tent at Lone Kauri School

2008-12-18T20:06:00.002+13:00

I recently took my hanging parachute installation to Desmond's school for a test drive. It was amazing how quick and easy installation was. Its about 10 feet across and about 8 feet high. It hangs from a commercial grade side mounted umbrella. It was sure fun, and good to get some photos for promotion of the thing for Starship childrens Hospital, who may want to have one on site. Here are some photos.

2008-12-18T19:44:00.002+13:00

A discovery!

2008-12-01T13:28:00.003+13:00

I have discovered an oasis very close to home, in fact it is at home. I had heard when we first moved to the ridge out west of Auckland overlooking Karekare beach, that there was a lovely waterfall close by with terraces of pools below it. I put the information in my mind and slowly percolated on where it might be as I went for hikes. More after Lillian's screaming is addressed! Kate

2008-11-21T09:58:00.000+13:00

2008-11-21T09:56:00.002+13:00

Self Direction

2008-10-24T09:54:00.004+13:00

I am having my second day of free scheduling. Desmond and Lil are at school and I have hours to use as I wish. Yesterday I went to choir and it was deep and satisfying. It is a women's choir and the leader is a woman named Sarah Pritchard. It was in the Titirangi War Memorial Hall. Titirangi, being a village on the slopes of western Auckland with an artful hum, and War Memorial halls ubiquitous in all New Zealand towns- artsy and utilitarian alike. It was very roomy for the six of us to let our voices out . My singing voice has been hidden in a little corner of myself for a while. We sang an Egyptian heaving song called Zoom Gali Gali and a slow and soulful song called Sleepers. Sarah is just starting the choir. I feel some parallels with her. She is forging ahead, bravely believing that her original works are worthy of focus and participation of others. This is not unlike the leap of faith I am making with preparing my autobiographical writings for publication. It seems at once, self indulgent and yet essential to share. I am reading and inspired by Knowledge of Freedom with these aspirations. Speaking of them, its time for me to begin my work. My blessings are on the breezes to you. Kate

Wake up, Wake Up!

2008-10-10T09:11:00.002+13:00

If I search anymore for my soul, Im going to have to start making a map. Today has a sense of the new. The children are having an indulgent waffle breakfast in front of Library videos. My coffee is as deep and bitter as I like it. I am writing more and this always means something good is happening. Today Jordan will return from his academic quarantine to rejoin the family. I have requested the weekend to myself here in our house. It is at once tantalizing and intimidating to have space and time to unwind and be alone. The past two weeks have been full time kids, since there has been a two week break. We've wound through various virus bugs and havent ventured out much. The weather, to put it mildly, is wild and unpredictable. I m going to fling open the windows and door and clean the salt spray off and get rid of old stuff that clogs the arteries of my laundry. Im going to read in the tub and add hot water until Im really ready to be done in there. I'm making a garden in our old row boat and I have baby plants in the windowsill, waiting. Ill miss the children. Desmond with his new whistling and Lillian's impromptu hugs and insightful quips. But they'll be back before you know it. Who knows, maybe Ill be ready for Jordan by Sunday night. Being alone is a therapeutic venture. Im recharging my batteries and preparing to have a visit from my Mom and Her Husband, Bob. Entertaining usually lifts us all. By the way, we have lovely guest accommodations, now. Let me know when your coming.

Moving On

2008-10-08T10:39:00.003+13:00

It has been a harrowing winter for me here in New Zealand. Two years of uncertain domestic life have taken a toll. New Zealanders are not as inclusive as I am used to, and that has also been hard. There are warm and open humans everywhere, though, and the best way to find them is to be one. You just have to get over the unsuccessful attempts to connect and learn to laugh at things.
Ive been on my own with the kids for about a month with sporadic visits from Jordan. I find it appealing to be independent at this time. I have some nice poems that my students at the Panmure library (ages 10-13) created that I will post soon. I have some significant writing tasks due within the next week and a half.

I went to a delightful party the other night and met some of the more dynamic residents of Kare kare. It was in a glorified cement bunker, recording studio/lofty home. The man who was having the party was Nigel, who was celebrating his 50th and 25 years in the recording industry. He produced Crowded House's Together Alone album as well as some projects with Pearl Jam. There were some great pyrotechnics and theatrical costumed dancing as well as some neat exotic tee pees and other living features. It was great to get out. I have been doing chef work, for extra money, and that's been nice, too. Procrastination needs curbing now, good day.

breaking silence

2008-09-27T12:59:00.003+12:00

It was a struggle to contain emotions. The marriage hadnt been what she had hoped for. The two had been so filled with high ideals and trepidation from failed relationships that they continued down the path of infatuation without looking at the back side of the rapport. Now seven years in the backside was obvious. Her passion and sensual nature knocked around his rational thinking. Her art and mysticism stood outside in the storm while his goals and scientific aspirations sat in the quiet spare room. It took a long time for her to appreciate the storm. Eventually the offerings of the outdoors, it's freedom and unconditional acceptance of her became a thing she valued. She realized it was freedom, not victimization.
Gradually, she divested herself from the mess, the dependence. The air cleared, she could write and play again. The children were the first to notice the change. She put herself in the throne of her own kingdom. The radiance grew. Letting the dream of their plans together loose to run away or home permanently was a huge release.
Her face relaxed, she laughed freely once more. People noted her availability. She saw things she'd missed before. Her creativity flowed. Her incredible strength and commitment to her own happiness brought on the next exciting chapters.

Creative Writing Poetry

2008-08-23T14:06:00.003+12:00

This was an exercise to avoid the most common words/ images for ocean or beach outings and still convey the ocean.

Following son and daughter along aquatic shelf
It pounds in, pulls out.
churns up froth
the squealing and leaping
is infectious
I finally leave adult behind
and charge and recede from
the walls of water moving in
clean and invigorating and
enduring.
Horizon of blue and white
promises never to stop.

Here is another one, possibly called prose poetry.

Little dogs and candles

I remember little dogs
Trixy, the black one who might bite.
So be careful.
Then there was Buffy,
the dirty toy poodle.
Also a little unfamiliar with kids.
My sister and I never got too friendly.
Then there was Hoot,
or should I say Hoots.
My grandparents sequence of Scottie dogs.
Some Hoots were friendly
and liked their
stocky wiry backs scratched
and their heads pat.
Others emitted slow low growls.

I remember my other grandma's house
half on land, half over the canal.
You could sleep outside on the deck and hear the sea creatures
between the laps of the waves.
Grandma had a full cookie jar and delicious dinner.
Often within the glow of candles
in hanging muliticolored glass lanterns.

And finally, there is there is untitled one
(from some convoluted prompt at a workshop)

Long day
melodramatic fishing pole
all bite but no catches
Search a new lead
from the quaint box

Fishing makes me hungry
pampas apple I brought sits there
Id rather have chocolate.

When I get home
I pass the serene watermelon
and go straight for
my languid corkscrew.

Oh one more, what the heck! An "I prefer" poem

I prefer wandering to storming
I prefer pomegranates
I prefer old unusual garments
I prefer listening
to speaking profusely
I prefer an old bicycle to a new car
I prefer cobbler
I prefer cherries
I prefer many short visits
I prefer to pay my own way
I prefer the song of waving trees
I prefer the smiling dishwasher
to the hauty maitre d'
I prefer lots of water
I prefer more of what I prefer
I prefer unsolicited affection.

This one is a bit of a riddle

Knife

Walking through the darkened park
nervous clammy hands choking me.
Who else is here?
What will I be required to do
if hostile forces converge...
Through trees and fountains
barely breathing until safely
released in warm allied surrounds
Used eventually,
just to cut the cake.

This really will wrap up the poetry session today...

How to get to the blamket

How to get to blanket
First, go back to where you
started the day.
Whip off the blanket, tear away
the sheets.
Launder them,
careful not to mix darks and lights.
Read the care instructions.
Cold means cold.
Scrub, soak, rinse repeat
Hold up to the light
If the weather's fair
hang up the lot.
If not,
make a crazy fort
suspend the corners horizontally.
Chop the wood,
split the kindling,
crumple the paper.
Strike a match
Stoke and stoke
the fire.
Peel off your clothes,
wipe away the sweat.
Keep going.
Turn and check
suspend and circulate.
Split, chop, stoke,
put on your coat
out to the shed for more wood
split, chop, stoke, rotate
Fluff, feel fold.
Fashion your bed
hospital corners, fold down
stripped,
into your pajamas
and get to the blanket!

Flying Angels

2008-08-21T03:48:00.001+12:00

I wore my rented angel get up, complete with platform white boots to the Panmure Library where I did a creative writing class for the afterschool kids there (well 7 of them) It was fun. I want to get my moneys worth for the minimum three day rental. I chuckled as I drove in those ridicules boots, thinking if i somehow couldnt access the brakes Id be a confusing corpse. the first responders would say: "Huh, it looks like she's an angel, do they die? I thought they were exempt" "should we call a priest or does she out rank him?" stuff like that. I had a long reddish ringlet wig on, also. More later, I'm going to watch a funny video, now. Jordan is at the bachelors party, its a quiet night. Love to you and your bony working fingers as well. Kate

Is this what dreams are made of...

2008-08-14T06:37:00.002+12:00

It's early this morning. I'm getting ready for a comprehensive dental visit. It was inspired by a dream I had yesterday. The dream is so convoluted and perverse I wont go into it. The dream did motivate me to take better care of myself. What's interesting is the contrast of my dream to Jordan's. He dreamt of gleaming new office with fancy modern interior. My dream was about getting fired by my creepy fat bald boss from the diner or truckstop.
One statement of my dismissal was that my teeth aren't white enough. I have been thinking about my coffee coated choppers, and dentistry in general. I called up about a dozen dentists and decided to go for an interesting one not far away. The new developments in dentistry make me feel like an oldtimer, remembering how different it used to be, back when we used needles and drills and there was no option of IV sedation for a dental visit. It seems that the dentists really need new patients, though and are eager to have me. I picked out a grandmotherly one who answers her own phone. Maybe she'll have cookies. I need to get some batteries and a cable for my camera so I can show you my children, or New Zealand winter, or.....

Im working up to some major decisions here, I can feel it. Kate

how 'my doing? you got an hour, buddy?

2008-08-09T09:04:00.004+12:00

This is the paired down quick review of the last week or so. We have been flip flopping about our living situation and have made a few trips to the west to look at potential rentals in the more art influenced and less poverty ridden Waitakere mountains. These trips are expensive as fuel is now about 2 dollars a liter (eight dollars a gallon for you metriciphobes). We first went to Huia which is a sleepy little community all cozy up to the huge bay of the Manukau harbor and some lovely grandiose hills. We looked at a homey little house/cottage and then tried to scope out another rental that a landlord wanted us to do a "drive by" on, only we didnt have the exact address, due to our silly secretary (me). We drove from Huia to an exquisitely remote beach, although we didn't get out due to a sleeping child. On the way back we encountered some animals busy in a scrum of sorts in the road. Upon closer look, we realized it was a young pig and two dogs in a struggle. I saw that the pig was about the size and color (black) of the kunekune pigs that people keep as pets in New Zealand. I felt for the little creature, getting tugged and chewed on by the muscley medium sized dogs. Something in me, an instinct that occasionally comes forth, moved me to get the dogs off of the poor thing. I told Jordan to stop the van. I opened the sliding door to get out and the pig headed straight for it, seeking refuse and surprising Lillian who was sitting on her booster seat in the back with me. I blocked the pigs entrance and hopped out of the van, leaving the van door open. I started demanding the dogs get off the pig. They looked at me, with a momentary confused tilt of heads and continued on with the torment. The poor little pig had one dog on his ear and another chewing on his trotters, which were bleeding. I scolded the dogs and stomped towards them. One ran away while the ear biter held tight. I picked up a half rotten stick and threw it at the dog/pig. Finally the dog let go and moved back towards the other dog. I then looked at the pig, who looked at me and for a second or two grunted and charged in my direction. I had on a big roomy colorful raincoat on which made me look larger than life. The pig either was intimidated by me or decided I was a lesser evil than the dogs and grunted and squealed and headed off towards the van, opposite the dogs. Jordan saw the encounter in his rear view mirror and saw the wild furious pig coming his way, with the door open and noone in the back seat but Lil to deter him if he still wanted to seek refuge in the van. By this time I was hollering at the pig telling it to get out and keep going! The pig, much to Jordan's relief, passed up the van and trotted on by squealing liberally, with his hair standing on end, all two or three inches of it in a tall inverted "v" shape on its back. (I didn't realize Pigs had hackles) I got back in the van and we rode on, reflecting on the incident. Jordan asked what the big collars on the dogs were, I hadn't even noticed them, but I knew from his question that they must have been hunting dogs. It was only a minute or two later when we wound around a curve in the road and there was the pig, only this time there were about 4 dogs on the poor thing, which was really squealing, now. There was a ute (New Zealand for 'pick up' or other personal utility vehicle) with an irate man, angrily pulling his dogs off the pig and trying to get them back to the vehicle. We had stopped the van and were gawking unwittingly. He moved the beast, who at this point wasnt dead, but it was clear that he was soon to be, to the side of the road. we trickled up towards him and he paused from his dog control to show us his pest control license. It was all becoming a bit more clear to me. I asked Jordan to roll down his window and I yelled through it that Oops, i had chased off his dogs who were attacking the pig. He said they were two thousand dollar animals and had been trained not to ever touch the pigs. Well, I explained, I thought it was a pet kunekune pig, due to the smallish size. He looked at me, with some astonishment and asked me if Id harmed the dogs, No, Jordan said, we just "shooed" them. Again he looked at us a little sideways (sort of as his dogs had) He asked us where we were from and Jordan and I answered at the same time, but with different answers. Jordan said we were "just from Auckland" while I said we are from San Juan Island, not far from Seattle, as I think he had asked because of our accents. He seemed to want to talk more but had to press on to find his two lead dogs. I had scared them out of radar, apparently. I realized how foolish I had been, although I'm glad I did what I did. I think the pig got my advocacy as a parting gift, even though he did meet with a grim end.
The wild pigs eat up anything and everything that they find, from worms and grubs in the roots of the forest to eggs of various birds, to even large rats. The cause a lot of havoc for farmers and erosion in the steep hillsides of the mountainous area. They were brought here by settlers a long time ago. Ive seen dead ones on the side of the road (much larger, though) and seen plenty of hunting vehicles and dogs in my travels. The government pays the pest control bill for the pigs. I hope there is some meat somewhere in the equation, someone should make use of the loss of life. I must have repulsed my vegetarian readers, by now- sorry. It was a hair raising experience for the pig and I, there were probably hairs standing on end in the van, too, I cant be sure though. Lillian has reflected on the incident several times.

That being said, Ill enumerate a few other morsels of this week. I had signed up for a doll making workshop with my favorite teacher and friend Claire Inwood, but, alas, I am not there do to my aggravated ear infection (so much for that whip cracking swimming routine) I have some sub tropical anaerobic bacterial thing going on and an unfortunate series of diagnoses inconsistencies which has now been complicated by cellulites. My ear and neck are very sore and swollen and Ive been on antibiotics and pain med's for most of the week. Down time. I missed the deadline of a writing class assignment, but did get a play written and submitted. Hopefully I can get my money back for the workshop. A hundred dollars is a lot these days. The kids have been sick as well. It may have been that they accompanied me to the clinic and got inoculated there. Jordan is on his own Jordan fest with his new teaching role and has barely noticed our ailments. I had to point out that I hadn't been able to eat or sleep for three days and that he may have to alter his schedule. I wish he was a better nurse, sometimes. Thank you, Mom, for teaching me how to nurture a sick person, do you , by any chance, give lessons?

Nina had her own disturbing news including a schoolgirl outfit and a ride in a police car.
There, I tattled on everyone!

That feels better, I think, I hope.
Remember if you want a retouched version of life, your at the wrong blog, baby.
So there you have it.
This week in a nutcase shell

I smell a rat!

2008-07-31T14:34:00.003+12:00

Does anyone else think this sounds suspicious? The Bush administration gets it's largest funding for war approved within the last 2 weeks. This unfathomable amount is $165 billion. Then Attorney General Michael Mukasey demands that Congress issue a new declaration of war. This would make the entire globe -- including the United States itself -- a “battlefield”.

This is when my opinions about impeachment cannot be contained any longer. I usually refrain from politics here, but Ill be reasonable in my examination of things and, as always, no problem if you disgree, at least we've considered the scenario. I think the Bush administration has been a very convenient smoke and mirrors gimmick for big money to mow away at our world. Most of my liberal friends say it's just too late for impeachment. "It wouldn't even be worth the effort, at this stage". I think it is worth it to remove power from the lads before November. My arguments for this are

!) These guys have been secretive and manipulative all along, they are up to stirring up trouble, whether to declare war on Iran or allow some security weakness to flare up a terrorism incident, and fan flames of fear and thus, manipulate the election.
(If you think Im paranoid, I would say, better safe than sorry, when the outcome could be as serious as setting parts of the earth afire. Parts where people that have nothing to do with scheme at all happen to live with their children and elderly.

2) What are we showing to future presidents? How will impeachment help to restore our legislative powers and provide checks and balances for our country's leadership in the future.

Lets look at the big picture. I'M for impeachment , you bet I am. Best money we could spend, and it wont take 165 billion either!

Gratitude

2008-07-30T08:58:00.008+12:00

I made a long list of things Im grateful for in my big drawing book. I think Ill post it in several places in my home... Or at least reread and add to it routinely. It is easy to see where we don't think life is measuring up. There are models everywhere showing us how we should be and how our lives should be arranged. Often those models have an agenda, though. What about we set our own agenda?

I'm grateful for a few things this morning...

1. The Banana nutmeg and vanilla smoothie I had for breakfast.
2. My Mom is coming soon for a visit.
3. My body is sore from swimming
4. I got some personal emails today (Thanks, Friends)
5. Today I get 5 hours to study without anyone else around.
6. Vail is a wonderful Realtor and Person
7. Tom and Auralee renting our house
8. Your'e reading this blog

What can you appreciate now? send it to me in a comment.

2008-07-26T10:57:00.003+12:00

Tomorrow is Lillian's birthday. She's going to be four. She has spent more time in New Zealand in her little life than anywhere else. Lillian is a sweet yet strong little soul. She shows her internal workings on her face, particularly her eyebrows. Lillian gestures musically when you smile at her. While Desmond is a whiz at numbers, already getting into multiplication, Lil has a verbal advantage. The things that come out of her mouth often have us in hysterics. She has several dolls which she devotes herself to, many of them are named Cynthia. Her favorate bear is a crusty old care bear that someone gave her at a garage sale. Sometimes I think Ill compensate it and give her a newer, more pristine or perhaps a classic bear. I just haven't found the heart, though. I suppose if we were going to get typhoid or smallpox or bugs from the thing we'd have gotten them already.
Lillian has her second festering spider bite. She climbs trees. She was born during the year of the monkey in the Chinese horoscope. Lil often disappears up. Recently when we were scouting about on a trip, looking for nice place to spend a few days with future visiting family we lost Lillian to a sculpted hedge bush. I left the chat we were having with the host of the B&B to find Lil. The place was a garden, so I rounded paths and looked into neighboring pastures, populated with cows and pigs (are they nice?) My voice had taken on the higher pitched "Im not finding you" tone. Finally when I went back to Jordan, still engrossed in conversation, I saw an uncharacteristic wiggle in a spherical bush just 10 yards away. "Ah hah!" There she was, taking things in, in the privacy of her own little chamber of a tree. Out in front of our new house we have 4 big evergreen hedgey type trees that someone planted for privacy. They are a little ragged on the top and remind me of owls sitting together. Lillian has been known to climb up 20 or so feet in them. She has a favorite perch at the daycare in a small orange tree. She is, thankfully, celebrated there for the tree climbing conversationalist that she is and not confined to the doll house or the 'educational' toys.

Winter Bluez

2008-07-24T09:50:00.002+12:00

I'm not going to sugar coat it. I'm not going to look on the sunny side. I'm blue. It's the dead of winter and I live in a little box in the poor and disparate/ desperate neighborhoods of Auckland. What should I do? Should I wrap it up? Should I go home? Where is home, anyway? Why is Jordan so damn chipper? I'm changing his classical station to something darker and more contemporary. Being an artist or a writer or an immigrant just seems too hard.

Ive decided to try something. I know that swimming and reading and writing make me a happier person so Im turning myself into a robot for mental health. When I get internal resistance about doing something "healthy" or "good for me" Im going to turn the switch to auto pilot or to override resistance. Im going to fill a whole day up with "Good Things" even if it doesn't feel authentic. If I cant find the laptop chord, I wont be stalled out, Ill lift my 2000 pound body and find it. Ill swim, later, even if I don't make it to the morning squads, Ill build the trellising for the peas and the cage to keep the birds out of the berries. Ill do this all the while, ignoring the sad little complainer trying to eek up and out from under my overbearing and automatic productivity. Ill try it for a couple of days, at least before I decide which is best. ill call it the preparation for my attitude transplant, pre- ethereal surgery. Dont digest anything fatalistic for two days, your system must be empty of sludgy gloom for the high priestess to do her work. Ill let you know how my robotic optimism approach works.

2008-07-23T21:24:00.000+12:00

Welcome to Glen Innes

2008-06-22T20:03:00.007+12:00

I am writing from our new house at 5 Hurstwood place. We slept here last night, and today we go back to our Fernwood address to finish moving and clean it. We have been lucky to have lived on that street for a little over a year. We enjoyed the Tamaki estuary and a big lovely park with lots of birds and lush adventures, therein. We enjoyed the romping of three horses in our back pasture, and got to know the local woman, Danielle, who keeps them there. We've had several nice meals with her, her daughter Rosie who is 5 (Desmonds age) and her mother, Wendy who can fill your ears with tales of both woe and wonder. There is a playpark across the street that has a very different and innovative design. This is, however, the past, now.

We have moved further into the neighborhoods of Glen Innes. Glen Innes is a suberb that has an aged feel about it. I didnt appreciate Glen Innes upon first discovering it, but with time, I warmed up to it's unglamorous welcome. There is a great Croation fish market, called Marsic Brother's Fish. You can get the best of what the shores of New Zealand can produce there. I like the hand written signs there: “Ivan's special! Smoked Mullet” or “Flounders: caught last night while you were in bed” There is a good selection of Op-shops or thrift stores in Glen Innes for those who like the egg hunt of shopping used goods. We have been making a lot of contributions there, during the move. I have gotten some very cool kitchen goods at the Salvation army, namely cute classic tureens and vintage New Zealand Plates and cups, many from the old railway service. The population is largely Pacific Islander and we are unusual to the Glen Innes community with our “Canadian” accents and our unpredictable personalities. You can buy Plantain bananas and taro root in the convenience grocery stores as well as big pineapple pie turnovers and other unusual finds I haven yet tried. Of course there are the ubiquitous fish and chips/ chinese food shops and lots of Asian grocery stores. You can get all kinds of extremely cheap stuff at the 2 dollar stores, which I have given up on, but the kids still enjoy. Id rather buy something pre owned, myself.
Im reading Animal Vegetable Miracle right now on my Friend Cate's recommendation. I like it , Its fresh. Many of the ideas in there are already familiar, like the notion of getting involved in feeding yourself locally, such as growing your own food and not eating things shipped from here to Timbuktu, (well Timuktu to here actually). (It's easy for me even consider adhering to, I live in New Zealand where you can grow coffee and peapods.) It suggests acting with optimism as if life will continue and responsible operation is to be emarked upon. Its good to read those words in print. Growing one's own food can save the world, according to some, I suppose it depends on how much extra time you can spare and if you have space and water to cultivate something. If your replacing television or video game time with gardening, it might save your mind! Speaking of gardening, I just got a load of strawberries and their daughter's in the ground. The last strawberries kept producing berries until midwinter, they didn't ripen very well though. Is there a recipe for green strawberry mincemeat out there?

It is a ridicules in a way, but we have just moved our garden, well it still is getting moved. "Near mature Cauliflower, your takin a hike!" We decided to eat the baby carrots now, though. We spent 300 bucks on prime dirt about six months ago. I also collected bags of seaweed at the shore and plenty of horse manure and compost and mixed up a great concoction for the plants. , That was why were have been schlepping dirt at all hours in the middle of winter. Fortunately, our quirky and cooperative former landladies, who were just going to put decking over the spot, told us “might as well save them! “ (said with Scottish Burrrr. ) Now replanting is the task that gets the odd moment every day and sometimes true big hunks of time.

My Evergreen studies have come to a close for a while and my Massey writing is looming with a deadline for a story in 3 days. I have one cooking, about a plant rebellion, but more ideas come and the other stories want out. Oh to control our use of time, that is the biggest element of success, it seems.

We have a resurfacing idea to get a shoreline section of land down on the north of the south island. We will buy a sailboat and live within it in the winters and work on the property during the summers. This, a romantic notion- I know, comes, possibly from our visit to a local point of interest. Today we had an interesting and inspiring day downtown Auckland at the Maritime Museum. Auckland is coined, after all, the "City of Sails". We saw 'old timey' and primitive boats neat old sailboats converted to play structures, whaling operations, crowded immigrant berths and newfangled cork boats for rowers to cross oceans on, complete with tiny sleeping quarters for resting crew. Recently an Australian group with an specially designed little hydro bullet crossed the Tasman sea by their own propulsion -just about the time that the New Zealand boys, much more traditionally, in kayaks, were finishing up on the New Zealand shore. They got bumped around by some big meanie sharks, I hear. What an adventure! going out into the powerful arms of the ocean. I have a friend named Todd Fornay, he is on high seas, all alone, for months on end. He did remember to bring a sat phone and he sends updates to us as he roams. They come in the form of emails. One can respond free with a limit of 160 characters. It blows me away, (and forgive that very bad pun, please) that he is so alone out there where the sea spreads out almost forever. Sometimes his posts are disconcerting like some system's failed and things feel really grave. Other emails are waxing so poetic and once he said the sky was pregnant and a sun was to be born in some acid tinged moment out at sea. I guess that solitude is pretty potent stuff, huh Todd!

Here is his latest one:

GRP GAS PROB SLVD! SEWNG SAILS,TUNING RIG,PREPBOAT 4 NXT LEG,MEETNG
LOCALS. I AM THE ONLY WESTERNER IN THE PAST 3YEARS! ALLS WELL, TODD

I cant remember where he even is but, a part of me is out there, with him. One time I wrote him and told him I'd astral project to the sea where he was to see him. I forgot to do it, though, I guess its never to late to learn to astral project, now. Hey, by the way, What would happen if we unlocked the power of our minds telekineticly, could we handle our capacities? If we could flip the switch of the light with our minds or shift our consciousness to another location, what would that imply for the rest of our lives? Would it isolate us from those who haven't figured that stuff out yet? Consciousness is getting some new territory for humans to stretch out in now. Do you ever feel your connection to a wider web of energy? Like awareness of other's thoughts and beliefs that are in resonance with yours? I always have. I don't know how to express the knowing in concrete terms, connection is a psycho-emotional state that cannot be measured and is rarely discussed, but surely-knowing something is a very beneficial mindset for many, and somehow knowing there are more with the same convictions away out of smell and sight and touch, but breathing and thinking on this big ole lively ball of life is comforting.

more poetry

2008-06-19T11:29:00.001+12:00

Moving out of my house
Disposing of
someone else's things.

The smells involved
intoxicating lilac, fresh paint,pungent rodent
Studying the tiles of family
Painting over names and heights on the wall
Golden cork floors from Ferdinand's Spain
My friend, the brass Imp on the front door,
Smirking with me about the secrets.

My gardens
flowering cherry, apple and plum
The pink edges between melancholy and moving on
Beach rock mosaics of my life
excavation of stone terraces
Fences to keep out the noise
Chaos to stillness

letting go of the excitement
of one plan
and embracing the next