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

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

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!

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

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?

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

Photos of our New Zealand life ...

 
 
 

 
 
 
 

photos of life in New Zealand

 
 
 
 

Surfin

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

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...

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

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.

!

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

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.

A discovery!

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

 

 

Self Direction

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!

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

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

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

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

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...

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?

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!

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

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.

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

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.

Welcome to Glen Innes

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

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

poems from my course...

This is a poem where you take a word and explore the words that ere within it and and word smith some sort of connections around them. One thing about poetry that I love and didn't realize is that a poem may be a better poem if it takes its own way instead of starting to fulfill a preconceived role, often surprising even the poet.


Antelope the interloper

Antelope interloper

Cant elope, though

Just a joker

Only jumping through:

An anti lover

Aunty Lope

leaves Uncle Saunter

Uncle now an anti loper

Telo-pathic antics

up the ante

Its fruitless

Cant elope

Just a joker

Antelope a loner

Ok try out this one, it may be easier to swallow...

Swimming from Rangitoto Unit 5, Exercise 1

Last of March, on the calender for months

Collecting apprehension there

Boat with swimmers purring, creasing the channel

Absorbing my uneasy breaths

I watching waves while the winged watch me.

Itching to be anywhere else

I stare down the unapologetic water

Disembark on a symmetrical isle

Under dressed, uncomfortable, unctuous and ambling

Bullhorn rips release, causing cringe

Seven hundred swimmers surge to settle the score with ambition

Obvious opponents:

Fear, ferocious fish, stinging fronds, freakish fantasies.

Stroking and breathing, breathing and stroking

Forgetting and remembering, again and again

Getting lost and finding

The distant cliffs that mark the other side

Tiny swimmers on jaded sea

Mental toil turning over

The welcome shore comes into view, wild sea washing me forward

People on the shore, friendlier by the stroke

The pale sand coats me with a glimmering goodbye

Work winds into winsome

and finally my anti nuke pet poem about the newscast I saw of the ever so tantalizing and titillating missile silos in Montana on King 5 news. My scowl turned into this poem. Beware, it says the word Fucker. If you dont like reading that then you may not like it. Given the way I feel about Nuclear weapons, it seemed an appropriate word.

First time press access,

Such a sensational story

Eager newscaster, stupefied interest

Fresh farmed American fear

Who eats this stuff?

Why are they showing us?

That bulbous sinister Fucker,

Sits there like an arrogant stone

Let it sit there forever

Silence the silo

Smooth and polished, the camera catches

It's aerodynamic snicker.

Lay down old man missile

Your time is over.