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.

Home Found!

Today we picked a new rental home after searching near and far, we decided to stay in the area where the kids are thriving in school. We got another former state home. Solid and uncomplicated and 50 bucks less a week! More soon.

Old buddy old blog...

I see the bookmark on my browser, dear blog. I feel guilty when I pass over it, mumbling..."but where would I begin..." I will thank my external prodder for nudging me to write (Mom). Ive been roving along composing transitions lately, it is yet to be seen if anyone will show up to play my score, though. My recent trip to the US was sort of like a very social boot camp. I can say that the most satisfying part of a 26 day trip back to San Juan Island was the human contact. Having daily visits with my beloved Nina and her world was wonderful. I stayed with my generous and tolerant friend Nancy and her home and her company was a sanctuary from the rigors of landlordship, house refurbishing and fsbo marketing. Smack dab in the middle of the trip Nina and I took a sojourn to Spokane to Dustin Hannafious's college graduation. Dustin graduated from Gonzaga having studied civil engineering. I loved the collecting of family and the goosebumpy bagpiping ceremony. Nina and I stayed in the fanciest hotel ever, called The Davenport. I got in a nice swim and Nina a treadmill walk there as well as a dandy mother's day breakfast downstairs. I was able to visit with my Evergreen sponsor, Gail Treemblay, on the way home , revealing much more common ground than I had realized before. She has created and shown some incredible installation artworks, often with a political message. It's great to have made the connection.
I had several nice visits with Bob, my father in law. I worry about him, there all alone without us close by to lend an occasional hand or ear. Bob showed Nna and I his garden grounds and he came to a rollicking potluck where some spontaneous theatrics came to life. One highlight was Larry , Nina's boyfriend portraying a blind female chef. He belongs in the family, I think. I was a fifth grade teacher with turrets syndrome and Chinmayo's horse at aerobics class had me in stitches. These roles were imposed by the crowd who added them on one by one as we struggled to portray them while standing on the "stage" (or sauna foundation) I had a seaside visit with the girls, including Cate McKee. Kim Bell had another set of girls out to her lovely rustic cottage and showed us her studio where she makes grand and whimsical birdbaths.

I enjoyed various Lawrence women from Natalia and her new daughter, Charley to her solid new grandma, Lisa and a new exposure to Anna, who was a smart and hilarious co house guest at Nancy's. Nancy was galivanting around some, between her cutting edge job of facilitating an affordable housing structure within the community and beyond at conferences and her devotion to her two grandchildren. I had too short of time with Laurie, who is always at the helm of her popular eatery The Market Chef and her energetic family home. I sadly missed my friends Bruce and Tina altogether! I guess we'll have to meet on some other corner of the planet. I could go on forever about the cozy cradle of friendships that I have even more appreciation for now, after living in the socially cooler climate of New Zealand for a couple of years. I am Proud of Sue for putting herself onto the list of important people to nurture. I see Mary Nash mellowing into her role at the top of the welcoming and sending off point that is The Doctor's office. Restaurant ownership is a heck of an education! isnt it.

The house project that was the focus of my trip was both an ordeal and a labor of love necessary for me to move on to what is next (which is?) The fact that my tenants hadn't found a new home when I had arrived and the property manager who put them there wouldn't even answer my calls to give me "starting point" documents (Im glad I never voted for her) (oh stop it, Kate) Alls well that ends well, or should I say once the boat is launched why worry who was not there pushing off. Im happy with the cooperation and civility that we had during the stressful time of all that transition and I must say, I don't relish the job of landlord.

On the flip side of that, since Ive been home, I have been absorbed in the process of finding a new rental home here in Auckland. Our delightful landladies, a couple comprising of one opera singer and one Prison warden/ housing New Zealand manager, need their house back. We knew this was coming, but it doesn't make it any more fun to be at the mercy of the many various property managers. Some are very nice and some are patronizing and snooty. Some have such thick accents that the messages are questionable. Im not racist, but if I have a human relations based business, I'd pick someone who people can understand as a receptionist! We have spent three days looking at houses in the area where we currently live. Yesterday we were given very overt messages from some pretty shady characters. There are Tongan gangs to the south and Maori gangs to the north. Which do we prefer, Got me? What do they eat? could I cook my way into their hearts? Cant we just move into the no gang neighborhood, oh yes, just move the decimal once to the right and your safe as a cherub. We had such good luck in finding our current house, we'll have to think positive and find another one. The truth is that we have it pretty good, while lot's of families around us have a lot more uncertainty and struggle. Why is it this way? Why are resources squandered on violence and hate while innocent children navigate such scarcity? Can we just get on with evolution and take care of ourselves here? Easy for me to say i suppose... Ill stop here, before I get any soggier. More when the sun comes up tomorrow. Kate

Open House

Potluck on Friday Night May 9 Barnard's 6:00

Hello all you readers. If you are reading from San Juan Island and it hasnt come to be Friday Night, the ninth of May then Ill urge you to come to a potluck at the Barnards house at 417 Point Caution road (off Sutton road or as you may know it- the dump road) It is at 6:00 and I think Daniel Finn is coming and possibly the Chadwicks and anyone who wants to hear the New Zealand quips and quandries and eat some springtime vittles, and undoubtedly laugh. We could play charades or maybe I can get Daniel to bring his guitar... anyway, I hope to see some folks there that I havent had a chance to see thus far on my focus pocus house selling trip to the island. It looks like the house is just about empty of the folks who were living there so it's full steam ahead with selling it. Ive decided to put a prenegotiated price of $317,000 on it to move it before I depart the country on the 21st of this month. Come on Buyer! I know you are out there! I enjoyed a campfire last night at fouth of July beach. The girls and I got a few songs in and a couple of us had a skinny dip or two in the shining pastel and certainly bracing water. I have had regular emails and calls with the family at home who are living on pesto and cucumbers from the garden and doing such unconventional acts as eating dinner at the park across the street, that, apparently was Lilli's idea. On with the day!

Oh Life!

This evening I am thoughtful.
I am staying at my friend Nancy’s house and there is another house guest, Anna Lawrence who is here to visit her niece, Natalia, who has a 12 day old baby (who was 10 pounds 9 ounces at birth) We are a funny trio: witty, loud, reflective, and passionate about our families and opinions. Tonight we had a dinner that Anna prepared, delicious salad greens with lot of surprises. Tomorrow we are having a Primary Pizza feed. Anna and I have been warned about the seriousness of the gathering. I hope we can behave!

My brother in law, JD had brain surgery today. It really puts into perspective how even the most centered and competent people- well, all of us actually, are not exempt from vulnerability. I feel especially tender-hearted about JD and I am at odds as to how I can help, or even express my feelings around the situation. The human spirit is strong, though, and many, many families navigate these treacherous waters and all of them arrive on the shores buoyed and nudged there by hope gathered from sources, both familiar and unexpected. My prayers are with you, JD.

I am here in Friday Harbor to sell our house, which is a modest and artsy first home. I arrived here to learn that the Matthews, our tenants, had not yet found a place to live and two days to go until the end of the lease. I felt the tension of the situation, and struggled not to react. How was a bitchy, impatient approach going to help, anyway? I was glad to have refrained from bearing down heavily after they had secured a place in two days. Today I went there with Nina to garden while load after load was moved out of our little house. How did they walk around in there?
Compassion is a generous friend. If you remember her, she’ll shower you with true satisfaction and contentment that is far better than cakes or wine, flattery or pride.

My friend Natalia’s baby’s name is Charlie, She is a solid little nubbin with lots of long black hair. She looks perfect. Natalia is exhausted and depleted by the ordeal of 40 hours of labor culminating in a C section. Natalia is in that chaotic first two weeks of having a baby OF YOUR VERY OWN! She has her wonderful whispery humor and smiling eyes, though. I think she and Charlie and her dad, Adam, will have a wonderful time together. What wonders!

Global Cat Sitting

MY name is Caterina E'stone and Im an international cat sitter.
This was a hilarious post that the internet gobbled up. Pooh! More when I get over it. Kate

American Soil!

Whew! I am back on American soil!
I’m at LAX awaiting a flight to Seattle. Its been 20 hours of travelling and Ill have 11 more before I get where I am going, which is San Juan Island. It is great to be with my own countrymen. I can tell I’m here because there are people with obscenely large Starbucks cups and there is such a variety of 'looks' here. I’ve seen two different kinds of Jewish sects already: One with big hats and one with little hats. They had loads of kids who didn’t seem any different from the average modern kids in dress though, huh? The American public is more inclined to talk with strangers, and have a laugh that spreads around a little. I never noticed that until I lived in the well behaved and reserved land of New Zealand. Here in the states, sometimes people (strangers) even touch each other, just as a gesture to urge you on in a line or some insignificant part of a conversation. Its refreshing to me.
I had an interesting experience that colored the flight from Tahiti to LA which is an overnight 8 hour flight. By some stoke of luck or karma I got an entire center row to myself. I have never been able to sleep on planes and I find the long flights quite agonizing, especially because I usually have a couple of kids to fend for. They pass out in some splay of a position and I watch them enviously as the slumber in the sky. This time I have no kids and four glorious seats to completely spread out on. I anticipate someone could ask me to share my luxurious row of seats and am a little conflicted about what I might say if asked. Sure enough, a woman about my age, yet with a skinnier, more professional look, asked me if she could have some of the seats. I hesitated. (This is where she was to take the cue that no, they were mine) God had given them to me because I am on a travel marathon here. I had won the seating jackpot; it was my payoff for sitting underneath and next to all those kids and strangers and my sleeping husband for so many trips. I might get some sleep, myself! I wavered there for five minutes inside of ten seconds and agreed to share the seats with her. I was immediately mad at myself for not having the courage to take what I needed, at the risk of looking (and being) selfish. Also, something in the way she asks bugged me, she is guilt tripping me, she kept saying “so I can sleep, so I can lie down” “It’s only fair” I at least told her to let me know when she wanted to sleep and I would move my legs at that time. I had heard her say she was hungry and I figured she could stay in her seat long enough to eat her meal and I could at least revel in my seats for an hour or so.
Now I have a well practiced pattern of serving the needs of others first. I was taught that credo as a child and years of being a restaurateur and chef has further ingrained it in me. If someone wants something, give it to them, without question, and without delay. Well, it isn’t always a winning way to go. Sometimes it’s a good idea to think of yourself first. My mother in law, Linda, once told me about how she was using the airplane breathing mask instructions when her son was a hungry bear cub and wanted food NOW. She, however, fed herself first and then helped ‘put the mask on’ or feed her child. It caught me off guard at first when she told me that, hadn’t she heard of the selfless mother oath we are supposed to take as we give birth? Wait… not everyone took that oath of unconditional martyrdom?! Oh heck


Having heavily hydrated myself at the Tahiti layover, I finally went to the toilet on the plane. When I came back she was all spread out on the seats. I told her I thought she might do that. She said, smugly, like I used to hear from pampered girls in high school “well, that’s what we agreed on” She was right, I had. I wish I hadn’t though, and it started to bug me. I tried to explain that I was hoping to spread out until after the meal, that I had already been travelling for a long while (she had gotten on in Tahiti) and even that two seats aren’t really much better than one, since there is the tension of falling asleep and falling off or onto someone else’s precariously placed body. I wanted to renegotiate. She got more entitled and snotty with me and when I pointed out that she had an attitude she denied any tension between us or any attitude and again said it was only fair. I asked her if she always shared her good fortune when she got it. Well OF COURSE she did! At this point I was agitated beyond sleeping or eating and I actually told her I had changed my mind! Wow! That is so not me! I usually would stew and brew with the festering splinter of victim hood. I had taken action, stuck up for myself. She said she hadn’t changed her mind! She said softly, “hey, we are both small.” (Nice try, honey) I asked if she would be willing to lay sardine like so we could both stretch out. That is what I wanted, not to be curled up. At this she said “You know, I’m not going to do this” She collected herself up and with a stony stare went across the isle from whence she came. She noted that I was very rude. Yes, I know I haven’t been graceful, but I’m learning. . She also said simply “Karma” I told her I thought that was what brought me the seats in the first place! Next time I’d say, “Sorry, I’m on a very long travel and I’m taking these seats for myself” Or I may say: “look, Ill take them for half the flight and you can have them for the other half”, then we’ll both get an opportunity to really stretch out. Actually next time Id offer them to someone who is warm and sincere, someone Id like to sit by. I don’t want to be manipulated into it, though. I’m sure she’s writing up her version on her blog right this minute. Pardon me for my laundering of social soils in front of god and everyone. I’m not really sure God reads my blog, I hope so.