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.

What are you reading?

Someone recently asked me what I was reading and I lied. I picked one book. In my most annoying approval seeking way I told them the book I thought they would appreciate the most. What I should have said is "Hey let me get some comfortable furniture for you to sit in and some big steaming hot drinks for us to blow on and I will tell you what I am reading right now." There is that comfortable? OK

First of all I'm reading about 10 books
Its not that good of a strategy, really, but that is what's happened.
The first book Ill share is the one that calls to me every day. Its called Knowledge of Freedom Time to change and it's by Tarthang Tulku. It seems extremely pertinent and helpful with my quandaries about what we as a race and I as a person can do to evolve past the fear driven living as a entity looking at everything outside myself as separate. Its a readable and captivating book but oddly I can not sum up what it's about. The first third of the book has been a overview of the cosmic (as in cosmos) realm and the formulation of our world, moving into more anthropological and pshcho social observations. It has a salve for a soul who regularly hears the starting gun of the rat race, and even competes in it. I look forward to the future chapters where specific suggestions for changing our competition based existence are offered. OK it's not pulp fiction... I read most of it in the early morning dark, while riding the commuter bus, somehow it seemed the perfect reading then, harder to read by the light of day, though. I read it out loud to Jordan who speaks highly of it and doesn't start snoring, usually.
The next book, some fiction, is by Mary Wesley (she published her first novel at 70 and followed it up with 9 more bestsellers in the next 11 years.) is called Jumping the Queue It's a story about a widow who plans to have a final picnic before she takes some pills and swims out to sea once and for all, only her plan is inadvertently foiled by some carefree teens. It does give the chance to meet and become curious about a matricidal criminal and well thats as far as Ive gotten. It is set in England. It is sparky and concise and I like the writing.
It would not be fair to leave out the Massey Extramural study guide for my creative writing course, which is half poetry and half short story based. It is good reading but I have to read it into a voice recorder because my mind checks out and I cant follow it while reading it. I hang the laundry and do the dishes to to the lectures and they seem to get into my brain better. I suppose that means I'm a kinetic learner. I am enjoying the poetry, and still look forward to the short stories. In June, our dead of winter, there is a contact course where I will meet some of the other correspondence students on a 3 day retreat.
My Grandma Kelly (of the salty oatmeal cookie fame) once told me that she learned that if a person could get control of time, they could master plenty. I thought of her when I found a book at some garage sale called Getting a Grip on Time. It is by Robyn Parsons. The book is wholesome and welcoming and reassuring on such a fast spinning globe. It turns out that she lives in Glen Innes, my neighborhood. She recently had an evening speaking engagement at the local library. I cried when I couldn't find childcare (but not for long). I pick up the book a lot but not many pages have been read. As soon as I cheat and don't do an exercise I lose interest. Oh well.
Im studiing rituals for school and I have a couple of books going with that; one is Celebrating the Southern Seasons which is written by an Auckland based writer psychotherapist/artist/teacher (whew) named Juliet Batten. It is chock full of great celebrations and rituals to confirm the seasons and what they may represent. The other ritual study book is a glossy slick Atlas of Sacred and Spiritual Sites. It is got everything from famous places of worship, sites of pilgrimage, isolation and meditation sites to stone circles and megaliths. I love leafing through and reading a new one when it grabs me.
I bought a book of stories by Salmon Rushdie called East, West The stories are good. This is my first time reading this Indian author. The libraries in Auckland sell discarded books for 3 for a dollar and this one was an excellent buy.
One of my co reads with Jordan is the book Blink: The power of thinking without thinking by Malcom Gladwell. Read at bedtime, truly fascinating, but usually the eyelids win. Its about our quick intelligence that happens right away when we confront a situation. Perhaps intuitive impulse might be a good way to put it.
One day as I was showing Desmond the other Desmond Alexanders of the world on Google images when he asked me to look up the images for "Joe". I did and something caught my eye, a site for Joe Vitale. He is a marketing whizz and a sort of life coach. I flitted around the internet and found he had discovered a Hawaiian based "system" that I found interesting. I looked it up in the Library and ended up ordering two books by the guy. One called Hypnotic Writing and the other one called Zero Limits (the Hawaiian one). These two books are sadly sitting in the bag awaiting their turn counting the 21 days skeptically.
The last story is one by New Zealander Rob Hewitt with help from Aaron Smale. It is a story of Rob's 75 hours in the sea off the coast of North island NZ. He was lost, having gotten separated from his diving party. Just think of that! While he was making up rhymes to keep his mind alert and focusable police were searching for his dead body! Its a good reality check, this book.

Thats about it! How about you? What are you reading? Tell me please on the comments part of this blog. It always interesting to here what people have chosen to read, plus, I need some suggestions for when I get these read!

Life (temporarily) without Jordan

Today is Monday. It is a dreary day here in Auckland. After a very sunny and dry Autumn we finally are getting some rain. This morning started at 4 AM when Jordan got up. He thought it was 5 AM because we haven't changed our cell phone (alarm) to "falling back" time yet. He has a computer science conference that he is attending in Christchurch this week. He flew out a few hours ago.
Last night I was very tired and went to bed at about 7:00. I had swam in a race simulation the day before and I have the ocean flea problem again, polka dot-pocking my midsection. The swim was only 2.8 K but the sun wasn't out and I got a little cold. That is the last ocean swim I'll do for the season. I have really enjoyed the weekly clinics and the races I entered. Anyway, Jordan was extremely energetic with the children in the evening after I turned in. They thundered up and down the hall and laughed hysterically about God knows what. This morning the room was rearranged and there was a big floor puzzle put together. I guess he was getting in some power parenting before he took off. I let Desmond stay home, today, rather than take him in late. We went to the library and got some great books, movies and cd's to revel in while the wind chases the rain around outside. We have a deal about tomorrow, though- business as usual! It's a little sad, the idea that Jordan wont come home from work today and greet each of us all with his own signature hello. I suppose this is what helps marriages last. Appreciation.

We looked at a cute little cottage in charming little Laingholm yesterday. The house was a tidy, cozy house on the right slope to get the sun in the foothills of the Waitakere range. The family selling it has moved up north and taken up sheep farming on 50 acres. We looked at the paperwork for the house and it was interesting, noting everything from its inexpensive beginnings to its lack of proof of a permit due to a council records fire. It would be a nice little place to call home, but no real "Got to have it!" flood of feelings came rushing in like the other place we are interested in.

Its now extremely quiet and I must see why....

This Quarter is about making spaces

This Evergreen School quarter is a Fine Arts/ Anthropology combination. I am incorporating the installations that I'm making with events which could happen inside them. This could be a meditation or a cathartic ritual or any kind of ritual you would want. I will be studying the history of rituals and whats going on in rituals today. Here is the third environment I have designed, it is just the basic structure, ready for its beautification. It's nice to give a focus to this unusual artwork that has been looming in my mind for a couple of decades. This one is about 5 feet across. The larger one I'm making is 10 feet across and is made out of a French silk cargo parachute. Im hoping to have several to show together within the next few months. Its not 'paint by numbers', that's for sure!

househunting with Lil

I was looking at a house the other day with Lillian. Jordan had a strange swollen foot and Desmond was glued to something on the dvd player. The house was a strange place. It was all torn apart with no gib on the walls or ceilings. It was in a very private hollow of bush. The road to get there was a hairpin single lane that clung to the steep terrain. The place had been left unlocked for us. Lillian immediately wanted to get out. the hanging cobwebs and dark afternoon lighting was a little eery. It was a large "L" shape. I knew the driveway was bad when I went down it, very steep. I didn't worry too much about it, though. Heading out I couldn't make it up the drive. I had to inch downward and was quite close to the edge. Lilian was amused by my intensity and determination to escape without injury. After three tries we squealed and lurched out into the not very spacious road where, luckily, nothing else was approaching. I looked back and saw a cloud of smoke, YIKES! I think the writing was on the bulging vein walls, the answer was "no thanks"

Wishes are fishes and Im hungry

Jordan and I have been looking at property to buy for our home in New Zealand. We have looked at raw land and at shacky shanties and dreadfully boring suburban boxes. We are smitten with a house on a piece of property out west of Auckland. It is 11 acres with a house and a studio on it. It has an orchard, chicken house, waterfall, gardens, and is at the end of a long rustic downhill road. It is financially ambitious , to say the least. This has motivated other changes. I will be returning to fix up our Friday Harbor house and prepare it for sale at the end of this month. There are so many ideas we have that could be implemented up there on that coastal mountain ridge. I find myself in some emotional jeopardy from my desire for it.

Are we allowed to have something so wonderful? Can we generate the $3900 monthly mortgage? If not, can I find an investment partner to share it with? I know risk offers reward, but where is the line I shouldn't cross? Am I missing the point of where we humans need to be focused all together? If we are to have a life sustaining planet for our children should we forget about securing ourselves future comfort and think about the greater whole instead? Perhaps if I pledge to help others with the land, share it, I can have it. Ive been at the table with god before, offering promises for outcomes I want. Usually it is about my children's safety or some dire situation. I'm sorry that I call meetings with God for such needful times. I think God knows she's/he's always invited for all the times, plain and grandiose ,though. How did we get to God, anyway??

I look forward to seeing Nina, my daughter, and to visit and philosophize with Cate Mckee and tell Nancy about my exploration of Devonport on my recent week of working there. Ill see Natalia's baby and eat Tims pastrami and have roving walks with Barbara, where we really let out our reflections and true secret opinions. Ill hopefully get to cook with Laurie and maybe do some ritual magic with my women friends who meet on certain moons. Ill catch up with Beth. Chinmayo and I will sing and laugh. Larry will be his lovely jovial self, neighbor Jim will greet us from his patch. Serene Sue will have coffee in the thermos and Bill will give me that Scooby doo smile. Debra will undoubtedly show up to say hi at the perfect time and Ill get to see her domain's progress. Annie will have a few new masterpieces done. It will be something of a closure, I suspect. I look forward to the lilies poking up and the tulips unwitting cheer in my front yard. Ill feed the strawberries and tell them goodbye. Ill lay down on the stone terrace I built and soak in it's heat. I'm coming home, for the last time.

Rangitoto Island to St Heliers swim

Here it is! The thrilling finish line, complete with naked white elfins. I added some drama to the Rangitoto/St. Heliers swim by waiting too long to register and it wasnt clear if there was going to be room on the ferry to Rangi'. As it turns out there was a smaller vessel that got hired for the first 40 late registrees, and I was one, so alas I swam!

Sometimes, like when I am about to do something on the edge of my usual behavior , such as swim a few miles with hundreds of other people, I consult my cards. I pulled out my goddess cards and got Coventina, who lends purification and Irene who is all offers peace as her message. So since I didnt get the Goddess of the shark kingdom, I followed my footsteps, which pretended like they were going to the swim all along. I will articulate the swim for you in the very next blog entry, very soon. I am temp cheffing this week between school quarters in Devonport, which is quite nice and a lovely ferry /bus commute!

Giving it up

I have been experimenting with weeding out habits. I went for a month without coffee a while back and I slept much better and my mood was more even. Coffee slowly crept back in and is on the chopping block again. I also stopped drinking alcohol, its been a couple of months, now. Im not a problematic chronic alcoholic, I'm actually a fun episodic drinker. The trouble is that the occasional episodes are debilitating afterwards, causing lethargy and what I call comfort eating. If you do that once a week then the calories and time use setbacks add up. I also have a tendency to get overly nice and generous to a point of making decisions to give raises, invite distracting guests and, earlier in my life, cock eyed (no pun intended) romantic choices. I decided that I could use that time and control of my life more than I needed that luscious, complex, rusty lobe of red wine in my graceful clasping and sophisticated hand. As you can see I have been pondering the role of alcohol plays in rewarding ourselves and my notion of it being glamorous and stylish. I don't want to be one of those non drinking zealots, or have a dogmatic approach, either. I have to find new rewards for myself after that long day or to celebrate that great breakthrough. At first I was sensitive to alcohol around me, in movies, on billboards, hearing the neighbors always emptiing the bottles into the recycle bin. Somehow though now, I'm not as bothered that half the world still drinks. I wake up fresh as a daisy and there are no onion ring sessions with Sunday brunch anymore(sorry to my friends who have that as the favorite activity, and you know who you are) or gooey Carbonara to ease the ugg.

One nice bonus is the money one saves if you remove that bottle or two of wine or those beers from the weekly shopping cart. This is particularly important when you are raising a family on two student allowances. If you don't buy the wine, you can splurge on those other indulgences like the "grab me now" thrift surprise at the "op shop" (New Zealand's word for second hand store-opportunity shop) Yesterday I found a NEW pair of my favorite Tasmanian boots (200 bucks in NYC or Vancouver) for 8.00. I felt like angels were involved, since my pair are starting to have a "farmhand" look. Eight dollars, that's just one bottle of the cheapie New Zealand Sauvignon blanc.

It seems to be working out well, so far. We'll see how it goes when I work at a gourmet deli and wine shop next week.

Honey, Im home!

Hi, I'm back, I missed you. I have wrapped up school and now I have to make the next contract. It's always a dog of one sort or another chasing my rear! I am relieved to have finished that school term and am reveling in my tertiary credit. I noticed that I was just exhausted after finishing up various writing projects, sewing together things and always trying to get to the pool. I love the new habits, though. I'm going to hunt something down to put on here. It;s someplace in my emails let me find it. It's a confession of how many things Ive started (writing) It was meant to be an evaluation for school but it soon wandered on a walkabout and although I didn't dare use it for something as formal as a school evaluation, I thought it had value. It reveals my A-1 good intentions to write. I know some people say "better not talk about projects in the making, thus let the energy out" where (I guess) it will run away and find a new owner and they (not I) will make the kazillion dollars and the Caldecott/ Nobel prizes while I'm still pondering or (worse yet) talking about how I'm going to write it.
Well I say "phooey!" My good ideas aren't going to run off to a new thinker/doer- they are going to be promiscuous and actually multiply! I'm letting them out! Even if someone took my story line, it would be different than what I would write. If the flow of what I'm thinking is getting out there, then that's progress. Darn it, I'm trying to be a writer and assert that I have something to say, aint I! Let's go! Keep it coming, churn out the pieces 123.
Well It doesn't work that way, really. At this stage, at least there is a lot of crumpled paper and rewrites that make me wonder: which was better, the raw or the refined? Here is the excerpt so You can have a look see into my little brain.

We (my illustrator friend and I) are working on a children's book about an Alligator which comes up the sewer and his host's creative solution to get him back home. The story is written in alliteration. Further children's stories are in various half composed shambles on the floor of my little life. What's Your Treat? is a comparative journey of what various people and animal's favorite treats are. The Old original "Down at Katrina's Cafe" mother/daughter seaside restaurant book got a visit from a storm ridden mermaid. She's working a few shifts before she goes back to her watery ways.

I have barely started work on a novel, as well, which is about a woman who gives up a child earlier in life with legal clause to be notified if the adoptive parents die. They do, She gets contacted, she oozes with guilty motherhood and shuts up her unconventional remote life to return and 'become' a parent. Everything takes a strange turn when it is revealed that the child is responsible for the deaths. I have the vague plot outlined (obviously) and I have written a couple of scenes out, specifically the aborted abortion and the labor. They are just scraps, but they weren't there before. I think I'll either get a book on the process of writing a novel or take the Massey course. I have friends on San Juan Island working on novels, they support each other in a writer's group, also.

Did you see the gardening poems that I sent? To me,they don't shine so much, after getting a scope of what a poem is supposed to be like from my writing class, Deception, nuance without a prescribed agenda....a lie that tells the truth.

This is just a reject communication to my adviser, but it gives you an idea of my octopus approach to creative writing. We'll see which ones will make it to the finish line, now, wont we.

Speaking of finish lines, I have my most challenging swim coming up on Sunday the 30th of March. The Rangitoto to St. Helliers swim. Its 4.6 kilometers and I'm getting scared! I went to the swimming clinic a couple of days ago and had a run in with some organism that 'stings' you , although it is painless when it happens, the result is almost exactly like a mosquito bite. My torso looks like it was in a cage with 250 mosquitoes and my hands were restrained! I haven't counted them, but even Lillian was impressed( and she holds the record for the most bug bites in our family) Is this legitimate excuse to back out? I suppose I could get a darned wet suit like everyone else and it wouldn't be an issue. I'm such a purist/snob when it comes to wearing my own skin to swim in. I think Ill take the kids on the Rangitoto ferry tomorrow to check out the scene and see how many big red (read painful) jellyfish there are between here and there. I have looked forward to this swim with ambition and trepidation for months. I want to hear corks popping when I drag my soggy self outta that water! I have the adoring children and proud husband at the shore in the scrapbook of my future that I leaf through all the time.