Iiiiiiiiit’s Groundhog Day!

Or, maybe it’s not. It’s not really something us middle earth folk notice, due to the lack of Groundhogs.
Regardless, it feels like the movie version at the moment. I guess I should talk about it being Winter, and the inevitable slowing down and taking stock. Nourishing broths (of which there have been a few in our household recently) etc..etc. But I’m about ready for some longer days, perhaps introducing that extra hour of daylight back in to the evenings to make it feel like life ‘s not just consisting of bed, work, home, dinner, shower, bed, work, home, dinner, bed, work, home, dinner, bed, work, flu, beeeeeeeeeeed, dinner – y’know.

Here are some photos to prove we still exist…But that aren’t really very interesting to the general populace.

Pizza’s, picnics and selfies.

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Selfie

 

The joys of winter time and it’s sometimes mundane same-samey-samesame routine.

Happiness is a beautiful nail

Bit of deception in that title, as I tried to google the correct nail, about a thousand images of decorated fingernails bombarded my google page. Gross. Anyway, I am talking about this.

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It is rare these days to see such a beautiful detail in a house, let alone in a garage, whose only view is out to this…ImageAlright, I will acquiesce that such a view is more than worth of a few well chosen details. And can you spy my little pobble roaming across the stones?

New Zealand seems to have an obsession with cheap building materials, which only serves as a stark contrast when one stumbles upon finishes such as this.ImageOr this.Image

P’raps I am being a bit silly about it. But Copper trim? Stainless steel details that have been welded with the utmost care? It really is lovely to see such stunning work. Kudos to the craftsperson that created this simple, yet beautifully detailed work. I loved walking past this and seeing actual real timber being used with so little embellishment.

Probably I was a little bit crazed with the fact that we were finally going on a tiny mini vacation with some very dear friends, but I was hyper sensitive to how lovely everything was. Weather, surroundings, family, friends, finally some quiet, and a very decent game of charades to top it all off.

And, Ta daaaaaa, she can even levitate the stones?ImageTired stones after a busy day of being levitated.Image

 

ImageI wish I lived here and could just wander out into the water each morning for a swim.

Bring on the next tiny, mini, itty bitty vacay.

.m.

Ten reasons why walking with your children is bad for your health

1. It will inevitably give you heart palpitations as they scoot/run/ sprint/ bike off into the sunset and leave you shouting ‘LOOK DOWN DRIVEWAYS,’ ‘LOOK DOWN DRIVEWAYS,’ ‘LOOK DOWN DRIVEWAYS!!’

2. They will complain every. step. of. the. way.

3. You will end up holding the scooter/ bike/ dirty clothing/ and the child in some bizarre uncomfortable configuration.

4. They will need to go to the toilet.

5. They will shout at you about how cruel you are for taking them walking.

6. You will have a near heart attack with the weight of all the gear you are carrying and the guilt of being a bad person for taking the children walking when you should have just let them watch another movie.

7. You will get tired beyond belief at the half way point and struggle to comprehend how you might return home.

8. You forgot to bring your cell phone because you were trying to be all free and lovely and you will KICK yourself.

9. Your children will glare at you with unfettered hatred in their eyes.

10. What has been walked, cannot be unwalked.

11. Blisters.  See? Walking is such an unwise activity, there is no end to this list…

12. You will get a stick in your eye.ImageImage

 

13. You will discover that the new jandals you just brought will again be two sizes too small and you will make them wear the jandals anyway.ImageImageImage

14. There will be gate fights, and they will be of EPIC proportion.Image

 

You have been warned.

Goodnight.

.m.Image

 

 

 

 

This and that. AKA, random nothings.

There are truly very few pleasures in life as great as sitting around with friends and consuming food. It even makes things like doing the dishes afterwards a bearable occurrence. We visited some friends on the weekend, and had a freaking delicious meal. The meal was immeasurably improved by the fact my kiddies were entertained and pottering around elsewhere the majority of the time.Image Aside from the meal, and the company, the surroundings were as close to perfection as I could imagine for my future. Aah for a little more land to rattle around on and an Apricot orchard. Le sigh…

Autumn in Hawkes Bay is the time of year where food is in an abundance, every market has more varieties of apples than you can shake a stick at, every garden has at LEAST one Feijoa tree, every bike ride has to be to a destination hosting free range Walnut tree’s. We even have a chicken or two now that are managing to supply us with a few eggs.

The kids like nothing more than gathering every Feijoa within property boundaries, and gorging themselves. ALWAYS this occurs immediately before dinner time, and I am left with two smalls feeling nauseous from over eating, and an untouched meal. Found them out there again today, along with my cutlery drawer.

ImageImage Little punks!

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PS, my chickens still detest each other. WHY! 

Why can’t my Chickens be friends, and other tales of woe.

My mum brought us a couple of beautiful little Bantam hens the other day and one promptly flew away and got eaten(there is more to this story, but it is a sorry tale). I felt terrible for her sister, and was kindly gifted another hen by a friend. Well, lo and behold, they despise each other. Watch this space for happy developments, but I am not holding my breath. The little lady Bantam was happiest with her mirror as her companion I suspect.

While I’m on the topic, why is it so hard for my kids to maintain a more even tempered and calm relationship. Why does it always have to be so tumultuous.

One second my children are trying to tear each others faces off, and the next they are in laughing hysterically. I don’t get it, I can only be the even tempered (read:shouty) adjudicator and try and keep them side tracked as much as possible.

Why wont my little girls fringe grow. She looks like a certain South African singer who I Google imaged and her photos are the stuff of my nightmares…ImageThis is honestly the least scary image I could find… I can’t look.

 

My babes hair…

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A better angle perhaps.

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Anyway, as my mum and the Mainland Cheese ad say, Good Things Take Time.

Why do I keep thinking it is a good idea to pick Walnuts. My kiddies spend each outing scrapping and whinging and complaining and asking to get back into the car and go home. No matter what I try, it seems fated for disaster. Here is the most pleasant of the pictures from the latest outing.

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They were complaining loudly about the cow by-product on the track. Like WHAT BUSINESS does animal waste have being in the outdoors. Look at her little face there in the background. It is horrified! Waaaaay too precious my two. My mum would say they take after me.

.m.

 

I wish I was a Gentle Person

Photo of my son. It looks like he will become one of the Gentle People.Image

This is a real thought in my head. When I was growing up, I knew a Gentle Person. Actually, my own father is pretty close to being one himself. You may know one of these Gentle People. The type that will take ten minutes to make a proper, perfect cup of tea, rather than the insipid cup of milky water you are likely to get given in my house (apologies family and friends).

The type that (don’t read this if you are squeamish) fold, nay, IRON their clothes so that they are flat and sit level in their drawers. I am ashamed to say that my folding ability is lacklustre, to say the least. I have more of a rolling action with the washing. Bundling things into piles, then looking on furiously as the piles topple over at the merest provocation. The drawers in our house are a barely contained maelstrom, I actually sometimes have to kick the drawers shut, and once with my fingers enclosed trying to force in some stray bit of shirt or pant leg.

These gentle people are truly a joy to watch, even if sometimes you want to hurry them up. You want to scribble over the borders they have lovingly given their assignments, the ruled, squared off, triple checked documents they will inevitably hand in for marking. Gentle People excelled at bubble writing in primary school, they also always have neat tidy haircuts, and never the double crown/cowlick I grew up trying to reign in.

Ah, I wish I was a Gentle Person, instead of the weird juxtaposition that I actually am. Slightly perfectionist with a healthy dash of complete feral.

Aaaaand, here is a completely irrelevant photo of the hill behind our house.

It’s lovely.ImageAs is my wee daughter (most of the time.) Excuse the photo, it was dusk.IMG_2905Although, I suspect, like me, she will not be a gentle person, this makes her no less lovely.

.m.

Ten ways to hurt a zombie*

  1. You have to tie a sewing machine to the roof and then if it can’t see you throw it up to a rope, and it can’t hear you. And it bonks its head down and you can hammer a nail into it.
  2. Another way is to get some paper or food, and make it look like a brain, and zombies will eat it, and they will get hurt from eating human food.
  3. Or you can cut a tree down beside a zombie, and it will hammer the zombie down.
  4. Or you can make your house into a zombie trap by putting pointy toys all over the house, and mess it up with christmas decorations. Put a square hole into the roof, tie a rope onto it. Tie a washing machine onto the rope, and it will hammer the zombie on the head.
  5. Put power lines up and the zombies will get an electric shock.
  6. Make a giant Venus Fly Trap, put a brain onto it, the zombie will try to eat the brain and the Fly Trap will trap it.
  7. Put prickles all over the floor and the Zombies will stand on them.
  8. Get a bow and arrow and sneak up on the zombie.
  9. Put a rake on the floor and the zombie will stand on it.
  10. Put nails all over the floor.

ImageSeriously, I would not want to be a Zombie stumbling into this house.

And also, there is a storm a brewing in little ole NZ, Cyclone Luci. We are battening down the hatches in anticipation. 

This morning was the last of the sun we will see for a few days…Terrible photo, but you get the ideaImage

*Disclaimer – My boy has a penchant for the macabre, he is under no influence of mine here.

.m.

This is my life now.

 

 

 

First of all, it is key to note that it’s Friday night. Also key, is that it is not an unusual Friday, sadly, the opposite. This is my view.ImageExcuse the image. Grainier than a desert. Don’t despair for me, somewhere under 2 billion items of clothing/bedding misc, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Oh, no wait. There is no light, just a constant, never-ending stream of folding /washing /hanging out/ getting in /folding /washing /rewashing due to leaving the wet clothes in the machine too long…And the ultimate, PUTTING CLOTHES AWAY. Worst job ever!

And so it goes on.

Somedays, I would like to incinerate the entire lot and just wear one hemp sack, between the lot of us. But then I suck it up, and go and get the washing in so it can be folded… … …

Heavy stuff, I know!

ImageMy father and his partners linen cupboard. I can barely look at it without withering with envy. Everything these two touch turns to fold. (See what I did there? No? Meh, I’m delirious with over-folding).

Anyway, I’m off to put the washing away, along with the kids I can hear sneaking around the house behind me.

.m.

Like plants, children also need water.

I never drink water. Oh, I try. All modern literature will extoll the virtues of downing something like 12 thousand of litres of water a day. I seem to gain enough water by merely existing. Perhaps I absorb it through particles of air? Or perhaps through all the coffee I consume? It is a mystery to me how I even still exist, and am not just a shrivelled dehydrated shell.

My children, on the other hand, surprise me daily with their quest to drink as much water as is possible in someone under 1m tall.

Seriously, I can NEVER leave the house without 2 water bottles (the boy is afraid of germs/sharing.)Image

Of course, with my inevitable lack of organisation, this means I spend the entire time scrounging around for enough coins to buy water bottles when out (gah, I hate paying for water.) Alternatively, I will be hissing at them to stop harping on at me about hydration, and just WAIT until we get home. Cruel? Nope, it’s just that I don’t understand it. How is it that two children from my lineage need so much liquid in a day? Me, the queen of Nil Hydration.

One of the great mysteries of the universe I guess.

Random thoughts on why I love Op Shopping so much

We don’t call it Thrift Shopping here in the far faaaaaaar south of the world. Thrift Shopping sounds exotic to me.

Nope. Once, or twice (honestly, maybe five times) a week I pick the kids up and drag them to at least one Op (Opportunity) Shop. I am trying to force them to love it.  One day they will, unfortunately for them, they have the Compulsive Op Shop gene from every which direction in my family.

I’m sure I can trace it back to the far reaches of history and the Hunter/Gatherer instinct, or is it an obsession for an object with history? I don’t really know.

I do love pondering an objects previous life, especially seriously old items, like this vintage lace brooch from Nottingham in England (gift from my great grandfather to my great grandmother).

Image It seems an enchanting notion to me, that something is most likely to survive me on this planet. Unless it is one of these crystal glasses, my kids seem to have a real penchant for smashing these bad boys.

Image(Crystal-ware via my sister, who has a better op shopping eye than me)

 

Whatever the reason, I am addicted. Hawkes Bay is fairly average when it comes down to it, the days of the glory that was Wellington Op Shops is long gone, but I will continue to drag my poor kiddies around with me to hunt out the next big thing, whatever it may be.

Image(Pumpkin also via my rad little blister)

How awesome is this little mite! I don’t think I could bring myself to eat such a tiny, tiny specimen. No doubt it will sit on the window sill until one day, I notice it as a sad concave husk of its former self. Long may it last!

And, I’m out. Randomest post ever!!

.m.