tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31450666131678871732024-03-14T03:46:51.093+13:00Raising Country KidsWeekly stories from rural New ZealandAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05278783649454658379noreply@blogger.comBlogger213125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145066613167887173.post-19367962321792235702014-03-20T20:22:00.002+13:002014-03-20T20:22:23.085+13:00A trip down memory lane - Crispin's Hour<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Crispin. The dog with an unpleasant secret.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Character List</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Cheryl: up-and-coming young journalist</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Darryl: unrequited lover of Cheryl</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Murgatroid: Evil and conniving aunt of Darryl</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Edmondo: Dishevelled husband of Murgatroid</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Crispin: The dog with an unpleasant secret.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<u>Scene One</u></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>It is a dark and stormy night. Crispin is cowering in his Doggy-bed . Murgatroid is mumbling stage left</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Murgatroid: Stage left, stage left....WAAAAARGH!</div>
<div>
<i>Enter Darryl, flustered</i></div>
<div>
Darryl: Oh Aunty, are you all right?</div>
<div>
Murg:<i> shaking and looking wildly out of the window </i>Oh..oh my...it's out there.</div>
<div>
Darryl: What. What's out there. Oh Aunty.</div>
<div>
Murg: I knew it. It was only a matter of time...and now it's here.</div>
<div>
Darryl: What Aunty? I...I don't understand.</div>
<div>
Murg: You know who it's come for don't you? Darryl shakes his head CRISPIN!!!</div>
<div>
<i>They both trun slowly and look accusingly at Crispin.</i></div>
<div>
Crispin: Bark?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<u>Scene two</u></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>Cheryl's bedroom. Cheryl is combing her hair in front of the mirror.</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Cheryl: Maybe I'll meet a beautiful young man called Sigmund tonight. Ho hum.</div>
<div>
<i>Suddenly lightening rips across the sky, lighting up the landscaped garden as clear as day.</i></div>
<div>
Cheryl: What terribly nasty weather <i>The phone rings</i> Oo! Who can that be.</div>
<div>
Darryl: Cheryl? Aunty's having a nasty turn. Could you come over and help me give her, her medicine?</div>
<div>
Cheryl: I don't know Darryl, I am supposed to be going out tonight.</div>
<div>
Darryl: It won't take long. Oh please Cheryl, for Crispin's sake.</div>
<div>
Cheryl: Oh very well. But I can't stay long. They hang up</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<u>Scene three</u></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>Darryl is looking concernedly out of the window, Murgatroid is vibrating gently in the corner, Crispin is staring inanely at his Doggy-bone and Edmondo is hobbling across the room.</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Edmondo: Are you all right dear?</div>
<div>
Murg: Wibble muffin pie.</div>
<div>
Darryl: Don't disturb her Uncle, she's had a nasty turn.</div>
<div>
Edmondo: Oh piffle. I had a nasty accident with a seed drill you know!</div>
<div>
<i>They both go into a respectful silence</i></div>
<div>
Cheryl: <i>off stage</i> Darryl? Oh Darryl?</div>
<div>
Darryl: In here Cheryl</div>
<div>
Enter Cheryl</div>
<div>
Cheryl: How is she?</div>
<div>
Edmondo: She's vibrating again.</div>
<div>
Cheryl: Oh no. You know what that means don't you?</div>
<div>
<i>Edmondo and Darryl look questioningly at Cheryl. Cheryl looks at Crispin. Crispin begins to hum various excerpts from Andrew Lloyd-Webber musicals. Or so it seems....</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<u>Scene four</u></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>Everyone is gathered around the fire as the evening becomes cold and intimidating</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>Enter Darryl</i></div>
<div>
Darryl: She's asleep. She whispered something about it being Crispins hour.</div>
<div>
Edmondo: Crispin's asleep too. She was just delirious.</div>
<div>
Cheryl: I've phone Antony, I've cancelled our date. I understand what you're going through.</div>
<div>
<i>Crispin gets up and saunters over to the fireplace dragging his Doggy-pillow.</i></div>
<div>
Darryl: That's strange. Crispin never usually leaves his Doggy-bed.</div>
<div>
Cheryl: Oh my God!</div>
<div>
Edmondo and Darryl: What?!</div>
<div>
Cheryl: Do you not know what that means?</div>
<div>
Darryl: It can't be!</div>
<div>
Edmondo: I'm afraid it is.</div>
<div>
Cheryl: Crispin's got an unpleasant secret!</div>
<div>
<i>They all turn slowly and stare at Crispin. Crispin looks at the audience, and his bewildered eyes glow gently.</i></div>
<div>
Crispin: Yap.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<u>Scene five</u></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>Everyone is sitting looking at Crispin, whose eyes are glowing in a most disturbing manner,</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Edmondo: Prove it to us Crispin.</div>
<div>
Cheryl: Prove it isn't true</div>
<div>
<i>Crispin slowly pulls a red coat out of his Doggy-pillow. It has a holiday camp badge attached to the sleeve.</i></div>
<div>
Darryl: Oh no!!</div>
<div>
Cheryl: Oh Crispin, how could you?</div>
<div>
Edmondo: So he worked for Butlins, did he? That's nothing. I once had a nasty accident with a seed drill.</div>
<div>
Crispin: Damn Jethro Tull.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>THE END</b></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05278783649454658379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145066613167887173.post-76924819660598530752012-05-24T10:53:00.001+12:002012-05-24T10:56:08.785+12:00My new career pathI've started doing sales again, this time it's for <a href="http://www.sayr.co.nz/">SAYR home ventilation</a>, and we're running it as our own business as a distributor for the Auckland team.<br />
<br />
Here's my business plan for June:<br />
<br />
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Seasons of mist and
mellow fruitfulness<span style="text-transform: uppercase;"></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Having been out on over a dozen home assessments, and gained
3 sales, with the anticipatory delight of 3 more fluttering in my heart, I now
feel that this is the time to further improve my product knowledge, and my
business training. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I also believe that the brand of SAYR Waikato needs to be
further permeated into the wide expanse of our beautiful slice of heaven in
order for more people to benefit from its wondrous delights. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Having contracted one installer through brilliant networking
techniques, and with another poised on the brink of diving into the SAYR
lagoon, we are also considering adopting another Home Assessor into our warm,
but strict SAYR family.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This essay is to discuss what actions I intend to undertake
during the month of June to ensure my continued success in these endeavors.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I intend to learn more about my own product, how it works,
how it is installed and maintained and how it was created. To this end, I will contact the inventor and
engage him in a complicated discussion of the technical details, then ply him
with beer and extract company secrets for my own nefarious ends. I also intend to contact our competitors and
extract information from them in less pleasant ways, but always within the law.
I may need to employ disguises.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Training will need to be undertaken in order to fill any
gaps in my knowledge, and ensure I have been selling customers what they think
I have been selling for the last 5 months.
I would very much like to undertake a business management course, but
with the fees being unaffordable, I have a plan to use my transferrable skills
as a mother and housewife to further enhance my already brilliant business
acumen (see appendix 1)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have engaged the services of a local school to increase
the advertising within our local area, I intend to expand on that and offer
people connected with the school (or just anyone who sees the advert) a
Discount and Donation Deal (DDD) where the customer will be entitled to a $100
discount of the RRP at the time of their Home Assessment, and the school will
receive $100 as a donation from SAYR Waikato once the installation is completed
and the balance of payment received.
Should this prove successful, the DDD will be expanded to other
educational establishments, and potentially into more national groups such as
Plunket and the Mongrel Mob.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have been investigating my esteemed Sales Directors
constant references to Maori Land Trusts, as I have considerable contacts
within Maoridom. I understand that the
correct tikanga for approaching the Kaumatua of our local Iwi is to have a kupu
whakataki from a Hapu or Iwi member, or at least some whanau who could
whakapapa back to the local Marae. To go
into a Wharenui uninvited would be hakiki and would make us tapu in the eyes of
all Maori from that Marae, and connected whanau. In order for us to be rahiritia we need to
ensure we perform the correct tikanga. I
have made some informal inroads with appropriate whanau members, which should
start the process.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Finally, I plan to undertake specific training with my Home
Assessor and Installers as and when appropriate, to ensure they are properly
indoctrinated into the SAYR ethos. As
the winter progresses; advertising, word-of-mouth and general awesomeness will
net us at least 4 sales in the month of June, with more to come.</div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In conclusion, June will be a month of spiritual and
business expansion, we will enter the collective subconscious of the people of
the Waikato and be the first brand they think
of when they wake in their damp homes and despair that the mist and fog has
permeated their very souls. We will be
their saviours in home ventilation.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Appendix 1 –
transferrable skills</b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hostage negotiation</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Lecturing</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Budget handling and bookkeeping</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Teaching of complicated topics within listener’s mental
ability</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Peace negotiations</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anti-terrorism training</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05278783649454658379noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145066613167887173.post-39792533874405500972012-03-26T11:00:00.000+13:002012-03-26T11:00:57.726+13:00Guest Post - Heather Von st James<i>I got an interesting email from this lady asking if she could do a guest post on my blog. I suppose this means I might be a mini-bit famous now? Any way, she is:</i><br />
<h1>
<span style="font-size: large;">Heather Von St. James</span></h1>
Courageous mother, wife and survivor of mesothelioma cancer.<br />
<div style="background-color: white; border: medium none; color: black; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; text-decoration: none;">
<br />Read more on her blog, <a href="http://www.mesothelioma.com/blog/authors/heather/#ixzz1qAUAefX7">The Mesothelioma Cancer Alliance blog</a><a href="http://www.mesothelioma.com/blog/authors/heather/#ixzz1qAUAefX7" style="color: #003399;"></a></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: medium none; color: black; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: medium none; color: black; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; text-decoration: none;">
________________________________________________________________________________</div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: medium none; color: black; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: medium none; color: black; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; text-decoration: none;">
<span id="internal-source-marker_0.24614000323195873" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Optimism in Tough Times</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 17px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The
dictionary says that an optimist is a person who looks on the favorable
side of things, or a person who is hopeful and confident. However, my
friends like to joke that my picture should be beside the word optimist
in the dictionary! In a way, it's true. I have always been a cheerful,
positive person, and can usually make others smile in tough situations.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 17px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">At
the age of 36, my optimism was tested in a way that I never expected.
That year started off wonderfully with the birth of my first and only
child, a beautiful baby girl. Just 3 1/2 months later, I heard the words
I never thought I would hear: "You have cancer." When you are faced
with life's toughest challenges, you have an important decision to make.
You can become bitter, angry and depressed, or you can get up, brush
yourself off and get ready to fight. I was determined not to lose my
positive attitude, and decided to fight this disease with everything
that I had.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 17px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I was diagnosed with malignant pleural</span><a href="http://www.mesothelioma.com/mesothelioma/"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">mesothelioma</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">. I was blessed to find one of the world's leading</span><a href="http://www.mesothelioma.com/treatment/doctors/"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">mesothelioma doctors</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">
to treat me. I had full confidence in my physician, and agreed to
schedule my lung removal surgery for Groundhog's Day in 2006. My family
and I decided to call Groundhog's Day Lungleavin Day instead, to
remember the day of my successful surgery. To complete the nicknames, we
affectionately referred to my tumor as Punxsutawney Phil. As a cancer
survivor, it is important to remember your journey. Each year, I still
celebrate Lungleavin Day with those who are closest to me. It is a
special time to reflect on our blessings and the lessons learned through
my battle with cancer.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 17px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">At
times, cancer has been both my best friend and my worst enemy. However,
I can honestly say that I would not change one thing about my life,
including my cancer diagnosis. It was through this disease that I found
out that I could be strong, even in the face of overwhelming obstacles. I
am proud of the way that I journeyed through cancer, and I am thankful
to say that I am still able to look on the bright side of life.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 17px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Many
people that I had the privilege to meet during my cancer journey have
now become my lifelong friends. We are forever bonded because of our
common journey, and we are now united in our desire to help others. We
are young and old, male and female, rich and poor, but our hearts have
been knit together thanks to our cancer battles. I want to spend the
rest of my life giving hope to others who are dealing with cancer.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: medium none; color: black; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05278783649454658379noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145066613167887173.post-83073194070072120342012-03-11T21:31:00.000+13:002012-03-11T21:43:24.006+13:00Yes for a day COMPLETED!<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So far today has been a lot less stressful than I
expected. It’s 20 past 4 in the
afternoon, and I’m stopping at 7pm which is their normal bedtime (it’s school
in the morning, so sleep is not optional).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today the kids have done a lot more than I usually let them,
and it’s been an eye-opener for me. I
said yes to Mapera helping me with clearing the breakfast table, then she
decided to do all her jobs as well; so her bed is made, her room is tidy and
she put away all the things in the “tidy-up box”. Her brother and sister had a ½ hour bath and
Mapera decided to make Kaitereo’s bed for her too, so their room is looking
lovely, and I didn’t even have to nag!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I cut Mapera’s hair yesterday due to tangle issues, and
Kaitereo asked if I would cut her hair today.
I had to say yes, even though my hack job on Mapera’s hair did not fill
me with confidence. Luckily, they both
love their haircuts and have declared that they don’t want to go back to the
hairdresser again.</div>
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<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6LzQWf8TPSY/T1xkXGd8yqI/AAAAAAAABHE/3zL6n7Evu5c/s1600/YFAD+haircuts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6LzQWf8TPSY/T1xkXGd8yqI/AAAAAAAABHE/3zL6n7Evu5c/s400/YFAD+haircuts.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They’ve also been allowed to look at my pictures in frames
that sit on the windowsill. Usually I am
afraid of breakages, but they were very careful and put them back afterwards,
Hakopa also enjoyed saying “Uncle Tom” repeatedly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We found some balloons to play with after breakfast, and
then Mapera asked if they could watch a DVD as it was raining. I said yes but after Hakopa went to sleep,
and they agreed. They then proceeded to
have a 4 hour Clanger and Bagpuss marathon, with toast and butter for lunch in
front of the TV. After that Hakopa had woken
up, so I insisted on it being switched off and they went outside to play.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SfEWP_y5y10/T1xkbgUDQCI/AAAAAAAABHU/Mh121Qk8CSw/s1600/YFAD+clangers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SfEWP_y5y10/T1xkbgUDQCI/AAAAAAAABHU/Mh121Qk8CSw/s320/YFAD+clangers.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5a__C5uFodw/T1xkZh1xv5I/AAAAAAAABHM/6BpRwB94Vkc/s1600/YFAD+DVD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5a__C5uFodw/T1xkZh1xv5I/AAAAAAAABHM/6BpRwB94Vkc/s320/YFAD+DVD.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We ran 3 races, and I helped Mapera and Kaitereo to ride on
the big bike, and caught some chickens for Hakopa to pat.<br />
I had to start getting dinner ready at that point, and the
kids have been playing really nicely.
Afternoon tea time rolled around, and they asked for oranges to eat
outside. Then they wanted <a href="http://i01.i.aliimg.com/photo/v0/103758017/Wafer_Stick.jpg">Tigerstix</a>
which I usually ration to 2 or 3 each.
Mapera had 9 and Kaitereo had 9 and Hakopa had 5. Fortunately that was all the junk in the
house eaten, so they had a drink of milk and went off to play again.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m going to make some playdough after writing this,
something I have been promising to do for weeks and not got around to yet and which Kaitereo asked for again today.</div>
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</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ok so now it’s 9pm and they went off to bed at normal
time. Dinner time was pretty normal,
they wanted special cups and glasses which I said yes to, and they wanted to
get down and play before pudding which was their final yes before bedtime
rolled around.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Overall it was a much easier day than I feared, mainly
because they spent most of it glued to the DVD.
I did insist that they keep asking nicely for things, and the old
threats that the treat thing would be removed if they started fighting stayed.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I would not repeat the 4 hour telly marathon again, but I am
going to be saying yes to them helping more, yes to the special cups more and
yes to them looking at the photos of my friends and family (under supervision)
more. Now I just need a day where <b>they</b>
say yes to everything <b>I</b> ask.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05278783649454658379noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145066613167887173.post-45787094681711765312012-03-10T13:29:00.000+13:002012-03-10T13:29:16.498+13:00Yes for a day<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I spend a fair amount of time saying “no” to my kids; </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“can I play in the mud in my party dress?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“can I tie this to my little brother?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“can we have cake and lollies for dinner?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I read somewhere that a Mum tried saying yes to her 4yr old
for a week, I think that’s a little excessive, but I thought I might try it for
one day.<span> </span>I’m going to go for Sunday
(because I’m already half-way through Saturday) and I am going to set a few
rules.<span> </span>Feel free to join me!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rule 1 – Don’t tell the children</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The idea is to see what they do when you start saying
yes.<span> </span>If you tell them you’re going to do
it they will immediately start asking for everything and it won’t be as much
fun.<span> </span>Or easy to do.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rule 2 – it has to be possible</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anything that is prohibitively expensive, physically
impossible or dangerous is off-limits.<span>
</span>Everything else, well use common sense people<span style="font-family: Wingdings;"><span>.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rule 3 – timescale</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A day lasts from normal getting up time (7am in our house)
to normal bedtime (7pm).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If this works out I may well do it again.<span> </span>I will take pictures and post all about the
results once it’s all over.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05278783649454658379noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145066613167887173.post-15392986883839087612012-03-05T21:12:00.000+13:002012-03-05T21:12:13.220+13:00Depression medication explained<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3FbS8SUjm8/T1R1Jqdl2uI/AAAAAAAABG8/YmBFktb3aEs/s1600/medication+explained.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3FbS8SUjm8/T1R1Jqdl2uI/AAAAAAAABG8/YmBFktb3aEs/s1600/medication+explained.JPG" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05278783649454658379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145066613167887173.post-26113917138410075162012-01-22T22:24:00.001+13:002012-01-22T22:24:22.232+13:00All the greens<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2TjQ-jYJg-Y/TxvUmDSwPuI/AAAAAAAABF4/2s8YOvz9iKY/s1600/Greens+%25286%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2TjQ-jYJg-Y/TxvUmDSwPuI/AAAAAAAABF4/2s8YOvz9iKY/s320/Greens+%25286%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dark green</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1E4s8oW60i8/TxvUt10CB8I/AAAAAAAABGI/82ckwTfcLjU/s1600/Greens+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1E4s8oW60i8/TxvUt10CB8I/AAAAAAAABGI/82ckwTfcLjU/s320/Greens+%25281%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Green and yellow</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kDCYIHRmnU8/TxvUxk_ERII/AAAAAAAABGQ/Bbo_ZHEgITA/s1600/Greens+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kDCYIHRmnU8/TxvUxk_ERII/AAAAAAAABGQ/Bbo_ZHEgITA/s320/Greens+%25282%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">blue-green</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-o695wIeU_C4/TxvU1BMxaFI/AAAAAAAABGY/XEVWHqvGW_A/s1600/Greens+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-o695wIeU_C4/TxvU1BMxaFI/AAAAAAAABGY/XEVWHqvGW_A/s320/Greens+%25283%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grass-green</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NcywQMzpUgQ/TxvU5EJX-ZI/AAAAAAAABGg/Eee6Mj0HF2Q/s1600/Greens+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NcywQMzpUgQ/TxvU5EJX-ZI/AAAAAAAABGg/Eee6Mj0HF2Q/s320/Greens+%25284%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">dusty green</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Z4UWIsxSjkU/TxvU8y0dlVI/AAAAAAAABGo/stJu_OQ5PKo/s1600/Greens+%25285%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Z4UWIsxSjkU/TxvU8y0dlVI/AAAAAAAABGo/stJu_OQ5PKo/s320/Greens+%25285%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Apple green</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05278783649454658379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145066613167887173.post-65984614982472836802012-01-22T22:18:00.000+13:002012-01-22T22:18:20.825+13:00Blue hues.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RixXF4mQFUw/TxvR7J2Sk-I/AAAAAAAABFQ/Ni7XwRiXD_U/s1600/Blues.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RixXF4mQFUw/TxvR7J2Sk-I/AAAAAAAABFQ/Ni7XwRiXD_U/s320/Blues.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Royal blue</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MYdrfnQj2WM/TxvSAqWBEUI/AAAAAAAABFY/jGldvKNvaRg/s1600/Blues+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MYdrfnQj2WM/TxvSAqWBEUI/AAAAAAAABFY/jGldvKNvaRg/s320/Blues+%25281%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Indian teal</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CBzVzEQssaE/TxvSDqUiBGI/AAAAAAAABFg/pfry76FQBDk/s1600/Blues+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CBzVzEQssaE/TxvSDqUiBGI/AAAAAAAABFg/pfry76FQBDk/s320/Blues+%25282%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Powder blue</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oD6QeMruChA/TxvSLL7BDQI/AAAAAAAABFw/yf20o_EBzN4/s1600/Blues+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oD6QeMruChA/TxvSLL7BDQI/AAAAAAAABFw/yf20o_EBzN4/s320/Blues+%25284%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sky blue</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05278783649454658379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145066613167887173.post-33237144079844730482012-01-22T15:45:00.000+13:002012-01-22T15:45:31.833+13:00Reds and greens - which is better?I still can't see the difference...
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1BBa94lgi3k/Txt3zWZnWMI/AAAAAAAABEk/IEiA5C5XyDY/s1600/colours%2B012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1BBa94lgi3k/Txt3zWZnWMI/AAAAAAAABEk/IEiA5C5XyDY/s200/colours%2B012.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wZCCtyF3U70/Txt3zcMtntI/AAAAAAAABEw/zghiJwNOu6U/s1600/colours%2B028.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wZCCtyF3U70/Txt3zcMtntI/AAAAAAAABEw/zghiJwNOu6U/s200/colours%2B028.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8IaJkyziAJU/Txt30ez1YdI/AAAAAAAABE8/yW2mGXvUJmA/s1600/colours%2B008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8IaJkyziAJU/Txt30ez1YdI/AAAAAAAABE8/yW2mGXvUJmA/s200/colours%2B008.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UWvJ7c7Zxig/Txt30jEiLGI/AAAAAAAABFI/CmPPTFTcBy8/s1600/colours%2B030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UWvJ7c7Zxig/Txt30jEiLGI/AAAAAAAABFI/CmPPTFTcBy8/s200/colours%2B030.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05278783649454658379noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145066613167887173.post-16117805733917721482012-01-16T22:48:00.001+13:002012-01-17T10:58:47.492+13:00Unfrumping the unfrumpableI have joined an online plan to unfrump myself this year. It started <a href="http://littlecountrywools.wordpress.com/2011/12/31/i-am-gorgeous-or-a-frump-free-2012/">here</a> and I hesitated about joining in at first because I still have children of "constantly sticky" age, but then I thought "if not now, when?" and joined.<br />
<br />
My first task is to figure out what colours I like best on me. I have no idea how to do this. <a href="http://quizfarm.com/quizzes/personality+quiz/CoriGirl/what-season-are-you/">Colour-season website things</a> tell me I'm an Autum; other people tell me to hold different colours up to my face and look in the mirror. I cannot tell when I look better or worse, I just look a bit shit most of the time.<br />
<br />
With this in mind, I am enlisting the help of a friend and we're going to try every basic colour from the rainbow out on me and then some, and post the pictures here to see what other people think I look best in.<br />
<br />
Watch this space...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://littlecountrywools.wordpress.com/2011/12/31/i-am-gorgeous-or-a-frump-free-2012/"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tsQX0EF9DRA/TxScSKU5nAI/AAAAAAAABEU/L_AmAdmD_rE/s1600/guru-gorgeous.jpg"/></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05278783649454658379noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145066613167887173.post-77903811645245874292012-01-10T16:42:00.003+13:002012-01-11T15:54:33.095+13:00Lullaby for a woolly mammothWOOLLY MAMMOTH! I am laid up with a bad back and my Mum sent me this, so here's your blog post for the week. Normality will resume eventually.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 21px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Lullaby for a Woolly Mammoth</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 144pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: -172.35pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Woolly</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Mammoth!</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 144pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: -172.35pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Hear me sing.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 144pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: -172.35pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Go to sleep you hairy thing.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 144pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: -172.35pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">You can snooze outside my door,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 144pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: -172.35pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">just as long as you don’t snore. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 144pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: -172.35pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Come on Shaggy, shut your eyes.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 144pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: -172.35pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Now it’s time for beddy-byes</span></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 144pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: -172.35pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(sing to tune of Twinkle Twinkle)</span><br />
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: x-small;"><strong>(this is by James Carter</strong></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> who originally had it laid out to look like a woolly mammoth, I wrecked it to make it readable)</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05278783649454658379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145066613167887173.post-40253048652822040972011-12-28T12:13:00.000+13:002011-12-28T12:13:14.613+13:00Dust if you must...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U0ellCzng1g/TvpQdvLlQ8I/AAAAAAAABDs/MEQp1JMZerE/s1600/Dust+if+you+must....jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U0ellCzng1g/TvpQdvLlQ8I/AAAAAAAABDs/MEQp1JMZerE/s400/Dust+if+you+must....jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XWWz75DZ-9w/TvpQf9mk7lI/AAAAAAAABD0/VD387J6IWgw/s1600/Dust+if+you+must...+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XWWz75DZ-9w/TvpQf9mk7lI/AAAAAAAABD0/VD387J6IWgw/s400/Dust+if+you+must...+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mj057EJtrYw/TvpQlsjgy3I/AAAAAAAABEE/kljDV9nCbko/s1600/Dust+if+you+must...+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mj057EJtrYw/TvpQlsjgy3I/AAAAAAAABEE/kljDV9nCbko/s400/Dust+if+you+must...+%25283%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05278783649454658379noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145066613167887173.post-39305291138953533702011-12-21T20:32:00.001+13:002011-12-21T20:32:33.857+13:00The Christmas Letter<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
I have not been sending out a Christmas letter these last
couple of years.<span> </span>Mainly because everyone
I know is either on Facebook, or has a relative on Facebook who will pass news
on.<span> </span>I recently got a Christmas letter
from a friend who is NOT on Facebook and from whom we had not heard for a
while, it was lovely to hear her news and catch up, so I am going to attempt to
organise myself into doing a Christmas or New Year letter from 2012 onwards.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
For now, here’s a short Christmas letter for all you
wonderful people out there:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
Dear Family, Friends and people I met once and added on
Facebook but who’s status update gets lost amidst all the Farmville requests,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
This year has been an exciting one for us, since our
chickens learned to mow the lawn, and Tareka can now spend a lot more time
working on perpetual motion machines.<span>
</span>The children are growing fast, Mapera has been reading James Joyce and
understanding it, Kaitereo has been training to be a human cannonball and
Hakopa has been learning how to fly by throwing himself at the ground and
missing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
The house and land continue to thrive, we are growing an
entirely new hybrid of tomato, cheese & breadfruit plant, so we can pick
fresh sandwiches all through the spring.<span>
</span>The cows continue to be an endless source of entertainment, and one of
them does a passably good impression of Eddie Izzard which kept me and some
friends amused for hours one evening.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
My parents, as most of you know, are heading to the Moon for
their holidays, Mum will love the cold, and Dad is looking forward to some
diving in the Sea of Tranquility.<span> </span>My
brother continues to mystify us by appearing in various shampoo commercials.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
Tareka’s family is all good too, digging their way to London in time for the
Olympics as we speak.<span> </span>Looks like it will
be quiet down here next year, hope you all have a wonderful Giftmas and begin
the New Year with a series of unrealistic resolutions.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
All our love and best wishes</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
Louise and the clan</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
xxx</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05278783649454658379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145066613167887173.post-48576197419617962842011-11-10T11:23:00.000+13:002011-11-10T11:23:31.366+13:00Making a committment to committeesI have Helium Hand syndrome, I tend to volunteer far too much for things when I really ought not to. I have been trying very hard to scale back my volunteering since I had child number 3, but I still managed to get myself on a local committee last year. The AGM is looming, so I have made a decision to step down from the committee and hand the responsibilities to another <s>poor soul</s> worthy person, but I still feel a bit guilty, like I haven't done enough.<br />
<br />
If I apply my Wise Brain to this problem, I can point out all the things I have done, all the events I have helped with, the fundraising I have done, the administration and the leg-work. I know rationally that I have helped a lot more that some people and a lot less than others, and that is nothing to be ashamed of, but I also know that if I step down, the workload is likely to fall back onto someone who is already overloaded.<br />
<br />
Herein lies the problems of committees. The people who care enough to join a committee and make an effort are always the same people in any community, so you end up with half a dozen people trying to fundraise and work for a hundred committees while the rest of the community sit back and go "ooh I don't know how you have time!"<br />
<br />
I am also getting to a stage of my life when there I just cannot be bothered with cliques, snippy comments and bitchy behaviour. I've worked hard through therapy to be able to speak my mind in a calm and reasonable way without feeling guilty or worrying about offending people, and I'll be damned if I am going to get caught up in catfights between grown adults who ought to know better. If anyone reading this blog thinks I am writing about them, then more fool them. If I have a problem with someone, I try to sort it out with them directly. This post is a general rant about crappy behaviour in adults I know both online and in real life.<br />
<br />
This is where social media can be a real problem too. Internet message boards, Facebook, Twitter and their ilk are all too easy to post in without giving yourself time to calm down, think things through and behave like a rational adult. Even if you immediately regret and delete your words, someone out there will have read them and got the hump about it.<br />
<br />
I read in one of my internet cubby holes that before you post something when you're feeling angry or upset you should Think, Wait, Answer, Tenderly.<br />
Sooo, if you're angry about something, before you post online for the world to see, just take a moment and T.W.A.T. it.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05278783649454658379noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145066613167887173.post-32319441187074025882011-10-20T20:48:00.002+13:002011-10-20T20:59:02.372+13:00One of the many things about parenting you are never warned about.The <a href="http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/05/sneaky-hate-spiral.html">Sneaky Hate Spiral</a>. This is part of child-rearing that you must learn to live with, avoid, manage or control. You will do none of these things particularly effectively, and the Sneaky Hate Spiral (SHS) will inevitably take you down on a regular basis.<br />
<br />
I am at the tail end of a SHS today. I woke up to the sound of my kids arguing about who was going to go in to see the Grandparents first. Then there was something wrong with breakfast, I can't quite remember exactly what it was, but something was different and wormed it's way into my subconscious to sit gloating and humming Rick Astly songs.<br />
<br />
I had the morning off, which should have been lovely. The girls were out with the grandparents and the baby played nicely then went off to bed. I got some cleaning done, the vacuum cleaner made a noise that didn't harmonise with Rick Astly. I tried to get my household accounts up to date, and got as far as entering amounts onto my spreadsheet, then the internet kept interrupting and was all "hey, haven't seen you today. Watcha doing?" and I was all "I'm trying to work" and the internet kept tapping me on the shoulder going "how about this? Does this make you laugh? You wanna discuss the terrible state of parenting in this country? You wanna tell someone off for comma misuse?"<br />
<br />
So I picked up my <a href="http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/birch-leaf-shawl-aka-bottom-up-birch">knitting</a> and tried to complete a section, but I kept ending up with an extra stitch at the end of the row, and after counting back over it, discovered I had made a mistake at the beginning of the row so had to unravel the whole row. I did this about 5 times.<br />
<br />
Eventually the baby woke up and rather than his usual "Hey Mummy I'm awake, but I'm just going to sit and play happily in my cot til you're finished that row" he stood up and shouted "Mummy! Mummy! Mummy!" rather like that <a href="http://youtu.be/xaPepCVepCg">Ground Squirrel shouting "Alan!"</a><br />
<br />
It all went quiet on the SHS for a bit when everyone else came home, then hubby called from work to say he was on his way, and we had a conversation that went something like this:<br />
Him:What time are we doing that Thing on Saturday?<br />
Me:Early enough to go into the city<br />
Him:we're not going into the city<br />
Me:yes we are, I told you about it<br />
Him:no you didn't<br />
Me:I have been talking about it since we decided to do the Saturday Thing<br />
Him:you didn't tell me<br />
Me: I HAVE BEEN TALKING ABOUT IT SINCE WE DECIDED<br />
Him:I never heard you say it<br />
Me:It's not my problem that you don't listen. <br />
Him:OK see you *hang up*<br />
<br />
Then I cooked dinner and it didn't do what I wanted and I didn't have enough noodles to make me happy then the kids whined and stalled at bedtime as usual then the knitting groundhog made me do the same row 6 times and my book keeps killing people.<br />
<br />
I would go to bed, but I forgot to make bread earlier, so now I have to wait for the bread machine to make the dough (1hr30) then put it to rise (30mins) then cook it (another 30). No I can't cook it in the bread machine as it is so old and worn out that it can barely mix the dough, and it expends so much effort in creating said dough, that if you cook it in the machine, the machine can't bear to part with the completed loaf and glues it to the inside of the pan, so despite Herculean efforts, you end up with the top half of a loaf in your hand, and the bottom half cemented into the bread pan as the machine has a nervous breakdown about you taking its baby away.<br />
<br />
The only thing that helps at a time like this is cheese.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05278783649454658379noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145066613167887173.post-45856432865146611302011-10-16T10:35:00.000+13:002011-10-16T10:35:18.814+13:00Who ever really knows us?<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have been pondering the nature of friendship recently,
probably because I have been watching Doctor Who again.<span> </span>Having moved a fair few times since my
mid-teens, I have had to make new friends fairly often, and have had
friendships that seemed deep and intense at the time, but turned out to be
ethereal and fleeting in the grand scheme of things.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was discussing childhood friendships with my husband, as
he has not really kept in touch with any of his childhood friends, and I
have.<span> </span>I miss my friends when I leave,
but thanks to the wonder of modern technology, have not lost really touch with
them.<span> </span>In some cases I have re-discovered
some old friendships, which has been very nice, as I love to hear how well the
lives of people I like have turned out.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I thought about the people I considered good friends through
my childhood and teens, and if I am honest, although I love them all dearly, I
don’t think there was ever one person I felt was a “best friend”.<span> </span>I never really felt completely part of one
group (as I have mentioned in older posts), or attached to one person above all
others.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Since moving far, far away I have had a couple of old
friends tell me how much they admired me as a teen, which was both flattering
and surprising, as it came from people I admired and never thought would be
truly worthy of being considered a friend of.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was thinking, if these people admired me and I was
unaware, maybe there are other friends out there who know me better than I
thought.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have a bit of a Hollywood
ideal of what a “best friend” should be, so I wonder, would anyone know these
things about me, or am I dreaming…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is my favourite colour?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Who was my “first love”?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is my favourite sort of music?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is my favourite film of all time?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is the best thing to buy me for Christmas?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is my favourite alcoholic drink?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is the most embarrassing thing I have ever done?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t think I could answer all these questions correctly
for any of my old friends and definitely not for any new ones yet, but although
I am sad for not having that sort of sisterly closeness with one person, I am
glad to have the wonderful friends I do have, and hope to make many more.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05278783649454658379noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145066613167887173.post-1175508547478548982011-09-21T17:11:00.000+12:002011-09-21T17:11:10.258+12:00Do not feed the Drama Llama<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k298/redhotz28/Riding%20Game/drama-llama.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k298/redhotz28/Riding%20Game/drama-llama.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
The Drama Llama has come to my house.<span> </span>You may not have heard of the Drama Llama,
but I am sure you will recognise this wily beast after a while.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Drama Llama sometimes comes at homework time, and when
faced with a word that simply refuses to be spelled correctly, the Drama Llama
rears up and declares that “it’s IMPOSSIBLE! I CAN’T DO IT” and then proceeds
to burst into loud, wailing sobs, worthy of a <a href="http://everything2.com/index.pl?node_id=1521963">traditional Greek mourner</a>.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Other times the Drama Llama has spent all day cooking a
beautiful meal and someone decides that they are not very hungry and the Drama
Llama rants about how everyone can just go and eat Pot Noodles then, because
they are Never Cooking Again.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Occasionally, there are 2 Drama Llamas in the house, which can
result in the catastrophe escalating into epic proportions, involving tears,
recriminations, much door slamming and refusing to apologise.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is a way to deal with the Drama Llama.<span> </span>It’s not foolproof, as sometimes the Drama
Llama is determined to be your house guest for a while, but here’s a tip.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Do not feed the Drama Llama.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If the Drama Llama is starting to get worked up about the
recorder being impossible to play, calmly refuse to get into a discussion about
finger positions, regular practice, and tackling easier pieces of music.<span> </span>Step away, and make a cup of
tea.<span> </span>Do not feed the Drama Llama.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If fed, the Drama Llama can fly out of control, causing
untold damage to your doors, furniture, pottery and mental health.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Stay calm, do not respond, offer assistance to the Drama
Llama and then back away slowly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Remember, DO NOT feed the Drama Llama and it will eventually
run out of steam.</div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05278783649454658379noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145066613167887173.post-26516351987637510392011-09-09T20:19:00.001+12:002011-09-09T20:27:09.104+12:00What to talk about that does not involve the R wordI am ignoring the world cup. This is fairly easy when you don't have a telly, but it is still surrounding me like a particularly lingering fart.<br />
<br />
I've searched for other things to entertain me during this time of the entire country, and most of the world going a mini bit bonkers over what is essentially, just a game. There are many, many more important things in the world that need media attention - <a href="http://canterburyearthquake.org.nz/">CHRISTCHURCH EARTHQUAKE RECOVERY</a> anyone?<br />
<br />
So, here are the few things I plan to be doing until it all ends sometime at the end of October:<br />
<br />
Knitting <a href="http://www.cometosilver.com/socks/2mlsocks_start.htm">socks</a><br />
Laughing at people doing <a href="http://youtu.be/ckFic3G814E">stupid things</a>, especially when they are people I know <br />
Trying to come up with a pattern for knitting "<a href="http://www.facebook.com/home.php?ref=home#%21/note.php?note_id=10150789127040227">some sick on the pavement</a>"<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0FqVpHYH8oM&feature=related">Epilating</a><br />
Wondering why my spell check thinks "epilating" should be "titilating"<br />
<a href="http://thebloggess.com/2011/09/i-am-molding-the-minds-of-todays-youth-and-by-molding-i-mean-probably-damaging/">Reading</a> <a href="http://mymilktoof.blogspot.com/2011/08/sick-lardee.html">other</a> <a href="http://manganeseblue.com/?p=5435">blogs </a><br />
Browsing through the non-rugby threads on my favourite <a href="http://www.ravelry.com/groups/lazy-stupid-and-godless">Ravelry group</a><br />
Learning how to <a href="http://blog.pigtailpals.com/2011/08/waking-up-full-of-awesome/">Wake Up Full of Awesome</a><br />
Reading <a href="http://www.oglaf.com/gorek/1/">Adult Comics</a> (NSFW)<br />
<br />
That's all for now, I am sure there are plenty more things I could be doing, but for now I'll avoid some housework and dig the garden.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05278783649454658379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145066613167887173.post-16911696996569329022011-08-19T11:46:00.000+12:002011-08-19T11:46:54.463+12:00The trouble with marrying an atheist is that “til death us do part” is true.<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">I used to be a fervently evangelical atheist; I believed that I was right about the non-existence of any form of deity or after-life, and I needed to show all the non-atheists out there how deluded they were.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Having married a man staunch in his faith who believes simply because he does, I have learned to understand faith a little more.<span> </span>I still don’t agree, but I know now that trying to change his mind would be like trying to convince a toaster to run a marathon: it’s not what he’s built for.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When people ask me about it, I try and explain how for both of us our belief – one way or the other – is so deeply part of us that we are not conscious of it until it is challenged.<span> </span>I have likened the situation to the <a href="http://reddwarf.wikia.com/wiki/Silicon_Heaven">Belief Chip from Red Dwarf</a>.<span> </span>Tareka is wired for faith, I am not.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have come to accept that my husband’s faith is as much a part of him as his sense of humor and his inability to perform “<a href="http://www.mindtools.com/CommSkll/ActiveListening.htm">active listening</a>” convincingly.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We both believe what we believe and know that what matters is how we live now, rather that what might or might not happen after we die.<span> </span>I accept and respect his faith and he mine.<span> </span>We take the piss out of each other for our beliefs, but ultimately honor them.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Try looking at your partner, or your friend, or your neighbour in this way.<span> </span>Try and understand that their faith (or lack of it) is not a failing or something that needs to be corrected.<span> </span>It is part of what makes them who they are, and you care about them, so you should also care about their beliefs.<span> </span>As long as no-one is trying to force you into something you do not agree with, then there is no reason that we can’t all behave well towards each other.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Love thy neighbour, even if he plays the trombone.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05278783649454658379noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145066613167887173.post-61706234296372568052011-08-16T21:31:00.000+12:002011-08-16T21:31:37.517+12:00KN1TT1N6 633K!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><img src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" /> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">I’ve been so busy on the latest projects this week that I completely forgot to blog about anything, so instead you can have a picture of what I’ve been doing:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I love Science and I love Knitting (capital letters, yes they are THAT important).<span> </span>Thanks to it being the International Year of Science and the wonderful people of the Royal Society of NZ and the power of the internet, I am now part of the Knit the Periodic Table project.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7TtOCK-rqSY/Tko4omSfj4I/AAAAAAAABA0/PxwSkIO7p-s/s1600/Europium.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7TtOCK-rqSY/Tko4omSfj4I/AAAAAAAABA0/PxwSkIO7p-s/s320/Europium.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I chose Europium because a lot of the cool elements were already gone by the time I found out about the project, and because I am from Europe (England, for those who don’t know).<span> </span>I was also hoping for the atomic number 42, but it had already gone, so Europium it was.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fff8yT-Q4q0/Tko4qwDYmwI/AAAAAAAABA4/lWwzfQ2cBfc/s1600/Europium+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fff8yT-Q4q0/Tko4qwDYmwI/AAAAAAAABA4/lWwzfQ2cBfc/s320/Europium+%25281%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It’s not hard to knit a square, I had to frog it once as my knitting is so loose that I needed to cast on about 5 fewer stitches than recommended, but other than that it was a simple project.<span> </span>The letters were interesting; I’ve never tried knitting an E or a u before, so it was a learning curve.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TJWWQXYvj9Q/Tko4lloyWoI/AAAAAAAABAw/c3rphN3O6Ho/s1600/Europium+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TJWWQXYvj9Q/Tko4lloyWoI/AAAAAAAABAw/c3rphN3O6Ho/s320/Europium+%25282%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My embroidery for the atomic number is passable, but I really should practice a bit more.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’ve also finished the bed wrap for my Mum, and am ¾ of the way through some gloves for a friend’s daughter.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I may also have a new commission for a Dr Who scarf….watch this space!</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05278783649454658379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145066613167887173.post-13162916792249884832011-08-04T22:43:00.000+12:002011-08-04T22:43:03.952+12:00Lightening the mood with CHICKENS!If you haven't read the Bloggess' post about <a href="http://thebloggess.com/2011/06/and-thats-why-you-should-learn-to-pick-your-battles/">using giant metal chickens to win an argument with your husband then I suggest you do it RIGHT NOW</a>... I'll wait.<br />
<br />
<br />
Right, I hope that now you are laughing so hard you can't speak and feeling a lot better since my last post which was terribly depressing and yet topical.<br />
<br />
Chickens make me <a href="http://thebloggess.com/2011/07/and-then-i-stage-a-live-zombie-apocalypse-in-utah/">furiously happy</a>. Our little flock are getting very adventurous and interested in their surroundings.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yfN9p5JdTn0/Tjpz5lQZecI/AAAAAAAABAY/KVC25GbvZYs/s1600/chickens+and+august+005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yfN9p5JdTn0/Tjpz5lQZecI/AAAAAAAABAY/KVC25GbvZYs/s400/chickens+and+august+005.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and doh-see-doh your partner</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table> They run around like crinolined ladies at a yarn sale and get terribly excited when they think you have food to offer them. They also like to get into interesting looking spaces.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hKdGD5zlVV8/Tjpz_yPLGvI/AAAAAAAABAc/DqbDqtBq900/s1600/chickens+and+august+006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hKdGD5zlVV8/Tjpz_yPLGvI/AAAAAAAABAc/DqbDqtBq900/s400/chickens+and+august+006.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ahhh I see your problem, it's your left manifold sprocket</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
They have also learned that we mean them no harm, and they sort of squat down when the kids go to pat them, or when I try and take their photo.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-h93wAHNzY1M/TjpzwMrx0WI/AAAAAAAABAU/edXb8yCK8Q4/s1600/chickens+and+august+009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-h93wAHNzY1M/TjpzwMrx0WI/AAAAAAAABAU/edXb8yCK8Q4/s400/chickens+and+august+009.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">left a bit..right a bit.. ohhh right there</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
They tend to stick together when perambulating around the grounds, and Hakopa has no end of fun attempting to herd them in different directions. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9MEGXnIDaB0/Tjp0MnI7HAI/AAAAAAAABAk/u5xd0M-tuQA/s1600/chickens+and+august+008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9MEGXnIDaB0/Tjp0MnI7HAI/AAAAAAAABAk/u5xd0M-tuQA/s320/chickens+and+august+008.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Come by! Come by! Awaaaay to me!</td></tr>
</tbody></table> I think they must be happy though, as despite it being the depths of winter, and the chooks only being young ladies at the very start of their egg-laying life, they have been providing us with at least 4 eggs every day, and sometimes we get a MASSIVE egg. I do notice that Big John tends to sit down a bit more after we have had one of these.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i4aWVzoXqPw/Tjp2dh8MnAI/AAAAAAAABAo/HECb8b6NKsE/s1600/BIG+EGG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i4aWVzoXqPw/Tjp2dh8MnAI/AAAAAAAABAo/HECb8b6NKsE/s320/BIG+EGG.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spot the double-yolker...and the mutant carrot abandoned by a small child</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I have to remember to keep the doors shut as the weather gets warmer, as the chickens cannot resist an open doorway and I have had to shoo them out of the house a couple of times already. They still come back and tap on the window though, as if to say "Your cross stitch is appalling, and your posture needs correcting"Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05278783649454658379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145066613167887173.post-66529065119879841222011-08-01T22:21:00.000+12:002011-08-01T22:21:17.964+12:00Following on from last weeks suicide post<div class="MsoNormal">I just wanted to publicly thank two people who saved my life in 1997.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was in my first year at University with all the stresses, excitement and intoxication that this entails. I was discovering who I was, and who I wasn’t. I had no idea, but the freedom to be anyone I wanted was liberating and terrifying at the same time.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was in sparkling new halls of residence sharing a flat with a couple of lovely girls who I was friends with through the first year, but drifted away from when we moved out in the second year.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I had great neighbours and a host of luscious people to befriend.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My neighbours in the flat directly above me caught my attention. I can’t remember quite how we all met, but I am pretty sure there were buckets, alcohol and chair-dancing involved. They too were 2 lovely girls, one looked like Kate Winslet with a smile that lit up the whole room and the other looked like Cameron Diaz even at 8am lectures. I was smitten.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We quickly became good friends and spent many happy hours talking rubbish, eating strange concoctions and getting uproariously drunk. When they were home and wanted to call me they would stamp on the floor (which was the ceiling of my room), when I wanted to call them I would bang on the ceiling with my broom. We sometimes used the in-house intercom, but it wasn’t as funny as trying to tap out the rhythm of Radiohead’s Fake Plastic Trees with a wobbly broom handle.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Occasionally they would send down aid packages tied to a belt which they swung down from their window to mine, other times it was notes asking to borrow sugar.</div><div class="MsoNormal">One time, I remember them asking for help with preparing a chicken to cook. They couldn’t bear to touch it as it reminded them of babies or something. I was a vegetarian, so naturally I danced it around the kitchen like some kind of macabre Buster Keaton.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I am talking about these two wondrous people as if they were one person. They weren’t quite that inseparable, but they both saved my life together.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I had been simpering after a fellow from the SCUBA dive club for months and was eagerly awaiting his return from the recent break. I met up with him at a local bar (having filled myself up so much with Dutch courage I was leaking) and he let me down gently, saying he was with someone else.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This would not normally matter, but I was not a normal person back then. I went back to my halls to talk to my lovely neighbours, but they weren’t in.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was distraught, destroyed, and grief-stricken. Convinced that I was a bad person that didn’t deserve friends or boyfriends, I staggered back to my room and attacked my left arm with the blade from a disposable razor. I wasn’t trying to kill myself at that point, just wanting to let the pain out somehow and seeing the blood flow down my arm seemed to be a physical outpouring of the pain I felt inside. I wrote a note about it, and sat in my room wondering why no one was coming. Then my head cleared a little and I thought “I need to talk to someone about this”, so I staggered back up the stairs to my neighbours.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Bless them, I can’t imagine what they must have thought to find me on the doorstep tear-streaked, blood-soaked with a dozen slashes across one forearm, but they took me in and cleaned me up. They held my hands and cried with me and told me I should get the cuts stitched, but I refused to go to a doctor. I don’t remember much after that.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Later that week, or month or year (I’m still not sure when), they sat me down and told me that they didn’t think they could share a house with me (we had planned to move in to a shared house in our second year) and that I needed professional help.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was hurt and angry, but I knew deep down that they were right. They could not rescue me from myself, and I could not expect that of them. I went to the doctor, took a deep breath and showed her my scars.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Thus began my journey into counseling, anti-depressants and psychotherapy which I believe has saved my life. I started healing myself from the day my friends saved me.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I lost touch with my friends after university, but thanks to the amazing power of Facebook I found them just around the time I moved overseas. I don’t think I ever properly thanked them for what they did for me, so this is for them.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Thank you Sian and Julia, you saved my life.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05278783649454658379noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145066613167887173.post-80145622647836426752011-07-29T11:06:00.000+12:002011-07-29T11:06:49.009+12:00Suicide sucks, don't do it.<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.rotoruadailypost.co.nz/opinion/news/te-ururoa-flavell-time-to-say-no-more/3959989/">The article that started it all </a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I heard the author of this article on the radio today and I spent the entire time shouting at the radio and getting so angry I nearly threw it out of the window.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Now, we live in a no-TV household, so I gather I may have missed some other media around this issue, but this article is what I read, and this man is who I heard speaking on the radio.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I got so angry I posted it all over the internet to find out if I am alone in my rage.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I wanted to know if it would be a good idea to condemn people who commit suicide to disgust from their society.<span> </span>I wanted to find out if being shown that victims of suicide are not worthy of a normal funeral would deter other teens from going down the same path.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">From my own personal point of view, and one that has been through the horrors of depression and been at the top of that dark slope down I think that this would just make those people believe that feeling suicidal was something to be ashamed of, something to hide, something to pretend was not happening.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I believe that punishing the families who have lost loved ones to suicide by refusing their child/sister/brother/parent a normal funeral would cause more people to hide away their own feelings of grief and depression.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Surely the way to combat teen suicide (or any suicide for that matter) is to talk.<span> </span>To be open; to let people know that it’s OK to feel like this, but that they have somewhere to turn.<span> </span>To let people know that there is another option other than death.<span> </span>I sort of understand that maybe some teens might not think about the repercussions of suicide, but let’s be honest, teens do not tend to think of anything outside their own bubble, I know I certainly did not.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So far the internet world seems to have agreed with me, but one person raised an interesting alternative point of view, that of a “shame culture” where some cultures believe that killing yourself to prevent shame and dishonor being brought upon your family is a noble thing.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Now I don’t profess to have a detailed knowledge of Maori culture (the man in the article is Maori, and a lot of the radio discussion was focused on the Maori community), I am woefully ignorant in that regard, but I don’t believe it to be a “shame culture”.<span> </span>From a western viewpoint, the idea of shame culture is abhorrent to me; I cannot see how killing yourself and hurting those who love you in the process could be somehow better than doing something “shameful” and then working to rectify what you did.<span> </span>As I said though, I am from a different world, so I doubt I could be made to understand this.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">There seems to be a fear in the media about death being glamorised and romanticised.<span> </span>Maybe it’s true, maybe not, but it has been that way since Romeo and Juliet.<span> </span>People who really want to kill themselves are not well, and we need to help them to get better, not vilify them or their family and friends for something beyond their control.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05278783649454658379noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145066613167887173.post-91837252828456965802011-07-22T21:33:00.000+12:002011-07-22T21:33:14.404+12:00New folk songs for the modern hippyTwas unpleasant and frightful one grey winters morn<br />
<br />
To see the faces of the commuters all covered with scorn<br />
<br />
and the pigeons were shitting in every dank square<br />
<br />
and the parks they were malodorous in the cold smoggy air<br />
<br />
and the parks they were malodorous<br />
<br />
and the parks they were malodorous<br />
<br />
and the parks they were malodorous<br />
<br />
how I wished I weren't there.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05278783649454658379noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145066613167887173.post-66739342805537017112011-07-17T08:27:00.000+12:002011-07-17T08:27:54.795+12:00I don’t have time for time management<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">Starting a new business has made me painfully aware of how much STUFF working parents have to fit into their lives.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I am struggling to do all the things I need to do, plus the fun stuff, plus the stuff for setting up the business and it is starting to show.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have been staying up far too late at night reading or playing on the computer as I have been trying to get other stuff done during the day like phoning potential customers, filling in insurance forms and buying ladders.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I cracked last night when poor Tareka brought home cheese and crackers for me.<span> </span>In between sobs I wailed “I don’t know what to do FIRST!” I don’t have enough hours in the day to do everything, but I don’t want to give up ALL of my hobbies or I will go insane!”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">He had some wise words which really struck a chord for me, and which I am trying to follow.<span> </span>His boss told him the key to effective time management is to ask yourself these 2 questions.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Is it urgent?</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Is it important?</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Most people spend the majority of their time doing non-urgent, unimportant things so it is easy to see how we don’t have time to get everything done.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I am going to ask myself these questions each day to determine what things I need to focus on, and if I have time to spare when they are done, I can think about the non-urgent, unimportant stuff.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Now to get back to the very urgent and important tasks of checking emails, Facebook, Google+, Twitter and all my other message boards.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05278783649454658379noreply@blogger.com7