Happenings

So, it's been a little quiet on the blog front. I have several reasons for, some of which I will blog about in greater detail another time. For now here's a quick run-down:

1. Jo's grandfather died
2. I was finishing off my class
3. I am putting together all material for tour
4. House renovations
5. General parenting
6. Dog exercise duties
7. Being knackered
8. Jo away at guide camp

and so on...

My son is Phil Mitchell

Don't you just hate it?

When you cook something that should, in theory, be lovely, but in reality tastes like nothing much at all? Perhaps if I'd added alot of salt...but the damage is done now.

The last week or so has been rather topsy-turvy. We started the week with great plans and it all went downhill fron there. Jo had a "team-bonding" day on Tuesday, which ended up with her getting a nasty bronchial infection. We've taken this rather seriously as a good friend of mine has just spent 3 days in hospital after she started coughing up blood (she said the first couple of days was great because she could just sit and read - can you tell she has 3 kids?). So this slightly buggered our plans to get some house painting done on Friday. Then I discovered that the Lower Hutt Charity Tattoo convention was being held over the weekend.

Now, I've never been to a tattoo convention and I had strong suspicions that any such event in the Lower Hutt (think Bromley/Croydon, only much smaller scale) woudl be less than enthralling, but there's a young lady tattooist from Auckland who was going to be present. This was somewhat surprising as I thought she was in Edinburgh or London or Amsterdam, and it turns out she was equally surprised to be there. Jo, in an act of borderline self-flagellation, agreed that we could go along for a look on Saturday.

We turned up unfashionably early at 10.30am to find the local town/horticultural hall filled with a grand total of 30 or so stands, filled with many a hairy-arsed biker type. As always Ben turned on the charm and was wooing the locals and non-locals alike. Plus, he got to sample a fair amount of free popcorn and get his first helium balloon. Nice work son. Anyway, after much, much hanging about I finally spoke the aforementioned tattoo lady, who was extremely busy with "walk-ins". And what did I say?

"I've got a couple of hours free tomorrow afternoon, can you fit me in?"...what do I want, I dunno, whatever you feel like..."



Slightly stunned by my brainfart, I turned to see Jo looking at me slightly askance. And fair enough.

So the next day Jo went off to spend the day on a Guide Leaders' training course, Ben went to spend a couple of hours with the dads and I went to get tattooed.

Before this, however, I had a slight panic about the fact that I'd been so recklessly wanton with my choice of "whatever", and so I frantically tried to get hold of tattoo lady to suggest a design. No joy getting anyone to answer the phone at the town hall, I decided I would try the number for the event organiser in the hope that they coudl pass on a message. Tattoo Stu did indeed answer his mobile and it turned out he was live on stage at the convention and he happily, and much to my shame, had tattoo lady dragged to the stage so I could talk to her. Yet more proof that I will NEVER be cool. Never ever.

So now I have the outline of a lovely tattoo that will be finished off in February when tattoo lady will be working for a week in a studio in Wellington.

Oh yeah, and yesterday I had the random vomits. But I'm pretty certain the two are not related.

Another day

See? This is what happens when I have to blog weekly. Can't think of a thing to write. How about some random pictures?

The building with the red roof is up for sale at the moment. It's just around the corner from our place, built at the back of the local bread factory, handy for town, the hospital and the cricket ground. Plus they are about to built a bloody huge supermarket next door. Magic.

Can't think of much else to say...today has been mostly about pens. Yep, it's been that rock & roll today.

Will try to think of something more enthralling to blog about tomorrow.

Today has mostly involved...

Vomit.

Bet you're glad you read that, huh?

The clocks have shifted forwards for summer here in NZ, which of course means that it has done nothing but chuck down with rain. Luckily, this inclement weather has enabled Jo & I to maintain our family tradition of hanging out washing only to have it dry, then get soaked by a downpour and spend 3 days on the line drying out again. But I digress.

The clocks having changed I was was forced awake this morning at 6am (though the clock claimed 7am). Ugh. It was not a welcome start to the week. In fact, I was feeling supremely knackered, which may have had something to do with spending the whole weekend furiously writing/running with dog/being hearty. AND to make it worse I was facing a day without "nanna afternoon" as Jo's mum was at the beach for the week.

Now, I refuse to let such triviality interfere with my overwhelming urge to collapse in a heap of bleurgh, so the household was sent into a tailspin of activity - baby stuff sorted, dog stuff sorted, wife stuff sorted - and all was loaded into the car and we headed north. We headed beachwards. Jo was dropped off at work and we drove on towards the sands of Raumati.

We made it there by 9.30am. By which point I was starving, so I ventured to this new-fangled "drive-through" and bought a flat white and a muffin. Of course, being the day before payday my card bounced, luckily we have savings for such drastic emergencies. Onwards we travelled to nanna's house. The baby had phase two of breakfast - rhubarb, pear & apple mash with muesli, and the dog had her breakfast. Except the dog wouldn't eat. Instead the dog made nasty gagging noises and was chivvied outside, returning with a spring in her step (and presumably less in her stomach).

oh but no.

An estimated 10 minutes later the dog did an impressive barf right in the middle of the lounge.

About 30 minutes later I popped downstairs to grab the Ben's blanket from the car only to discover a secondary barf. And then Ben hurled all over his clothes.

What did I do? I left Ben with his grandpa and headed to the beach with the dog.

I'll leave it there; no doubt I'll blog again later in the week when I'm "working".

Adios!

This made me laugh so hard I cried - I apologise in advance

From thedailymash.co.uk

ANGER AT EU BAN ON WANKY SHIT PUDDING
THERE was anger last night as European bureaucrats threatened to outlaw classic British puddings such as freckled ball bag and boiled arseholes.

A new Brussels directive will seek to end the UK's exemption from dirty cake name laws, leaving establishments advertising old-fashioned favourites, including wanky shit pudding, open to prosecution.

Cafe owner Eve Evans said: "It's political correctness gone mad. I raised my kids on things like wanky shit pudding, chocolate hard-ons and fuck-me-tarts, they're great British treats."

She added: "At the end of the day, a wanky shit pudding is basically a chocolate brownie with a blob of double cream on it. What do you think that looks like? Exactly - a shit that someone's done a wank on. It's plain common sense."

Cafe customer Tom Logan agreed: "Wanky shit pudding is bloody lovely and wanking and shitting are the most natural things in the world, likewise wanking onto a shit. And then eating it."

Tony Harrison's grandmother Jean Trump invented wanky shit pudding, and first published the recipe in her 1832 bestseller Mr Trump's Fucking Big Book of Tasty British Puddings.

He said: "She was the first person to reject the thinly-veiled euphemisms of the 18th century such as steamed whoopsie and raspberry tinkle and introduce more honest, down to earth names like chuff trifle and fanny battered figs.

"By all accounts she was an indomitable old bird who, I am quite sure, would have been horrified at the prospect of some dirty foreigners fiddling about with her fondant beaver."

Hello? Hello?

Is there anybody out there? Will anyone read this? Perhaps not, so I can WRITE WHATEVER I WANT!!!!

Except that I am too chicken, in case someone actually does read this and takes offence.

I promised myself last week that I would return to regular blogging on a weekly basis, starting Monday. Of course I didn't even slightly manage this, but I'm thinking Wednesday evening isn't too bad a compromise. And I'm trying desperately to think of something to write about.

Ummm...

Weirdly I think I may have lost the ability to spell correctly. You know how some people pick up accents when they move to foreign climes? Well I think I may have picked up shite awful command of the English language and grammar. I am not happy about it and will be delving into my enormous dictionary to resolve any qualms. Amongst other oddities is the fact that I had a new passport photo taken today. That, in itself is not so peculiar, but Jo and I are in agreement that the photo doesn't really resemble me. Normally a slightly dodgy photo leads to pleas for kindness and reassurance, this time I honestly wanted Jo to say "Jeez, that's a terrible photo, it doesn't look anything like you!". And she did. Thank god, if I did actually look like the mysterious pig-eyed fat-faced middle aged frump in the picture I would be very very unhappy.

Sorry, I've been away. The nicest thing just happened - a knock on the door and it was my friend Sam, who just dropped by to say hello and give me a bottle of wine. She was just on her way home and thought she'd do something lovely. Aren't people fabulous sometimes?

Anyway, expect more from me as I have the upcoming workload -
a new class starting
need to write study tour booklet
need to put together on-tour seminars
go on tour

Til next week...

A couple of photos

This ad running on TradeMe - just about sums up the "Kiwi Chick"

old clawfoot bath
Start price: $0.50 No reserve Closes: Fri 12 Jun, 9:18 am Listing #: 222635503 Starting bid: $Place Bid Auto-bid

RELISTED. WITHDREW LISTING ON UNDERSTANDING THAT BUYER WOULD BE THERE SAME AFTERNOON TO PICK UP. THEY WEREN'T. THAT WAS A WHILE AGO NOW. VERY ANNOYED AT PAYING AUCTION WITHDRAWAL FEES FOR PEOPLE WHO DON'T KEEP THEIR END OF THE BARGAIN.

PLEASE READ THE PART ABOUT FOUR GRUNTY GUYS BEING NEEDED TO LIFT THIS. TWO MIGHT DO IF REALLY GRUNTY. I AM A WOMAN, BUT AM WELL OVER SIX FOOT AND BUILT LIKE A BULGARIAN WRESTLER. I MANAGED IT WITH MY GUY BUT IT NEAR KILLED ME. I WILL BE VERY VERY VEEEERY UNIMPRESSED IF YOU'RE A TINY LITTLE FLOWER AND YOU TURN UP EXPECTING ME TO CARRY THIS FOR YOU.

Genuine old claw foot bath, date stamped 1941.

Sorry, no pic, I can't find my camera.

Surface condition is poor - the enamel is old and worn and impossible to scrub clean any more. Will need resurfacing.

It's the old coffin style, I believe it's called, like a big rectangle with flat edges, not rolled edges (but good for putting candles, bottles etc on). Very comfy and practical.

168.5 cm x 75.5 cm and about 38cm deep (not counting legs).

I am keeping the feet, very sorry, they are not for sale and will not come with the bath. The bath of course has places to screw in new feet.

Manufacturers of new baths recommend that four grunty guys move these things - they are cast iron and very heavy. In saying that, two of us managed to move this one.

Basically free for whoever wants to come and get it. Currently kept outside (since the weekend).
Please read the questions and answers for this auction.

Kitten vengeance

The NZ police are trying to trace the psycho-children; strangely they suspect this may be the start of something more serious and would like to nip it in the bud.

And you all thought NZ was such a nice place...

To counteract previous post

I know it's illegal to hits kids, but...

If my kid did this I would wallop them into next week. Future serial killers?



Two tiny kittens are slowly recovering after having paws cut off - believed to be by children using a knife or scissors.

The kittens survived their "horrendous" injuries, but are now facing major surgery to have a hind leg and part of a hip amputated.

The children, both aged under 10, giggled when they left the kittens at a Wellington Cats Protection League foster home, saying that the kittens' "feet fell off". But a vet's verdict is that the feet were "traumatically removed".

The children and their parents left the animal foster home without giving their names.

The committee member who runs the home has informed the SPCA, but a spokesperson says they cannot investigate without more information.

The eight week-old kittens are recovering well, but need to grow bigger before they have a hope of surviving the required surgery.

Both kittens are missing their left-hind foot. A veterinarian's notes say the leg of the smaller, black male "ends abruptly at the extreme distal tibia" the kitten's ankle.

The slightly larger black-and-white male was cut across the top of his foot his leg "ends abruptly across the proximal metatarsals".

The kittens were very quiet when the vet first saw them and the stumps were "swollen and inflamed". It was thought they might die from the trauma.

The volunteer who runs the home said for a long time her children could not bear to look at the kittens. "[The kittens] don't know they don't have feet. The cruellest thing is when you see it lying on its back and it's got its little stump and it's trying to scratch its chin.

"They're as friendly as - they try and climb up you and everything. It's horrible because you can feel the stumps on you... you can feel the jagged bit at the end.

"The other day we just heard [one of the kittens] scream and it had stood on a piece of kitty litter and it had stuck into its little stump ... it got infected."

The stumps have to be carefully bathed every day. The woman, who declined to be named, said she had taken in more injured cats in the last three months than in the past nine years put together.

"I just can't believe there's so many. They're all so horrendous," she said. "It just never seems to stop."

Other recent cases include a kitten whose tail was chopped off by a child with scissors. That kitten survived, but was deeply traumatised. "He was black and white and he's now turning grey." Another kitten was brought to her after being attacked with a hammer the owner had killed the rest of the litter, but this one somehow survived.

The volunteer found a third kitten in a box at her door, tangled so tightly in fishing line it was bleeding.

"The noise it was making... I cut the fishing line off and within minutes it died. My only consolation was it had stopped howling."

The league is about to launch a campaign for owners to get their cats desexed last year 500 operations were performed and this year it is determined to raise enough money to double that to 1000.

Recent high-profile incidents of animal cruelty have included the attack last month on a sheep by three Auckland teenagers who allegedly blew off its jaw with fireworks, and the abduction of a 14-year-old dog in Wellington which was then seriously injured when used as bait for fighting pitbull terriers.

The Cats Protection League will pay for the kittens' operations.

Donations or inquiries can be made at www.cpl-wellington.org.nz or posted to PO Box 12157, Thorndon, Wellington.

Beardy Wierdy

So, there I was sat in front of the TV watching "The Closer" on DVD, when I suddenly remembered my empty promise to blog teh weekend before last. Uh oh.

I immediately grabbed a pen & wrote down the things I would blog about this morning, which may go some way to explaining the randomness of this entry. Thus, the photo of Ben modelling his future beard-scratching Amish philosopher look.

First on my list is "Bad Scooter Parking". Last night I was out on a run with Gertie - exercise has been necessitated by a rather public trouser-button popping debarcle mid-class - wheezing away and carrying the obligatory bag o'poo when I came across a scooter parked on the path. Now, this scooter was not just on the pavement...oh no, it was parked across the path. Side on. No room either side for us pesky pedestrians. Nope. No choice but to go into the gutter.

I stopped & glared. Gert looked bemused. I considered pushing it over (childish). I seriously considered leaving Gertie's bag o' poo on the seat (too abstract). In the end I carried on and fumed quietly. God help that poor scooter owner should that happen when I have a pram & small boy to negotiate.

I mean come ON! Why oh why can't you park your precious scooter in the road like a normal person? (Please note, I am sitting here with teeth gritted in an attempt to restrain myself from "language" - the perils of parenthood no.1 = finding alternatives to swearing). For feijoa's sake!

In case you are wondering at my "scooter rage", I think it may be because I'm not taking the tablets any more, which means I am a danger to anyone within a 50-mile radius. Well, according to telly anyway. Have you noticed that lesbians & people who suffer from depression are always psychos on telly; so I am a double threat...watch out...

In reality a depressed lesbian is far more likely to bore you to death by analysing every aspect of their life ad infinitum.

Okay, that's today's installment. I'm saving my other exciting news for tomorrow (maybe), but I'll leave you with this - next week The Penthouse Cinema's "Babes in Arms" film choice is a film about a woman who has just finished a prison sentence for infanticide.

Adios!

Tired

I know, I know, I know....don't start with me, I'm tired.

And, no it's not because I am being kept awake by Ben yelling his head off, I'm just a bit tired.

But I will blog soon. Probably over the coming weekend.

Is that enough for you?

First dog snog

Yep. It's the first day of my new class, so I'm blogging because my tiny tiny brain can't handle the fact that I've committed myself to 2 hours of talking about the predynastic period (5000-3000BC)in Egypt.

And it's in the same crappy lecture hall I've had before where pillars obscure the view of the screens. Most irritating.

Quick quiz - is there any point in having your ipod on shuffle if you spend half your time grimacing & hitting fast forward?

However, on a lighter note it's interesting to see that the Kent police force have been told off for playing the Hi De Hi theme tune at high volume to disperse protesters. That is borderline torture.

On a less cheery note, our beloved Prime Minister, Mr Key, appears to be taking the interesting view that the best areas to cut costs during the recession is the environment & pensions. So, if we're lucky we'll survive having not quite enough money to buy all the useless crap we don't need, but we'll have f**ked the climate & starve to death as old folk. Magic. Can't wait.

Things starting to settle down in the domestic realm - Jo & I have negotiated a 3-day week, so Tuesday & Thursday are family days when we'll do exciting things like go to the zoo. Or watch DVDs rented from the library ("King of Kong" & "Mis Pettigrew Lives For A Day" on reserve), depending upon the weather and how skint we are.

I notice that the REAL IRA are up to no good again; over here people are going all White Supremacist, though I don't fancy their chances (have you seen "Once Were Warriors"?). Are we really heading back to the 1970s?

The 9 day working fortnight is being introduced here too. Basically every private company that has more than 100 employees can tell their staff to take every other Friday off (no pay) & the govt will pay the employee up to $62 (20 quid) to compensate.

Ugh. I give up.

All the fun of the fair!

So today is the annual Newtown Fair, which means a great big lorry/soundstage right outside and lots of goings on.

For some reason Green Street seems to be designated for selling old tat; on my return from this morning's dog walk I noticed we have the obligatory emo/stoner t-shirt stand, a snowcone stall, someone selling trendy babychairs and some junk stalls. Luckily,we also have the RadioActive soundstage (playing The Cocteau Twins a moment ago).

The remainder of Newtown's main thoroughfare is jam-packed with nick nacks, "art", clothing, FOOD, coffee, more soundstages etc etc. Even the French cafe has put out extra tables! The local school playground has transformed into a fairground and, of course, it's scorchio hot, so all the stall holders will get vicious sunburn.

We're venturing into the fray in about 20 mins. Wish us luck!

I'll be brief

Mostly because we are off on a great adventure - i.e. walking down to the Basin Reserve & back to enjoy the glorious weather, but I thought I'd treat you to a couple of photos of Ben looking 1.) windy 2.) stunned & monkey-armed.

And those of you who worry that I am neglecting my family in favour of being online please rest assured that Jo is more than capable of kicking me in the arse if needs be and baby/mother sleeping time is tres handy for office time! Plus, I'm working now on my new courses so am a little tied to the pc when I'm not walking dog/burping baby/cooking lunch or dinner/stopping noisy baby from waking up his mum etc etc etc. I promise that, despite the hoofing great tattoo on my arm, I am a responsible & sensible grown up person. In fact I realised today, whilst out on a 5km run with Gert, that I haven't even drunk more than 2.5 glasses of wine in one go for more than a year!

In fact, I think if it wasn't the tattoo thing, I'd be the most sensible person in the world.

Oh, and to save multiple explanations -

- tattoo = cover-up of old tattoo from 20 years ago
- it's a combination of winged heart/star/personal reminders
- given half the chance I'd do more (slow deep breaths Dad...it'll all be fine)
- Jo likes it
- Jo doesn't have tattoos; she's a belly piercing girl
- this doesn't mean I will let your travelling kids get tattoos whilst they are in NZ

Now we're going into the great blue yonder!

love
S

Just a quickie

No baby photos; but do feel free to join me in a couple of weeks at this delightful history course!

All is going well, have started to test out a routine that, fingers crossed, will have Ben sleeping through the night in no time at all (we've already got him down to waking up once a night).

Jan & Chris in Wellington for a few days last week and, despite my extreme knackeredness, we managed to gad about quite nicely. A brief summary of their visit:

Indian takeaway
Maranui Cafe
Mount Victoria
Dog walking
Haircuts
Sweet Mother's Kitchen
Te Papa colossal squid
Hurricanes cha cha cha!
Camper vans

What more can I say? Off to watch the Oscars red carpet now and comment on which "stars" I think should eat more pies.

laters gators

Oh You Handsome Devil...

Before I zonk out completely.

No photos yet, but after an epic battle the Ben-monster, also known as Wolfie Sparks, is finally here.

Jo went into labour at 4am on 13th February, we headed to the hospital at 12 noon, by 10.30pm (yes, PM) it was decided that the baby wasn't shifting and at 12.35am on February 14th he was delivered by casearean section.

He was 4.5kg/9.2lb, with blonde curly hair and freakishly big hands & feet.

Jo is knackered, Ben is knackered & I am knackered.

And at 1pm I am going to have a word with the receptionist who informed me that only "husbands" were allowed to visit between 1pm & 3pm.

Adios!

Oh I've thought of something to say!

We saw "Slumdog Millionaire" the other night.

It was okay, but really it's just a movie about how we gather pointless information mixed in with a slightly cliche lovers in peril story. Now I know alot of folk will chastise me for not thinking it was magical, but you must bear in mind that I like watching things like "Shoah", "Tell No One" & "Bambi", so there's no accounting for taste.

I can't even think of a title for this today.

I'm trying far far too hard to think of something to say that isn't "Still no baby", but it would appear that this is the only topic that anyone wants to discuss.

From this I can only assume that I am such a phenomenal hider of secrets and withholder of information that no one would ever assume that such a thing had happened from my demeanour alone. My semi-slacker part-time couple of hours a morning slackness job at the cafe is back on and everyday this week someone has said to me "Still no baby?" - do I really strike you as the type of person so dedicated to teh art of sandwich making that I wouldn't skip work to be with my newly first born child? Really? I think not.

So I put in this picture of a baby to keep you quiet.

Just to drive me even more insane the weather has turned to super rainy, but only when I go outside. Twice today I have been drenched - once collecting a parcel and once exercising the dog. Gert really needs more exercise today, but it is pissing down and I just can't face going out there and getting soaked again, plus she has dog day care tomorrow so she'll get tons of looning about then.

Jo is going nuthouse crazy because all she can do is one brief excursion a day before she's knackered and the rest of the time she's stuck indoors doing not very much. I know I should be relishing this pre-baby peace, but it would be alot more fun if Jo wasn't 41 weeks pregnant.

Oh, and she had the baby last week.


Just teasing.

I was going to be light-hearted

but then I foolishly read an article about the Australian bushfires, more specifically this paragraph -

Stories of lucky escapes and ghastly deaths emerged. Elderly couple Faye and Bill Walker and their son, who was in a wheelchair, had their car packed, key in the ignition and family dog in the back. But the fire beat them – their charred bodies were found metres away, inside the house.

I have the suspicion that if the coppers do catch the arsonists there's gonna be a lynchin'.

Still no baby

And I'm getting BORED!

Can you imagine what a great big pain in the arse I was every christmas/birthday? It's the bloody midwife's faut for saying she thought the Ben might be arriving a little early.

So now we are stuck (mostly) at home, though this morning we did venture to the beach and then to the library.

And all the dog does all day is sit and watch me in the desperate hope that I'll crack and take her for walk.

AND we've run out of Battlestar Galactica to watch. Bumflaps....

Is the UK broken?

My oh my, it's mighty snowy in your neck o' the woods isn't it?

I'm actually quite envious in a 'not really, but it looks pretty' way. That kind of cold would probably kill me now that I am a softy ex-pat, but I could get some decent mileage out of all my ski clothes.

No baby news yet, but I did just meet Monty (the 6 week old from across the street) who is destined to become Ben's best mate and/or arch enemy. He has sideburns already, flash git.

Off to write course book now. Allegedly.

It would appear that

I am boring.

Jo thinks I spend far too much time blogging/texting/tweeting. I have tried to explain that this is an almost unavoidable side-effect of working at home on a desk-based project, but I fear that maternity leave may be fraught with demands to "come and watch a DVD and stop being so boring".



Gert doesn't think I'm boring. She thinks I rock.

So there.

"My name is GYA and I am a first aider."

Two days of first aid training completed. Should you fall from a great height, collapse, crash your car, choke etc etc etc in my general vicinity I am now qualified to leap to your assistance and announce myself with a flourish.

I was a little disappointed that we didn't get to practise emergency tracheotomy or run along along a corridor with a prone victim on a trolley, but I was tested with the most magnificent scenario - a man carrying a heavy box has fallen down the stairs, possible broken pelvis, severe carpet burn on thigh, and has now been jumped on by a nosy cat causing him to go into anaphylaxis. You will be relieved to hear that he lived.

Quite a bizarre group too. Most interesting/entertaining was Andrey the Russian IT guy (well Kurgistan, if we're being pernickity), who looked disturbingly like David Walliams and said things like "When I was child I was digging for worms and I cut hand on broken glass - my father cleaned with vodka; this good?". At one point I was waiting for Jeremy Beadle to leap out, but then I remembered he was dead. So I assumed Jimmy Carr would be out there somewhere. He also started quite a fierce debate about how to treat poisoning as he was having none of the new fangled idea that making the poisonee throw up was daft and might kill them. Choking on vomit obviously not commonplace in Kurgistan.

And did you know they don't recommend using antiseptic on cuts these days; just a good rinse with clean water.

So...January 2010 Egypt I'll be ready for them. Fling yourselves off as many olde monumentes as you will, I will wrench you into the recovery position and introduce myself whether you want to or not.

In other news, the midwife (just typed midwaif...the Kate Moss of prenantal care) thinks Wolfie might be a couple of days early. Will let you know.

I'm off to define the role of royal women in 18th dynasty Egypt. Adios!

The Final Countdown

Only 10 days to go...

Dogs are brilliant

Because they make sure that you actually get off your fat bum and do some exercise.

Unless you are the dog owner I saw this morning who drove to the top of a park, let their dog out to take a dump, sat in their car reading the paper, put dog back in car and drove off.

They did not pick up the poo.

I am starting to get a little concerned about myself.

I’m spending waaaay too much time sat at a desk; half the time writing evening classes, half the time surfing the net. I’ve even found myself signing up to Twitter, which strikes me as vaguely pointless as I don’t think I know anyone else who is signed up to it. Though, and people who knew me when I was 17 will find this hilarious/disturbing, Wendy & Lisa are on there, so now I can share their daily trivia. Strangely, it’s not that fascinating; I must be growing up or something. Now I really want to buy myself a netbook so I can gad about and do work all over the place wirelessly. I did try the laptop thing a few years ago, but find them a pain in the arse to lug around and now they have these new fandangly lightweight mini things. After some intense negotiation with Jo it’s been agreed that I can indulge myself in an Aspire One in May when I become sole at home parent, and then I’ll be able to blog, write, and surf yada yada yada from anywhere. Allowing for baby vomit on the keyboard, of course.

The imminent arrival of Wolfie Sparks (Jo has vetoed Wolfgang Spartacus as a name, but I think a nickname will suffice), who shall be formally known as Ben, combined with summer weather in this neck of the woods means that Jo is a little housebound. Aside from going to work, of course. I mean why wouldn’t you be in the office a week before you’re due to give birth? I suppose I could go out and do my own thing, but I would feel a little disloyal/unsupportive. Instead we’ve been mostly watching ‘Battlestar Galactica’…

I swear I wasn’t going to watch it, but my fellow TV goober Kim, stitched me up by dumping 4 seasons of BG in our letterbox just before Christmas. We are now mid-way through the 3rd series and it’s all terribly serious. I would like to think I’ve simply been charmed by the presence of Mary McDonnell as El Presidente, but I am also using it to realise my current Spartacus fixation – are the cylons the slave rebellion? Will the 12th cylon be Kirk Douglas? On which note, is America such a vile place that voting in an African-American is so radical? ‘They’ keep going on about how anyone can be voted President now, but I won’t be holding my breath for a disabled lesbian. In any context.

What other excitement? Pre-birth Ben managed to kick me in the head yesterday. Ta for that. Gert & I have been continuing our outdoorsy odyssey up and down the many and varied trails across Mount Victoria, combining hearty fresh air hikes with tennis ball chasing.

Why do they always seem to use Clannad-esque music to convey pathos on these TV shows? It’s very distracting.

I am also discovering that sleep deprivation starts pre-birth, which is odd seeing as I’m not pregnant. Jo is finding it increasingly difficult to get comfortable at night despite a vast amount of pillows propping her up from every angle and that, in turn, means I get about as much sleep. Thankfully I work from home, so there’s nowhere to be at 9am (except staggering up the aforementioned trails) and I can self-medicate with coffee.

In other news, I saw a headline today stating that there’s a glut of NZ wine. I’m still wary of the booze, these days it screws with my mind and my sleep, so I’ve taken to just the occasional glass of something fancy (Beach House Syrah is my current choice) because it seems like such a phenomenal waste to live in one of the best wine-producing countries in the world and not take advantage. Still keeping my eyes open for a good local viognier in memory of Maurice Goldsmith. Reckon I’m going to become one of those parents who has the odd shandy at Christmas and birthdays? Gets a bit giddy and embarrassing after 2 glasses of sherry?

And I thought this was knackered

I would appear that this is now working on my PC, which is great news as it means I can spend even more time avoiding actual work whilst sitting at my desk.

Only 13 days until due date and have finally finished 1st draft of new class (starts March). Determined to get it neatly finished by the end of this week as well as doing a rock n' roll 2 day first aid course. I refuse to be caught out by random injuries on the next tour. I also plan to spend alot more time in my room watching Egyptian TV and ordering room service.

New Year's Resolution = daily epic dog walk to top of Mount Victoria and back. About 4 mile round trip, but feels like more due to very steep bits. Have realised that flip flops + steep hills + pine needles + hyper dog = sliding on arse. Sliding on arse downhill = undignified. Have been running sections of it, but not at weekends because that would be far too much like dedication.