the continuing saga...

of piiiiiigs innnnn spaaaace.

Do you remember that?

It's from the Muppets back in the 70s.

I loved the Muppets,

but Pigs in Space was a weird but

it's title sticks in my head.

Funny that.

Boy Mags hates the Muppets.

Actually she seemed to hate anything that attempted humour.

I wonder why that was?

Anyway, being redundant is getting tiresome.

Well it is and it isn't.

I decided to give myself until the end of February 

before I started applying for jobs.

So I've done that and even got any 'extra' day in the form of leap day.

Though I did apply for a job yesterday that is a good fit for me

but is back in Canterbury.

Which would be fine if the earthquakes had stopped stopped.

It kind of raises the stakes in the desirability of moving back to Canty.

It's not an unpopular choice in the famdamly

but living is not cheap there.

However, living is cheap in Southland.

Yes, I said Southland.

Southland.

Southland.

It's not really a place anyone thinks about 

When I saw a cool community development role there, I 

took a look at housing opportunities 

- renting and buying -

and soon enough found myself looking at houses in Otago.

Southland is not a big place,

at all.

Like it's a bonus that it's a couple of hours drive to Queenstown,

or to Dunedin and you could always go visit Stewart Island.

Not that I've had any desire to do so,

simply because getting across Foveaux Strait sounds horrific,

traumatic and scary, really scary. 

There are a few jobs in Hamilton and 

I'm applying like for many of them to see what happens.

Maybe we'll stay here,

maybe we will be elsewhere.

Maybe I should just apply for jobs where we want to live.

Hmmm.....

Where ever you are

Here's the thing (or kine),

where you go you always take yourself.

It's Sunday afternoon in Hawaii,

we've just got back from Waimea with the Beatons and the only thing I want to do is have a nap.  

A good old fashioned Sunday afternoon nap.

Really at home in NZ it's Monday afternoon and

I seldom want to have naps on Mondays.

I suspect I want to have a nap on whatever day is the Sabbath in where ever I am.

So if I were in Israel I'd be yearning for a nap on Saturday afternoon or

in an Islamic country, Friday Id be craving a nap.

If I was in a Buddist or Hindu country I'd want a nap every afternoon

cause it would be so flipping hot and

naps are best when it's warm and you're genuinely exhausted,

 all encompassing heat will sap your energy and sleep is the only answer.   T

oday I'm tired cause I want to go home.

Hawaii is 22hours behind NZ or 2 hours ahead but yesterday and

it's all catching up with me.

It doesn't help to have ten teenagers plus another couple of local kids

being full of energy and enthusiasm

 running up and down the hills of Waimea playing

a random mix of touch rugby/American football with tackles thrown in,

those are American tackles designed to stop freight trains

not rugby tackles designed to pull someone to the ground.

When they aren't play ball they are laughing up an hysterical storm

watching YouTube and read allowed from Facebook.

Then they race outside to ride horses and head out to kill a pig or two

followed by mounds of food. 

But ten days into our fourteen days in Hawaii,

they are all tired from blood testing lambs and learning how to brand cattle,

from snorkeling and swimming,

driving and driving to farms and ranches as

we learn about paniolo and the 'natural' way of farming.

Not to mention shopping, my how these kids like to shop!

They have developed an addiction for Starbucks coffees of various,

lengthy named kinds and a passion for Macy's sales.

Their ability to sniff out a deal only pales in comparison to their curiosity

about why Hawaiians farm the way they do. 

The kids have been fantastic.

 They've embraced the cuisine - kuala pork, poke, mountain oysters in teriyaki sauce.

They've learned that paniolo were cowboying long before the West

was a twinkle in Wyatt Earps eye.

They are appreciating how their families farm at home.

They arent surprised at anything much except my elderly persons need to have naps.

and another earthquake

On TV there is a new ad

all about promoting what to do in an earthquake.

There are a bunch of cute little kids

who talk about how they think earthquakes happen.
Excessively cute and very smart.
Little kids teaching us what to do in an earthquake
or a thousand depending if you live where I do or not.

Watch the ad and see if you notice what I notice.


Did you?
Did you notice the sound of the earthquake?
Did you hear it rumbling  in the distance?

In my world that's not in the distance.
That's coming towards you,
in a hurry with some fury.

 This is the sound I have woken up to in pitch black,
waking up sweaty and bothered,
confused and disoriented,
realising it was 'just' an earthquake,
nothing fell, nothing broken and
it's dark anyway so who cares about the power or the water.

This is the sound I've heard coming
as I've been in the shower slippery with soap.
This is the sound that I've eaten meals through,
watched TV through,
read a book, cooked dinner, gardened, lived through.

What I have never done is talked through it
because it's hard to talk while you hold your breath
hoping that the earthquake comes to nothing more
than a solid shake and a broken plate.

Tonight I actually watched the ad
rather then hearing it from another room.
I watched it knowing that there would be the rumble of the earthquake near the end
and even knowing it would come
my stomach still clinched,
I held my breath,
I stilled til it passed.

It's not even real.

And then without the rumble there was a real earthquake.
A long, low, shakey earthquake.
A 7.0, 230 kms deep and a very long way north of here.
A very big earthquake only it was buried deep
so even though it was in the Tasman Sea
and nearer to Taranaki
it was felt all over New Zealand.

Just as I posted on facebook that I disliked the ad
the real but silent earthquake arrived
and reminded me
that as much as the rumble makes me feel ill
there are plenty of surprises.

But it's ok to feel stressed by the earthquake rumbles.
Yes it reminds of how unsafe and unpredicatable our earth is,
 but it also reminds me that there is danger lurking
but I can handle it.

I just need to take a moment to breath through it.



an eventfilled few days

You can tell when I'm overwhelmed,

cause blogging is the last thing on my mind.

Ok so the job interview (shhh!)

was fine.

It was weird to be interviewed by people you know

and Im pretty sure you don't normally go and

have a drink with one of the interviewers afterwards.

Plus my never ending 'flu

(confirmed by a doctor channelling Patch Adams yesterday)

reared it's stoopid head at about 1.17pm on Friday

so I drove with a foggy head,

meet Nig and Suzy with weepy eyes

and blocked ears

at the overrated Dunsandel Store

(I say that cause I always it to be so much better than it is

 and it just never is).

Then, as usual thought I had plenty of time

but didn't so ended up zipping along to my interview.

I struggled to finished my sentences or find thoughts. 

 I couldn't answer a question or two

but they would have been fibs* anyway.

What a space cadet I was.

I don't know why I applied for that job other than

the organisation seems like it would cool to work for,

the people you'd work with would be great,

the role is smaller than the one I have now

(more than one 'flu a winter gets you thinking)

and the pay is way better than what I'm on now.

Oh and a cooler car than what I've got now too.

Only thing is

I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT FARMING.

Actually I probably know more than I think I do,

that's what I told them cause it's true and Im honest*.

Then on Saturday,

the day the weather threw up on Canterbury,

I dragged my sick carcass to Supervalue to pick up

teenage boys to take them over to the Christchurch District Final.

That's Contest to you,

the first of the season.

Where I sat in a room with Dave and Victoria

interviewing young Contestants as part of the District Final.

22 ten minute interviews.

By the end I couldn't see properly

cause I had such a headache

but the sun had come out, it had warmed up a bit

and I was almost at the end,

my bed was calling....

when those flipping teeenagers wanted to go to the buzzer quiz round.

So I dropped them off,

went to the supermarket

and bought chocolate.

My diet has gone off the rails

but the weight stayed off cause

I have no appetite so one mouthful of chocolate does the trick

for an enture day's meals.

Man I was glad to get home

and crawl into my unmade bed

and sleep for a solid five hours before getting up

to watch not one but two rugby games.

I don't actually remember the games though.

Too tired I guess.

Canterbury rugby

Yep went to the rugby today.

It was Canterbury against Taranaki.

Canterbury wear red and black,

'naki yellow and black.

That's all you need to know really.

I would love to say that I go to the rugby all the time,

but I don't.

Once a year and usually at the request of another

and this was the case with this annual attendance.

Neroli came to stay to watch her boy Luke

play for Canterbury but he is injured.

It's fine, really.

It's a fracture in his shoulder blade

nothing serious and something fine and little

that it took some effort on the doctor's part to find

but good thing he did cause otherwise

Luke may have been at the bottom of a heap.

Like these boys...

We had a great day in the sun

watching provincial rugby

but most importantly Canterbury won,

and rugby won on the day.

More importantly and such a pleasant surprise was

my kind of embarrassing, secret crush

the one that there is no logic about,

actually there is but none of you will ever figure it out

so we'll just leave as secret.

My kinda secret crush was playing!

For the other side

but he was there

*sigh*

Please don't enlarge this photo

it's extremely unattractive.

See no logic,

let's leave it at that.



canterbury

I hear Scribe's Canterberry!  East Cannterrberry!*  West Cannterrberry!*  North Cannterrberry!  South Cannterrberry!

When I think of Canterbury Rugby I think of Scribe's "If any" rap.

Not sure why but just know that like allegiance to a tractor brand,

unshakable and true,

perhaps a little on eyed too,

 rugby is a religion in Canterbury that is like no other province in NZ.

Mag's favourite returned missionary is moving to Canterbury to play rugby.

As pro for a club and the province and maybe for the big boys.

He will have to have skills honed from having nothing but rugby to play like these guys. 

Pretty sure he does since the Canterbury scouts approached him,

this is a very exciting thing.

* There is no East or West Canterbury - there is North (a dark and evil place that has a long story behind it that will need to wait for certain people to die), South (a pleasant place filled with people who small chips on their shoulders) then Mid (a stellar area of great rugby fans) and Central (which is Christchurch city, enough said)

I fly

most weeks at the moment.

It's something I do rather than enjoy, though I enjoy going places.

Today was different.

I had such a good time in Hamiltron and

I really didn't want to leave but I also really wanted to get home

because soon I'll be traveling for almost two weeks and any time at home is precious.

This feeling may be short lived.

I made the pleasant mistake of finishing my book early into the flight

before we had even left the North Island.

Not much to see over the cloud covered Waikato, King Country, Taranaki and Manawatu

but once over Cook Strait the cloud cleared and we flew towards Nelson.

With D'Urvelle Island on our left and Golden Bay on the right

I could see the wind whipping up the sand on Farewell Spit

carrying it away to Australia.

Then flying over the Richmond Ranges, all craggy and balding.

Red earth with patches of snow.

The Kaikouras further to the east hiding the Pacific

until the ocean becomes to big to be obscured by something a paltry was a range of mountains.

The Canterbury Plains endless in the distance and suddenly we are over Hanmer Springs

only two hours drive from home but shorter by plane.

Braided rivers gently wend their way across the island, through the mountains until we fly over the Plains proper dissected by straight roads, wide river beds and shelter belts.

The shape of the paddocks alternating between huge pie-chart centre pivot irrigated dairy farms and old fashioned rectangular sheep filled fields.

Green and gold.

Smaller paddocks, lifestyle blocks

Then, finally the city with the Port Hills and Banks Peninsula behind it

then Lake Ellesmere with home on it's banks.

The plane banks steeply, wiggling it's way towards the airport, my car and home.

Each time I fly,

I see something new, something unique I've not noticed before

a single poplar casting a midday shadow,

buildings shaped so it's hard to fathom it's purpose,

a trainer with his horses training on the oval tracks,

the colours of the grass and crops,

the sun slanted a certain way.

All on my way home.

Flying ain't so bad.