I'm back...

I have missed writing my wee blog.

I was unfaithful and tried an anonymous blog because

I thought I wanted get some dark stuff written down and

out of me,

but I've realised that writing here is better because

I think about what I'm writing,

I think about you dear friend and

I like be thoughtful about what I write.

It exercises my brain betterer.

So what's been happening since last December?

Just the big things;

Mags is waiting to be diagnosed with dementia.

Specialists and the like take plenty of time to sort anything out,

so hat tip for the future,

should your aged parent show any symptoms of anything,

make sure you get it checked out as early as you can cause

in the public health system things move about

as fast as Mags does walk - glacial.

Good news, Mags is having a holiday in Brisbane with Pippipotamos for SIX WEEKS!

Am somewhat excited about this and am sleeping better.

Ma hives are still raging along. 

I made the mistake of feeling really well and believing it a few weekends ago,

didn't take an anti-histamine one day and boy did I itch, glow, swell and ache. 

It was like the bad old days all over again. 

But there is a website so Dr Google wins again.

I think I know what it is. 

 I'm always a bit surprised at others need to find the source of everything,

I mean I'm not a river in Africa, Dr Livingstone, I'm a people. 

 So what I think it is a mast cell disorder. 

I meet most of the symptoms especially the always weepy and itching eyes,

depression, hives, vitamin B deficiency and many more. 

I've never actually matched symptoms quite so well before. 

And the cure? 

Well what do you know,

there is none

 other than toxic chemicals so it's back to the diet drawing board. 

Thankfully, I'm not the only person with this,

once again thanks Dr. Google,

saving the day when medial professionals put you in the too hard basket.

I'm planning a family reunion for my dad's side,

the Russells

but unfortunately my lovely cousin Jennifer and her son Zane

were killed in a car crash just outside Bulls last Saturday,

the day before Mothers Day......

This is what I wrote on facebook the day after;

When I think of mothers that I admire, I think of my cousin Jennifer. Jen was born to be a mother. I've never met a person more suited, more capable, more ideal to be a mother. When she married Willie and had her four children, Rachel, Nicole, Zane and Hayden, she blossomed into this being that family revolved around. She was the centre of the family because she loved them and because she loved loving them. She worked hard as an at home child carer so she could be there ...for her own younger boys. She saved and worked hard to make their house a home. She encouraged, supported and was an enthusiast for all that her children did and could do. She was so proud of them and she should be.I've never met more polite, personable, pleasant children - carbon copies of their mother.

Yesterday in the news some of you will have read or heard about a car crash near Bulls. That was Jen and Zane, the mother and son killed in a car accident (and sadly another woman in the other car). Jen was only 40, Zane only 14. They were returning to Wanganui from a great family day watching Zane compete in go-carting, something Jen encouraged and drove many miles to make possible.

In years from now, I will think of Mothers Day and remember what a wonderful mother Jen is and what an example she is of loving, caring, sacrificing mother.

Jen would say live your life and get on with it.

RIP Jen and Zane

P.S. Call your mother. Now.

The funeral is Friday in Wanagnui.

My heartbreaks for her kids, her husband, her parents and brothers.

My heart is actually broken for them.

And this morning I got a call from Dors to tell me my Dad is in hospital

unable to stop bleeding,

as you do, well he does. 

Never mind where he is bleeding from cause the problem is that

he doesn't clot so bled away he is and

the blood transfusions are taking their time to kick in.

He is determined to make Jen and Zane funeral.

So heres hoping.



funerals

I go on holiday and spend two days at a funeral.

Such is my life and it's fine.

I went to Tonga knowing I was going to have a cultural experience.

I didn't realise that it was going to be a sad experience too.

Ok so Sesi and I arrived in Tonga.

We were picked up by the lovely Taa from Keleti Beach Resort

and we mentioned we had been unable to get seats

on the flight that afternoon to Vava'u.

She told us about the funeral that was coinciding with our catching up with family.

Which was good because the funeral was for an extended family member.

Not my family, Sesi's step-father's family.

So we blithely enjoyed our weekend before

we jumped on our place at 7am on Monday morning

and headed directly into the eye of the funeral.

The nephew whose funeral it was,

had been killed in a rather tragic and dramatic way.

At a school

with a van

by his wife and mother of his seven children.

In the process his brother was crushed and severely damaged.

Oh it is complicated and we received the story on little bits.

So I think I know what and why it happened but

I wouldn't put money on that.

Death in Tonga seems to be a dramatic thing.

People die in dramatic ways.

It seems many young men are killed in many ways.

It's a little a soap opera there.

We reckoned a reality show based in a village would easily be

gripping and complex.

Anyway back to me.

A super white, pre tan me.

The lovely Ansala with me holding Ono.

Ansala is dressed like that because she is a cousin of the dead guy

so has responsbilities.

Mostly it was her handing with her girl cousins and carrying stuff around.

We had just spent the evening sitting on tarseal at the morgue.

Tarseal is a 2 on the scale of 1 to 10 of comfortableness.

10 being super comfy.

Only gravel would be worse.

But it wasn't for a long time.

Just through the Methodist and the Catholic part of the service,

with plenty of singing,

in Tongan.

So I had no idea what was going on.

It was the beginning of the funeral service.

At the end the men came and gave us goodie bags of food.

Me and Ono kept each other entertained.

Boy, Ono is one serious little man.

The next morning was the gathering for the funeral.

I think we were there about 8am and

we were no where near the first people there

but got a good possie near the back,

under a tree but still under the gazebo.

Black was the colour de jour,

black with a mat of differing signifcance.

Black is quite hot in the tropics.

Plus we had layers on.

I'm not too good with layers of wrap around skirts

when I need to sit on the ground.

I mean what do you do with your legs that is modest

and comfortable?

Faiana, Sesi's mum kept me up with all the gossip

about everyone as they arrived.

She gave me the heads up for when the wife arrived,

fresh from prison with her children in hand.

Her family had already paid reparation of $10,000.

Her sister had already moved over to raise the children.

It's all so tragic and emotive.

After visiting the body and then sitting in the sun

and then getting another feed of Kentucky chicken,

taro, boiled eggs, more chicken, a sausage and

something that I really wasn't sure what it was

but it got eaten by a child that was with us,

Sesi and I slunk off to the kolo to sit by the habour

and eat fresh pineapple.

Did I meantion we spent our week eating?

Later as we sat in the cool of the evening,

the family explained the hows and whys of the crime,

the family and traditions.

I hardly remember anything but

I liked that there were rules for how people need to

behave in the face of such a crazy and sad crime.

The word had gone out to the younger men to leave well enough alone.

Revenge is something that arrives swiftly in the villages.

Probably is accurate though.

Tip: It wouldn't be against the wife but totally to another person.