A Few Words

Yes, I took a break. Or maybe it was one long mind fart.Did you miss me? I hope you noticed I was gone but no matter. Will go back to your regularly scheduled programming.
XO
Jenn
One of the considerations that the Mister and I made about relocating to another country was the need to be in a primarily English speaking country. Neither of us are well versed in Spanish or French. As much as I would love to live in France, me going around and asking for beer and where the toilets were (although handy to know in any language and thus I can party in Mexico, Germany and Japan) is somewhat limiting if you are to try and carve out a life in the real world, a natural fit would seem going to a place like New Zealand. Well, at least I thought it would be the same...not so much as it turns out. If you have ever had an ear infection or a particularly nasty cold that plugs up your ears you kind of have an idea of what I am talking about. You will catch the odd word and a bunch of garbled sounds linking them together when you go out and about in your daily tasks if you talk to the locals. Much as the Girl got caught in the land of confusion with the phrase "Sweet As" being "Sweet Ass" I have found myself pondering over some of the terms used around here.

Watching the local news is kinda funny with the weather reports given daily. A lively young thing gestures to the Island map behind her dancing around and proclaiming it to be a "Fine" day. There really is only two types of weather to report around here; Fine and Rain. So "Fine" is actually meaning sunny here. Very Fine is heaps of sun. Partly Fine is well... yes, you are getting the picture. The newspaper reports exactly the same.

Good, Better, and Best. These are the types of flour I stare at in the Grocery. Likewise, cheddar cheese labels of Mild Medium and Old are replaced by Tasty, Tastier and Tastiest. I have yet to figure out the Milk... Trim Milk? Is that like, Skim or do i pick the Trimmer Milk? I will let you figure out what it is I am buying when I head to the store to pick out some Capsicums and Courgettes and Lollies. I *could* do a whole blog about my trips to the grocery but will table that for another time.

Heaps of new words and lingo to process HEAPS i tell you! Heaps.......really? Yes, I have opened fliers from the mail box and read of stores offering HEAPS of items on Sale. It will be HEAPS of fun to go, True That! If I don't find coffee filters soon to go with my ever rare coffee maker I may become Angus... I will have jumped into my car, (not forgetting to take my mobile with me), filled up with petrol, checked the Tyres and probably gone thru at least 10 roundabouts getting to the shop only to be disappointed. I may have to go for Drinkies after that to medicate. If you think it's funny to read the word "Drinkies" try hearing it from a 50 year old man talking to his mates about what to do after work. For some reason I think adding "ies" is only acceptable when speaking to the dogs. Walkies, bickies and drinkies are soley reserved for them.

The Mister and I have had a giggle or two over the phrase Speed Hump. We have a different definition for *that* one after having kids. Nice to finally put a name to it though.

Just Motoring Along

NOTE TO HUSBAND: Dear Chris, I want you to know that I wrote this blog *days* before our trip to the airport and our "vigorous" conversation and me mimicking your driving style in front of the semi to prove my point thus earning me that charming name that you called me ....Sorry that you crapped your pants.
XO
Jenn


So I am thinking about taking my driver's test. You have a years grace period before you have to bite the bullet. I am closing in on the 8 month mark and feel relatively confident in my abilities to navigate the NZ roads. The Cinder Block or Sugar Cube that is my car is blessedly free from any more battle scars. I have one missing hub cap, one that is tied to the wheel and am hoping to lose a third on a curb so I can go out and buy a new set (with one to spare- just in case!) The side view drivers mirror was taken of by the Mister and repaired and replaced. It's kinda a wonder of sorts that I drove around for weeks without one really. It's almost like an added bonus/surprise now when I do a lane change and go to look over my shoulder and see it hanging outside the car. "Whoa! What's this thingy? Kewl! I can see cars behind me now!")

I am used to the honking way of communication now. For the most part I don't hunch over when I hear it because frankly it never applies to me and more often than not it's me that's leaning liberally on her horn. In other words, I am back in the Superior Drivers type seat that I was back home .Oh STOP rolling your eyes at me! I can drive!! And may I just say, that the Mister has read and told me that New Zealand Drivers are rated as some of the worst in the world. Gosh, what a surprise. I was also informed that the giant letter "L" on the back of every 4th car or so doesn't actually stand for "Loser" as I had first thought. No, it stands for "Learner". Well with that in mind here are a few "tips" from the Master to the masses about driving "Canadian Style'...

First of all lets talk about the speed limit signs. They are there as kind of a guide line (in my opinion). So, if on the motorway please boot your ass up to that pre determined speed. I will allow you a 10% overage even if you can get your hamsters to go that fast under the hood. I will probably in all likelihood *NEVER* be pulled over for speeding here. I am constantly trying to switching lanes on the motorways in an effort to leave the Sunday drivers behind. One day I had to look down at the speedometer in the car as I seemed to be whizzing by all my fellow travelers. I had started to ease up on the gas when I looked down only to discover that i was 10k (still!) under the limit. Grr....

Another tip is this merging onto the motorways and streets that seem to magically go from two lanes to one; Treat each car like a part of a zipper. In this way you can effectively become one and thus not have the cluster F*** that seems to happen far too often when people come to the end of their lane. This "merging" is achieved by either speeding up (usually) to enter the flow of traffic or knowing that I am going to be right on your tail and thus you should probably slow down and let me pass you. Don't make me use my Devil Horn sign on you and the kids bouncing around the back seat.

This leads me to another topic of safety. There are only a certain amount of seat-belts allocated to each vehicle. Please ensure you A.) Use them. B.) Don't pack all your visiting relatives from another country in the trunk of your tiny SUV. I have seen less clowns in a Beetle at the Circus than some of these rides that I pass on the roads.

The other thing about safety is the the old 10 o'clock 2 o'clock hand position that my driver instructor gave me back in the day of my grasshopper driver's Ed course. Ok, so maybe I don't *always* have my hands in that position on the wheel...er maybe one hand is on the CD changer or reaching behind me to swat the kidletts (they are so quick and flexible though!) into submission BUT there is at least ONE HAND!!. Truly it is amazing to come barreling down the road only to be stopped short by some weaving car whose driver has one arm out the window doing the air surf with his hand and the other I can see quite clearly gesturing to his passenger. Who is driving the bus? I wonder...and there are the limits of my mind powers folks.... I mentally try and will them to move over/speed up etc but fail every time. Must apply the power of my Super Horn (again) which would sound oh so much more "super" if it any sort of power to it. Alas, it sounds more like an accordian or small bag pipe with a bit of wind.

The Kiwi driving mentality is more powerful than I first thought. It has a way of seeping into some weaker bodies it seems. The Mister is quite easy to hypnotize we found out one night years ago when attending one of those Bar type shows. We originally came as a bit of fun to watch the people on the stage act like giant washing machines only to find out that Chris, while watching them be put under, also fell to sleep and thus became a highly entertaining part of the show. Ever watch your husband try to give birth on a stage? No? Classic I can tell you! Anyways, it is much like this I find driving with him -painful labor as he gently slips into Kiwi driving mode. His accelerator foot slowly loses weight and a glaze comes over his eyes as he wanders from lane to lane. Yes, he does the hand surfing thing out the window, OY! I try to remind him of his driving roots, as we wander over to the tiny shoulder. Well... "remind" is maybe a kind word to describe my yelling, sighing, and general foot pumping into the floor of my passenger side of the car. The kids singing "Dad! Look out!" from the back seat. The "Force" is strong in young Skywalker unfortunately.

Who Let the Dogs Out??

Yet another question I have gotten (and please, feel free to ask me anything let's face it... I don't have much to hide since "our" excursion to the OBGYN a couple of blogs ago) is; how is life now that our Big Boy, Thabo has come to NZ. Thabo is very much our "family" dog but in my eyes he is the less troublesome son that I have. I have no worries about his dating life as we took care of that business long ago. For those of you who haven't had the pleasure, Tabby is a rather large, but oh so handsome Rhodesian Ridgeback. He tips the scales at 100lbs and comes up to the Boy's nose but really in the dog's mind he is much smaller and likens himself to a lap dog rather than the mighty hunter the breed is toted to be. I am often stopped when I am about with the Big Boy by people wanting to know what kind of dog he is. Usually they start with "He's lovely! He's part Great Dane and what else?" Tis strange to see him try and squeeze his fat ass onto The Mister's lap during TV time in the evening but he does try his best.

While sitting in Canada awaiting the free to fly from NZ for 5 months we also acquired another dog- Walnut or Wally for short. She is a feisty little 7lb short legged Jack Russell Terrier -or terror if you prefer. She is rather one of those small dogs that feels she should be a large dog and thus has a rather large ego to deal with. I tried, I honestly did, when picking out a puppy to select the most submissive of the lot of 3 girls. I knew they were large personality dogs so I did my best in that regard. Wally was meant for Shay who has been patiently waiting on a puppy for a year. Her last friend passed at that time, a lovely docile little bit of fluff of a Shih Tzu, whose only desire in life was to be held and cuddled. So, imagine The Girls horror at cuddling her 6 week old puppy and having it turn around and growl at her. It turns out that Wally *may* have two personalities and likes to switch from each of them at random. Don't get me wrong. Wally is actually a very lovable puppy and super affectionate.. when it suits her purposes. If she's on a roll though and has succumbed to the "Dark Side" keep your hands and feet to yourself is all I'm saying.

So Wally had been living with us a couple of months training us to pee at 5 am and when to play with her and when to walk with her completely unaware that she was about to not be THE ONLY DOG in the house. She may have had her suspicions when Thabo was held at the kennel for a month of quarantine here. I would come home smelling a little doggish perhaps and she was all over that with that look of "Whatcha been do'in bitch...er, I mean Gramma (The Girl says that by proxy I am Gramma because she's the "mom" of Wally). I just try and downplay the event and hand her a bone and a pat but she's looking at me speculatively and I see the wheels turning. This is one beast that you don't underestimate or put anything past. Like Karma, there is always some sort of reaction to your actions with her.

So I have gone ahead of myself and told you about their first meeting and how she was all docile and meek around him. Peeing at the sight of him and prostrating herself in front of his feet.... that didn't last very long. She hasn't plotted his demise -yet, but let's just say that she has pushed his boundaries and found out what we all knew to begin with, my Big Boy is a pussy. This she has completely exploited to her advantage. He *could* in theory, snap her like a twig in his jaws -her whole head and half her body fit quite nicely in there I have seen this one day while handing out the meaty bone treat to each of them. Butcher bones! What a fun time in the Breen house. I have select two appropriate sizes for my pets and hand them out seeing them trotting down the hallway and out to the deck to enjoy. Then I hear the low thunderous growl and rush out to the deck to see what Wally is doing... it's always Wally you see. Yes, she had decided that her bone isn't good enough. She wants it ALL. So there she is like one of those little birds that pick the teeth of crocodiles, head so far down his mouth she could be checking his tonsils and Thabo trying to keep his paws on his prize. In hushed tones as not to incite a riot I say "Thabo, be nice..." Which turns out to be the worst thing I could do because now he has no choice but to let the little witch drag off his bone to hoard with her other one. So begins my song of Wally! Stop it! and Thabo lunging for her bone and running away to another part of the house. Like Pepe Le Pew she's bounding after him with that one goal of getting what's hers back. It continues like this for most of the day. This stealing of each others treasures and growls of distrust. Thabo's only reprieve from her madness is to walk onto the couch and watch her hop and down while he smirks at her with his bone... hers completely forgotten in some corner of the house. Likely I will find it sometime in the night with my foot on the way to the washroom. Feeding time has me at a loss as well. She will NOT eat her tiny little puppy kibble but rushes to the tub of rocks in his and proceeds to eat *everything* while he rushes off to her petite pink dish and inhales her tablespoon of nourishment. Now I have set up guard duty with the children so this is less likely to happen but really...

Aside from the dining drama they are pretty good friends. He will lay himself on the carpet full out and she pretty much treats him like a giant amusement park by jumping on his side and sliding down his chest till she reaches his head and chews on his ears for fun. She loves to sleep with him on my bed... a source of irritation for The Man. After a week of him being gone he doesn't quite fit into the domestic picture is the dog's thinking. Thabo has starred at The Man while we are sharing the couch with one eyebrow raised as to say "What is this?" and he pointedly looks at where Chris is sitting and back up at Chris until either Chris moves to another chair or I set the Big Boy up on his own Chair with a blankie... well two actually. One to sit upon and another to cover him. The Man is fairly disgusted with all the re-training he has to do with the both of them sleeping on the bed come the weekend. Eh? What can I say? They are fantastic heaters!

Birds of a Feather

Now, I've been getting a lot of questions from you folks back home as to how I am fairing with the aviary that lives outside my doors. As most of you know, Birds are not my friends and most seek me out to dive bomb me or chase me about at any given chance. This phenomenon is also reported by people who hate cats or dogs who find themselves regularly the recipient of unwanted attention by these critters while visiting their friends homes. I, being the animal lover that I am, cannot understand why people don't like the domestic but I have come to understand their fears/loathing is real and can actually empathize with their plight.

When did this bird aversion first come to pass you may ask? Well I can tell you as a wee lass around the age of 7 my Aunt thought it would be great fun to encourage me to "feed" the swans at Storyland Valley Zoo. Anyone knows that swans are Nazis at the best of times -pretty as they are... and so there I am being honked at and chased around the park sobbing while she laughed at the site of me tearing across the grass. Harmless enough I guess but it made me wary of birds...not yet afraid. Fast forward my life to my sojourn in Grande Pairie. What am I about 30? Ok, well the thing was we had a large Quonset on our property that we housed our vehicles in. Never bothered to close the giant garage type door because it was such a pain. I guess the swallows thought it would be fine to build their nests in the rafter and start up their little egg laying business. Wish that they had sent me notice as one day I went into the Quonset to get into the car and was chased out by a flock of them. This had me tearing into the house and phoning my "Knight" and him laughing at me and telling me that they are just protecting the nests and *"Really Jenn, they are just diving... they won't actually HIT you". Ok, fine. Go back out there and try to get into the Quonset only to be dived at again. The thing is I could *feel* the wind from their wings and THEN feel them brush my head. At one point I dropped to the ground sobbing while doing the Army crawl back to the house. The whole time, the WHOLE time they continued to bomb me and pick at my hair... it was a strong dose of "medicinal" therapy that I needed when the Mister got home.

So now you know. My fear is real and there is not much in the way of living on this island that has changed it. Let's see...hmmm... I was attacked by an albino peacock at the petting farm I took the kids to. He looked harmless enough but there I go viewing him from a safe distance and turn my back to take lovely pictures for you all only to have him come up behind me and start pecking at my calves and screaming at me (hard to tell who was screaming louder actually at that point.) The kids are agog at the site and the dozens of other people starred at me as I sobbed and ran away leaving my brood to fend for themselves. I'm not sure what kind of ESP these feathered demons have but I tell you, wherever I go, whatever I am doing one of them tries to take me out.

On a lovely day out to the beach we stop at a small town to fill up the car. The Girl and I decide to walk across the road and get some coffees and treats to take with us when I see that there is a lovely dress store beside the bakery with some of it's wears hanging outside. I am pawing thru the dresses when around the corner I hear a quack. Just one quack mind you and I am on alert. A female mallard type comes around the other side of the dress rack and stares up at me. I know this is not going to end well and if she wants the red dress she is going to be welcome to it as far as I'm concerned. I back away and slowly make my escape towards the bakery. Guess who follows me? It was probably the slowest chase in history but there we were, me and ducky heading down the sidewalk. I ducked (excuse the pun) into the bakery and bought some sandwiches for the masses, she patiently waited for me outside and THEN decided to "friend" me by taking a seat beside me at the outdoor table. What am I to do about this? The car is still across the street and i have no hope of making to safety. Best to "play statue" I thought and wait her out. Er, well it seems that wasn't working so I thought *maybe* if I toss some bread far away from me she will go for it and then I can run. What I didn't count on was the hundreds of tiny sparrow types in the trees watching this transaction and so with the toss of the bread came dozens of feather bombs landing around me. The Girl is trying soft tones with me telling me that it will be alright. Clearly the duck was getting agitated by her loss of food though and was edging closer to me while the sparrows are fluttering in my face. What to do? Ok, then I will *feed* the duck... will that make this stop? Nice feeding frenzy I've created with me sobbing and tossing out bread while I wait for the car to come.

It really doesn't matter if I have food or not though. I've sat in the middle of a cafe alone with my coffee while dozens of people at distant tables nosh on their baked goods and guess who has the sparrow land on her table? I starred at the bird and said out loud, "Seriously? No. Seriously? Are you kidding me? I don't have food why are you here on my table?" There was no reply only a couple of hops closer to my hands and a hasty retreat for me.

YES! I am still getting dive bombed by a pair of large fat colorful partridge type birds every morning on my way to the recycle. Why oh why they chose that particular tree to lay eggs in *I don't know* since I live in a jungle for God's sake but the routine is the same. The silent slide of the patio doors and me in my pj's peeking out. I stealthily make my way across the driveway to the bin. Some days i almost make it to the bin... it's a trick you see? Just as I lift the lid feeling a sense of relief a war cry is heard from the dense foliage and there they are making their decent upon me... I'm still here though and I have come to accept this is the way if only to keep the insect population from carting off one of my kids. Still it would be nice if one day I could not have to look over my shoulder and not walk hunched over down the street.

A Day in the Life of...

I love reading the snappy little updates of everyone's status on Facebook. Whether it's a quest for a new job, where they have been or what they ate... the crappy game of our NHL team or the more positive updates of the kid's playoff games (The Oilers will be lucky to get some of these kids!) It all is small and (sometimes) trivial in the whole of one's day but insightful none the less. i like em! So, instead of trying to update my FB status hourly i thought i would give you a typical run down of a day. I picked today because it's fresh and random and a typical sampling of where my time is frittered about.

5:45 am - Blink! Awake again. Laying in the dark i have about 5 minutes of silence, then the puppy begins to whine. I am so glad i have a puppy now. It's housebroken me in a matter of weeks. I never knew that BOTH of us needed to pee at exactly 5:10... usually i would wait till the happy hour of 7 before Nature called - who knew she could be such a life saver.

6:00am -Turn on coffee maker with puppy pulling at my robe.... fire up Mini Mac and wait.

6:10am Drag puppy attached to my robe out to the deck with my Mac and coffee, read emails/facebook. I have to admit that i am a bit of a FB junkie with my little Sorority Life, Farmville, Mafia and Cafe game on there. It's retarded -yes... and a total waste of time but really how productive can one be at this hour of the morning.

7:00 am- wake up Shay buy disengaging puppy and throwing it onto her bed.

7:20 am- repeat process with Ronin.

7:25 am look in fridge for lunch/ dinner ideas for the masses. Commence cooking of the breakfast while listening to bickering kids in the bathroom. Look longing at coffee pot but refrain from refilling cup...too much to do to stop and drink it.

7:45 am- Serve round one of breakfast to Shay... Ronin is usually half dressed and wondering where he left his pants from the day before - much like Chris who is away in Singapore for the week.

7:46 am- Open pantry to stock lunches and find an army of ants crawling around the shelves. This ant business is nothing new. You have to be careful to throw out your garbage outside at night... they happen to be carnivores i think attracted to any meaty product. I left a chicken wishbone on the counter to dry out a few months ago and discovered this. I turned on the kitchen light on in the morning to see thousands of ants converging on this bone. It was defiantly a pee pee dance moment. It's almost magical the appearance/disappearance of them. Remove the carcass of cockroach/wishbone and they, poof! disappear into the cracks of the house. This time it was the dog food kibble left open in it's bag.

7:50-8:00am - Troops are assembled and while one is emptying out the pantry the other is vacuuming my ant farm while i finish out the lunches for them.

8:00am - Kiss Shay good bye

8:05 am- look longingly at coffee maker but bypass it to the laundry room. Laundry is a process around here. Yes, we have the standard mini front loader that most Kiwi homes have AND we have a dryer of sorts. Although truth be told, you stand a faster chance of drying a load of clothes by inserting a straw into your mouth and blowing on the clothes. Million dollar houses have clothes lines along with the garden variety houses here to dry your clothes. They tell us it's because we are "conserving" energy but really it's because the country won't import North American technology here and pay the money to import it. Ok, well I imagine no one *could* afford it actually and that's why we are stuck with the clothes lines. Ask me this winter how my laundry is coming in the 3 months of constant rain we are expecting.

8:10am - hang clothes and hope for sun.

8:15am - tell Ronin to get ready to go to school... repeat this process every 5 minutes until 8:30.

8:30am - kick Ronin out the door missing one of the following because it was left at school. A.) lunch box B.) jacket C.) Hat D.) permission slip for some activity.

8:31 am- Launch myself at the coffee maker

8:35 am drink coffee and make a list for the day.

Today's list is pretty much the same; Paint bedroom trim, vacuum/dust, more laundry, shopping, and a new item - pick up Thabo from the kennel.

It's been close to 7 months of us being without our dog. He enjoyed his fall and winter in Canada and for the last 30 days i have been visiting my big guy in the Klink. I am anxious to have him come home and meet the new puppy. I have no idea how this is going to go.

9:00am - Normally i would be out walking Wally the puppy in the jungle right now but have decided to table this until i get back from the kennel and walk both dogs. Jump into shower and push semi living giant flying bug down the drain with my toe.

9:30 am- On the road... now back home, i would be hard pressed to be out the door in half an hour and presentable but i have new KIWI standards and thus have no shame leaving my home with the barest of make-up and semblance of a hairdo. What hairdo? My Hairdresser is pushing 80 and she cuts my locks with a straight razor to keep the curls from going out of control. Honestly wet hair is better. Have you ever seen the episode of Friends where Monica goes to the tropics and her normally straight hair gets bigger in every scene? Yes, that's me!

11:15am -arrive home with Big Boy and introduce him to the 7lb bundle of fun. I have to say that it didn't go *that* badly all things considered. I knew that Thabo would be easy enough going what i didn't know was how freaked out Wally would be by his size. She ran over to him flopped on her back and pee'd herself into submission.

11:30 - 12:00 -Followed the trail of Wally dribble around the house with my carpet cleaner.

12:00-1:00 - maybe it's like shutting the gate after the horses have gotten out but have decided to take both dogs on a walk in the jungle. Thabo *may* be a wee out of shape for all the hill climbing we did. He started off strong enough but like a pack a day smoker i was hard pressed to get him to walk all the way home.

1:00-3:00pm - Paint trim in Master Bedroom. This is fun! Well i have a really really hard time painting nice stained wood over with a solid paint usually. It goes against everything in my mind much like laying carpet over hardwood -it just shouldn't be done! But the wood is tired looking and if we try and pry it from the walls it just breaks so what to do? I'm not *that* much of a Martha to hand sand and re-stain so white paint it is! Actually it looks a lot less dated now that i have added the 4th coat.

3:15 pm -Reward myself with food. A bad time of day to be sure... not one to eat breakfasts and skipping lunch, usually it's something fast and crappy that goes to fill the void. Hey! And a News Flash! New Zealand is now importing Doritos!!! I went out and bought all the flavours to stimulate sales. Like most foods here with familiar labels from home i buy it's never really tastes the same -almost but a little to the left if you know what i mean? They have started bringing in KRAFT products and i have been supporting the Philly cream cheese and slices but ya, I'm used to a certain texture with the cream cheese back home and this is more likened to sour cream consistency and the slices are white and not tasting a whole like KRAFT. Apparently there is some copy write laws here as well because brands like Kellogg's have to rename their Rice Krispies to Rice Bubbles and even though i recognise the McCain brand logo it's under the pseudonym "Keri"... the groceries are under some sort of witness protection program down here.

3:30pm -Kids arrive home and in tears after seeing Thabo at the door... what a reunion!

4:00pm- It's the worst part of the day... i am beat and have hours to go. Not motivated to cook dinner and unless it's Saturday (my day off from being the chef and pizza rules the roost i have to drag my ass back into the "Camper Kitchen" and sort it out. My kitchen *is* very similar to the 5th wheel we owned in our previous life... tiny stove... squat little fridge... lacking in cupboards. KIWI homes rarely have cabinets above the counters - i can't figure this out. I have issues with trying to fit in 1 cookie sheet into the oven. For roasting and such i have turned to my BBQ to fill the void. I am soo happy that i made Chris bring that monster with us. So yes, in most likelihood we are BBq-ing *something* tonight.

6:00pm dinner is served in the TV room. Used to have a dining room... before the Man decided to hang the much needed light above the table but that was a job in itself with rewiring to accommodate and the holes in the walls to be patched/sanded/ and filled. Now my china cabinet is in the middle of the room and it's contents fill the table pushed to the far wall waiting on Himself to finish what he started. The kids and I don't bitch because we like eating in front of the TV... it's a treat and it keeps them from stabbing each other over perceived hoarded condiments at the table.

6:30pm Clean up and walk the dogs. Neither seem to appeal to the kids so i spend a fair amount of my time yelling at this point and throwing the odd guilt dart hoping it hits one of them in the middle of their forehead.

8:00pm- Back on the couch... maybe pretending to either watch a program or read. I have my eyes closed and am begging for bed. There have been times when the kids just leave me in this position and wander off to their own rooms for the night....

8:30pm Start the 5 min cycle of reminding the masses to get ready for bed. Repeat until 9:oo

9:00pm - stumble into each child's room and kiss them goodnight warning them that i will be back if lights aren't off at 9:30. This is a complete crock of bull since they both know i will be drooling in my own bed by that time and likely could have a house party with me none the wiser.

9:05pm- ready for bed with my book and reading glasses on ready to read..

9:06pm- passed out with reading light on and in the semi upright position. At some point in the evening i wake up enough to take off my reading glasses and turn out the light or Ronin comes in and does it for me.

Yes, that's the cycle folks... the little party animal is tucked away for the night ready for yet another 5:45 am wake up call...I know i must be the envy of you all!

The Blindside

With a title like it you can usually assume it's to do with one of the men in this house. Men. What is it about them that drives women nuts? "The problem with women... (men say) is you can't understand them and all those whatyoucallem? Emotions."Totally irrational and emotionally driven." Ehhh, well there's the flip side to that coin I might counter. Men are just problem solving machines looking at logic to rule. It's not to say that one is better than the other. Time and my relationship has taught me that I eventually work thru issues with a bit of added logic and generally emotions do follow the Man once the logical decision is made. How is it though that we are so different? Can you do anything to change what is inherently part of the genetic make up of another. Blah blah blah, too *emotional* I see, I should make my point.

Here's the deal; Ronin is having girl problems and while listening to him muddle thru the issue i have to laugh at his totally "logical" way of making a choice. It appears that the Boy is in high demand in school by the ladies. Why this makes me feel like a mother bear with a cub I'm not sure. For some reason I am able to relate and empathize with the Girl about her boyfriend dreams but it's quite another kettle of fish to find some Kiwi tarts trying to get their hooks into my little man.

Ro came home today in a pissy mood. I assumed that since I was going back with him for our first Meet the Teacher night that maybe he was upset by some of the comments his teacher was going to make. I too was getting prepared by drinking a glass of wine. Anyways, a bit of prodding and a few jellybeans later he gives off this big sigh and says, "Mom, it's a girl and I don't know what to do. I need your advice." OHMYGOD! The boy who tells us nothing of his personal life is FINALLY going to open a door. I sip my wine and nod encouragingly. "Ok, Ro what seems to be the problem." "Well, he says, Lilly asked me if I wanted to be her boyfriend and I wasn't sure about that so I told her that I had to go home and ask my Mom." (I am totally keeping a straight face at this point because to my knowledge Ronin's motto has always been to do something first then ask for forgiveness after). The Boy then got a bit emotional with me because then he blurted out that Lilly's retort was to call him a Pussy and walk away. He say, "She was so mad at me and ya, what is a Pussy anyways?" Oh sweet Jesus, hold on Ro. Mommy needs to refill her wine glass. So while I drain the dregs of the first glass he goes on to tell me that she is giving him till tomorrow for an answer but he has ANOTHER bit to add to this; Christie ALSO asked him out today and he told her as well that he had to ask me first before giving an answer. Ok seriously? Seriously, what is going on with these girls? My gut instinct is to tell Ronin to tell these hussies to back off but really, if I do that then maybe the next one he brings home to me is a heroine addict supporting herself by stripping. I feel that I am on a slippery slope here folks and so I just ask the question right back to the Boy; "What do you FEEL about this honey?"

The Logic button kicks in right about now and he starts to list the pros and cons of both Lilly and Christie. Lilly is better looking but Christie is the class President and has a lot of "power" and he's quite drawn to that I am hearing. Another point for Christie was that she didn't call him a Pussy and was willing to wait on my answer. BUT Lilly is still pretty.... The more he went on in his logical way the more aghast I was at no mention of any emotional ties he had to either so I asked him, "Which one makes you feel good when you are around them?" Well, they are both nice (I am assuming name calling aside here) but the thing that swayed it towards Christie was this Logical Tid Bit that the Boy came up with; "I think it's gonna be Christie because as a guy you maybe don't want to have someone as good looking as you or better looking than you. It will make her want to try harder to keep me as her boyfriend." ???? Forget the glass, I am now drinking straight from the bottle. Look, I *know* we are talking about 10 year olds here but the deal is this whole visual I am getting right now of the years to come and the differences between my two children. Clearly, ever so clearly, I can see my baby Girl one day floating down an aisle in some gossamery white gown on her Daddy's arm in a big beautiful church with my surgically enhanced self dabbing tears from my smooth, youthful, (but not overly done) dewy complexion. (I didn't know the Bride had an older sister? That can't be her Mother!) Yes, there will be a lovely reception and her dancing in Doctor So'n So's arms and everything will have such a magical quality about it.

Then I see the Boy.... leaving me a note telling me all about his impending nuptials at the Local Trailer Park (BYOB) with his stripper wife and 2 kids from the previous relationships she's had (But she's "pretty" Mom! And since she's stopped the Crystal Meth her skin has really cleared up!) I also see him asking for a cash "Donation" to put towards her new set of boobs as a wedding gift. Like *that* is going to happen! Anyone getting a new set of boobs around here should be your Mother.... trust me on this son, she will have earned them by the time we boot you out of the house and a hefty dose of Botox too to get rid of all the lines that you are beginning to put in my face! See? I told you I am able to reach the logic once I have gone through the emotions.

More Vacation Memories

Ok, enough Mamma Drama and all that health care crap. Let's go back and revisit some of the fun we had while the Man's parents were here.

After a quick recovery of our nature walk the Cruise Director decided to take the family on a trip to Rotorua. What can i tell you about the town? Much like any of BC's little pit stops of touristy fun fun towns. Actually, if you really want to get a better feel of the place picture Kamloops. Well, strike that. SMELL Kamloops and it's pulp mills and you will get a better picture. Rotorua is built around the sulfur pits. The smell hits you like a brick wall upon your arrival (after endless butt clenching in the car around the windy 4 hour road). I thought to myself, "It's strong but you will get used to it in a few hours and you will hardly notice it!" Um, no. Every day was just as pungent as the next... the only reprieve is when a wind caught just so. But hey! it's gorgeous there.

The first order of business was to locate the rental the Man procured on the Internet. Sounded fantastic with it's 3 bedrooms/2 baths/ hot tub and kitchen! It was absolutely all that it claimed to be on the Internet (thank you God!) and we quickly unloaded the masses from the car with our little puppy, Wally, to meet the caretaker/owner who greeted us with a huge smile until her eyes drifted to the pup. Apparently the Man didn't enquire to the policy of pets and for sure there was a huge STOP sign on the proprietors face. As I have mentioned before; the Kiwi are *such* a polite folk. She stammered her policy of no dogs and lamented that it would be hard at this point to find another lodging... if only there was a way. She nervously got her husband who said that under no uncertain terms was the puppy allowed in our unit. We had brought Wally's crate with us and we all nodded to the beat while he read us the riot act. The dog should remain in it's crate outside on the deck unless we were about and then it was allowed to wander freely in our fenced yard. Ok, well... that would be almost do-able except for the four days we were there it rained on every one! Soooo, yes. We snuck the puppy into the house in the evening so she could lay on our bed and sleep. I was up at 5 am to dodge the owners and was taking her for long walks around the neighborhood. It was a good set up until the morning the owner came into our yard and peeked into the kennel. We thought we were being crafty by putting one of Shay's Stuffy's in there but he noticed the decoy and knocked on our door where my father in law answered that morning with the wriggling bundle of joy in his arms. With his eyes bulging the owner blustered and whined "It's not fair!" and stormed away. Not fair? Ok, I agree, it's not fair... but we were trying our best here and the dog was cleaner than clean with all 6 hands constantly taking her on walks. WE also know that the guy was lurking in his window to try and catch us in the act AND I have no doubt he was in our unit while we were all away on day trips looking for stray dog hairs on the carpet. No matter Ole Stink Eye was certainly most happy to see us go at the end.

Some of the day trips we took were quite fun. We went into the Redwood forests for a walk and Chris decided that we should go "off trail" for a wander. Does *everyone* have short term memory loss? Have we all forgotten getting lost in our own back yard for hours? Well, it turned out ok at any rate.

We also went to a Kiwi conservation zoo. As you may or may not know; the Kiwi bird is not only our national symbol but also an endangered species. For 10's of thousands of years these critters ran around the island with no natural enemy. Then the white man came and messed it up. They have no wings, no natural defenses and are easily killed. Shayla has come to love the Kiwi Bird (although in truth the label "bird" is miss leading) The Kiwi have more traits that liken it to a mammal than a bird if you sit in on the lecture. Anywho, the big thing here is that Shay got to actually touch one -or rather it ran up and touched her with it's beak while we were standing in a breeding room, in the dark. Very shy and nocturnal are the Kiwi and such a rare experience for anyone to have a close encounter. She was over the moon and tears welled up in her eyes after having the gentle creature come up to her. She left the pavilion and shelled out some of her meager savings to "adopt" a Kiwi which she goes online and see updates from time to time.

We didn't do any Zorbing -that being thrown into a huge inflatable ball and rolled down the hill? We did, however take in the luge. That was an interesting experience with us riding up the side of a small mountain in a gondola to don smelly helmets and stand in line for a luge to appear off of what would be really a chair lift type of thing. Three races and three levels of expertise to choose from. Of course we all opted for the beginner run for the first go round. Very much like a toboggan really with a steering wheel and some rudimentary way of slowing down. The sleds were all damp from another recent rainfall so it was a bit squishy sitting down in mine. No matter... 1.5 km ride should be nice and oh? is that rain I smell again? Yup, being the mother hen that i am i waited until everyone else went (didn't hear any screams so off Iboarded) and about 2 minutes into the ride a downpour of rain commenced. I was sooo prepared with my little shorts and sweater on! The rain made the track extra special in it's slipperiness and I was sailing down at break neck speed laughing like a loon. Of course, everyone *else* had gone first and was safely tucked under an overhang -nice and dry when I made my "big spash" at the finish. I was a sponge -a soaked rat if you will. Wow! look at that! I have 4 more rides that we have paid for and so off we go again up the chair lift and on to bigger and steeper runs. Some ppl had enough of the wetness and were flogging off their extra ride tickets on us....seriously?? The Boy was in his glory and outlasted us all by sailing down the expert runs while the rest of us waited at the top in semi protection from the elements.

Yes, we all went and looked at "where's that smell coming from." Or the Sulfur parks if you prefer. ANOTHER seemingly endless trek around bubbling craters emitting the foulest of foul smells. I would have vomited at the stench but hadn't eaten that morning so tried quietly to dry heave while other around me raved enthusiastically and snapped oodles of picture of goopy mud and day glow water pools. You know, if I could have just shoved an air freshener up my nose I would have enjoyed the whole thing and will tell you though that the formations were nothing like I have ever seen. It was like being on another planet with it's strange trees and rocks and the day glow waters. The heat emanating from all around was so intense and the lack of animals was even stranger.It was an eery kind of quiet. I kinda wondered if there were any animals that could thrive here. I wouldn't likely want to encounter them at any rate. Shades of Stephen King novels come back to haunt me.