For Svend

Not sure if you even read my blog really!

But for some reason my computer is repeatedly getting errors when I try to comment on your blog.

You mentioned how a film or book becomes suddenly popular when it is mentioned on the National radio show. Same goes for websites. One of the guys helping us build our website was telling us how the hits on the National website get so high when it's mentioned on a show (ie "A link to that article can be found on our website.....") that if the techies are fiddling around with the website or updating it they ask the presenters to not mention any links during that show, else everything gets messy.

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Cold eh. I didn't even go outside today - but any time someone opened the lounge door I felt a cold swoosh of air that made me want to stay inside.

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Pecha Kucha on Wednesday. Me and Reidun are going, anyone else is welcome to come along too. We went to the last one and found it an interesting way to spend a night hearing about stuff you would otherwise not. I think there were two pretty awful speakers, but the rest were at least mildly interesting and a few were great (12 in total). Not a bad night for $7.

An added point of interest for me is that my old flatmate Simon's brother is one of the speakers (you may remember good old Simon, or 'The Baron' as we liked to call him - and no, it's not the brother Nicky hooked up with and it's not the brother Nicky thought she hooked up with either - it's the other brother).

Potato the Racehorse.

So I'm female-frisbee MVP three weeks running. I don't care that there aren't many girls on the team or that my students may have given it to me out of fear/loyalty this week...... I'm expecting some kind of giant cup at the end of the season. GIANT!

Kyle has started calling me 'The Glacier' due to my preference to not move quickly on field. Jon also said today, in response to me saying I 'ran fast' at one point, that he would 'pay to see that'. They're all just jealous that they're not three-time-MVPs...... I am fast like lightening.

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I have stopped grooming my hair this week. No straightening. Going to bed with it wet, so I wake up and it's CRAZILY going in all different directions. I might look a bit hobo-ish. It's just gotten so long and split-ended that it's gross, and frankly there's nobody I'm trying to impress at the moment! I'm getting it cut this weekend and then it will be shiny and new and I will regain my interest in grooming.....

Just explaining, in case anyone had noted that I look somewhat haggard. I think it sticks out in odd directions when I put it in a ponytail too.... And it's only just gotten long enough to do that, and I'm gonna whack it all shorter again.

To get a fringe or not to get a fringe, that is the question.

* * *

The censorship discussion continued for a while on my students' blog-site. One of them brought up the case of her creative-writing being challenged for having the word 'crap' in it, by the Min of Education who were putting it in a resource for schools. She made the point that putting something like 'baloney' in there instead would make the story not sound like a genuine teenage voice anymore.

I agree.

But I had to secretly take glee in the fact that I have been editing school magazine articles, and replacing low-level swearwords like that with silly alternatives, which will sound funny coming from them.... like 'jolly' and 'blimin'..... The power goes to my head! One of the kids asked if she could add a middle initial to her name, 'E', at the bottom of her article. I let her, because that reminded me of the kid from the MAD Magazines. What was it - Edward E Neuman?

* * *

I went to Simply Paris for lunch today (between mad-cap magazine crisises). It was civilised. I imagine that's what 'normal' people (non-teachers) do most days..... I had a salmon panini, mocha (with a chocolate covered coffee bean) and an almond croissant (to go).

* * *

I took my book to work today, thinking optimistically that I might sit down and read it at lunch-time (I had pictured a more leisurely day than I eneded up having - what with 80 pages of proofing arriving, which I had promised I could do within the day it arrived, thinking it would arrive in smaller chunks).

It is very very fat and looked impressive sitting on my desk. It made me look in-tell-ec-tu-al. I feel like a kid I taught once, who was barely literate, but insisted on picking the fattest book in the school libarary, then pretending she'd read it (to impress me, though I didn't believe her for a second). It's so fat it would make a good door-stop, or brick. My HOD saw it and asked if she could borrow it after me, then she remembered I'm not a fast reader and said she might just go ahead and buy her own copy..... I have so far read 54 pages out of 738. I'm not even up to the bit about the Columbine killings, which is what triggers the main aftermath and trauma plot.....

I might wear my 'smart-glasses' when I finally get time to read it in my lunch-hour. Though, one of the lenses has fallen out, which somewhat detracts from my smart-fascade.

I strained a calf muscle at basketball.  I asked my doctor if this was a sign that I shouldn't play sport any more, at my age.  He said not necessarily - such things can be random.

Two days later I strained a back muscle.

Hmm.

* * * 

I have been watching King of Thrones.  It's good.  A bit of a change of pace from Gossip Girl, anyway.

* * * 

I lost my keys.  Then I found them.  Phew.  At the restaurant.

I was afraid my long claim to have never lost anything important was at an end.

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It's exciting that there is a new Nood store in town.  Right next to Michelle's house.

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I read a Wally Lamb book.  It was underwhelming.  And had lots of printing errors.   I was hoping that they'd cleverly fit into some theme that I hadn't picked up on.... but I'm pretty sure they didn't.

I'm wondering if the books of his I read that I loved, years ago, would still be good now (if I read them as a proper grown-up).  

* * * 

I dropped my dad at the air-port today.  They were running terribly late.  They were supposed to check-in at 9am, and they only woke up in Levin at 7.34am.  When I left them Lynne was saying, 'I can't breathe..... my shoe's not on.... can't breathe....' and she limped off with her shoe half on.  Dramatic entrance, dramatic exit! 

Then I got to drive their fancy car home.  It is a huge 4WD - the kind you accidentally run over small children in.  It has a sun roof.

* * * 

Evidently I can't watch King of Thrones and blog at the same time.  I have had to rewind the same bit four times now.  Still can't figure out why the Snow boy is attacking people.... 

Oh, something about calling his father a traitor.  

Here comes a wolf.  I like the wolves.

* * * 

Now that my phone consistently turns off while I'm in the middle of using it, I'm thinking of getting a new one.  Maybe a 'smart' one.  I'm unconvinced of the need for an 'i' phone.  Though everyone I know raves about them and hasn't regretted getting them.

* * * 

The Dark Knight is rising.  That's something to look forward to after all the crap that's been on.

So at 3am on Monday morning I was sitting up in an ED ward at Palmerston North Hospital, reading a book of Leonard Coen poetry I happened to have in my bag to try and keep awake.

* * *

I'd arrived at my Dad's for a visit, and soon after my step-ma had emerged from her nap saying she couldn't breathe. She was walking and taking very short breaths, but they sounded really gurgly, like there was fluid in her lungs. She'd been to the doctor and got steroids for asthma symptoms earlier in the day.

So at 10.30 or so an ambulance came, then I had to drive Dad up to Palmy following it. I hate driving country roads at night, so that was especially not fun. We then sat in the ward waiting for a doctor to see her for from 11.30pm til 3am.

There was only one chair, so we had to take turns sitting. I perched up on the end of Lynne's bed reading my poetry as she took a nap, having been somewhat relieved by the oxygen and medicine they gave her.

Luckily I had thought to bring some snacks in case we were there for a long time. I wasn't particularly useful, other than packing snacks and putting together an overnight bag for Lynne. Clean pjamas are important when you have vomited lung-mucus on your old ones. And a change of real clothes in case it was daylight by the time she was released. And a tooth brush. And she had requested perfume, though that may have just been a slightly disoriented suggestion. I packed it anyhow.

Once the doctor came and decided to admit Lynne, me and Dad drove home, since she was being taken off for x-rays and all that guff.

It was very foggy on the drive home, which played further on my dislike of country roads at night. We listened to the Forrest Gump sound-track, which is inappropriately uplifting in that context. 'Joy to the World' seems wrong to be singing along to after you've just admitted your wife to hospital.

Turns out she has pneumonia. Again. Third time.

I must explain that while it's always horrible when someone's in pain and shock, that there was a four week period a few years ago where she was in hospital four times (each for something different). Her poor old body is a bit rubbish, mostly because of nerve damage in her back.

Hospitals are nothing new to dad and me. We used to have to drive up to see Mum in there every day after school. 40 minutes each way.

And since then Dad and Lynne have had about four operations between them.

This is the first time I've seen triage up close. It was interesting. Then boring. And a bit frustrating. Patch 'em up, then leave 'em for a few hours.

It's simultaneously frustrating and satisfying when the doctor then decides to admit the person you're with. It'd be much easier to just take them home with you now (especially when you live in a different town) but it's good to know that you weren't over-reacting and there is actually something legitimately wrong.

Dad left messages with her kids the next day, but left them on the wrong types of phones. One he left on a cell-phone, but she hadn't been checking her voice-mail all day. The other he left on a land-line but they were actually on holiday (ironically drove back from Taupo to Wellington that day, so could have stopped in to visit her on the way....).

You can but try.

I bought her some trashy magazines and kept Dad company at home the next night.

Dramas eh.

My nana died today.  Grandma died at the end of last term.

Strange how they both died within a couple of months of each other.  Grandma was four years younger, at a mere 92 years old.

Nana had been quite disoriented for a while, not always recognising visitors and fixating on certain childhood memories.  Dad says the last time he saw her she was not really looking like herself.

Now I'm down two direct relatives.  Just Dad and David.

I think my enduring memory of Nana will be her standing outside her house, right on the top of the Maungaraki hills, pulling her cardigan tight against the wind, and waving until we'd driven off.  Tiny little lady with white hair.

Old and Young

A fellow from work was performing last night at a private-ish function in town. A few of us went along to support him (he hasn't performed much in the last few years and he's quite excited about it).

It was hilarious! It was at Dockside and the function was fenced off from the rest of the bar by some waist-high barriers. So we sat right beside the barrier, feeling like slight social pariahs.

The people at the function (which was a mystery to us - we spent a good hour watching the dynamics and debating whether it was a work thing or a family thing - strange mix of old and young) were for quite a lot of time largely ignoring the musicians. But we, from the far end of the function were watching them and cheering loudly between songs (from behind our barrier).

We got some odd looks, but never once did any of the invited-ones ask us to come over the barrier and join them. It was very much us-and-them.

There was one great old guy who got the dancing started, but obviously found the music a little loud and indiscreetly held his fingers in his ears the whole time. THAT is the anecdote that will be told in the staffroom on Monday (the finger-in-ears dancing started on one of the few songs our friend was lead singer for, at which point several of the oldies decided to coincidentally get up and leave as well).

There were three sets and Jonathan came over to us before the last one. We saw the playlist and decided we were finally going to get the courage to actually crash the engagement part to dance to the last five songs (starting with a kick-ass combo of Door Bell by the White Stripes and Living on a Prayer). The band was ok with this - they appreciated anyone dancing.

We were lead in by the Irish-man among us and indiscreetly danced at the front of the floor - on our own. Apparently this crowd did not like the White Stripes. The three of us loved it! WOO!

I was, incidentally, wearing a very loud orange dress, so blending in was not an option.

Luckily there was one ridiculously drunk guy and he acknowledged us and started dancing with us. Soon after that he discovered there was a slippery spot right in front of the band, and he started trying to slide over it, with disastrous effects. I eventually convinced him to at least put his glass down (after two against-the-odds falls where he managed to not spill a drop).

The women singing put in a few plugs for our friend (the keyboardists) where we got to cheer loudly.

Overall, it was hilarious and fun and the music was actually great. Thoroughly enjoyed it!

Two sides notes.

On the way out the door, a guy started chatting to us (at which point we all said 'Oh my god - how good was that band? Especially the keyboardist!'). And mid-conversation I realised he was mainly talking to ME and asking where we were going next. In a suggestive way. I do believe he was flirting with me! And he was a similar height, nice looking and had made a joke about politics..... I was quite shocked at how long it took me to realise he was flirting - I think it's been a while! My friends dragged me off before anything more, but it was still cute.

Then we went to that Japanese beer bar for another drink. Me and S. got IDed at the door. That again made me feel pretty good! As usual, the guy with us didn't get IDed because of his facial hair, but ironically he was the youngest in the group. His birthday is actually on February 29th, by the way - so he's turning 7 this year. That impressed me and S. - how many people do you actually know that are born on the leap-year day?

At that point my stomach started to protest against my partying ways. I had only had 3 or 4 ciders. But apparently that is enough these days. I had approximately 1 inch of my beer before realising that another gulp would tip me over the edge into messiness. Over conversations about the theme song to the Dog Show and what colours the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were, I let my beer be consumed by the Irish-man (typically).

I was then driven home by a taxi driver who seemed almost too mentally slow to have a license. I realised that I have less trust for pakeha drivers than foreign ones. With foreign ones I always assume that they were doctors or academics before they moved to NZ and that they read intellectual novels between rides.

And then I went to bed.

And my calf muscles went into cramping spasms because they don't remember what this 'dancing' thing is. And I'd only danced five songs. I had danced very vigorously, to be fair - to show my appreciation to the under-appreciated band.

And while my head is fine, my body feels ridiculously bad.

And that is what going to Dockside at the age of 34 does.

The End.