Category Archive

We are so proud of you and we’ll love you forever.
xxxxxx

That’s what Peter calls this chocolate cake recipe. He makes a pretty good cake, does Pete.
Quick and Dirty could also describe these recipe pages I’m making. These are no scrapbook pages, works of art, laboured over many long hours.They take about half an hour each (at the most) and I would like them to have a “banged together in a hurry” feel.
In answer to your questions about the last page and the butterfly post, I used a “Whale of a Punch” (that’s the brand!) that cost about $24 at a local scrapbooking shop. The wings are about 1 3/4″ across and they are punched out of a magazine.
The recipe page is squares of envelopes (from our office mail) just glued down with a few of my left-over butterflies glued on top and the recipe hand-written over that. I quite like to write sideways because it makes my writing look better!

We have a series of recipes that are lovingly stored on scratty pieces of paper that live on top of the microwave oven. Favourite recipes that have been scrawled by hand on envelopes by now-deceased loved ones or printed off the Interwebs from long-forgotten sites. I had a panic attack on the weekend when I couldn’t find A Recipe. I had visions of the mouldy, sticky, dot matrix printout having been accidentally turfed in the bin and I Knew What Had to be Done.
A Recipe Book. A recipe book that contains all of the favourites that we would be sad to lose. A recipe book that can have lots of pages added to it over time. Here is page one, made with envelopes and left-over butterflies. It’s our Crunchy Lemon Muffin recipe, shared here and devoured several times a year at our house.

Jess and Meggie and Molly and Mary and heaps more of you have been writing these amazing statements. I believe it started here with Suse. They have intrigued me and I have found myself writing my own in my head for days. Mine became further removed from the original concept as I went along. But it made me cry. Time to put it here…

I am from Strong Women. Land-owning, moko-chinned women. Far-from-home, desperate-for-a-new-beginning women. Women who worked hard, physical work, who created, who birthed and buried. Maori and Pakeha, New Zealand women.

I am from Weetbix and Marmite and Vogel bread. But also Mum and Dad making jam in a steamy kitchen, measuring sugar, cutting plums and peaches. From duck and pheasant, plucked by Nanna, shot by Papa, making his own cartridges on the back verandah; from flounder and crayfish, caught by my uncles, drying and cleaning their nets in the sun. From whitebait, feijoas, plums and mandarins. I am from sun-ripened strawberries growing safely under old fishing nets.

I am from a sandpit, huge and deep - built by Dad, digging with my brother; Mole Holes and tunnels to China, shared baths and sandy feet.

I am from freesias, grape hyacinth and roses. But also bracken, ponga and moss. From damp bush tracks, swinging vines, tuis, fantails and bellbirds. From cold, bare legs and sweaty wool-clad torsos; from home-knitted hats and Swan-dris; from canvas packs and scroggin.

I am from a river, deep and dark. The Waikato. Forboding, menacing, comforting, home.

I am from immigrant Presbyterian straightforwardness, threat, control; softened by years to simplicity, inclusiveness, morality. I am from whakapapa, so that my family includes all things and everyone and is everpresent. I am from karakia, prayer for all things - welcome, recognition, gratitude, farewell.

I am from Christmas indulgences. Ceiling-scraper trees that leave sap on the plaster, wooden crates of soft-drink bottles, present-opening that lasts all afternoon (one at a time so everyone can see). I am from my Papa, roasting assorted fowl all morning, revelling in the luxuriousness of our lives.

I am from Nanna. From crochet and knitting, from sewing needles dangerously parked in the back of the sofa, horse racing on a transistor radio. From bags stuffed full of wool and patterns and magazines. The New Zealand Women’s Weekly.
From Choysa tea, arrowroot biscuits, 20 cents to buy yourself a creamy. I am from you.

I am from barefooted primary school days. Hand stands, four-square, school journals, muddy playing fields, thick Education Department crayons. From kids who smelled funny and boys who played rugby and girls in Grandma-knitted cardigans.
I am from the Anglican Book of Common Prayer and boater hats and school ties and timetables and Latin verbs and Chapel and matron and The Bursar and The Headmistress. I am from naughty boarders, brothers at St Pauls, sneaking hone early.

I am from wet, foggy mornings with the washing machine sloshing and my mother’s red hands.
I am from homemade clothes, Holly Hobbie-embroidered and pin-tucked. I am from Singer sewing machines, forever patient Teacher-Mother with needle and thread, hours spent looking a patterns and fabric in shops, pinking shears, pins in foam-topped plastic boxes.

I am from rides in the wheelbarrow, a Daddy with strong arms; piggyback rides, a Daddy with a strong back. Wrestling on the lounge floor, pinned in The Scissors hold. Laughing, laughing, laughing. I am from my parents cuddling in the car, flirting in the kitchen, dancing in the lounge. I am from kissing and cuddling and love.

Ko Taupiri te maunga
Ko Waikato te awa
Ko Aotearoa te iwi

Taupiri is my mountain
Waikato is my river
New Zealand is my people

I didn’t want Christmas 2007. I just didn’t feel like it… Until it was all over.
Around about January 2 I got all enthusiastic about Christmas and started making decorations. I prefer to think of it as being Super Prepared for Christmas 2008.
It started because I saw some beautiful decorations in a post-Christmas sale in this etsy shop and wanted to make some of my own. Mine have some of my Nanna’s buttons in the centre.

Although at night the lighting is lousy for photos, I think the yellowness of these shots suits the snowflakes and the low light does make them twinkle more than they would in a daytime shot.
What’s the bet that by December 20 I’ll have lost them??

You guys are too nice to me! Maddy gave me this
and Shirley gave me one of these.
Thank you both so much for being thoughtful and making me feel good!
I’m going to roll them in together and give out “You’re Amazing & You Make My Day Awards” to Tracy at Prickly Pear Bloom. Oy vey, has that girl got talent!! Tracy, you are so full of style and flair, you do make my day!
And Miss LaLaLaLaLaeroport! Lori, you are an inspiration. How you manage to be so generous with your time when you have kids and work and everything is AMAZING!
Caity, you get one, too! I admire so much about you and the loving, happy life you and Mr Beloved have created for each other. Hmm, yes, you’ll have to share your award with Mr B.
It’s nice knowing y’all

This deserves to be an eloquent post, but unfortunately it turned into a ramble. Never mind, right now it’s the best I can do…

There are lots of us in The Mothers Whose Children Have Died Club. But not enough of us talk about it and new members can feel very alone. Even not so new members can feel alone. One of the bloggers I read regularly recently wrote about the death of her daughter and the temptation there is for some to say “It’s been years. Get over it.”
Do we ever get over the death of a child? What does getting over it mean anyway?

If it means forgetting – no.
If it means getting on with living – yes.
If it means going back to the way things were – no.
If it means pretending it didn’t happen – only if you are complete fool.

Our son died at home, sitting on our sofa eating dinner and wheedling at his sister to change channels on the TV. One second we were about to have dinner and the next, well, what happened? What happens in that moment is that everything changes. Every Thing. Nothing is ever like it was. Nothing is untouched. Your whole world has a new colour layered over it that you can’t remove, like a filter on a camera lens. Every thing looks different and, after a while, you are not too sure what the world used to look like.

It’s not just death that does this to us. There are a myriad of traumatic events that people all over the world experience every day. And it isn’t even just Bad Stuff that does this to us. Falling in love does it, too, and giving birth to a child, and so does climbing a mountain.

I suppose I should be drawing some profound conclusion. I’m not sure I can. It just is what it is. It’s just life and living and being human. Life isn’t static, it moves and flows. People come into our lives and people leave our lives. No experience leaves us as it found us. Some experiences are worthy of remembrance, worthy of celebration. They’ve lead us to this place and are part of who we are. What’s to get over?

The part you DO need to get over is the sting of pain that appropriates moments it should just bugger off out of, stealing into the joyous moments of your life where it has no right to be. As you delight in someone else’s new baby, it sends you a glimpse of a little ear that you remember kissing and then sneaks up on you and wallops you hard across the back of the head.
There’s a pain in every new thing you do that doesn’t include your child. Going new places where they are not known hurts. Every new friend who never knew them is a reminder that your child is no longer physically present. You carry them with you, invisibly, and it feels as if the rest of the world is ignoring your precious child, not even acknowledging that they exist. But the truth is that only you know they are there.

That’s what you do need to get beyond, because that’s the part that can become immobilising and crushing. That’s the part that starts to inflict pain on everyone around you.

I have mostly gone past that place, but I’m not sure how. I can’t explain how to do it to other grieving mothers. I wouldn’t even presume to try. But I’m grateful.

If I hadn’t been tagged today for a meme, you wouldn’t have heard a peep out of me for another day or two. So send brickbats or bouquets, depending on how you feel about this, to Kate

Here’s the deal. I tell you stuff basing each thought on a letter from my name.(these are the actual rules: List one fact, word or tidbit that is somehow relevant to your life for each letter of your first or middle name. You can theme it to your blog or make it general. Then tag one person for each letter of your name.)

We all know I love talking about myself, so this should be easy.

K : kissing is one of my favourite activities in the whole world. My kids hate me for it, and even poor Peter probably cops more than he needs or even wants. Tough. If I love you, you WILL suffer my kisses and you had BETTER at least pretend that you like it. Here’s a funny story that rats out my sister. When she was five and my husband’s lovely brother was about twenty two, she was sitting on his knee smothering his face in kisses. He was doing his best to put up with it while having a conversation with someone else. Eventually, annoyed that he wasn’t paying enough attention to her, she asked him, “Do you like kissing me?” He responded with a “Hmmm”. Full of confidence, she shot back, “Never mind, we’ll get used to it.”

I : intuition. Is it intuition or revelation or something else altogether that hits me over and over when I meet new people? I so often know things about them that I haven’t been told. Serious things, private things. I very seldom tell them what I know, but sometimes I kind of blurt things out. I have tried to ignore this (successfully) at different times of my life. Now I wish I had nurtured it more. Maybe I will yet.

R : regret. Not too many in my life. I wish I had realised earlier in life that I owe other people nothing - no explanations, no commitments, no obligation - unless I choose to. I wish I had known at sixteen how pretty I was and that I wasn’t fat. I wish I had been braver intellectually. I wish I had questioned convention a whole lot more. That’s about it. I can live with that.

S : sister. I’m glad I have one. She is beautiful, graceful, exceptionally talented. She was born when I was 13 and, when I was 18, I married Peter and moved away.She was only five, so for a long time we didn’t know each other very well. These days I think we know each other very well. Here’s another regret - there have been times I’ve hurt her accidentally (the story above was no accident, sorry, M.) And, worse, there have been a couple of times when I knew full well that what I was about to say would hurt. I really wish I hadn’t done that. I wish I’d been a better sister, a less judgmental one, a more understanding one. It took us a while to learn to have an adult relationship. I’m so happy we’ve got there. Meredith, I love you.

T : truth. My brother has been wrestling with this one for a while (love you, too, Jon!). How does one define Truth? I suddenly feel completely unable to answer the question. I’m no longer even sure that I want to try. Isn’t Truth different for each person? What I do know for sure is that honesty is one of the most important things in my life. I value honesty above just about everything else.

and, honestly? I’m too sleepy for this!! T is for Tired.

Y: *yawn*

It probably buggers up memes not to tag people for the next round, but I far prefer to let you self-tag. So go for it.

*ahem* Quiet please, everyone! There are quite a few notices this morning so I’ll try to be quick.

Construction work at The Office is now complete and Peter and Kirsty are slaving over hot computers every day. Peter has written Kirsty’s job description to include “making coffee”. She has to remind him frequently that He Is NOT The Boss Of Her. He counters with “Oh, yes I am” but usually backs down quickly. Even the Managing Director should know his place.

There has been a steady stream of emails over the past week inquiring after Kirsty’s health and general well-being. Thank you all, for your concern ONE of you, however (and YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE) (Vel*cough*cro) sent the following impertinent message : “Oi Where are you?”
Young ladies are reminded that the use of casual language is unbecoming.

(HEY, VELCRO!!!! I’m OVER HERE *whistle* !!)

Last weekend, Peter, Kirsty and Ali had a weekend escape to Airlie Beach in The Whitsundays. A lovely time was had by all…

Activities included feeding crackers to cockatoos that visited their apartment balcony, shopping, eating out in a luxurious restaurant with very cute waiters and cruising out to the Barrier Reef on a catamaran. On board the boat, K and P were massaged while floating on the Reef (how awesome is THAT??) and Miss D had her first scuba dive…

She was so excited that she couldn’t stop grinning and laughing. A Monster has now been created and investigations have been made at the local dive school so that the activity can continue.

Excuse me, 4B. Can someone please wake up Miss O’Connor?

It has been decided that regular breaks will be required in the following years and that The Whitsundays, given their close proximity to Townsville, are excellently located for this purpose. It is heartily recommended that those of you who have never been to the Barrier Reef should avail yourselves of this opportunity should it present itself. It truly is one of Life’s Great Gifts.

Monday evenings have been declared to be The Night For Quilting, by a new sewing group. It is pleasing to see students choosing to spend their free time productively (!!) in wholesome activity. I am assured that there is definitely NO loud talking, laughing or chocolate-eating in this group and that they are models of good behaviour. Well done. I can only say that it must be the influence of Tracey, Tanya and Florence.

I am aware that in my absence there have been a number of Unfortunate Events. Some of you have been unwell, suffered bereavement and other sorrows. You have my wholehearted ((hugs)) and love.

We will now all stand QUIETLY and turn to page 47 in your song books.
Hit it, Mrs Feesh…

*sings* In the Garden of Eden, baby, doncha know that I luuu uu uuve you…

What a surreal few days it’s been!

Thursday:
8:00 a.m.dropped Ali at school
ran a few errands in town
9:00 a.m. drove out to Hughenden (400-odd km) to collect Peter - his last day there! woo hoo!
2:00 - 5:00 p.m. packed remaining possessions from house there into back of car (almost - had to leave some with a friend!)
5:00 7:30 p.m. Peter coached his last group of Hughenden kids’ tennis
10:00 p.m.drove back to Townsville, arriving 2:00 a.m. Friday (Ali stayed with a friend)

Friday:
tried to sleep in
failed
Peter madly working on computer trying to organise a TENDER - yes, you read it right
NZ partners to rescue - they will complete tender (wonderful, thoughtful friends)
Peter and I lay down for nap
I fluffed my pillow and rearranged covers
He got up - claimed he had rested enough (in three minutes??)
more errands around town - buying chairs for office, clothes and shoes for P and paying bills
at shopping centre, P has notion to check whether his mobile IS set up for international roaming as requested TWO MONTHS ago
surprise surprise surprise - IT ISN’T
$300, half an hour of clenched teeth and barely civil phone call later, it IS
dinner out at local restaurant, nearly asleep in mushroom sauce
packing suitcase, photocopying passport, discussing clothing options at length
bed by 10:30, alarm on mobile phone set for 4:00 a.m.
awake at 11:25 - memo on phone has woken us up to tell us that Peter is flying to LA in the morning (so we’d better get a good night’s sleep. Oh the irony)

Saturday:
4:00 a.m. eyes are open
5:00 a.m. wake up in cafe at airport with a mouthful of coffee
5:30 a.m. Peter leaves. Trying hard not to cry.
home and back to bed
7:30 a.m. P calls from Brisbane
1:00 p.m. P calls from Sydney
Spend day sorting through his clothes and tidying wardrobe
nap in afternoon
starting to feel human again
more tidying, shopping with Ali
early night
wake up all through night waiting for the phone to ring. It doesn’t.
8:00 a.m. email from Peter - safe in L.A. , phone not working (Well, of course not. Why the hell should it?? We asked nicely, paid the $$ but forgot to sacrifice our youngest child and smear her blood all over the Telstra Shop) BUT he has seen Chronicler and is very happily visiting with an old friend. By now, I suspect, he is comatose on her sofa!
8:01 a.m. email from Chronicler (now this is amazing!). She has driven HOURS to meet with Peter for TWO minutes and give him a gift for me!!
12:00 p.m. look at this!! How weird it feels to see my husband on an American blog!! Wish I could see the present he is holding just a l i t t l e better - I have to wait two more weeks to see it.

How incredible are bloggers? The generosity of absolute strangers is a delightful reminder of how cool human beings can actually be. People who think that the computer age has damaged the way in which humans communicate with and relate to each other should spend a day or two blogging. And Chronicler’s blogs are a good place to start. She also has some awesome stuff for sale!

After a couple of days in LA and then a few in Boston, P will be on his way to Germany to visit his brother and sister-in-law. I am so excited for him. This will be the very first time he has ever visited his brother in his brother’s own home!
Next time, we’re hoping to both go

You have heard me extolling my husband Peter’s virtues many times. I don’t want to bore you (or, heaven forbid, drive you away!) but this post is about Peter and What He is Up To.

This man is a Good Man. He is the son of a Good Man (and a Good Woman) and the father of a Good Man in Training.
We are blessed in my family, we have many Good Men - fathers, brothers, husbands. We do not take them for granted. We love them and we tell them so. We are proud of them and we tell them so. I suspect that there are far more Good Men in the world than the bad ones who get all the press, but that is no excuse to undervalue the ones in Our Lives.

Peter decided when he was twelve that he wanted to be a Civil Engineer. This amazes me. How many kids that age even know what an engineer does? Anyway, he did and he liked it and wanted to do it. He will tell you that he is Averagely Smart. I take serious issue with this. He is far from average. He is VERY smart, he is principled, he loves, he takes responsibility, he inspires other people, he nurtures, he expresses his ideas and opinions and he puts his heart and soul into everything he does. Look up “Commitment Phobic” in the dictionary - see there, under “antonym”? It says Peter.

If you ask my mother, who is one of Peter’s Greatest Fans (he has many, but she is probably Vice President of the Club, under me as Pres.), she will tell you that Peter’s parents were not only fabulous parents but they were very wise when they named him, because he really is a Rock. He is calm, strong, reliable, solid and a trustworthy anchorpoint.

Now the reason for telling you all this is to prove my next point. Peter is about to get his Just Deserts. After many years of working hard for other people, he is opening his own Engineering Consultancy. We have gone into partnership with a New Zealand business and will be the Australian arm. I am so proud of Peter and so happy for him. This is exciting stuff!
Here are Ali and Peter at the company launch which we held in Cairns while we were there for the conference last week.

We had a wonderful night! Yummy food, gorgeous venue and good company.

This whole process is very busy-making! And we have (cleverly, I think) combined setting up and opening the office with
(a) moving the rest of the family and belongings to Townsville
(b) Peter’s two week trip to Europe and the USA (he will leave next week and gets back a few days before we open).
SO, the garage to our tiny two bedroom townhouse looks like this…

…and we have more stuff in storage…
…the office is currently an empty concrete construction zone…

…and we open the doors 1 October!

So there’s some explanation for my distraction in the last few weeks. I’ve been doing all sorts of new things and the next few weeks won’t be any slower.

***I’ve been having some Issues for a month or so now with comments. Not all of them are coming through to my email, so if you haven’t received a reply from me, my apologies! I’ve tried to get back to everyone but I’m sure I have missed some. It was especially nice to hear that everyone else is just as fragile as me over stats and thanks so much for the congratulations for Ali on her maths success!

Also, to those of you that are camping by your letterboxes waiting for presents from me - I hope you’re comfy and well-stocked with marshmallows The wait should nearly be over!

Things are looking up again :

I got an email this morning from one of my beautiful sisters-in-law *blowing kisses*
Ali got 83% for her maths exam and topped the class
You guys all sent sweet messages and cheered me up
Peter phoned and kissed me (you can so do that by phone)

and this afternoon, this bracelet was in the mailbox…
Isn’t it lovely? I bought it here. And it has arrived just in time for me to take it away on holiday. Don’t panic if you don’t hear any more from me for a week or so. I’ll be soaking in the bath in my luxurious hotel room. Don’t hate me. Someone has to be spoiled - thank goodness it’s me.

Wow! What a great day! I spent the morning Peter (always my favourite way to spend any day), then had the afternoon scrapbooking at Sussanah’s house with Tracey and Jennifer as well.
There was yummy food, there were serious conversations, there was great music. And THEN - I got to take the music home! Sussanah is Queen of the Mixed CD. She not only made the CD, she also printed it AND made a cover - all on top of scrapping, making lunch and generally being fabulous.
I drove home Reliving My Youth loudly in the car. Oh, Smiths, I have never stopped loving you.
After I collected Ali from school, we ran by the Post Office for the mail…
…and LOOKEE HERE! Surprise surprise surprise! Un-whined-for, spontaneous gifties from Margie!
How cute are these??
I can blow my nose on my Spiritual Twin…And look at the scissors! Margie must know about me and my passion for scissors I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw these amazing cards. There are so many and they are all beautiful ( I love the bee one at the top).

Then Ali looked into the bag and said, “ooh! what’s that red thing?” When she took it out, she saw what was written on the tag…
…big smiles! Thank you so much Margie for your thoughtfulness and generosity. It was a wonderful surprise! Now, get to it and make a blog!!!

See this teeny tiny baby boy? He left home two days ago. And moved to New Zealand.
Where does it say in The Rules that babies are allowed to leave before their mothers are finished with them??

This is a boy who has an immense capacity for love, intellectual ability that he is only just beginning to understand, a social conscience and powerful sense of justice, a tenderness that makes me fear for him, a somewhat black and white morality, the promise of making a significant contribution to the world.
This boy never leaves my head, never leaves my heart.

It’s time for 7 Days again! Sarah started this flickr group last March. We all had such a great time taking self portraits (7 days/7 photos) that she’s organized us for another round.

Day 1 : kissing Peter

Beautiful parcels from friends I’ve never met…

from Erin at house on hill road
(how did she know that ribbon would make my heart skip?)

Coming home from work, tired and stressed, to find my precious daughter making sushi for dinner…

Those of you with toddlers - there IS hope!

kiss kiss, originally uploaded by twolimeleaves.

1. Corazón al cuadrado / Hearts x2, 2. Love Stamp Candy Tin, 3. kiss…, 4. The Kiss 07, 5. Untitled, 6. kiss me kiss me kiss me, 7. Couple Caught Kissing In Park, 8. <3 ILY <3, 9. Romantisme, 10. amore, 11. Kiss me …, 12. Kiss

Created with fd’s Flickr Toys.

Pete’s here for the weekend…

Tell me, how long did it take for you to grow up? How old were you when you figured out who you are? When did you stop having doubts about yourself? Will it ever happen to me?

And while you’re at it, tell me how to help someone ELSE grow up. How do you do that? How do you advise teenagers when you aren’t sure yourself? What do you tell them about life when you are still trying to figure it out? Do you ever reach a point where you feel you have imparted enough of yourself to them - when you feel that they are ready? When you stop being terrified that they will be hurt?

…and her name is Cellyne.

Today is my daughter’s birthday and the only thing in the whole world that she wanted was a pet rat. She had to convince Daddy. It wasn’t that hard

We have had a pet rat once before, so we already know how charming and friendly they are. Then we met Cellyne. She must be the Sweetest, Gentlest, Softest and Prettiest rat there has ever been. We like her and she likes us. And banana.

My kids at the school formal last year

… and, in case you missed it, a reply from Meredith:

“Thanks for post, K. We’re doing OK. It was good to be able to help, but frusrating not to be able help the rider who was so badly injured. Thank you also to everyone who has posted their support. Its starting to leave my every waking thought- now I just need it to leave my nighttime thought.

The girls are doing really well. They keep talking and asking questions and almost slept through the night without needing me, last night. Kids are amazing, their logic and willingness to accept things. I’m hoping and praying this leaves their memories though. I believe everything happens for a reason and I’m trying to see the lessons in this. Aside from the obvious (DONT DRINK AND DRIVE YOU IDIOT), we’ve learnt we CAN cope. We CAN do what needs to be done in the face of something horrific. And I hope that the kids involved can take some small comfort that a stranger cared for them in a desperate situation.”

My sister, her husband and their two little girls (aged six and three) have had a horrible experience. Two days ago they were the first people at a triple fatality car accident involving two motorcycles and a car. The driver of the car was drunk. He had three small children in the car with him. He crossed the centre line and hit two motorcyclists and a pillion passenger head on. My sister told me that there was nothing recognisable left of the motorcycles. She said that they looked as if they had been exploded by a bomb. I won’t tell you about the rider. The pillion passenger had been thrown so far that she wasn’t found for two hours.

I’m trying so hard not to feel angry. My family have had to experience the hideous result of this man’s drunk action. His three children and my two little nieces have seen things that no one should have to see, let alone young children. My sister and her husband are left feeling that they didn’t do enough. How could they? How could anyone do anything? They comforted and cared for three hurt and hysterical children for more than half an hour before the emergency vehicles arrived. I think that was more than enough. Their own children sat in the car for two hours and then saw their parents wear someone else’s blood for the rest of the day. That was more than enough. Now they are all trying to sleep at night.

I’m just so mad at this man for what he’s done to so many, many people.

And so thankful that my family weren’t the ones he hit.

Edited : The death toll is now four. The driver has died.

Here’s a question for you. Would you rather live here (A) Outback Queensland…
…or here (B) The BEACH (North Queensland)?

Strangely enough, I don’t find that difficult to answer. So this coming weekend I’m packing up my stuff and my daughter and moving to (B) The Beach (my son is already there, at university). It is fraught with grief and pain, however, because my darling husband has to stay in (A) for work. So for a while to come we will be living in two different places and seeing each other on weekends (waaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!!! *sniff*). We hope that it won’t be for too long.
This isn’t an easy decision to make. But, ultimately it seems the better choice for both of our children (although the Boy Who Will be Giving Up His Freedom would beg to differ!!) and I am nearing the end of my rope living in the bush. I like the community out here very much, but I find the remoteness and smallness gets me down. I said I’d come for two years and those were obviously powerful words - I was fine for two years but since February I have been restless and wriggling. It was soooo hard to leave Sydney when I went to stay with my friend, Robyn, in March. To be in the city and then have to come back here was just an agony…
So this week is all about packing things up and wondering how on earth we are all going to squeeze into our little townhouse in Townsville! A shoe horn may be in order…

ps Thank you all very much for The Birthday Wishes

Today is the Eighteenth Birthday of one of my finest Projects. Happy Birthday, boy! And congratulations on surviving eighteen years in a madhouse.

A Year of Color : Cadet Blue, originally uploaded by twolimeleaves.

I know I haven’t been very good company lately. Too much with the mosaics; not enough with the talking. I’ve been at a craft show for four days. I’m talked out.
I’ll talk another day.
…there’s a lot to tell you…

At last, Robyn and Stephen’s boy has been born. Thomas weighed 3.5 kilos and apparently is as loud as his brother! Phew. We can all breathe out

I suppose you truly can’t win them all. I saw this in Poppylane’s etsy shop and thought it was cute and would take me half an hour to make. It took all afternoon and turned into this pile of pooh…
I really hate the position of the eyes (I usually get those SO right!
Why didn’t I follow my instincts??).
Edited to add: SOME people make it look SO DARN EASY!

But, I had a day scrapbooking on Thursday and did a number of pages.
This is my favourite.
I love these patterned papers where you just glue stuff down and it looks like you spent hours on it. I’m SO good at cheating. Heh heh.

On a more navel-gazing note, yesterday I was talking to the new Uni Student in our family and he told me how they had done Myers Briggs tests in his management class. It brought back memories of many happy hours reading about myself and my fascinating personality type. So I googled ENFP “The Visionary” *cough cough* and reminded myself of how extraordinary I am. We should probably all do it from time to time because NONE of those things tell you that you are a loser who couldn’t make a cute softie if your childrens lives depended on it. Instead they rave about your strengths (only an Egotist a la ENFP could see “always berating themselves for being so conscious of self” as a strength!) and make you feel as if you are The Most Valuable and Important Personality Type. Not that an ENFP needs to be told that - we all know it anyway. We aren’t really up ourselves, it just that we know that “This type is found in only about 5 percent of the general population, but they have great influence because of their extraordinary impact on others.”
SO true, so true…

…for my sister, who saves me from disaster from time to time.

Don’t you wish you lived in Wellington? And if you do, what are you waiting for? Get thee to the Ghuznee Room!!! (at 5:30pm on 2 April)

waiting….waiting….

…STILL no baby….

…not really due for another week, but his Daddy is only home for another two (before heading back to the Netherlands where they will all be living soon), so Baby had better not dawdle!

Come on, Baby! We all want to meet you!! We have toys and cuddles and a big brother and cats…

I feel sick. Really nauseous. I think I’ve eaten about half a cup of jam. I know that was really dumb, but it wasn’t my fault. No, really. This is The Plum Tree.It lives at my parent’s house in what we call The Orchard (glorified name for a yard that happens to have a number of fruit trees). It was planted by my Grandparents when my mother was a child and it has always been in my life.I was thinking about it a few days ago - how can it be that a tree can be one of the Inhabitants of Your Life? And yet, it has been. And every year that I am at Mum and Dad’s, I wonder if this will be it’s last year. It’s one of those trees that has never been straight. It has twisted boughs that look precarious and fragile even before summer weighs them down with fruit. One good storm, you think, and this tree will be gone.
So, this visit, I took photos, so that when it’s all over I’ll be able to remember.

Poor Peter! He shivered his way through three weeks of New Zealand “Summer” and has now gone back to work. So, of course, just one day after he left to return to Queensland, Summer finally arrived here. The cicadas are almost singing, some of us have sunburn and dinner is being eaten later and later. One of the absolute best things about Kiwi summers are the loooong evenings. The sun goes down about 9 pm and the twilight lingers til 10 pm.We are definitely in holiday mode. We sleep until nine in the morning (some of us even later. cough.) and drink coffee all day, except for when we are shopping (clothes, shoes, earrings) , reading or watching movies. (Watched “Borat” a few nights ago. Oh My. We laughed SO hard. I thought my son was going to CRY he was laughing so hard. But I was glad that Mum didn’t come - it swings between the Hilarious and the Nauseating). Life is good.
Except that I have Flickr Woes! My cookies were deleted off the computer four weeks ago and I haven’t been able to log in to Flickr ever since. I sent an email. HAH!!! What a jokette! Got a reply three weeks later, saying,”Do you still want a reply?” Ah, yes. I’m sure I’ll get one eventually, but in the meantime I enjoy A Year of Colour vicariously ONLY Which also reminds me… sorry for the one-way communication of late. I still can’t send any emails. But I have been receiving them fine. Thanks for the comments! I love love love comments!!

I hope y’all had a great Christmas and New Year! We have eaten ourselves into a stupor, unwrapped a kazillion presents and generally exhausted ourselves. But we have also been going for lots of walks, so I don’t feel quite as guilty as I should.
Here in New Zealand it’s supposedly Summer. Yeah, right. It is SO cold! And it’s not just us Australian tourists who are complaining - even the locals are rugged up in Winter clothes and whining. Nevertheless, we have had some sunny moments. We’ve been catching up with friends (and “conveniently” visiting them at their holiday houses!). This is a river that feeds into Lake Taupo, next door to Wendy’s place. Cool, eh?

Peter bought a new camera on his way over here, so I’ve been taking hundreds of photos. My dad has worked for the local council for forty years and has been instrumental in the creation of many beautiful parks, walkways and gardens in my home town. So I’ve taken heaps of photos of his endeavours.This is in the Italian section of the Hamilton Gardens…And the rose garden is amazing.It’s just so very very beautiful here. I’d forgotten how bright green can be!

AAAAAGH!!!! I wish I could get this layout looking better, but I haven’t got time to mess around and there are so many more photos to be taken. Bye…

I do have an excuse for not posting. I have been shopping. Yee ha! It is soooo good to be Home in Aotearoa, where women are Broad of both Foot and Thigh. Here, in the Land of the Yummiest Shoes, I can find funky footwear for my hobbit feet, and I don’t feel like a monster when I walk through the Mall - all us Kiwi chicks have legs like All Blacks. But I digress, check out these puppies…And op-shopping. I have single-handedly purchased every pair of 1950’s knitting needles in every thrift shop in Hamilton. And about 5 kg of buttons, some old wool blankies and a yellow chenille bedspread which will make the cutest ducklings. Ooh, and a cute fairy tale book.How is this for funny? As I sat in the shoe shop looking down at pair No. 2 caressing my foot, a young man sat beside me so close that we were touching down the whole of the right side of my body. He simultaneously pushed a diamante-studded sandal under my face and said,” Excuse me, Madam, I’m a cross-dresser - can you tell me if these suit me?” I glanced at his face (very very handsome, indeed), then back at the sandal, then back to his face - ha!! Recognition! My cousin (who I probably haven’t seen for ten years). He’d seen Peter outside the shop and told him, “Watch this. I’ll get her!”

Yes, he did. But only because I was genuinely assessing the sandal’s suitability for his delicate hoof. I’m just too nice.

ps Sorry for lack of emailing. I can get my email, but cannot for the life of me send any. It just won’t work and I don’t know why

Hello, Chickadees! I’ve missed you SOOO much!! I tried to get online as soon as I got here, but Teenage Son had immediately absconded for his girlfriend’s house, was away for four days and I needed his help to change the settings on my computer (oh the shame).
So here we are! And so is The Beautiful Miss Izzy…
And the World’s Most Revolting Cat (who has a new fan)…

I have a new haircut that I love (and it makes up for La Haircut de Tragedie from a month or two ago)…
we have eaten Potato Salad By G…
and there are FLOWERS…

FLOWERS FLOWERS FLOWERS!!!!! I cannot tell you how excited I am. Flowers.
Oh. And rain. And it’s cold. Ish.

Thanks for all the input on the Best Place for a Blog to Live. I’ve decided. Next year I’m moving to WordPress. I read heaps of their forums and tried to get as much user-info as I could. The general consensus from users seemed to be that they liked the user-format and were impressed with the high level of technical support. One person mentioned that in two years of blogging on WordPress , he’d only been aware of it going down on one occasion.

So this is where the story gets funny. I went to the sign up page. “Get a blog in seconds!” it said. Very easy, straight forward process. Did it. First email came within seconds. Very good. Second email (with password) took a couple of hours (grumble).
But then… no dashboard access. Naddah. Can not do Thing One. Send email to Technical Support. VERY fast reply - “We have a bug. Fixing it as we speak.” (or something along those lines!) Email included link to forum discussing bug. Wow, this is great communication! Something IS wrong, but there’s no Dumb Plumber looking at me with a “WTF do you want ME to do about it?” expression, instead there’s a COMMUNICATION BOARD. Yes.
Several hours later, still nothing. Check board. “Problem fixed. If you still have a problem, let us know.” Let them know, including “moving over from Blogger. Now I’ve jinxed you guys, too.”
Email back says :
“Hi,
That should be fixed now.
Jinx us? Not a chance
Sorry it took so long.”

I am in love. It even had a human being’s name at the bottom.

So, during the holidays, I’ll be packing up my stuff and moving to http://twolimeleaves.wordpress.com
There’s nothing there yet, but I’ll let you know when the housewarming party is!
And now I must away! Time for more of this… (this is my son, driving the Landcruiser at 110 km and saying “Holy Crap! I’m driving the Big Boy Car!” As opposed to my little sedan.)
…so that we can do this again (Doesn’t everyone’s Dad dress up as Santa on Christmas Day?)
See you in New Zealand!

I just got off the phone from a friend of mine. Someone who, as she reads this, will be SQUIRMING IN HER CHAIR!!! She reads this blog every day and I had NO IDEA because she has NEVER commented. Shame on you! It’s a good thing you’re so cute, Wendy, or I would have to drop you from my Friend List.
as if…
I was thinking of Wendy because this afternoon I did a page for The Daughter’s scrapbook about a wonderful day that we spent with Wendy and her lovely family at their bach (New Zealand term for a holiday house. Pronounced like batch). It was a superb day, the water was clear, the company was terrific. Wendy and I have had lots of great afternoons together. A few years ago when my days were logistically and often emotionally challenging (clashing finishing times for kids at different schools 40 km apart, son who sometimes started the day at school and ended it in hospital, etc - you know how it is) Wendy was an angel. One of those dear friends who can make you laugh as they pick up the shards of your difficult day. Whose cups of tea always taste ten times better than anyone elses and whose cakes you would walk over hot coals to eat. Who you trust enough to give care of your child to.

Wendy, I still don’t think you know just how much I appreciate the help you gave me. You are honestly one of the best people I have ever known. Hugs and kisses. Can’t wait to see you this summer!

By request, Mum’s Orange Cake Recipe:
6 oz plain flour
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
5 oz caster sugar
1 large orange (zest and 5 Tbsp juice)
2 large eggs, seperated
5 Tbsp butter, melted

Sift all dry ingredients into a bowl and add the orange zest.
Melt butter, cool.
Add egg yolks and orange juice. Mix.
Add to dry ingredients and beat well to smooth batter.
Beat egg whites until stiff and fold lightly into batter.
Bake at 180 deg. C in a greased ring tin for, um, until cooked!

Ice with some yummy icing made with butter and orange juice and zest. (No recipe for this - we do it differently everytime!)

N is for…
New things: don’t all humans love new and novel things? I love new ideas, new babies, new shoes, new experiences, new music, freshness of all kinds.
Nanna: don’t even try to argue with me - I had the best Nanna. I grew up living next door to my maternal grandparents. They both adored little children. So much so that, after my baby sister (Meredith) banged her head on the corner of their NEW kitchen table, Pappa took a saw to it and roughly amputated all the corners. No table was more important than one of his babies. Nanna and Pappa were always kind, generous, extraordinarily patient and indulgent. Neither of them ever even raised their voice to me EVER. I knew that they loved me to bits and I loved them back. I still miss them.Nanna had a magic touch with babies. She could rock any child to sleep in minutes and stop ANY howling. This is Nanna with my daughter, who hadn’t been crying but fell asleep two minutes after Nanna held her anyway! In typical Nanna-fashion she has pulled her skirt up as a blanket for the baby (she ALWAYS wore a slip).

Naps: I’m a big believer in naps for everyone. We live in such a hot climate that I think we should have two hour lunch breaks and siestas all round. I’m serious about this. The Europeans have their priorities straight. Long family lunches and a sleep would cut down on stress unlike anything else I can imagine.
Bill Nighy : we love Bill Nighy at our house! Especially in “Love Actually” - he has the BEST line!
Liam Neeson: *lust, lust* I’m not the only one to suffer from this. Apparently, he was once described by a theatre critic as a “towering sequoia of sex.”
Nina Simone: heavenly voice.
Nosferatu: the original and the best! When I was a kid we used to watch old silent movies. This one is amazing and still really good fun to watch.
The Nightmare Before Christmas: Tim Burton makes such cool worlds.
Anais Nin: “We don’t see things as they are, we see things as we are.”

I like the sound of: neoprene, nuance.

Here is Meredith’s newest work. She’s not too thrilled with the photo, but it’s the best we can do. This precious little girl is her daughter. Oh, and look! More parrots! These are budgies. They gather in flocks of thousands in Australia. It always seems so cruel to me that they should be alone in a cage.

My sister and I must be on the same wavelength - we’re both thinking about kingfishers!! I hadn’t seen her newest work until she sent me a photo today. Meredith’s beautiful new painting “Exotic Native” has been accepted for New Zealands Wallace Awards! She says, “It’s about my feeling on being an ‘homogenised’ NewZealander, our country being somewhat of a melting pot with a very short history- some would argue none at all.”
The painting is framed in a glorious (read expensive!) Italian moulding and it is for sale.

ps the link to Merediths blog is no longer active, but her website will be up in a couple of weeks. I’ve had a sneak preview and it’s wonderful. Her work is exquisite and I’m not just saying that because I love her!

Update: Merediths new website is online now. A few bits and pieces aren’t fully operational yet, but you can see more of her work.

I’m really glad that Caity found this cool toy! I’ve just had ten minutes of exhiliration creating THIS: Ta Dah!!

It wasn’t easy to choose an emblem for the centre of the seal but somehow the handcuffs seemed appropriate. And it took a bit of self-censorship to come up with a slogan that I could share without causing marital humiliation, but I think he’ll approve.
Darling, I’ve never met anyone else I’d rather be chained to! There will be no gnawing one’s own hand off in this house

Meredith has a new exhibition from August 12 - 31 at the
Mixed Media Art Gallery in Casabella Lane, off Barton Street, Hamilton (New Zealand).

Opening is at 5:30 pm Friday August 11.

You are invited!

I’ve had a couple of aborted attempts at this post. I thought it would be easier to write than it is. And I can just hear my mother asking me why I’m writing it, but I need to. You know how sometimes you just know? Yesterday I wrote a comment on someone’s blog about how I “had had” two boys. She’s probably wondering what on earth I meant and that clinches it.
I want to introduce you to our eldest son, James. As you can see, James had Down Syndrome and, as often is the case, he also had severe congenital heart defects (complete AV defect, for those in the know. And I mean complete). We had him for sixteen years, until he passed on three years ago. James was an exceptional boy - total and utter joy - and he passed on suddenly at home. We are so grateful that he didn’t have to go through a drawn out hospital experience.
The point of telling you all this is not to get sympathy (puhleeze, do not feel sorry for us!!! It would be a sorry case of Pity Waste!) but because I talk about James all the time and with new people there comes a point where I realise that it’s just confusing for them to not know! When people ask me how many kids I’ve got, I always stumble. Sometimes I say, “Two”, and immediately feel as if I’ve abandoned Jamie; other times I say,” We had three”, and kill the conversation flat. It’s hard for people to understand that I am not going to fall apart if they ask me a question. I have to explain that we knew James was going to die before us for twelve years before it happened. His brother and sister knew ALL their lives. No, it doesn’t make it easy. But it does make it less of a body blow.

Proud mothers can be excruciatingly boring, so I’ll try to keep this part brief. I just have to tell you a little about James. He was funny - laughed all the time (which often lead to copious farts and eventually wet pants, which made him laugh even more and us all beg him to stop!) He also loved pranking people. My mother has, on a number of occasions, set fire to oil in the kitchen (she now has a self-imposed deep frying ban!). One day, she had the electric jug on to make coffee and James, seeing the steam, yelled out, ” ‘moke! ‘moke!” She came running SO FAST that he stored that trick away and got her a few more times.
This photo is Jamie wearing Peter’s welding mask which he had smuggled to school. The teachers tried to tell him off, but he looked so funny they ended up taking photos of him instead!

We have many “James” words that we all use regularly. If you don’t want to share your drink, just tell the other person that it has ” ‘loaties” in it (floaties = back wash).
Being a teenager, he was not averse to slagging people off from time to time, so a frequent family put-down here is, “You a LOOSER!”
His speech was very difficult to understand, so if you are one of the people who heard me telling him off at the shops and thought I was mean, he may have just said, “oh, -hit!” I knew what he meant, even if you didn’t!
Grandma will by now be upset that I’m only telling you negative things, so I must say that James was never difficult behaviourly and always great fun to be with. He was obsessed with coca cola and we often heard the plea, “Good boy? Coke?” Yes, our good boy always deserved coke. Who could not love a boy whose dual career ambitions were to be a doctor and Santa???
So, now you all know James, too. And I can say, “When the boyS were little…” and you won’t wonder if I know that one of my children is a girl

Meet Little Noah. He is six inches high. Little Noah’s wardrobe has been one of my daughter’s pet projects for a while now. Because he is so little, this can be a bit of a challenge! I help with the tricky bits
My Little Flower has created many superb things. She is very good at drawing and loves making all sorts of beautiful paper things from origami to lovely books.
We especially like Noah’s rapper outfit and his wet weather gear!

*blowing kisses* to Little Miss Meshell , who makes all kinds of gorgeous things too and probably has the most beautiful eyes on the planet.

Thought you might like to see the wedding dress I made for my sis about four years ago. She pretty much knew what she wanted and we nutted it out together over a day or two. It’s easy to make anything look good on her - she’s gorgeous! The train fabric is awesome; two layers of organza with feathers caught between the layers. The rest is silk.