Never Never

Bed's made.

Books are where they're supposed to be.

Shoes are on the rack, clothes are in the drawers.

Cars are put away.

The floor is clear.

Even the planes have been detangled on the mobile.

So where is the little hero who managed all of this today?? He's spraying the sunroom with lego now. Oh well, we can clean that room up tomorrow ...

Heroes

Good lord, I so often forget just how completely ace David Bowie was. I'm sure he's still ace, but I'm not bothered so much now. But I can't go past a good bit of Bowie / Eno / Visconti.

Peter Gabriel, too. I just watched videos of Heroes and Sledgehammer, is why I'm thinking of this.

In other news, I've been rearranging my bedroom. I read an article recently about the psychological harm it can cause children to grow up with hoarders and/or slobs, and as I watched Sweeney perch himself atop a teetering pile of (folded and clean - I'm not an animal) clothes on my bed to show me his new favourite book tonight, I decided that something had to give. Also, the fact that it's become a severe hassle to get to the other side of the bed to turn the lamp off in the morning because of all the crap I've just flung about the place. And I've been wanting to rearrange things in there for ages.

So I've done it, and it looks better. Threw out a bunch of clothes and other stuff I don't need, found my jandals, finally stowed Sweeney's artwork in a sensible, non-teetery fashion.

Which is not to say that there's not still a certain teeteriness to the atmosphere in there. Anything else would be unnatural ...

Here Comes the Sun(flower)

Check out our sunflowers!! Sweeney's Grandad nurtured these fine specimens from seed. They're on the wane now, though, and birds have harvested a swag of the seeds already. But they've given us, and all the people who walk past the house every day, a blast at just how huge and happy-looking they are. Sweeney's appointed himself Minister of Watering.

In other news, it feels like summer is truly on the way out. A wintery blast, with wind that snapped one of the supports for the shade sail, has hit town. Broke out the raincoats yesterday. Thinking about firing up the slow cooker for something warming for tomorrow night's dinner. It's dark at 6am now. I'm thinking about putting my slippers on.

Brrrr.

In Bloom

Look what I found this morning ...

This is my San Pedro. I dragged this cactus around with me in a pot when I was young and nomadic, and planted it for good when we bought this place aeons ago. It's really kind of huge now. A few weekends ago, to make space for more vege, I dug out the other two specimens I've been cultivating, as well as a related-but-not-nearly-so-awesome cactus, and took them to be rehoused at Grow From Here. One's gone to Kaye's house, one to an apartment on Webb St, and the not-so-awesome one is potted up and hanging out looking ornery at the shop. Happy.

And now, flowers. Aren't they beautiful?? And they even have a lovely, delicate fragrance. Not what you'd expect from this particular plant at all ... or at least, not what I was expecting. And they're extra, extra special because they bloom hardly ever.

But I'm all out of order with my news. Friday night saw KimberleyJoeHarper over for fish and chips, followed by cake. Delicious, delicious cake.

Here're Sweeney and Harper helping me to blow out the candles. Thanks, you jokers!!

Corn With the Wind

I'm an inconsistent gardener, to be sure. But growing broad beans and finding that they actually don't make me gag blew me away and inspired me to continue my half-arsed efforts in the soil. A few evenings ago, Sweeney helped me to plant some corn seedlings for a late harvest. I read my Yates Garden Guide and it told me that corn and beans do really well together, so I planted them in amongst some butter beans Dad planted a few weeks back. And there are actual beans on the bean plants.

Only problem is, I'm pretty sure that butter beans will make me gag. Totally.

The wind over last weekend was dramatic and threatened the two major events on our calendar. First up was Regan and Susan's wedding. After a white-knuckle ride through Ohariu Valley - it was like an episode of Wacky Races, I swear all the road signs were 45degrees out - we arrived at the gig 10 minutes late, and entered through the most indiscreet door in the whole place. Susan looked beautiful,  Regan was handsome, the ceremony was lovely, the company was fine, the dinner was delicious. The wind blew us around something chronic, but the sun was out and it was really a beautiful day.

The following day, we went to Wadestown for the next-day-after-the-wedding barbecue.

Check out these fine characters. These are Sweeney's cousins from Dunedin - a finer quartet you couldn't hope to meet. Let's see more of you jokers soon, please ...

And here's a snap of the bride and groom, for good measure. Let's see you jokers soon, too ...

Smitten for the Mitten

I joined in with a Christmas ornament swap. I've never done one before, and I was a bit intimidated by other people's efforts to start off with. Then I had a couple of false starts, a few u-turns.

And then I tried making some teensy-tiny mittens. Not very New Zealand, I know, but what the hey. Then, when I was faced with a pile of ten of them, they just looked kind of utilitarian and I was a little disappointed with that.

So I tried out a bit of gold thread embellishing. I thought they turned out dinky, but of course forgot to take photos of them before I packed them up. So here's a photo from Miriam's blog ...

One thing that came out of the whole experience was reminding myself that I'm rather handy at french knots, and I've never before used gold thread. Really should knock some up for ourselves, I reckon. Next post will feature the ornaments I was sent. They're all splendid.

Just one thing that completely slipped my mind until today. Have to get us a tree, don't I ...

Yo Ho Ho

This just in* from Sweeney:

- can we read the book about pirates, Mum??

- sure, where is it??

- got it, now I want to see the pirates in timeout.

- ???

- [feverishly turning pages] here they are!! Pirates in timeout, Mum!!

- ohhhhh. They're in prison. I guess that's like a timeout. Only it goes on for aaaages.

In other news, the broad beans have developed actual bean pods and the broccoli has started forming heads. In the garden. My splendid, splendid vege garden.

* at bedtime tonight

There's a Mouse in the Kitchen

Our new flatmate, Maose, died a hopefully-not-too-heinous death in the cupboard under the sink. I've been sinking under the weight of that mouse for too long now.

I took a naive approach to start with, thought I'd be reasonable and just remove any chance of him having a nibble, and cleaning everywhere I'd seen that he'd been, with strong-smelling cleaning products. But it just forced him out onto the bench when he thought I'd gone to bed, and I'd hear him trying to penetrate the packet of rice crackers. So Dad got a trap, and smeared it with peanut butter and popped an almond on top. Yes, I researched bait a little bit.

It totally worked.

And the following night, it worked again.

I'm a little frightened that there's a whole community in there, and there'll be new little mice to trap every night, and they'll get progressively smaller and more adorable.

In other news, Sweeney's busting through the left knees of all his trousers, and his uncle Dom turned 40 on the weekend. There was much revelry. At Dom's birthday, not Sweeney's breezy knees. Happy birthday, Dom!!

The Party's Over

Wow, I didn't realise just how much actual work went into Sweeney's party until it was over. Just getting the house and garden sorted, planning the food, thinking up who should come, that sort of thing. And all the while, the full-time job started ramping up to being more full-time than is really good for us, but it's an opportunity for some good work that I don't want to pass up.

*sigh*

We've had a bit of time to ooh and ahhh at some of the fab things people brought for Sweeney. Turns out we know some very cool, discerning people. Current fave is Marble Race. Sweeney and his Grandad set it up yesterday, and this morning Sweeney didn't even ask for cartoons over breakfast. He just tootled with Marble Race while he ate.

I call that a Result.

In other news, my veges are doing okay. Did you know I'd planted vege this winter?? No?? Well, I got the message that homegrown veges are the new black, and I had to something to celebrate the glorious fence, so I got to planting, and can report that the brussel sprouts are looking especially mighty. The broccoli appears to be struggling a bit, and the broad beans aren't putting on very much height, but they're bulking up in the stem and leaf departments.

And here's Sweeney enjoying another of his presents - some weirdness called gelli baff. Honestly turned the bath to jelly, even smelled like raspberry. Sweeney was soooo excited until he got into it, then he wouldn't sit down for anything. After a little persuasion, he found that having it poured down his back was quite acceptable. Strangely, his buttocks were bright red after he got out of the bath, even though he didn't, not once, not even close, sit down in it.

*sigh*

Fine Time

Okay, what have I been doing?? Oh, you know, the usual. Going to work, raising the young'un, doing some chores, watching Cranford some more, reading my book - also called Cranford, knitting my beret, taking my beret apart and knitting it up again ... stuff.

Sweeney's suddenly too tall for his jeeps pyjamas, which is going to kill him because they're his faves. His nana bought them for him last year and they're on high rotate all the time. Even over summer - lucky it was such a naff summer. I found a bag of size 4 clothes that were handed on to me for him last year. They're all colours I just don't think of when I'm thinking of him - sky blue, green - but I shall simply go for it and send him to preschool looking slightly differently gorgeous in sky blue and green. Turns out he really loves wearing green.
Other recent highlights include going to see this exhibition at the City Gallery on Monday. Sweeney's keen for his birthday party to be based around cardboard boxes (!?) so I thought he'd get a kick out of seeing an entire room-sized installation constructed from cardboard boxes. He loved it. He also enjoyed some actual paintings - John Pule - mostly because there were loads of little motorbikes and sharks within them, and big blotches of lovely colour.

And then we chased pigeons in Civic Square, working off two days of rainy day cabin fever. Ace chasing.

For more creative, interesting craft-type things to look at, check this out. Because I really meant for this to be a post all about what craft I've been up to, but it turns out I haven't been up to much. And I really mean more creative, not just more of them ...

Orange

We're loving orange in our house right now. Here's how ...

In other news, thinking about Sweeney's birthday. I've got a few weeks to sort out his party, wondering if there should be a theme. Thinking cowboys, thinking pirates, thinking cheetahs. He's very into cheetahs right now. Although last year I just about lost my mind simply vacuuming before everyone turned up, so maybe I'm overreaching ...

I Would Rather Go Blind

Here's what I've been doing with most of my evenings. My friend Girlie had her baby Gian Matthew - Gio to his new fans - last Saturday, and this is a bunch of stuff for the little guy. Will deliver these later in the week.It doesn't seem to matter how many of these things I push out into the world, there's still a ton of wool in this house. Anyhoo, Gio's going to look splendid. And be warm, which is pretty important, what with plummeting winter temperatures and all.

In other news, we had a Harper-tastic weekend, what with Harper being here for a sizeable chunk of it, then Sweeney hanging out at Monty Ave for another chunk of it. Loving Harper's chatting right now. Feel kind of sad that I can't remember what Sweeney sounded like at that age anymore.

While Sweeney was gadding about with KimberleyJoeHarper, Dad and I mulched garden stuff like no-one's ever mulched before. Hired a mulcher for it, and everything. Nothing was safe. Except for the bit of wood that the mulcher chipped for just long enough to make it all pointy and sharp, then fired back out of the input bit, missing my good eye by about 1mm. Thank all the gods I was wearing Harper's goggles.

Speaking of which, those goggles are a terrible hazard. They fog up almost the instant you put them on, so you find yourself holding them off your face as you peer into the bowels of the mulcher to see what's making that infernal noise.

And when you put them on top of your head to see your way into the house to get a drink, you catch sight of yourself looking like Professor von Drake. Actually, you catch sight of yourself after you've come back in from talking to people on the street in front of the house, who now give you a really wide berth, what with the business of you being the crazy dame covered in sawdust, with the goggles on top of your head.

You Belong to Me

Here's how my special little guys spent a chunk of time today ...More work on the fence today - a few trips to get appropriate hardware, including the safety gear for the young 'uns, then Joe and Dad put the posts in. I did some pruning about the place, building up the pile for mulching next weekend. Fitted in a burst of scooter riding down the road, a round of cheese on toast for lunch, the ongoing quest for the perfect red smoothie - read, containing boysenberries - and even got the washing out.

I'm exhausted, going to watch Miss Marple on the telly. Hurrah!!

Express Yourself

Today has a surprise guest behind the post - my nephew, Harper. You've heard of him already on this blog, and he provides a lot of the content in this other blog nowadays. I adore that kid more than I thought I could ever adore a kid with white fluffyduck hair, who says "don't touch me!!" and can use the same chip as a Sauce Delivery Mechanism for an entire fish and chip dinner ...

That said, he's two now and growing fast, feels the need to express himself in all manner of ways. Talking, singing, dancing, shouting, drawing. Drawing. On. Things.

Like the chair that, along with its companion other chair and couch, has been dragged around with me since 1990. We found them in an op shop that no longer exists, and hatched plans to repair and re-upholster them.

And 15 years later, Martin found a crazy little outfit that did it for us. Stripped everything off, resprung and restuffed them, repaired the frames, covered them in a strong-tea-coloured cowhide. Neither of us could believe how well they turned out. And don't get me started on comfy ...

They're a zone where food, drinks, shoes and writing implements never enter. It appears Harper was unaware of this, and he's drawn some lovely things on the arms and seat of one of the chairs. I wasn't here when it happened, and I understand Sweeney nearly exploded with glee at telling the adults about it. I expect he's kind of envious ...

Lucky he's adorable ...

Cleaning Out My Closet

I've been sorting through all the piles of Sweeney's paintings and drawings around the house. I'm frankly loving what's coming home from preschool these days, and I can even handle the felt tips strewn over his bedroom floor, because seeing him lying there, absorbed in some colouring or drawing, just makes me jiggy. Or whatever the appropriate term is.

Sweeney was given an easel for Christmas. By his uncles. Great gift. It's set up in the sunroom and he mucks about at it heaps.

And then there are the times when he uses his chalks as cargo in his truck games, like he's doing here with Harper the other day. Ace synergy, you boys!!

In other news, I've been getting stuff together for Girlie's baby. He's due in early May, which really is any day now. She's tired and kind of over it, hopes it really is any day now. I'm pretty confident that there isn't a box or a bag in the house that I haven't scoured for baby clothing or equipment, and was chuffed to take up a ton of stuff to her and Ryan on Sunday. And look what I made for the baby. It's a little ribbed top, so wee. Little Matthew's going to look awesome in it.

I'm making the same pattern in other stashed wool for all the babies I know right now. Right now I'm making it in a variegated pink with flecks of lemon and blue, for one of Amanda's twin girls. She and her family have already found use for some small, pink blankets that turned up mysteriously in the house a while ago. Brilliant to find people who can make use of the stuff we don't need anymore. And decluttering, to boot.

Still so much to get rid of, though ...

Fresh New Year

My sister sums things up quite well, so this format is a total copy of her summing up of 2009.

What did you do in 2009 that you've never done before?

In no order ...

• bought a Dominos pizza;
• visited a hospice;
• lived on instant coffee for four days;
• went for dinner at Capitol, Metropolitan and Floriditas. Not all on the same night;
• listened to Sweeney sing Jingle Bells, ABC and Row Row Row Your Boat around the house;
• sold shoes;
• had kids at my house for a sleepover;
• took budgies home from preschool for the weekend;
• took my child to see a band at a bar with squelchy carpet;
• read Robert Heinlein.

Did you keep your New Year's goals, and will you make more for 2010?

Actually, I mostly nailed it. I just want to keep working on it, maybe with some expansion in some areas.

Did anyone close to you die?

Yes. And yes.

What countries did you visit?

I went nowhere. Not even in my mind.

What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009?

Where to start? In no order ...

• a Proper Job, with actual $$ and all the secure feelings that brings;
• a pruned willow tree at the bottom of the garden;
• a new oven.

Hmm, those last two are definitely tied up with that first one. Handy.

What date from 2009 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

All the dates around Martin going into hospital and hospice, and then dying. They're all in stone.

What was your biggest achievement of the year?

I didn't end up in Debtors Prison or the loony bin. Sweeney isn't cutting himself or drinking absinthe.

Anticipating that next year's achievements will be a little less Dickensian.

What was your biggest failure?

Not always being as gracious as I could've been towards people who were just being nice.

Did you suffer illness or injury?

I resolved to guard my health in 2009, and apart from a few wild colds and a niggly back that niggles me if I don't pay it attention and stretch it in the mornings, there's nothing to report.

What was the best thing you bought?

It's a tie between Sweeney's preschool fees and the five new tyres on the car.

Whose behaviour merited celebration?

Everyone who:

• had us over for dinner;
• looked after Sweeney while I worked;
• looked after Sweeney while I did something along party lines;
• contributed anything - cash, clothes, food, hugs, kind words - to our household;
• listened while I got stuff off my chest;
• laughed at my stupid jokes, especially when they were inappropriate and I deserved to be muzzled;
• refrained from treating me like a halfwit and/or lunatic when I exhibited halfwit and/ or lunatic behaviour. We're really lucky to have the people in our lives that we do, we are.

And you all know who you are.

Special mention goes to Martin, who, in 2009, was an ace dad for Sweeney, turning up and turning it on right up to just before the end. He came back to me as a lovely friend and confidant again. And we did have an almighty celebration already, thanks. Oooh, my head.

Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?

Nobody's. Well, maybe a few people, but never for more than a nanosecond or two. 2009 was the year where I really tried hard to block that sort of stuff out.

Oh no, I've got one. Those people in that squalid flat in Kelburn - if you're reading this, then be ashamed. Be very ashamed. Of yourselves.

Oh, and our MPs, for supporting legislation to make pseudoephedrine prescription-only. I personally will be appalling and depressing to anyone who encounters me with a head cold, if I can't access pseudoephedrine asap.

Enough said.

Where did most of your money go?

Squandered it on keeping us fed and in an actual house.

What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Sweeney being toilet trained. I still can't believe it.

What song will always remind you of 2009?

True Faith by New Order

What do you wish you'd done more of?

Reading actual books. Jane Eyre, The Mayor of Casterbridge, Tu, The Moon is a Harsh Mistress. The Time Traveler's Wife made me wish someone would poke my eyes out, but there you have it.

What do you wish you'd done less of?

Reading online. I can't tell you what piffle there is out there, waiting to suck me into its piffly vortex.

Did you fall in love in 2009?

2009 was the year where I really got the hang of blocking that sort of stuff out.

What did you want and get?

A Proper Job, and to survive with my wits intact until I got it.

I just made it. Phew.

It's Not (So) Unusual

This one's a series of information bites.

Yesterday was glorious, today it rained all day. Still sort of raining;

• Sweeney ate spaghetti noodles and beetroot for his dinner. In this house, we say nutritional balance is for dorks;
• We went to KimberleyJoeHarper's for dinner last night and took some fruit crumble. Sweeney assembled the crumble side of it, I'd already stewed up our on-the-way-out kiwifruit, apples, pears and oranges earlier. Kimberley turned out totally delish roast chicken, Nigella-style. Which I think means, she roasted two together;
• Last time I parked on Clifton Terrace, about a million birds crapped on the car. Today, they just shook about a ton of leaves, twigs and berries onto it. Cheers!!;
• We're going to a panto this weekend. I haven't been to one since I was a kid. Hoping it has a lot of eye popping and people not seeing things that are right behind them on stage. Hoping there'll be lots of men dressed as women, and rouge from here to breakfast. Hilarious. Hoping there'll be ice creams. With any luck, our sneaky plan to take Bela with us, then ensnare her for a sleepover, will come off;
• Sweeney's in his room singing Twinkle Twinkle like he's auditioning to join AC/DC on the road. I must speak to his teachers; and

here's my entry in the My Place and Yours meme on Meet Me at Mike's and Little Suitcase ...

It's all about finding something "nyoice, that's different, that's unusual" around the house.

These are from last summer. There's a monarch butterfly and a Yellow Admiral in one box, and three million cicada husks in the other. I expect we'll chuck these soon, and replace with this year's offerings. It may not be clear in the photo, but the Admiral's pretty crumbly on it already.

Collectioneering

I've tried to only collect things that have a purpose - like these Crown Lynn bowls and cast iron pots. I use them all the time. Some of them are Creuset and some of them aren't. I got the frypan at a garage sale in 1987. My flatmates thought I was mad - none of us had a clue how to use cast iron. I've built up the rest since then.

Today I cooked our dinner in the biggest pot and stewed fruit in the next smaller one. The teensiest pot has been brilliant for turning out an individual rice pudding when required, or for turning rice bubbles into a Surprise!! breakfast under the lid.

And yes, I really do manage to keep those shelves looking tidy like that all the time.

When I make muffins tomorrow with that stewed fruit, I'll mix them in the biggest bowl. It really is a whopper. I nearly died of happiness when I found that bowl in a dusty warehouse full of crap. It reminds me of Nana's enormous china bowl, and I think she had some smaller ones like mine.

Sweeney's building up some collections of his own. Generally, they're strewn throughout the house - Hot Wheels, pieces of train track, figurines of small farmyard animals that fit perfectly into your instep on cold mornings. A nice one that he's only just noticing is his collection of Maurice Sendak books. I started stockpiling the Pierre series and Alligators All Around when he was really teeny, and of course one of his first books was Where the Wild Things Are. His dad would read them to him when he visited - lovely rhymes and the opportunity to use a range of voices and growls. And the icing on the cake - one of us found the stories with French text, but Sweeney couldn't bear it when we'd read them - he thinks French is just silly.

Check out Meet Me At Mike's and Foxs Lane for links to more glorious collections ...

The Weight

Two weeks ago, Dr Jan told me that I was her seventh cervical smear patient for the day, and I really struggled for something to say in reply. In my defence, I was struggling to prevent Sweeney from wandering into the curtained area and catching sight of something nasty at the same time.

I know the odds of having cancer are teensy really, but I still felt pretty chuffed to get my letter today, telling me my results were normal. Crazy, no??

Who'd be a GP? I remember when Martin was having gastric banding procedures at the hospital, and one of the nurses told us that they did "down-the-throat jobs in the mornings, and up-the-bum jobs in the afternoons." Who'd be a gastroenterologist? What's the most awful type of doctoring, do you think? To study your bum off for all those years and then every work day consists of tumours or cysts or pus or poohs, or telling people terrible news about their bodies and lives - surely you'd question your choices at some point.

A friend of mine, Sally, has just got the news, five years after getting through treatment for breast cancer, that some microscopic cancer cells have been found, and she's up for more surgery and more radiotherapy. She's relieved that the week of not knowing what was happening is over, and she's positive that she's going to come through okay. Her prognosis is good. Go, Sally, go, go, go!!

In other news, the prognosis for my vacuum cleaner is not good. It's only 18 months old, for god's sake, and this morning it made a small bang! sound and then ... nothing. And I still have the northeast corner my bedroom to remove three years of dust balls from ...

Oh, and Kimberley showed me last night that she can do the Crane now. Inspired me to up my yoga game. Also want to drop 10kg by my birthday. Watch this space ...

Front Door

This is what I see as I unlock the door when I get home. It's important to me that this bit of the house is tidy all the time. Not that it is. In any case, I always like getting home, no matter how good a time I've been having out in the world, and I prefer it if the view when I get home doesn't ram home to me what a slob I really am.

I like looking through the glass door as I unlock it, over the hopefully tidy entrance area, through the hopefully tidy sunroom and out the french doors, to the hopefully tidy deck. On a bad day, the curtains are still drawn in the sunroom at 6pm, and the place is in chaos. On a good day, it looks pretty much like this. The area all bulks up with jackets and whatnot over winter, and empties out over summer.

This part of the house sees a lot of action. We need space to stop and put on or take off shoes and coats, to pack and unpack bags, find an alternate route when the cat runs in front of us, as she always does, when we're trying to get in or out the door. Since the weather's been a bit nicer, the concrete floor's a bit warmer, and Sweeney's been playing cars here.

My Grandpop's beaten copper taniwha hangs here, and out of shot, is a wall vase and some artificial flowers that used to hang in my Nana's house. And of course, there's some of my favourite artwork of Sweeney's here and there.

Check out Meet Me at Mike's for links to other people's stories about their front door ...
In other news, Sweeney's tummy seems more under control today. And I've stopped counting how many days of toilet training we've been going for, because he's made it through a week without weeing in his pants even once. And it'd be more than a week, if I hadn't left him asleep last Saturday afternoon without a nappy on ...