This Old House

Okay, so you thought the power saga at our house had run its course?? Mais non. I returned to the front of the house to finish washing it down, and blow me down, I couldn't turn the hose off. I mean, I got an electric fence-type shock from the tap every time I touched it. With water everywhere. I freaked out and asked a chap from across the road to turn it off and he could do it fine.

I pondered the unknowableness of electricity for a while, then forgot about it.

After exposing a few more beloved members of the community to the house of horrors scenario, I got the electrician back and it's all sorted now. To their credit, they explained it all to me and it all vanished from my brain as I turned to go back to doing the dishes. Thanks, Parsons Electrical!

This is the sort of thing I find hardest. I don't understand anything about electricity. I don't know what constitutes a real emergency, especially if the issue is intermittent and can be trivialised by a tradesperson when I call up. Years ago, there was seeping gas here and it took me three years to get the gas company to take it seriously and sort it.

Of course, now there's a noticeable aroma of gas at the back door, and there's a drip coming out of the hot water tank. I'm still a little standoffish about finishing off washing the front of the house. House maintenance is a drag.

Straight to Hell

Who gets grumpy at tai chi class?? I do. Goodness knows why. I had to leave.

In other news, I made pita bread and sewed up a variegated-sort-of-pink kimono. While I did it, I sat on the deck in the sun and listened to the chattiest tui ever. He just went on and on and on. Pippi lounged under a bench seat and a ginger cat two doors over scaled Geoff's olive tree and tiptoed around its branches. Good to see native bird life is under no threat from the local cats.

You can't get better than that. So what's with me?

I blame the pineapple that was in the mystery casserole graciously donated to us by Grandad O'Neill. Make no mistake, I cannot tolerate pineapple in a savoury setting.

Grumpy and ungrateful and fussy and just plain horrible ...

When I Fall in Love ...

... it's going to be with this guy. He knows how to make me happy, I know how to make him happy. He's been telling me all weekend that he loves me. And he's crazy about broccoli and Madonna.

Or maybe not this guy. Maybe someone who isn't related to me, or only two-and-three-quarters.

As Madonna is saying right now in our living room, nobody's perfect. You didn't know Madge goes great with trucks and cars and diggers? Well, she does.

Cold Feet

There's a Frank Sargeson story about a boy who works on a farm and warms his cold feet in the mornings by standing in cowpats. It's typical Sargeson - short, economical, a deceptively sweet coming of age story.

When I worked on a dairy farm years later, I got peed on and crapped on by cows most mornings as I hooked and unhooked them to and from the milking machine. I'm still struck by the scale of their waste, but that's a whole other story. I remember once putting my gumbooted foot into a cowpat as I sprayed weeds. I could feel the heat through the rubber.

With winter approaching, and us having cold hard floors throughout the house, cold feet are more of a reality every day. Sweeney and I bicker over whether he'll wear his slippers, or his socks, or his socks and slippers ...

He'd love to play in some cowpats in his bare feet. I just know it ...

Lucky Number

House stats and highlights for the week:

• calls to 111 and subsequent fire brigade visits to notre maison - 2;
• visits from freaked-out passersby and neighbours warning us that our house was sparking and crackling and generally going off - 2,000;
• power cables replaced - 1;
• terrifying invoices for power cable replacement due to arrive any day now - 1;
• episodes of the Muppet Show viewed - 25,000;
• times Toy Story 2 viewed - 2;
• renditions of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star sung nearly word-perfect by a certain Big Strong Boy - 11;
• parcels in the mail containing treats for Sweeney - 2;
• instances of deep annoyance to Ange from government departments - 1;
• parcels of Easter treats despatched to the wintery south - 2;
• chests of drawers caused to tip over by a curious boy's need to open every drawer and climb up them - 1;
• area of curious boy's bedroom covered by potting mix from the little plant on top of the chest of drawers when it was sent flying - 100%;
• things requiring fixing about the house that actually got fixed - 4;
• times the kitchen floor got washed - 3;
• days the kitchen floor really could've done with a wash - 7;
• pages of Ange's book actually read and absorbed - -10;
• times Sweeney asked for honeytoast for breakfast - 7;
• times Sweeney asked for honeytoast for dinner - 3;
• days we walked to preschool and back - 5;
• days Sweeney complained bitterly and hit the deck on the way to and/or from preschool - 5;
• puddles that warranted much jumping and splashing - 3;

I could go on. Pretty good week, really.

Fight the Power

Yesterday, while I was doing stuff at the back of the house, I could hear a misfire-type sound from time to time. Later, while I was doing stuff at the front of the house, I realised it was the return of the bang!! sound from when I doused the power cable in water on Saturday. It banged!! a lot.

Got assurance from the electrician that the house wouldn't burn down and we wouldn't die, and that he and a linesman would be back the following day to replace the casing and tidy the cable.

Then, after dark, our neighbour Tracy popped over to tell me that there was flashing and hissing coming from the cable. Sweeney and I visited our several neighbours over the road to give them our number in case they saw flames coming forth overnight. It was all kind of jolly.

Until everyone who passed our house banged on the door in a panic because of the bang!!ing and crackling and hissing and flashing. I called the fire brigade again.

The same firemen arrived quick-smart, and told me to call the electrician back TONIGHT. The linesman arrived and for a while the place was overrun with men in bulky clothes climbing up to, and down from the attic. Luckily, the terrible rain that was forecast didn't evenutate, so we could hang out in the street and watch them work.

Turned out that the power cable was hanging on by a thread, and what with the wind whipping up last night, it would've come down and been live and dangerous. The chaps spliced on cable to keep it safe overnight, but the cable needs to be replaced, so they're coming back later today.

Thanks, everyone!!

I know we did other stuff yesterday, but I feel like all the cable drama erased it from my memory ...

Working on the Weekend

Today is our friend Alfie's eighth birthday. He's eight. His mum and dad are two of my oldest friends. The day before Sweeney was born, I felt out of sorts and even more lumpy than usual, so we went up to their place and I crawled from gorgeous sofa to gorgeous sofa around their house. Best day of my life.

Anyway, happy birthday, Alfie!!

At the weekend we did stuff at the front of the house. Pruned the rose and diagnosed Black Spot. Clipped back all the valerian that grows in all the cracks in the concrete and takes over the paths. Dug out the dock plant that hides under the borage. Deadheaded the agapanthus and tried digging some of it out. It's really hard stuff to dig and I don't think I'm up to it.

I tried washing the front of the actual house itself. I made good progress but didn't notice that the casing on the power cable that runs into the house had come loose until there was a bang!! sound and a little flame and some crackling and hissing. I ran in and out of the house a few times, then back to the front of the house and it banged!! again, so I called the fire brigade - first time caller, long time observer of fire engines - and they didn't laugh at me or hang up on me. In fact, they sent round two of the nicest, friendliest firemen who checked the meter box and the fuses and admired the clean side of the front of the house. They assured me that the cable would dry out in the warm breeze, and to get the casing reattached before attempting more washing.

Kimberley and Harper were over at the time, but Sweeney was off on a bike ride with Joe and missed the visit. Last time he came close to a fireman, he was still crawling and we were at a creche fair with a petting zoo and firemen and a man who made animals from balloons, and Sweeney wasn't interested in the fire engine like all the other boys, he just tried to pull himself up on the fireman's big thick - possibly asbestos - trousers.

We met up with Liisa and Bela yesterday at Te Papa. The Colossal Squid was a bust. The Earthquake House was unacceptable to Bela, but a joyride for Sweeney. Crawling through the whale heart was a bit of fun. The exhibition of introduced animals - deer, rabbits etc - was a thrill. The Pasifika interactive area absorbed them both - drums, puzzles, cushions, craft activies using scissors.

At home later, Sweeney decided it was time for some role play:

S: Hi, I'm Ange!

A: Oh okay. Hi, I'm Sweeney!

S: Yes, I'm Ange. I'm your mum. You need a fresh nappy!

A: Sure, have a go. And what's for dinner??

S: Oh, we'll have ... sauce!

Sauce it is, then ...

For What It's Worth

Sweeney's come to expect music when we're in the car. He usually asks for bouncy music, but I'm not sure exactly what that is. I've tried a lot of things out on him, and right now, Ray of Light-era Madonna seems to keep him happy. We've been watching the Muppets, and today he ate nearly an entire piece of toast during their version of For What It's Worth. That level of concentration toward food is miraculous, especially when I'm steering us out the door for the day. Maybe the furry critters helped. He's starting to really enjoy songs and dancing, and his shouty version of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star is genius.

Trying to get my head around autumn. Fleecy pyjamas, leaves on the ground, hot water bottles, drawing the curtains every night. The bickering over compulsory wearing of shoes, trousers and jacket to leave the house, hankering after stews and soups and hot steaming cups of milo, looking at the moon before Sweeney goes to sleep. Pulled out the remains of the summer vege garden, planning what to get going for winter. I'm thinking broccoli, cauliflour, spinach and I don't know what else.

Made some carrot and oat biscuits for Geoff next door, to say thanks for feeding Pippi while we were away. Thanks, Geoff!! Also trying them out as an alternative to the muesli bars that Sweeney's crazy for. Working baking into my schedule almost every day now.

Must be time to watch more Kermit ...

Tripping the Lightweight Fantastic

We're just back from a long weekend of glorious weather in Christchurch. As usual, everything revolved around Harper and Sweeney and mealtimes. I always forget what a difference it makes to have more than one adult around. Sweeney loves hanging out with Harper all day, and extra adults give you opportunities to take your eyes off him for long enough to do stuff in other rooms. Or even leave the property alone.

Lots of kicking the ball on the lawn, trike riding in the lane, building things with blocks, reading Where's the Sheep? and playing with all the toys in the toybox. And lots of filling and emptying the dishwasher, fixing snacks and meals, changing nappies, dressing and undressing unwilling victims, walking Harper around the house and garden, tending to Sweeney when he brained himself, trying to stay conscious and hydrated in the heat while keeping all doors, gates and windows closed so no children or rehoused cat could escape.

Thanks Nana and Grandad - see you again soon!!

Middle(of)March

Good grief, it's March. March 19th already. We've been having a very busy time here, a good-type busy, lots of same-old same-old busy, and a few bits of extraordinary busy.
I've got so many things I want to write about, but it would take forever and be boring to anyone who isn't actually me. So here's a list of edited highlights from the last who-knows-how-many weeks:

• Mt Victoria fair. The rainiest day this year. We got boots and jackets on and headed down, ate a sausage in bread and looked at stuff. Then we walked home via every puddle between here and Courtenay Place, coming to a heady climax at the vacant site by the alley - acres of mud, hip-deep puddles, funny-looking branches. I even found a bay tree, all gnarled and weird-growing, probably beaten up by all the vehicles on there over the last 15 years;
• dinner at the M-Zs, then the next night at the W-Ds. Both nights we came away with loads of delicious food, as well as the meal itself and the fine, fine company;
• my mum notched up more days of not smoking. Brownies were despatched to P Lane to mark the occasion;
• the M-Ns and Martin came for dinner at our house. Used some of the food booty from my friends to make the best roast I've ever made in my life;
• spent a bit of time with Monique, went to Aunt Daisys in Titahi Bay and had lovely coffee, talked too much about myself, but she still seems to like me;
• Frank-next-door's birthday party. He's just turned three. Sweeney headed straight for Frank's stash of cars and hardly dealt with another human the whole party. Things got raucous after nightfall - there was a lot of booze about the place. Notable for us coming home to have people over for dinner, then heading back to the party after they'd gone home;
• Ruth had told me earlier in the week that she had a cold, so with this in mind, I made a chicken and vegetable soup when the M-Zs and W-Ds came for dinner. Our house is running on fumes at the moment, so another beauty of this was that I had all ingredients on hand already. The W-Ds brought a spectacular apple pie, as well as rice and butter chicken for the kids in case they rejected the soup, and Helen and the M-Zs brought eggplant relish and beautiful plum and chocolate muffins. I had one for my breakfast the next morning. Nothing nicer than chocolate at breakfast, I reckon. And then I biffed some noodles in the leftover soup and we had the rest for dinner the next night. Sweeney slurped his down double-quick and asked for more. Unheard of!! Will definitely do this one again;
• I finished the knitting parts of two more baby kimonos and a pair of slippers. The pattern calls them pocketbook slippers. They're dead sweet, for Lucia across the road. I feel like I've been doing a lot of knitting, but my stash is still vast. I'll put photos up when they're sewn;
• applied for what feels like a million jobs and am eagerly awaiting rejections to match each one. Hurrah to Houghton Valley School for sending me an individualised letter;
• Another splendid dinner experience tonight - cooked some spaghetti with peas and broccoli in the water with it, drained it and dumped it into a bowl with a raw egg and some grated cheese. Stirred for a bit, then we ate it. Sweeney slurped up a mountain of the stuff, including the vege;
• fielded horrible news about lovely people being in hospital. Mum's neighbour's grandson swelled up and sore and only diagnosed after a week or so of pain and freaking out, and my Uncle Roy - Ernie Wise to our Dad's Eric Morecambe - fell down his back steps and is still in hospital after nearly a week. Wee Oliver's on the mend, and Uncle Roy, get better or I'll come up and make you watch Joy Division videos with me. You hated it in 1981, you'll hate it now ... ;
• went to an O'Neill barbecue and watched Sweeney take on all comers in foosball and pool and sticking his hands in the chip bowl. He was frankly terrible at the sporty stuff, being so short and easily over-excited as he is, but being enthusiastic and indulged by his dad, uncle Dom and Grandad O'Neill, he emerged the winner; and
• I cleaned the downstairs ceilings. It took two hours to do it, a hot shower and two days of downward dogs to get my shoulders back under my control. No-one noticed.

Onward!!