Little Star

 What Sweeney's been doing for the last while - highlights ...  

Caught some considerable snow action up the Rimutakas



Had a wicked time at the skate park with Bela

  

Stayed in Wellington while his mum and Nana were caught in the snow in Christchurch



Was awestruck with Harper at the Observatory

Made inarrpopriate use of the big gun outside the Observatory

Stunned his mother by asking if he could have a salad sandwich for dinner. Stunned her some more by actually eating it.

Went to see The Lion King in 3d.

Had that pesky dead tooth removed.

Crikey.

Chemistry

Did you know that this is the Year of Chemistry?? No?? Well, it is. And to celebrate, the Royal Society are behind a project called Knit the Periodic Table. Yes, you read that right. A bunch of us needle wielders have knitted a square each. Mine's Uranium. I chose it. Here it is, at top right, with a bunch of other great elements ....

Aren't they great?? I'm looking forward to seeing it all put together. Typically, I have no clue when that might happen, or where it'll be ...

In other news, despite the lack of blogging over the last two months, I haven't been in a coma, or even asleep as much as I'd like. Just continuing to do just enough to keep us fed and clothed and educated and socialised and exercised.

Sweeney's settling into his new life as a schoolboy. My first parent-teacher interview went okay - no crying or punching - and it turns out that he's doing great, albeit in his usual galooty fashion.   

Wonderful Life

Yes, I've been off the air, but here's a quick catch-up on Things Sweeney from the last three weeks:

• Sweeney turned five;
• He had a Last Day party at EIK, and bid his preschool friends adieu. Don't get me wrong - he didn't actually say "adieu";
• He had a party at home, with some friends and family. The weather was not only fine and warm, it was finer and warmer than was forecasted;
• He and Blessing moved from his party to a sleepover at Blessing's, to celebrate Blessing's birthday. Quite the party boys;
• He started school. He started school the day after he was supposed to start school, but that's post-party / sleepover tummy bugs for you;
• He hung out with his Nana, who came up for the party and in fact made lots of party grub. We had a lovely day mooching about with her, then she saw Sweeney into his first day at school;
• went to Cars 2 with Harper;
• went to Kung Fu Panda 2 with his friend Reuben;
• He rode his birthday bike, made up his birthday lego, ran cars down his amazing birthday track, drew pictures, printed letters and words, read homework books, chose his own clothes, packed his own bag, unpacked his own bag, demolished his room, tidied his room ...

I know it isn't really how it happens, but things feel like they've been turned on their head in the last three weeks. Things have been bumpy for Sweeney, what with all the new people to know and new rules to get the hang of since he started school. Things have been bumpy for me, too, what with a little work-related weirdness, and I had a stupid accident which left me with time to do nothing but think about how I'd like for Sweeney's dad to see how he's turning out. But he's not, and all the anniversaries around that absence have been packed into the last few weeks, too. And do you know what?? He would've loved how Sweeney's turning out.

So, here's a song that he really liked a long time ago. It's been on my mind the past few weeks, and it's really rather lovely ...

C is for Cookie

Sweeney's packed in a swag of preschool-grade goofing off into his last weekend as a four-year-old:

• ran and jumped and clambered with Bela;
• played something noisy and shouty and very, very active with Aariz;
• went to a climbing wall with Joe and Kimberley;
• helped me make sourdough, and fish and leek pie;
• took about three years to tidy his room. By which I mean, empty most of what was in his room into the hallway;
• watched Sesame Street and loved it;
• having watched Sesame Street, understood who Cookie Monster is and went nutty over a Cookie Monster storybook he's previously scorned;
• insisted on having his Cookie Monster stories read to him over and over and over;
• watched Ahhh!! Real Monsters and Angry Beavers, and clearly found them a big, fat yawn;
• ate roti and butter chicken at Aariz's house, kind of sort of almost in the manner that Aariz and his family eat it; and
• chatted, sang, danced, played the piano for a bit, made stuff up, did some drawing, co-operated, refused to co-operate, fed the cat, built things, hung up the towels.

You know, the usual ...

The Pancake Song

-remember all the good times we had together?

-what times?
-the time we had those pancakes?
-pancakes?

eggs, milk and flour, pancake power,

look at his milky yellow sunshine face

flip it now flip it good oo

flip it now flip it good oo

some are salt
some are sweet
some are fruit
some are meat

the time we used the chive

it really came alive!

edible frisbies
springtime tuesday

i like to boogie.

Yes, indeed. Thanks, Mighty Boosh, I can't put it any better than your Pancake Song. If there's been a theme to this weekend, it's probably something to do with the utter joy that comes from snorkelling up a pancake.

I was given some of that pancake stuff that you mix with water, and - what ho!! - actual pancakes emerge, for Mother's Day, but it's languished in the fridge. Until yesterday. Turns out it's rather good stuff.

So inspiring was that experience, that I delved into the bookshelf for a Nigella-endorsed version. Cue even bigger, fatter pancakes. We've eaten a swag of these babies ...

In other news, we went swimming with Bela yesterday, which was splendid fun, and we enjoyed an extended session of otters at the zoo with Blessing today. We took in an extended session of the hind quarters of a sleeping cheetah. Then we had an extended session at the park next to the zoo. Lovely.

In other, other news, I went to Ancestral on Friday night for a tiny bit and reacquainted myself with Dubonnet-based drinks. It's a lovely setting - the outside area is semi-enclosed, like at the Matterhorn, and the concrete seats on the perimeter are heated. Yes. Heated. As in, warm. Which is fab on a chilly night like Friday night was.

Keen to go back there to try out about a million other delicious-sounding drinks that I read about while slugging back my Candied Apple.

Long Weekend

Check out what Kimberley's been doing. She's like, a traveller again. She brought me back some maple syrup and an extraordinary tea towel. Chuffed.

In other travel news, I carted Sweeney and Harper to Christchurch for a long weekend at their Nana's. We met up with Kimberley at the airport, and set off for three days of hanging out with our mum and watching the boys goof off.

We explored about the place. Luckily, most of the groovy houses I lived in have already been flattened to make way for carparks, so no surprises there. We had lunch in Lyttleton, in the one cafe that's managed to reopen. Sweeney asked for us to stop beside the twisted bridge on River Road, so that he could look at it properly. We checked that the Bridge of Rememberance is still there. It is. It's all a lot to take in, to be honest.

And then we were there for another quake this morning that made the papers ...

We set out for a fabulous day of steam trains and adventure yesterday at Ferrymead. The steam train ran at about 2mph, with views of soggy, mostly bird-free wetlands on one side, and the soggy back end of the Ferrymead compound on the other. It was a little anti-climactic. The bit I enjoyed most was when I pinged Sweeney's undies, and a boy next to him - a complete stranger - thought it was a good idea and did the same.

Then we got off the train and staggered around in the most miserable weather of the year. That was when we saw The Horses. To me, they looked like a collection of clapped-out, somewhat moth-eaten nags. To Sweeney, they looked like glorious stallions with shining coats and possibly even wings.

Anyhoo, from there it was a quick sprint through a pianola demo and a whizz round the crafts stalls, then back to Nana's for hot lunch and a spot of lazing.

Thanks, Mum, for the lovely weekend!!

I Love the Dough

My friend Paul is a bit of a clever clogs when it comes to making bread. He gave me a sourdough starter of my own. Then he gave me another one when I killed that first one. And he didn't make a single unkind comment about my neglectful ways, or anything. He's that nice.

Dagnabbit if I don't learn a lesson every once in a while. I've not only kept it alive, but I've also actually produced a loaf from it. 

So, here's evidence of the live, active and fed starter ...

Add water, flour and give it a bit of welly ...

Pop the dough into an oiled bowl and leave to sit quietly for a few hours. Seven, in fact. Longer isn't worser ...

I can hardly remember how I got to this point. Actually, it was at this point that I realised I had to leave it to sit for another hour. Which was a shame, as I had to leave for work in thirty minutes. So it sat in this state for nine-and-a-half hours ...  

... but it didn't seem to do it any harm - there were air bubbles, and it was a nice loaf-shaped shape, which bodes rather well for bread, I think. So it went into a searing-hot dutch oven-type of arrangement, and emerged looking rather splendid, if I say so myself ...

... and got rather a good review ...

I'm regretting that I cut down the quantities because I thought that putting out three loaves all at once would be silly. I think I've got the timings straight now, so that I can get through the whole process in an evening, rather than the nearly 24 hours it took to get here.

So, thanks Paul!! Your instructions are excellent. Obviously, I'm not letting any of my sourdough near you until I've practiced a bit. Because I'm smitten with this whole business, now, you know ... 

In other news, Sweeney's school visits are done. The girls in the class boss him around about tidying up, the boys boss him around about how to play with things. His teacher seems the least bossy person on the scene, and, perversely, he takes total notice of her. He's crazy about reading - now that he's had a wee taste of it with his first couple of school books, he's mad for it anywhere. The manual for the new remote control is especially compelling right now.

On Saturday Afternoons

Winter afternoons in my bedroom are beautiful. So I was looking forward to a spot of this for a few hours today, what with Music 101 on, and all ...

Instead, this happened ...

and then I just embraced it and we got through most of this cool plane ...

(His) Favourite Things

What a mission this week was ...

• Sweeney's preschool was flooded out and stayed closed for three days;
• Sweeney's grandad spent three nights in hospital with severe bellyache;
• Sweeney popped into work with me for 11.4 minutes and provided us all with visual confirmation of what Running Rampant actually means. Also Gleeful Shrieking and Telling Your Mother's Boss Secret Things About Her;
• Consequently, the next day, Sweeney had a heap of quality-face-time with Joe and Harper;
• We said to goodbye to John from No.20. The quality of street gossip is never going to recover;
• Paths were swept and hosed;
• Frank from No.21 popped over for a visit;
• Rubbish was taken to the dump;
• Delicious stroganoff was concocted and snorkelled down with delicious noodles. Take that, you annoying quantity of crisper-dwelling mushrooms and half-cups of wine left over from Sunday night dinners ...;
• My hair kind of did what I wanted it to, most days;
• Which was just as well, because a photo of me ended up in the paper. Turns out that more important than the Important Social Message I was imparting was the fact that I have an actual age, and semi-Vulcan eyebrows;
• Lamb shanks as big as Sweeney's face, along with some awesome cauliflower curry and other stuff that didn't really match but still tasted amaaaaaazing, were served up for dinner with the W-Ds and M-Zs; and
• The sun shone, the birds sang, the wind blew in rather a pleasant way, there was some insanely lovely full moon action ...

Sweeney scored a boogie board at the Dump Shop today, and a Spiderman toy. At that point, I noticed that he was wearing his full Spiderman outfit, and had been all day. Top marks for eyes, Ange.

Harper and Kimberley came for dinner, and, out of nowhere, Sweeney gave Harper custody of Pooh.

Just like that. His favourite, favourite of All the Favourites since he was ten weeks old. We even prop him up with us to let him enjoy us reading Winnie the Pooh at night better. Sweeney uses him as a pillow, half the time. Last night, when we got home at the ungodly hour of 9:45pm, and he was about three feet beyond knackered, the look of relief on his face as I plopped him into bed and he buried his head into Pooh's soft fur was just magic.

Spiderman is the New Favourite. I know this because he's taken his boogie board to bed, and is lying asleep on it, using Spiderman as his pillow.
*Note that the boys kindly selected Bert for Kimberley to play with, so she could feel all included and stop giving her own child The Rabbit ...

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 ...