Restin'

Trimester 1 is half over and I have just finished another assignment. I'm often surprised at how much I actually get done considering the park nearby is a perfect procrastination destination. This sign (on a bench at the park) in particular inspires slack writing. I think the relaxed nature of the prose is perfectly appropriate for a park bench. I think McLuhan would approve too. I also think that if he read some of my assignments, he would recommend I take a walk in the park.

New Zealand is for the Birds

New Zealand is for the birds. It's true. I'm not talking about the crap weather or how the man who renewed my visa wore an 'I heart beer' t-shirt. I'm not talking about how no one wears shoes or the way everyone gives each other their bank account numbers. I'm talking about actual birds.

I've never really paid too much attention to birds. Years ago, Val and I made a list of dealbreakers (things we wouldn't tolerate in potential partners). Birdwatching was somewhere in the top ten. I vaguely remember the reasoning was that someone who would sit around waiting for a bird to fly by was not the kind of proactive go-getter we were looking for.

Birdwatching in New Zealand is different. There is no waiting. They are everywhere. Once upon a time they ran the place. Our new apartment is near a big park and a wildlife sanctuary. As a result, there are lots of really cool birds around.

This is a tui call.

The Girl with the Bicycle

It's a Sunday morning in Wellington, a girl wipes the morning dew off her bike seat. She rides through a tunnel and down a hill into town. The girl has a blue backpack and stops at the market to fill it with the last of the summer's peaches, a cucumber and a carrot. The girl knows that putting off the uphill ride home by stopping for a coffee won't make the trek any easier but she ducks into a cafe anyway. The man at the hissing coffee machine empties the old grinds with a thunk and clinks the cups as the girl sits down. The man with striped sweater at the next table gets up to leave. He leaves his newspaper on the round wooden seat. The girl with the bicycle and the backpack full of peaches picks it up and reads while she drinks her coffee. A page from the arts section is mixed in with the world news. The girl notices the bestseller lists. Three of the top five have very similar titles. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The Girl who Kicked the Hornets Nest, and The Girl who something else that she girl with the coffee has never heard of. Couldn't they think of a better title? she wonders.

Eyeing Chocolate

Sometimes you can't help it, and you just laugh out loud. Later, you wonder if you should've somehow restrained yourself. It happened today in line at the Four Square. A man with a seeing eye dog at was buying milk and orange juice. While he was counting out the change, his dog grabbed a chocolate bar off the display and started tearing into the wrapper. I couldn't help but laugh. Not at the man, at the dog. It was like watching a clever child sneak one past her mom.

Then I remembered how distraught my mother had been recently when her dog got into some chocolate! Suddenly, I felt the urge to cover up my insensitive laughing with a little civic responsibility. I told the oblivious blind man that his dog had nicked a chocolate bar. He was very embarrassed. It was slightly uncomfortable.

Unfortunately the seeing eye dog etiquette web pages don't give any advice for situations involving a sneaky dog with sweet tooth. A friend of mine suggested that it might have been an act to get a free chocolate bars. What do you think?

Hold on to your hats!

That's right! I got a new computer. The switch to a mac continues to be a bit of a learning process. But hopefully good things are to come. The real question is, are you ready?

Happy Holidays!

I've doing a lot of bread baking lately. A lot. I got this book from the library, The Bread Bible. My breads are a bit hit and miss. Mostly I blame our house. The dough has a hard time rising because it has yet to reach room temperature here this 'summer.' Undeterred by the vehement kiwi opposition to insulation, I've even cultivated my own sourdough starter. Its quite entertaining. Every couple of days it bubbles up and has that deliciously repugnant smell that is slightly unpleasant and addictively sniffable. Mmmm.

When you think about it, yeast is very relevant this time of year. What else is all around us, turns water into wine, and reproduces asexually in virgins' wombs?

Happy Holidays!

Crazy Girl

There was this girl in the first yoga class I ever took. Jen and I admiringly called her 'Crazy Girl.' She wore sparkly jeans to class, had wild hair that she never pulled back and was bubbly in a way that made her perfect for a job in retail. That spring at a yoga retreat we were silently walking around the Ottawa valley enjoying the calming bliss of too much yoga when we were interrupted by Crazy Girl running down the hill screaming "I'm Alive! I'm Alive!

The thing is, once you hit puberty there are only select activities where individual joyous yelling is generally appropriate. Roller coasters, sporting events and protests come to mind. But these are noisy places anyway. It takes a little stepping outside yourself to break through the normal everyday noise level with a little whoohoo.

As you may have already heard, I am living in hilly windy Wellington and have rejoined the ranks as a cyclecommuter. (wow- that word was acceptable to spellcheck) Anyway, there are couple of thrilling descents on my commute into town. They often remind me of Crazy Girl, because I'm sure as I 'Whee' and 'Whoohoo' my way downtown, I'm earning a similar nickname.