Kieran’s to-do list for the day:

- Hug Katy’s legs so she can’t manouver around the kitchen to make Reuben’s lunch

- Have an epic sword-fighting battle with Reuben and Katy…. then eat the Styrofoam off them

- Sit at the Big People’s table to have second breakfast 15 minutes after finishing first breakfast

- Bite into a whole clove of raw garlic and get stinky breath

- Say “ello” for the entire ride home from the morning school drop-off

- Help Katy with the laundry by running after her with an armful of clean clothes

- Spend 20 minutes attempting to put on shoes

- Put feetless shoes into Katy’s purse

- Sit on Katy’s foot and say “Up!”

- Drop a matchbox car down the back of my own shirt (Katy might have to end up helping me though)

- Give Katy lot’s of cuddles and smiles

- Try to help Reuben put his socks and shoes on

- Be completely adorable all morning so Katy forgets that it’s her last day looking after me

Almost a year and a lifetime later, this blog speaks again.  And what I mean to say is, an almost year and an almost lifetime later.  ”You fit a whole almost-lifetime into a whole almost-year?” I can hear you ask.  Yeah, pretty much.  At least it feels like it.

As for the blog speaking again, it still doesn’t know what to say.  We’ll just call this an improv conversation.  An improvisation.  Count yourself lucky to even be reading this.  It means I didn’t decide to chuck it all in the proverbial rubbish bin of closed-but-not-saved internet pages.

Small-talk.  I’ll make small talk about the weather.  Isn’t that how every awkward conversation begins?  It’s raining today.  The clouds were kind enough to restrain themselves during the very important 10 minute segments of time when I had to drop Reuben off at school and pick him up again.  As for the rest of the day, I didn’t take much notice whether it was raining or not.  It certainly is coming down now.

Random comment that doesn’t seem to relate but subliminally does.  I’m amazed at the therapeutic qualities of classical music. I’ve been listening to quite a bit of it lately and something about it just….makes me melt back into place, I suppose.  The tense shoulders slowly relax into a less Quasimodo-like position, the forehead unwrinkles, and the jaw retires from its tenure as a vice-grip.  Not that life is too stressful.  On the whole it’s quite enjoyable.  But, you know, there are days.

Well shoot, I still don’t really know what to talk about.  Everything just seems either too personal, too tedious, or too elusive of these typity-typing fingertips.  I reckon though, that as long as I take the time to actually disclose the happenings of next few months, there should be some interesting reading up ahead.  That’s just my guess though.

Gumboots, also known as galoshes, rain boots, rubbers, boots, rubber boots, and… probably something else, are what you make of them.  Created to be used on unpleasant days, there are a few ways you can look at them.

The first view sees them as purely things of necessity; a symbol of a wet and uncomfortable day.  The second vantage point sees that they are a relief; cold and rainy days happen – at least your feet are dry!  Nothing too complex there.  But actually, there’s a third way of looking at it as well.  They can be absolutely enjoyable.  Yes, enjoyable!  The fashion industry has already figured this out.  Even my own closet floor hosts a pair of black-with-pink-polka-dot gummies.  I actually look forward to wearing them!  Is that weird?  I don’t think so.  Science has proven that wearing polka dots makes a person happier.  Well, maybe not science, but it’s a fact regardless of the credentials.

So you know what?  Hurrah for a wet and no-longer-miserable days!

Here I am.  In New Zealand.  On my day off.  It’s raining.  And I have a cold.

I suppose I could feel sorry for myself.  I’d love nothing more than to wander in and out of cute shops (sharing the polka dot love), stoking the imaginative fires of my soul, have a muffin and cappuccino in a family owned cafe, and just feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel.  I love doing that on my day off.  But if I tried that today, my head might fall off.  It’s teetering on the precipice at the moment anyway and I dare not tempt gravity by venturing out on this sodden frigid day.

So here I am with a choice to make.  Mope and feel sorry for myself?  Grin and bear it?  No, I think I’ll enjoy it.  That’s right, I am going to enjoy being sick right now.

I love that it’s raining!  I feel so warm and cozy in my room.  I love that it’s grey out; the happy-colored-mother-made quilt on my bed is a delight to my eyes.  The free mug of green tea is nourishing and just as comforting as any $8 worth of coffee and pastry.  No one will look funny at me if, for a moment, I lose myself in a refrain of Si Volvieras A Mi or All’improvviso Amore.  I will stare out my window at the rooftops and trees for as long as I like.  I will appreciate the romance and creativity of beautiful photos.  My heart will be glad, for this is the day the Lord has made.  I will rejoice and be glad in it.

I really like today.

And I’ll wear my gumboots on some other beautiful rainy day off.

I did it.  I can’t believe I’m at a place in my life where I’m actually admitting this to the world, but I did it.  I now own a GPS.

Maybe that doesn’t sound like such a big deal to you, but if you’ve ever had a conversation with me about GPS, you’d understand the magnitude of this situation.  You see, GPS are for people who have no sense of direction, no spatial awareness, a complete lack of ability to read maps or follow directions, don’t stop to ask for help when they are lost, are just a few steps away from being characters in Wall-E, yadda yadda yadda.  Someone asked me in the recent past if I had a GPS in my car and I glibly answered that I had one in my head and didn’t need it.  But that was before I moved to the land of confusion.

I’ve tried following maps, following written directions, calling for help when lost, mentally visualizing where I needed to go, etc.  And still, EVERY single time I go somewhere new, I get lost.  Every single time.  No exceptions.  The other day I went somewhere with written directions and didn’t have a single problem on the way.  About the time on the way back that I was congratulating myself on my first uneventful drive, I missed my turn and ended up taking a 30+ minute detour.  The next day I tried going back to that same location, with the same set of directions, and got lost on the way there.  That was really the straw that broke this camel’s back.

I just can’t do it anymore.  When you count the wasted time and petrol and all the new gray hairs I’m sprouting on not knowing where I am or where I’m going, it’s worth the money spent on technology and the judgmental words of the past being swallowed.

*Disclaimer: On the whole I do not in good conscience condone the consumption of fast-food*

It’s a little embarrassing to admit this, but McDonald’s is currently one of my favorite places.  It’s true.  For merely a small fortune you can buy your child (or at least the one you are looking after) a hamburger bun and “meat” patty, sliced apples, juice, a choking hazard toy, and the opportunity to run around indoors and interact with other restless children.  You can buy yourself a decent cappuccino or cultural experience in a bun (more on that later) and an hour or two of sitting still while child burns a surplus of energy on a rainy day.  For the first time in my life I understand how Micky D has managed to peacefully invade almost every country on the map.  Where there are caretakers of children, McDonald’s will be welcome.

Now about the food.  I know what you’re thinking (I’ve been working on my telepathy skills)… “You move almost half way across the world and choose to hang out at an American joint? Where’s your sense of adventure?”  Hold the phone, have you seen what they have on the menu here?  Actually, I didn’t look too closely myself.  All I saw was a giant picture with the words “Kiwi Burger”.  Oh!

I’ve done a bit of traveling over the years and one thing I’ve learned is that one of the coolest ways to experience a culture is through their cuisine as it engages a good number of the senses all at one time.  Plus eating is fun.  Well so far I haven’t had many culinary adventures (it all tastes pretty normal so far), so I’ve been curious to try a burger that claims to embody all things New Zealand.

You know what?  If what I ate is an accurate representation of my host country, I have news for you:  New Zealand is weird.

Actually, I already knew that, but this is just further confirmation.  And just what exactly was this odd sandwich claiming to be a national icon?  All the normal hamburger elements with the addition of a fried egg and slices of beetroot (American = beets).  There might have been other strange things in there, but I was too distracted with the egg and beetroot to notice.  It wasn’t altogether unpleasant, just…. weird.

So there you have it.  That evil golden arches American empire place that is so keen on making people fat really ain’t all that bad.  Reuben got his exercise and I got my rest, a cultural experience, and something to blog about.

I like New Zealand.  Yes, I really do.

I’ve never been to a “foreign” country where some form of English is the main language.  Most places I’ve been have enough English speakers for those of us Americans monolinguals to get by.  But to have just about everyone here understand what I’m saying really is quite convenient.  It helps to make up for the fact that everything here is a backwards to what I’m used to.  Really, it’s like living life on the other side of the mirror.  From driving on the wrong side of the road in the right side of the car (with the blinker signal and windshield wipers in opposite positions) to the way the sun travels across the sky (East to West via North vs East to West via South), it’s no wonder that I’m fairly consistently feeling disoriented.

Other oddities I’ve noticed:

Vegemite.  Yes I tried it.  Twice.  While not nauseating, I’d rather have nothing on my toast than go through that again.

Cows.  They have curly hair!

Sheep.  Not quite as abundant as I was expecting.  Or perhaps they just aren’t as outgoing in social scene I’ve been exposed to as of yet.

Lighting.  It doesn’t come with thunder here.  At least, that’s what some nationals would have you believe…  Did you know that if you watch a lightning storm at the beach the sound of the waves drowns out the thunder?  Now you do!

Kiwis.  People from New Zealand call themselves “Kiwis” after a funny looking  flightless and endangered bird.  Please do not confuse this with “kiwi fruit” which is also popular here.

Police without guns.  It’s true.

And now a few things I wish America(ns) would catch onto:

Roundabouts.  A little intimidating if you don’t know where you’re going, but I’ll take driving around and around and around in circles to sitting at a stoplight any day!

Hospitality.  Maybe I’ve just hit the jackpot with the people I’ve met or something, but the people here are some of the kindest, most welcoming people I have EVER met!  It’s hard to feel like a stranger here.

Coffee shops.  I cannot BELIEVE how many coffee shops I’ve seen!  And only one or two of those were Starbucks.  I think it just might be possible for me to go an entire year without entering Starbucks and not feel deprived at all.

Pretty scenery.  Yeah I know, America has its pretty spots… I’ve just never had the opportunity to live in any of them.

Making cakes without mixes.  This is a skill I still need a lot of work on…

Yes, it’s nice here.  I like it.

Really though, I could probably teach them a thing or two about knots considering all the loose ends I’ve been tying up recently. Between it being my last week working at TMC and moving out of Apt. 29, it’s been an interesting week. A few of the highlights have included (but are not limited to):

• Playing tug-of-war with Jennica trying to get the rusted shower caddy poll thingy broken down so it would fit into her car.  (Thank you Jennica, I’ve been wishing I had more opporunties to yank things with all my might and then body-slam the floor.  Classic way to say goodbye )
• Finding reimbursable receipts in the bottom of my drawers at work.  Hurrah for $30 I didn’t know I had!
• Eating cereal with a measuring spoon because the normal flatware has already moved.
• Going into the front room this morning to discover both Sherrie AND Danielle sleeping on the couches instead of in their own room.  I’d probably do the same thing in their shoes, but I decided to not actually sell my bed until the day I moved out…

Between transfering everything over to Leanne at work and closing down an apartment, I should probably make a list of all the things that need to get done.  But where’s the adventure in that?

Upcoming Post: And then there was the time… I realized I’d been paying the gas bill for an apartment I hadn’t lived in for 6 months.

Anybody who’s seen what I currently look like would understand the irony of someone asking me if I had a hair tie. That’s why, when Amal did just such a thing, I just gave her a *look* and laughed.

But then I remembered the purse that Mary Poppins left for me.

The exterior has digressed a bit over the years, but the interior is essentially the same. The carpet has devolved into faux black crocodile leather, but the contents have only become more up-to-date, if anything.

Anyway, I dove right on in and rummaged around a bit until I found the desired object. I’m always a little surprised myself at what I find in there. The spoon I found yesterday was just perfect for my grocery store lunch and I’m fairly certain that the Henry James short-story will come in handy someday too.

Next stop: Nannyhood

I’ve been having trouble falling asleep recently, so last night I decided to try counting sheep. Someone told me recently that there are 12 sheep to every person in New Zealand, so I decided to figure out which 12 were mine and name them. Now, when I’m counting sheep, they aren’t slow and docile like they’re supposed to be. Those little boogers seem to think they’re in the Kentucky Derby and jump over that fence so fast I can hardly keep up. I gave up counting them from the get-go and just gave each one the first name that popped into my head. It went something like this…

“Madeleine…Hubert…Jezebel…Stinky Face… Stinky Face????”

At that point I was laughing so hard I had to get up and go tell Jennica and Lester, who were still hanging out in the front room. I didn’t get back to bed for another 45 minutes and who knows how long it took to actually fall asleep.

Yeah, maybe I should just wait to name my 12 till I get there.

Hello world.

My step-grandpa is really sick. I don’t know how much longer they predict he’ll live, but he seems to be fading pretty fast right now.

He’s on his way to hell.

Please pray for a miraculous softening of his heart towards Jesus before his last day.

In the past few months I’ve seen over and over and over again examples of God answering in the affirmative when I’ve prayed sincerely and trustingly. Part of me is expecting that this man’s heart will remain hard through his dying day. But the other part has seen miracles and knows that anything is possible! This would truly be the most spectacular miracle of my life to date. Anyone want to join me in asking our God to display His glory in a grandiose sort of way?