Kiwifruit

Unfortunately, in the midst of all this dark
and murk and dampness, our ten cows have decided to do a runner through
a fence and onto an adjoining farm (Freedom! Freeeedooooom!) so
Dad, the Other Harf and Bruvinlaw have all had to don wet weather gear
and night-vision goggles to round ‘em up. Usually I would have been roped into help, but I
strategically hid in the study when I spotted Dad marching across the
yard, swearing up a blue fit after discovering their escape.

In
other news, it’s just two more days till I finish up at my job (woo-woo! *punches air*!). After
that all the Fi fun begins; a new haircut and colour is booked in for
Thursday (and I’m going to ask the hairstylist to “transform” me ala Gok -
trusting of me I know, but I really, really need a change. Oh,
how I need it!) and Friday it’s off to Auckland to shop up a storm at
Westfield Albany with my best friend L in tow (she’s taken the day off
work to assist me in my mission to de-frump myself – that’s what mates
are for!).

As well as that I have been given the go-ahead by the in-house accountant to
purchase a new PC which is very timely indeed – as I type this the old
one is be-booping every two minutes and is taken an absolute freakin’
age to load programmes and webpages. The old duck will be retired to
Miss 8.9′s bedroom (sans internet access)  – the plan is to strip it
down to the bare bones so she’ll be able to play games on it and do
homework projects. Bless it, it’s done us well (I still have the
blog-post where I bought it home for the first time six years ago,
mega-excited over the glory and wonder that was Windows XP Pro and 80GB worth of RAM)
but its days are well and truly over.

And the latest on the
houseguests? Moving out is on the agenda for next weekend now, what
with the intricacies of council red-tape and the inability of a certain brother-in-law to multi-task, much to his wife’s consternation,
but hey, what’s another week out of 18 months?

A photoset of favourite things and treasured possessions…

50 Random Questions as stolen from the delightful Deeleea…

1. What color is your toothbrush?
Purple and green (a colour combo which my gran used to say “should never be seen”)

2. Name one person who made you smile today:
The Other Harf, enthusiastically commenting on how cosy the grotty old fleece he found in the bottom of the wardrobe was.

3. What were you doing at 8am this morning?
Driving to work. Yay.

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago?
Trying to log on to Studylink to get a loan to pay for my latest university paper. Mission unsuccessful.

5. What is your favorite candy bar?
I am partial to a Pinky Bar and have been known to inhale a Milky Bar or three.

6. Have you ever been to a strip club?
I’ve been to an “Adult Entertainment” club in Amsterdam (with a coachload of backpacking Antipodeans, I might add. It was an excursion!)

7. What is the last thing you said aloud?
Do you want a cup of tea, to Lil’Sis.

8. What is your favorite ice cream?
Boysenberry Ripple. But if I have a double scoop it’s always accompanied by Hokey Pokey.

9. What was the last thing you had to drink?
Tea. I’m on my fourth cup today.

10. Do you like your wallet?
I like it just after I’ve cleaned it out of receipts and old business cards. It closes much better then.

(more…)

Lately I’ve become aware that over the past three or so months I’ve undergone a transformation, not only mentally (that bit is almost sorted) but physically.

What I’m referring to here is my “working wardrobe” – well, not just my wardrobe. It’s my overall appearance, full-stop.

Long, baggy cardigans. Shapeless, cheap tops in dull shades. Unfeminine, chunky flat shoes. Trousers that are too short in the leg and baggy round the crotch – these, in particular, are dire. Trousers that are too short in the leg are one of my pet peeves – a fashion crime that has never been seen in my wardrobe previously (and one that I hate to see on others).

And as for baggy crotches! *Throws hands up in the air.*

What is most notable about all these items is that they are all new.

Yet, I’m not all about the new either; I’m also toting around this tatty old batik hessian bag that I used to take to the beach in the summer. It’s got a hole in one corner (from which pens and other small items can escape) and has some unidentifiable crushed, grey, soggy items in the bottom of it due to a leaking waterbottle, which have started to omit a slightly mouldy odour. C’est très chic.

As for the hair, well, currently I’m sporting a nothing-y, bland, semi-mullet with a self-parting fringe that is too long and way out of condition. It does zero, zilch, nada for me. And the eyebrows and eyelashes? Think Boris Becker.

This morning I looked at myself in the mirror and thought to myself, who on earth is this awful, frumpy, middle-aged woman, and why am I dressing like her?

So this weekend I am going to gather up these hideous clothes, bundle them into a trash-sack and deposit them in that worthy charity bin outside the Anglican church on Tarewa Road.

The bag? It’s being retired to Miss 8.9′s dress-up box, sans-mouldy damp unidentifiable items.

And next Wednesday (newly, and temporarily unemployed) I am going to drive down to Auckland and pay an extended visit to Westfield Mall in Albany.  

Retail therapy, stat.

Next Thursday I’m going to deal to the Boris Beckerness with the help of Mr Tweezerman and Colortrue Eyelash Dye.

And then, on the Friday? It’s a visit to my hairdresser. Brand new cut, brand new colour.

Come on down, the brand new Fi.

Greetings to you on the shortest day of 2009. It’s a cold, bright, sunny day and I’m doing a stint of nephew-sitting while Lil’Sis takes Neice T to ballet practice and Bruvinlaw makes the most of the Kanga (mini-digger) he’s hired over the weekend to move gravel and woodchips and mounds of clay.
Not that the nephew-sitting is particularly difficult at 2.20 of an afternoon, as both nephews are sound asleep. Easy as!
In other news, the two big countdowns in my life both have Day Zero well within sight now. The Beige Barn is having the final sign off by the council this week, so all going to plan our houseguests will be shifting out next weekend. The Beige Barn has running water, a bathroom and electricity and that’s all they need (according to Lil’Sis) to get by; luxuries like actual rooms with walls can wait.
And it’s seven working days left till my final day at my job. It seems to have rushed by and before I know it I’ll be driving out of that carpark for the final time with my final payslip in my bag and a weight off my shoulders.
In some ways, I am looking forward to this Day Zero much more than the other.

So, over the weekend I was sorting through some old boxes of books that had been stored out in the barn during our houseguests’ stay (most of which belonged to me, as despite my best efforts the books that I lend to friends and family are never boomerangs – bah!).

I came across some old Famous Five books and thought Miss 8.9 might like to read them. I’d read them all as a little girl and fondly remembered all the jolly hockeysticks, loads of spiffing adventures, scrumptious packed lunches and dangerous criminals/creatures lurking in rock-pools/abandoned mineshafts/haunted lighthouses, etc, etc.

Later on Sunday afternoon I spotted “Five Go on an Adventure” sitting on the coffee table in the lounge and Miss 8.9 reading “Girl Power” (Free Hannah Montana – the Movie poster! Free fruity lip gloss! Rockin’ with the Jonas Bros!) magazine on the floor.           

“What did you think of the Famous Five book, hun?” I asked, sitting down beside her.

“Well, Mummy…there was some dirty words in it so I stopped reading it,” she announced, closing the magazine carefully.

“Oh?” I replied, wondering if I’d missed something way back in 1977.

“Yeah, you know,” she mumbles, putting her hand up to her mouth to whisper.

I lent in, very curious…

“D-I-C-K!”

Yes, it is kind of a bit odd, this practice of eating a stewed vegetable with stewed fruit, but let me tell you that there is nothing odd about the flavour of Apple and Rhubarb Crumble, people. It is divine!
All in all it’s been a very typical and wintery weekend, what with making puddings like this one, torrential rain, Miss 8.9′s netball yesterday morning and the sightings of snowdrops, jonquils and camellias in our garden (photographs are over at [Photografi](http://kiwifruit-the-blog.co.nz/photografi/2009/06/on-a-wintery-saturday-afternoo.html)).
And the house has also been oh-so-quiet as the houseguests are down in Auckland again for Bruvinlaw’s little niece’s 2nd birthday (although they are due to arrive home at any minute). It’s been a small and delicious taste of what’s round the corner for the Kiwifruit Homestead (Peace! Quiet! Food that doesn’t have to be bulk-bought!) and plans are well underway for some redecorating with Miss 8.9 cutting photos out of magazines for her “My New Room” scrapbook and the Other Harf browsing the same magazines for ideas to renovate our grotty bathroom.
I do like weekends like these. Even when it rains.

Inspired by Amy’s Maungatoroto Daily Photo (and because I’ve been itching to put my mobile phone’s pretty damn handy “Blog This!” function to good use again) may in introduce you to:

In the short space of three days (and after joining the mighty CityDailyPhoto community) I have had visitors from the UK, Canada, Iran and the USA, all fascinated with the goings-on of Northland’s biggest (yet only) city.

Amazing!

At the moment I’m working with two 22 year-olds, both of whom are bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, intelligent, confident, opinionated, clever and ambitious. They have ideas and dreams and theories and sometimes, sometimes, take themselves a little bit too seriously.

They’ve replaced a cynical 67 year-old (who fled to the Gold Coast with her long-lost high school sweetheart) and a funny, melancholy 56 year old (who fled to another job, for the same reason I’m leaving). One is divorced; the other a widow. They’ve had experiences and losses and hardships and had self-deprecating humour down to the finest art.

At 39, I’m half between these four women. I see what I was and what I could become. I can take myself a little bit too seriously and I can take the piss out of myself. I’ve had hardships but I still have dreams. I am confident, but through experience.

Ya know, I am starting to think that it’s not such a bad thing to be 39 years-old.

But when are you ever the perfect age?

Like Ms Mac, I googled the meaning of Proust Questionnaire too, and like her, I will be 40 on my next birthday (albeit a good few months earlier than she will, bah!) and with the changes in my life right at the moment, it seemed the perfect time to partake in this particular meme.

What is your most marked characteristic? Introspection, although this is more obvious to me than others.

What do you consider your greatest achievement? One happy, intelligent, balanced, loving, gorgeous daughter.

When and where were you happiest? I am happier than I’ve been for a while at the moment but I do have very fond memories of living in London in my late 20′s.

What is your greatest regret? That I didn’t take that (photolithography) apprenticeship up when I was 17 years old and took that Data-Entry Clerk job instead.

What is your idea of perfect happiness? Being loved and to love others.

What is your most treasured possession? My home, followed very closely by my beloved camera.

Where would you like to live? I like it pretty damn fine right here thanks. But if I couldn’t live here I’d love to live by the sea somewhere.

What is your greatest fear? Death of a loved one.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself? Procrastination.

What is the trait you most deplore in others? Unjustified egotism. 

What do you consider the most overrated virtue? Chastity!

What is your greatest extravagance? Fine dining and champagne.

What is your favourite journey? The ferry-trip to Waiheke Island after living overseas.

What is it that you most dislike? Cruelty.

What is the quality you most like in a man? Kindness,

What is the quality you most like in a woman? Intelligence.

What do you most value in your friends? Loyalty.

If you were to come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be? I think your average pampered domestic cat would have a great life.

How would you like to die? Instantly, without pain, after a long, happy and fulfilling life.

Please feel free to steal or comment…