But its not my kind of scene

iTunes knows what's going on. I turn it on and the first thing to come on is Powderfinger's "My Kind of Scene", as in "its not my kind of scene".
Cos its not. Not this.

I think I had an epiphany tonight.
Everything is coming back.

Maybe its the fact that its 11.46pm and I have too much work to be going to bed anytime soon, maybe its the rain, maybe its the fact that I haven't seen my family for 317 days, maybe its everything thats happened in those 317 days that has tested us all on an atomic level, maybe its the fact that in 16 days I will be confronted with a truth that is eight months and seven days old for everyone who was there but which for me will be all too new because while in my head I know its true, that he is actually gone in the gone-and-not-coming-back kind of gone, I haven't seen their faces, the faces of those little angels who unbeknownst to them taught me to be a better person, the children who I love more than the sun and the moon and the stars, and when I see those faces and I see him in those faces then and only then will it be real.

I can't go posting things on here before I tell people in person, my people here, the ones here who matter and who have been my family. And its not like I can tell people anything, because nothing is decided yet.

But sometimes allowing oneself the option to decide evokes a sense of relief sufficient to generate real tears. Never underestimate the sheer effort it takes on a daily basis to be a stranger in a strange land.

I find a map and draw a straight line

I have had another friend invitation on facebook, and am unsure of the protocol. I have met this person once, I think, but she just happens to be engaged to the boy who broke my heart 7 years ago. I therefore have very little inclination to want to be nice to her, despite the fact that I have moved on and want everybody to be happy.

Am I too petty? Should I just suck it up? I like to think that I reserve the 'friend' status for people I actually know and like (well, most of the time....)

I talked to a friend about it, and he said I should be her friend, but I think I am just too vindictive and mean. (They're not faults if you know about them, you see....)
I think I want everybody to be happy in love as long as I am happy in love.

Le sigh......

At least I have this to look forward to:


Bring the geekery!

The Definition of Cold

-2 pairs woolly socks
-warm track pants
-long sleeved merino top
-t-shirt
-my sister's big brown woollen cardigan
-merino scarf
-polypropylene lined woollen hat
-pure wool gloves
-big heavy sheepskin coat

and it took 15 minutes of walking before I wasn't freezing anymore.

All so that this little fluffy bum could get another walk. The back yard doesn't look like that anymore. Its covered in this cold white stuff.....

In which Tyratae rocks my world and makes my day

The astute reader may have observed that I went to DC the weekend before last. There, at the National Zoo, I realised that the thing my life was missing (aside from inner peace, a recurring role on CSI and a European sports car) is a panda bear.
Now I has one!!! Thanks to the delightful Tyratae, for whom I have insufficient adjectives. She turned up at my door today on the pretence of coming over for crumpets and a cuppa, armed with a bag of early Christmassy gifty love in the shape of a fuzzy soft panda.
But now he needs a name. I was going to name him after my glorious giftgiver, until I came to the conclusion that he is in fact a boy.
To me all bears are boys, just like all cats are girls (sorry Piddy. And Puku. And Felix. And Sprocket. And George. And Matty...... Hell's bells. You're cats! You can't read! Go back to licking your bottoms) I have no idea where this gendered concept of animal identification came from, but hey. Whatevs.

So help me, you last three people who continue to tune in.
Name my panda, and, well, that's it. No prize, except for my approval (just ask my students, that's a rare commodity there!)

Name the bear!
Suggestions in the box please.

Low Red Moon, how can you sleep like a baby?

Just finished a 20 page paper...... only 2 more of those, and 2 six pagers to go, in 3 & 1/2 weeks.
Then I get to go home, for a whole month!

Needless to say my school Crisis of Faith is still going strong, but right now I am 80% certain I will come back here in January. That is a vast improvement over a few weeks ago, when it was getting close to 80% the other way. Hell, odds have been that way for a solid few months now.
All I need to do now is get all this shit done, and not freak out, and then I get some serious whanau time to try and figure out what I am doing.

It doesn't help that I am still mourning the loss of tv-links.co.uk, and that I am PMSing like you have never seen, and I need to get the little windscreen wiper motor on my car fixed and its 1.57am and its cold and I'm tired and I still haven't been able to cuddle baby Caleb cos I'm sick.

I need to call all my friends and apologise in advance for ignoring them for the next 3 & 1/2 weeks.
I also need to go to Vicky's and buy some hand cream for my mum. She has a Vicky's handcream dependency problem.
Only 25 days.......

In which Claire is overly emotionally invested in TV programmes

Spoiler alert!!!
So I just watched the latest episode of CSI, "Goodbye and Good Luck".
Yep.

There were tears.

I'm not sure if its pathetic or not, the degree to which I get invested in fictional characters. Right now I am inclined to think that its not that pathetic, but that might be the wine/emotional trauma talking.

A long time ago, perhaps 2 years ago, I began compiling a list of my favourite TV characters. Of course Sara Sidle made the top of that list, for a multitude of reasons, and now she is no longer on television. I am sure that in the CSI universe she still exists, and spoilers I have read tell me that she will be back, but for now, I kind of feel cheated.
I'm kind of pissed off that I have been deprived of my weekly Sara fix, because I find her inspiring.
She is strong and tough and damaged and and brilliant and beautiful and complicated and I can identify with that some of that sort of thing.

But now its 10.46pm and I've got a grip on myself and I have to write a 6 page paper by 9.30am tomorrow.
I just wanted to let you know that this may turn into a Jorja Fox fansite.....

Mad Mad Skillz

I'm going through a pretty major omelette phase right now, I can't explain it. When it comes time to eat all I can think about is eggy goodness, and my creative juices just go wild!

Currently I'm sitting here with the post-prandial satisfaction of one who has yet again excelled in the omelette-making stakes. Today's effort consisted of broccoli, spinach, green peppers, sharp cheese, blue cheese, garlic and chilli sauce, complemented by a rasher or two of bacon. Ok, three.

The trick to a good omelette I have recently discovered is to not put any milk in with the eggs when you mix it up. Then, once you have all the ingredients on the omelette, put a lid on it and turn the heat down as low as it can go, and deliciousness shall ensue.

I also must stress the importance of using free-range SPCA/Humane Society approved eggs, because who wants a side order of cruelty in their meal?

This lesson in the culinary arts brought to you by the giant stack of exams I have to grade by midday tomorrow.

I've said it before and I'll say it again.....

I suck at blogging.

Update: Matt, my brother-from-another-mother (and another country...) had a baby. Wee Caleb (thought you'd like that Sarah) is too cute for words, and contrary to his father's opinion, will NOT be playing rugby for England. He will play for NZ. Because I will steal him. Because he is too cute. Its worth noting that today Matt was wearing his NZ rugby jersey, and that Caleb, all of a day old, was eyeing up the mighty silver fern. Good lad!!!

Going to DC tomorrow. Ok, to Maryland tomorrow, to stay with a family friend, then to see some DC sights and museums then J's Gilbert and Sullivan extravaganza...... awesome.

Have to get up 4 hours to finish this fucking paper.
Nighty night.

Because a change is apparently as good as a holiday....



I cut my hair.

Then I straightened it.

So, in the space of a week I have gone from shoulder length blonde curly hair to a short dark straight bob. Fun times.

Also, how much do I look like Alison Janney in that first pic? Quite a lot, methinks...... although that may be the wine talking.

if only I put as much time and effort into my school work as I do my hair....

Remember, remember the fifth of Movember

Movember is here again, beware the handlebars!!!!

The Street signed up for the Aussie one, being a resident of Melbourne-town.
Go and hook a brother up. He has promised all sorts of handlebar goodness.

In other news, I carved my first ever pumpkin last weekend. Of course I couldn't carve a face or anything simple like that, I had to aim high.

So, I carved a butterfly.



Cordell carved a Decepticon logo, that was pretty awesome too.

Next day I woke up blonde and went to bed looking like this
The tattoos were fakes, only for my Fairy GothMother costume.

OK time for CSI now.

Can't blog, too much to do.

erraticism to ensue....

And while you're at it, could SOMEONE please fix the Suck Knob? It appears to be stuck on full.

I know you've heard it all before.....

So much to say....

Sang at Karaoke tonight, it was.... well...... its over. Phew

Carved my very first pumpkin tonight, and might I add, I completely kicked it's arse. Photos to follow.

Party fun-times tomorrow, so lets just see what madness ensues. Hours of fun, no doubt....

Welcome

Grace Lola Robertson, born at midday, 25th of October, 2007.

I have known her mother since I was 12 years old, which was really quite some time ago.....
I have so many good stories about Bee, I can't wait until Gracie gets old enough to hear them!
Things I am going to tell her when her ears are suitably equipped include: stories about the bucket in Amberley, letters from Bolivia, pics of her mother face down on the sofa in Wanaka..... oh too many to share with the internets!

But there is a brand new person in the world and I am very excited about it and its only 49 days until I am home so I can see her.

This blog brought to you by gushing with happiness, and secondary sponsors homesick and joyous news makes a nice change.

Windswept and Interesting



My nephew sent me this vid of Billy Connolly.
I laughed so hard I nearly puked.
One of the bajillion reasons why I love my nephew more than life itself is his comprehensive understanding of the fact that no matter how old you are, how much education you might have, or how sophisticated you might think you are, farts are still funny.

And now you have been educated, you are free to go.

I just stand by and let you fight your secret war

Reasons why I love Thursdays, by Claire.

- CSI
- at approximately 7pm today, I got out of my jammies, had a shower, and got changed into some clean jammies.
- I can do loads of work without feeling like I am working, because I am in my jammies.
- CSI
- No class, so I can work until 9pm and then do nowt.
- Did I mention the jammies?
-Also, there is this programme on CBS....what's it called? Oh yeah...... CSI. Fan geek much?

Also I know that Jorja Fox is leaving but due to events in tonight's episode and spoilers I have read, I refuse to believe the worst.....

These eyes are the eyes of the old

So, what's been going on then?
Well.

Last night, as part of the "reduce insane car insurance premiums by obtaining a New York licence" campaign, I had to sit through probably the dullest evening of my life. At one point I caught myself considering bashing my head against the desk (built for 12 year old kids, btw, with comfort-free plastic chair attached and not remotely suitable for my nearly six feet leggy frame) as to render myself unconscious to make the boredom end.

This officious little man spend the better part of 4 hours saying about 3 things. One: don't lose your little certificate, cos it costs $20 to get a new one. Two: you can book your road test online or on the phone. Three: on your road test, you will have to stop at a stop sign.

Needless to say, the boredom was interrupted only by continuous insults to my intelligence and the nearly 17 years that I have been driving.

Once the pandering to the lowest common denominator was done, he showed us a video. That was probably the highlight of the whole thing.

It was a "don't drink and drive or bad things will happen to you" movie, filmed in an A&E in Baltimore and featured lots of cool gory stuff like some guy whose leg had snapped in half, and shots of brains with stuff leaking out of them. Cool.

Unfortunately, I believe the video achieved a purpose not quite in line with its intended one. I suspect we were supposed to feel sympathy for these teenagers who got pissed and drove their cars and crashed. Yeah.....not so much.

This one kid drank a case of beer and then drove a 4 wheel farm bike into a tree. He bashed his head and had to have loads of surgery and months of rehabilitation and it was all very sad etc. Then, once he had recovered, he was off out with his mates again, drinking beer and riding farm bikes.

Sympathy gauge stuck on zero.

Perhaps this is cruel, but if a person gets deliberately wasted, chooses to drive a car or a farm bike or other vehicle type thing, then fucks themself up, then that is natural selection at work. Right there is Darwin's thesis in action.

If drunk drivers only fucked themselves up, then there would be no problem.
It when they kill other people on the road that the problem arises, when they make driving unsafe for the rest of us.

I wasn't going to drink and drive before I watched the movie, and I still won't drink and drive.
The only thing it achieved was to further reduce my sympathy (what's less than zero?) for the idiots who endanger the rest of us.

When the whole ordeal was over and I had my little certificate in hand, I stopped off at the supermarket and purchased a six pack of Smithwicks (mmmm. delicious Irish beer. I drank some and I didn't drive my car. See? Its that easy.) and a copy of The Greatest Movie Ever Made to celebrate having survived yet another level of US bureaucracy in action.

I can mock him because I am already there



Nicholas, Knicker-less, Nickel-arse....
He's thirty.
I can laugh because I am 31.
Here he is doing his best impression of a turtle, I believe at Il Casa d'Allan.

You're a dork and we loves you.

Ben, I believe you are next?.......

If my sister changes her name her initials will be E.M.O.

Today is indeed an auspicious day!!!
My sister (the next oldest up, me being the youngest) is getting married.
In Punta Arenas. That's in Chile, FYI.

We are going to video-conference it, via the marvels of Skype, so that my other sister, home in NZ, and I can be there digitally.
Holly suggested that we dress up, so I am going to put my party skirt on and go to her house and drink bubbly things. Ahh.... weddings.

So to all those boys who have been friends of mine over the years and have said to me "that sister of yours is a bit hot" I say now: you had your chance lads, and now its gone, for she is about to marry the coolest Chilean boy in the world.

If any of you happen to be partaking in a liquid refreshment this evening, I ask this of you.
First, raise a glass to my sister and her in-an-hour-and-a-half-will-be husband.

Secondly, and on a more poignant note, raise your glass to Shawn and his beloved late wife Lynette on their wedding anniversary, the first since her death.

Thanks.

Seriously. BOB FUCKING DYLAN!!!!!

What I did last night: had one of my life's wishes fulfilled.

Since I was about 14, I think, I have wanted to see Bob Dylan live. Thing is, I never thought I would be able to. One of the downsides to my beautiful South Pacific Island home is that music legends on tour are few and far between. Sometimes they will go to Auckland, or do a really expensive gig at some super-expensive resort in Queenstown, but its not often that we get a chance to see them.

However, now that I am living in New York, these things happen. So, last night I got in the car with some lovely people and we drove to Rochester and I had my little mind blown by the fact that I was sitting listening to BOB FUCKING DYLAN LIVE!!!
The Boy came with us, and confessed that he was more of a fan of the first act (who was awesome too, btw, and I will be buying his records no doubt, thank you Elvis Costello), once Dylan began he turned to me and said "Holy shit. That's Bob fucking Dylan" to which I replied I KNOW!!!!!!!

He played Rainy Day Woman, he played Desolation Row, he played a funked up blues version of Masters of War (and I died a little it was fucking epic) and closed with Blowing in the Wind.

I am still reeling from it. It will be a good few days before I can stop proclaiming BOB FUCKING DYLAN!
People here are decidedly underwhelmed by the prospect of seeing legends live, but for a wee lass from the other side of the world, its kind of a big deal.

Elvis Costello rocked my world too.

The sound of four million people in mourning

Yeah, fucking gutted.
I wanted to watch Richie's interview but stuff was misbehaving. Besides, it would probably just upset me more.

Le sigh.

As long as the French don't win. Or the Aussies. I told my sister that I would support the Springboks to win now, to which she responded that if I were to do so she would no longer communicate with me. So, go Argentina!!! It would be nice to see a non-six nations team take the Cup, and I loves me a good underdog, so Argies makes sense.

Of course, there is a lighter side, albeit not one that results in the men in black bringing home the Cup......
TradeMe: a source of hilarity no matter the occasion.
Hahaha. Choke stuck on full. I reckon that Rokocoko boy might be handy around the house.... perhaps I should put in a bid.
Do you think they would ship them to NY?