Amiri got to ride in the drive-a-car trolley at the grocery store

A cute brother photo

This is the wallpaper on my phone.

What does destruption mean? And how would a train become destrupted?

My baby turns TWO

On the Friday before, Arram's class made him a beautiful card.

They had a cake at afternoon tea, and Amiri was brought in to Babies to enjoy the treat with his brother and his little friends.  The teachers weren't able to take photos during this party for us, unfortunately.

Then on the big day itself, Arram started out by demonstrating that he's getting to be Such. A. Big. Boy. by sitting on his potty.   And playing Angry Birds.

We Skyped with grandparents and opened presents.  We had hoped to go to the zoo, but it was raining.  Instead we played lots of games and did some dancing.  After naptime, it was time for the cake.  Amiri picked it out.  Both chocolate AND vanilla!

He didn't understand what we meant when we asked him to blow out the candles.  We really probably should have practiced.  But it was OK.  Your wish still counts when your mom helps.

And then it was CAKECAKECAKECAKE time!

Then the brothers got to finish out the evening with a movie.

My little guy.   My sweet little Arram.  Two whole years old.  Happy birthday, my darling.
 

They're just doing their chores, and thinking about someone

The kiwiberry

My wonderfully observant and generous husband presented me with a punnet of kiwiberries today.

Kiwiberries?

Kiwiberries!!

They've got the green of kiwis.  And the shape.  But they're only the size of big grapes, and there's no brown fuzz.  You might be able to see some rough patches, but in general their skin is quite smooth.  At $3.49 for seven, they're considerably more expensive per gram than their non-berry versions.

They look like kiwis in miniature.  They taste just like them, too.  Maybe a little sweeter and a little less tart.   One nice bite of yum.  Seal of approval.

Follow-up questions:

--Are they genetically engineered or something?  Or are they a real thing?
Come on, there's no Frankenfruit in NZ!  It's a real thing, an actual non-hybrid, non-messing-with-nature plant also known as the hardy kiwi.

--Te Puke?
Tah Pookie.  An afternoon's drive away on the Bay of Plenty.

--But what if I wanted to walk there?
Google's got you covered.  Just press the Walking Man button.  So what are you doing ALL NEXT WEEKEND.
 

Preferable, I suppose, to the Furious Fifties and Shrieking Sixties

The arrival of autumn has brought windy weather.  The meteorologist made reference to the Roaring Forties in explanation:  the relative lack of landmass in the southern hemisphere results in some spectacular west-to-east air currents.

And since we're on the topic of latitudes, naturally I had to look some things up.  Auckland is just below the southern 36th parallel.  For reference, what's just above the 36th parallel in the US?   Why, the Four Corners.   City-wise, it's San Jose, CA; Springfield, MO; or Norfolk, VA.  
 

A giant step backward re: my efforts to acquire a taste for raw fish

Upon arriving home from mid-day errands:  Guess what's for lunch? Sushi!  Lots and lots of sushi!  Look, Amiri, your favourite:  smoked salmon.

Eating and eating his wonderful lunch.  Six or seven pieces:  salmon, avocado, lettuce, rice, and seaweed.  One or two sweet-corn rolls too.  What a good boy.  We are so proud of how you've been such an enthusiastic eater.  Now, naptime.

And multiple attempts at getting out of naptime:  I'm thirsty.  I'm not sleepy.  My tummy hurts.  Arram is kicking me.  The motorcycle outside was too noisy.

Upon being let out of the defiantly sleepless interval in his room:  Daddy, my tummy still hurts.  Oh.   Owww.  It hurts--little hands clamp desperately over mouth--a second of terrible, anticipatory dancing-- then--GLUUUUUUURP.

Oh, God, it was like a strafing run.

Daddy's lap took a direct hit.  Significant collateral damage to the couch.  A moment to re-load, and devastation rained down on the carpet.  Mama appeared with a hastily-grabbed towel that caught much of Round Three, but the erratic motion of the Source (maybe if I scoot backward fast enough I can outrun it) resulted in significant shrapnel damage to the lower limbs of all troops.

A quick hustle to the bathroom and the vomiting finishes up neatly into the toilet.  Silkwoods all around.  Clothes changes.  Stash children on the clean couch with water to drink and nearby buckets and towels on their laps, just in case.   Then, the damage assessors move in:  early estimates point to a Level Twelve Sanitation Emergency.  Unfortunately there is no ready-made cleaning product for removing half-digested fatty raw fish from carpet and upholstery, so improvisational engineering includes buckets, gloves, scrub brushes, and grim-faced determination.

The current situation has stabilised and reports from Tummy Central suggest that no further incidents are to be expected tonight.  Olfactory sensors have been deployed for ongoing environmental monitoring.
 

Just look at that HAIR.

Some fabulous photos of our little guys in their cold-weather gear.

But I still don't pronounce it ahl-you-MIN-ee-um

NZ uses British spelling variants instead of the American ones we're used to.  Colour instead of color, organise instead of organize, that sort of thing.  As someone who writes for a living, I found this extremely disconcerting.  My first few editorial reviews came back with, 'hey, what's up with all the zeds in your document??'  Much like learning to 'hear' the Kiwi accent during the first few post-emigration months, I found that written communication also had to be translated.

So first I got good at compensating.  Did you know that Microsoft Word has a spell-check dictionary for New Zealand English?  It does.  And it's much different than the Australian or British dictionaries.  Different as, mate.  So I applied it to the template for all my documents.  And then, I made an effort to not rely on the spell-checker.  To embrace the quirks of my new homeland, to acquiesce to the preferences of the Queen, and to type out 'paediatric' and 'anaesthesiologist' while stoicly repressing my shudders of cognitive dissonance.

And now I have to say I'm a convert.  I blithely typety-type out things like 'He recognised that his behaviour was odd...' and just recently I've noticed that I've included things like 'favourite' in my hand-written shopping lists.  And that I change my internal spell-checker based on whether I'm writing for an American or Kiwi audience.  Still, you may notice Imperial flourishes from time to time.
 

The goal is for NZ to be tobacco-free by 2025

There are cigarette machines here just as in the States.  Notice how the warning label is large and to-the-point.  And you have to ask the waitstaff to activate the machine before you can use your eftpos (debit) card.

More warning labels on these:  Smoking causes mouth cancer.  Smoking causes gangrene.  Tobacco smoke is poisonous.  You are not the only one smoking this cigarette.  oooh, I think I like that one the best...

And just look at these prices!  $16 for a pack of Dunhills.  $14.50 for Pall Malls.  I don't smoke, so I don't have a sense for whether these are fancy brands or not.  But I'm pretty sure they're not charging in the vicinity of eleven bucks a pack in the US!

A party in the park

Our little boy is happy again on the seesaw.

And here's Amiri enjoying some Russian fudge.

I told him he could go in up to his knees

The setting is perhaps somewhat undignified... but at least he's sitting still

Ma is White
Whero is Red
Kakariki Green
Pango is Black
Mangu is too
A, E, I, O, U

Kowhai Yellow
Pakaka Brown
Kikorangi Blue
Parakaraka is our Orange
A, E, I, O, U

Don't even get me started on GPS coordinates

I'll open today's edition of 'Something to file away for the next pub quiz' with a quote from Thornton Wilder's classic play Our Town:

"I never told you about that letter Jane Crofut got from her minister when she was sick. He wrote Jane a letter and on the envelope the address was like this: It said, Jane Crofut, the Crofut Farm, Grover’s Corners; Sutton County; New Hampshire; United States of America; continent of North America; Western Hemisphere; the Earth; the Solar System; The Universe; the mind of God - that’s what it said on the envelope. And the postman brought it just the same."

This is a fine if somewhat flowery example of the way that letters are addressed in New Zealand.  My domestic mail makes it to me with a simple name, street, and suburb or city.  Apparently the building number, apartment number, and post code are optional.  (New Zealand doesn't have states; cities are the primary regional identifier.)  Since there is generally such a dearth of written information on envelopes, I have a great deal of respect for the posties who are clearly able to compensate via detailed mental databases-- and in an urban environment, besides.

Now, about those post codes.   They are four digits long, and range from 0000 in the far North to 9999 in Southland.  They operate much like ZIP codes in the States.   As a kid, I remember having my ZIP code drilled into my brain (Hello, 49812!) and I know I've had my mail returned when I've absentmindedly forgotten to write it.  So why are post codes used so haphazardly in New Zealand?  I think it's a question of cultural uptake.  Post codes were only just introduced in this country in 2008.  People are still getting used to them.  Some people still don't know what theirs is and need to look them up.  New Zealand Post encourages residents to include post codes on our mail in the interest of efficient delivery.  But with the vast majority of domestic mail being delivered in 1-2 days even without post codes, such a promise is small incentive.

  

I don't think this bedtime thing is working

The feijoa*

Here are some feijoas from the grocery store.  Kiwis LOVE feijoas.  They make them into ice cream and smoothies.

These four little beauties set me back $2.55 NZD.  Chopped 'em up into quarters. 

Feijoas are the size of limes. They look like limes inside too but they're not citrus.  You eat them by nibbling the soft inner pulp.  Closer to the skin, they get too grainy to eat.  They smell sort of flowery, and taste like sour kiwifruit.  Quite nice.

The experts warn that feijoas have a short window of ripeness, and imply that they are unappetizing when overripe.  Conveniently for my little experiment, I think I must have gotten one that had gone a bit too far (the one in the far back, the one that's just slightly browner than the others).  Unlike the rest of the batch, it was softer and had an offputting, distinctly 'chemical' flavor which immediately brought to mind the industrial cleaning products from my grim high-school jobs of yore.   OK, that's a check in the 'replicated' column...

Fun feijoa fact:  Feijoas get their aroma and flavour from naturally-occurring methyl benzoate.  Just like snapdragons.  And cocaine.  Nature does some weird stuff, yo.  Kiwi drug-sniffing dogs must get awfully frustrated during feijoa season.

*The j is pronounced like a y; rhymes with 'balboa'.
  

The lantern festival

For Chinese New Year, the Lantern Festival came to Albert Park in the centre of town.  By 'lanterns', I mean all manner of complicated and fantastic animals and scenery assembled from thin, brightly-colored fabric shells stretched over wire forms.  At night they're lit up from within by strategically-placed lights.

Lantern festivities took place too late at night to allow for proper appreciation by the children, so we strolled through the park during the day.

Mama, I think that might be a real horse.

We spent a good five minutes checking whether any of these were real sheep.

Amiri does not appear in the last two photos because there was a small possibility that these were real dragons, and he wasn't about to take his chances by getting too close.

 

A nice lunch out

We grabbed some lunch one weekend at the Queen's Ferry hotel, formerly a frequent drinking spot for known Criminals and now a restaurant with some very nice food.

Voted Auckland's best fish and chips:  fresh tarakihi fillets with Marlborough sea salt-dusted chips, Queen's Ferry tartare sauce, and a green salad.

A lamb mince patty with garlic and pine nuts on a bun with tzaziki, feta cheese, and salads.  And of course the gorgeous chips on the side.

We had such a nice time.

A truly calorie-free dessert

I received this lovely gift recently from my sweetheart.  mmmMMM!  Doesn't it look good?

I bent down to smell its deliciousness.  And stood back up, perplexed.   It smelled a little... off.   Not at all like a creamy chocolaty cheesecake should.  Or on second thought, it actually looks a little funny too... maybe it's an ice cream cake.  Or a pudding cake?  Wait.  Something's fishy.  What IS that?

Soap!  It's a giant bar of handmade soap!  There's this guy in Auckland who makes beautifully scented soaps as a side business, and his specialty is soaps that look like food.  This one is called 'Mint Chocolate Cheesecake'. 

We chopped it into pieces and I'm loving my luxurious showers.