Just goofing around, learning our vowels

Another first in our house

This morning Daddy and I surprised the boys when they woke up:  in the corner of the living room was a Christmas tree, all ready for decorating!  Their eyes got all wide, their mouths turned into big 'Os' of excitement, and then the yelling began.  'Christmas tree!  Christmas tree!  We get a Christmas tree!'

With some Frank Sinatra carols in the background, we put the lights on first:  multi-coloured twinkle lights that blink and shimmer. 

Then the garland.  Amiri tested it out first.  It was sufficiently beautiful for our tree.

Then it was time to put on the ornaments.  Arram REALLY loved this part and was an excellent ornament-hanger.

Then we added candy canes (the attention level for the task of decorating kind of dropped off once the boys realised that you can EAT candy canes) and some home-made snowflakes (you will notice that my concentration was un-diminished).

Then we added a star on the top and our tree was complete.  It's so beautiful! 

Then, the very best part:  the holiday hugs.

As promised

No, he's right, that is more 'Balancing Stick Pose' than Ka Mate.

This here though.  THIS is Ka Mate.  That is one intense little dude.

I mean, what was he SUPPOSED to do?

Today the brothers woke up and had their breakfast.  Then Amiri reluctantly began to get ready for school, making sure that Daddy issued him his usual bring-along mid-morning snack.  And Arram reluctantly began to prepare for another day stuck at home with his pox. 

Suddenly, Arram decided to rectify the situation.

'Brother,' he demanded, storming into the room, 'Stay home with me.  Please!'

Amiri replied, 'Okay, Arram.  It will be a nice holiday with you.  Would you like some cheese sandwich?'

'Yes please.'

And so they sat right down to share Amiri's snack.  Daddy wrestled with his thoughts for about ten seconds, and then wisely realised it was hopeless.  The brothers had a lovely holiday at home.

Pox pox pox

Our poor little Arram finally came down with chicken pox.

That's from Day 1.  Now, on Day 2, the poor little baby is really suffering with all his bumps.

He doesn't like the medicated baths.  He doesn't like the calamine lotion.  He doesn't like the cream.  Sometimes he likes when Mama walks him around in her arms and rocks him, like a baby.   Sometimes he likes wearing his Chicken Pox Hat, which Daddy assures him will make all the itchies in his hair go away.  He like strawberries, oranges, ice blocks, and Palmol.

He had to stay home today while Mama and Amiri went to the library.  He was not happy to be excluded.  You will have to imagine the wails that accompany this photo.

We had a little adventure to the park and needed to refuel

The building of Britomart

 The Britomart transport centre, where I've spent many a happy hour (though not as many lately!), was named after a ship.  The feature I like best of its architectural design is its eleven 'volcanoes' that line the square outside.

They're fun to climb on.

They're peering down because the top of the volcanoes are made of glass.  They are skylights for the train platforms underground.  Here they are from below.  Occasionally when I'm de-training I see kids gamboling around up above and I grin.

A lovely smile on a Monday

He was swinging very nicely but then he had to stop

American Style

The New Zealand-style cream-based crisp flavours are less sour and more creamy than we are used to, hence the specification.

They're asleep...

...but they're still talking.  By osmosis.

Preparing for a bath...

'We have blue hair!  We have blue hair!'

"Take your moko as a friend for life."

The International Tattoo* Convention has been advertised heavily of late on my favourite morning drive-time radio station, and that has made me think to tell you about ta moko.

Ta moko is the traditional Maori art form of tattoo.  It's similar to Polynesian tatau styles, but tends to incorporate more spiral or fern shapes.  Choosing to accept ta moko is a spiritual act that visually links you with your geneology, your land, and your tribal history.  It is not to be taken lightly.  If nothing else, it's serious business just because the earnest practitioners use the traditional chisels, mallets, and pine-soot based pigment.

Ta moko designs can be placed anywhere on the body.  But by far the most striking are the facial designs.  Men typically mark their entire faces.  Women's designs are usually restricted to the lips and chin.  I think they're quite beautiful.

*That's 'TADD-oo' in the NZ accent.

 

I still notice the little differences

I thought it was about time to give you another glimpse into the small day-to-day variations from the American norm that I find noteworthy.

 A tight fit:
--You won't see many enormous SUVs (yay!), big rigs (especially like these), or many billboards.
--To my daily chagrin, the standard-issue refrigerator here is too small.  A typical family-size fridge here is like what you'd find in an upscale hotel-with-a-kitchenette in the US.
--NZers' personal space is about three inches smaller than Americans'.

Foods:
--You won't find peanut butter and chocolate candies.  You will get blank stares when describing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
--There are no free condiments.  Sometimes a cafe will give you butter or jam with your scone, if you ask.  Usually, though, that'll be 20 cents.  Asking for extra onions, or whatever, on your sandwich will get you a grudging scowl.  Same with asking for more than one napkin, or a plastic bag to carry your things.
--Anything on a bun is called a burger; this term does not only apply to ground beef patties.  The last chicken burger I bought surprised me: slivered kebab meat.

Traffic rules:
--You know how you can make a right turn on a red light in the US?  That concept doesn't exist here.  Even if it's clear, you just stay put until you're told.
--Jaywalking, although technically illegal, isn't really enforceable.  As such, people dash willy-nilly across streets amongst the cars who have the right-of-way.  And, even though there are no set fines for jaywalking, I suppose someone pays the price.  Geez, so many of these are near our house...

Retail trust:
--Not a lot of  'sidewalk sale' or parking-lot displays that require you to select your item without supervision and then bring it inside to pay.
--Prominent and densely-seeded surveillance video cameras.
--No 'take a penny, give a penny' dishes.  Well, then again, there's no pennies.
--You can return a product and get a refund if it's defective.  If you just don't like it, or you've changed your mind, well, you should have chosen more carefully.

Miscellaneous:
--You don't build up big jars of spare change.  Because of the denominations here, your change is actually useful as money.
--Much like the metric system, I find sizes of office paper to be very sensible.
--When you write a date, you write DD/MM/YY.  Wait, are they talking about the fourth of May or the fifth of April?  First of December or twelfth of January?
--Ever notice how bathroom stalls have these big gaps between the door and the wall, so that you can peek right in at the occupant?  Here, they don't!  They meet right up with no gaps!  Apparently it IS possible to line these things up!
--Light switches are upside down here.  This one is on.

I am sad because I got RAINDROPS on me

Fierce competition

Heard coming from the brothers' room, at bedtime:

I can make a funny face, see?
     I'm funnier!
No, look at this one!
     My face is so funny!
I can look funnier than you!
     Me funny!  My mouth!


...punctuated of course by peals of laughter and lots of 'Bleagh!!' sounds...


I stepped in as Funny Face Arbitrator and selected this as an excellent example of the genre.

This makes him, what, quadra-lingual?

A scenic drive

I took a spin out on Scenic Drive today in the West, on the edges of the Waitakere* Ranges.  It passes through dense rain forest full of vine-draped tree ferns unchanged since prehistoric ages.  Scenic Drive makes for a memorable trip.  The Ranges are steep, craggy, and tortuous veins of ancient lava flows, thickly blanketed in their rich, green riot. 

Building a road through them must have been no easy feat.  If you were concerned with travel efficiency and the bending of nature to human will, you would go in with a bunch of dynamite and bulldozers and engineer a level, straight-line pass through.  But if you're concerned about getting there while having an experience along the way, not to mention if you're a number-eight kind of person, then you work with the hills.  You wind the road around the ridges.  You unfurl it to follow the path of least resistance through the valleys and around the errant cones.  You sculpt a little jog to preserve the thousand-year stand of kauri pine.

Speed limits on the my drive ranged from 70 to 15, depending on the topography.  Lanes were narrow and there were no shoulders.  To say it was curvy was an understatement; I got to exercise my steering wheel's full range of motion.  Portions were on a bus route.  With a surprise around every bend, driving didn't bear too much thinking about.  Driving was just about doing. 

Despite piloting a decidedly non-performance family sedan, when I was done I felt exhilarated, as if I'd been testing out a new sports car.  And when I parked, I took a moment to stretch my tight shoulders and flex those white knuckles.

*Why-TOCK-er-ee
 

The parallels keep adding up

We went to a new Market this weekend (this one a farmer's market + French bistro) and what did we find?  Pasties!  Cornish pasties. 

We had spring vegetables in one, lentils in another, and Indian potatoes in the third.  They were not exactly like Mom used to make.  Real good though, and definitely pasty-like.  They were a nice little unexpected deja vu.
 

Dad, here's something for your big day

We love you too.