In which we find ourselves in another part of the world
The stereotypical New Zealand hamburger has way too much stuff on it… imagine an American burger with the usual trimmings and add a fried egg, a beet slice, and an odd chutney or two.
But it’s also a land of very very simple sandwiches… as in this example from the take-away cabinet at a cafe we stopped in on the way down to Palmerston North last weekend.
Tl;dr version : We won!!
My second year as a member of the Chanticleer Cup team came to a successful conclusion last weekend as the Auckland squad trounced our evil Wellington rivals over two days of fierce pétanque to bring the trophy home.
I felt quite pleased to make the team this year, and I got a lot of good coaching out of it, particularly from a couple of the more experienced players.
Maybe more importantly, I got to know some of my teammates … who will be rivals at the next tournament we all enter… better through all the time we spent training and traveling down to Palmerston North. Having a closer connection to these pétanque friends makes the whole thing more fun.
One could write a much longer story about all the experiences we had, but, well, not that interesting unless you were there. For instance, it was cold down there on the prairie, so some of us warmed the boules in hot water for an hour or so before going out to play. There was some debate over whether that was clever or a sign of softness. Whatever… it felt nice and we won. There must be a dozen more tidbits like that. And of course recounting the action could take as long as doing it in real life… the drama, the close calls! Ken Burns himself couldn’t hope to capture it all in one of his puny 40-hour films.
But regardless of how much I spare you the details, trust me that it was altogether a fun weekend and something I’d probably do again next year… unless I’ve shifted my focus to an even bigger tournament…
During recent cleaning these couch pillows got piled on a chair… finally a spot that’s almost soft and comfy enough for Her Highness.
That’s our neighbours’ cat Coco, who we hadn’t seen in quite a while. We think Misty has well and truly put the other local cats in their place. Coco’s house has been getting a big remodel lately, so maybe the roof is the only place she could escape for some peace and quiet.
On a recent trip to Wellington I found myself at a meeting in a hotel conference room. Hardly surprising… that’s pretty much what I do on work trips. One of the guest speakers gestured out the window behind him and said that his first NZ forebear is buried in the cemetery there. I’m always up for a good graveyard, so the next morning on my constitutional walk I visited the site.
It’s a beautiful spot, just a couple of blocks from Parliament, with a nice brochure from which you can learn about various historical figures. Several of the important colonial figures are buried there, names that are familiar to me because most NZ towns have a street or park or both named after these men.
The story of how the site was cut in half in the 1960s to put in the motorway was interesting, and the commitment of the Wellingtonians to preserve the history of the place was impressive.
It’s probably not on many of the Wellington must-see lists, but the beauty and the (very accessible) history lesson make Bolton Street Cemetery well worth a visit.
I was very happy to be steered into buying this shirt by an eager thrift store volunteer. My first ever Hugo Boss.
I wore it for the first time at a work function last night. Imagine my surprise to see my former colleague with exactly the same shirt.
I didn’t ask if he bought it new or not, but I don’t think he’s a thrift store kind of guy. So I felt a little smug all evening.
Before last Saturday’s swim several of us stood around and took pictures of the wonderfully calm water and beautiful sunrise.
By the time I went to post mine to our group chat, there were already several more or less identical shots. I’ve posted variations on the same theme here several times.
So, I cropped and filtered to make this one a little different.
Today, Rangitoto island is a fun day trip on the ferry, where you can hike through the jungle to peer down into the crater. But when the first Polynesian explorers got to the area, it was a smoking, smoldering and scary place… a little local Mordor, more or less.
I admire the great artist, or at least the real artist, who can take a thing and then present it, so that a viewer can overlay any emotional state onto that thing. Put a hat on a Weimaraner? Somehow that’s completely relatable. Misty cathedral? Exactly encapsulates my own feelings about the Big Questions. Man on the street looking into the distance? Why, he must feel just like I felt that one time!
Without for a second putting myself in that class of storyteller, I’ll say that these bungalow kitties have become my muse of the moment. And today, since at my level of photo artistry an explanation is still needed, I’ll explain that the kitties are sad cause they can’t go inside.
Today, I was especially excited about my morning swim. It’s the first day of my new membership at the Birkenhead pool that I have been visiting on a pay-as-you-go basis the last few weeks. But when I got to the pool, it was closed… not enough lifeguards showed up this morning. And so my excitement turned to sadness… just like the kitties.
We’re getting close to national elections, and the contest is pretty hot (at least by New Zealand standards). The party in power, Labour, wants to stay in power, and they’ve rolled out a bunch of tax breaks and benefits and policies designed to show how well they are taking care of us all. They’re also tacking hard to the middle… trying to show us that they’re not actually going to do the things that they have notionally stood for over the past hundred years or so. For example, they’ve already ruled out a capital gains tax and rolled out a really weak plan for better control of commercial fishing. The other guys, National, are telling us that all the current policies have failed, and the country is dangerously close to sinking into the ocean under the weight of all the terrible things the current government either has or hasn’t done. Both major parties are turning off their base voters, so the minor parties are picking up support in the polls. One of the little guys will almost certainly get to play kingmaker since neither of the main parties will win a majority.
Not enough lifeguards at 6 AM on a Tuesday morning is obviously a small thing, but it does feel symptomatic of a larger problem. I notice it mostly in city services, like canceled buses. There just aren’t enough people willing to do the work at the price that the city is willing to pay them. Raise wages? Allow in more immigrants from cheaper countries? Just give up on these public services and expect people to get their transportation, recreation, and so on from the private sector? All valid options, but all with costs of their own.
I don’t think that either party has a particular lock on what to do, and luckily, they are relatively small problems. But the next few months, and the next three years of whatever government ends up in power, will be interesting, at least.
So, the pool’s closed, and the cats are still waiting for their breakfast. I turned around, came home, and rode my bike on the patio. Not what I was planning, but it turned out fine. Here’s hoping the bigger stuff sorts itself out just as easily.
Clearly the feline switch policy of Birkenhead CAT, which I thought I understood, is more complex than I realized. I will continue to monitor and report.
Yesterday I published a post about a cat sitting outside last Tuesday and Thursday. You can read it here.
The post was meant in a tongue in cheek fashion, but the words used could be seen as disparaging to both the cat (“baleful”) and the homeowners (“slackers”).
Clearly the Birkenhead Central Aesthetics Team read my post and decided changes were needed! Today I walked by the same house only to see that the cat has been replaced by a new one, who presumably scored higher on “cute kitty” in focus group testing.
On the one hand I’m very impressed with CAT’s efficiency. But I hope the other kitty drew a nice next assignment, maybe in a NYC penthouse with lots of gold accents and the occasional classified document to scratch on.
Lee and I put on our pink shirts and went to see Barbie last night. We went to the closest theater, the Bridgeway, which does a mix of Hollywood blockbusters and artsy film festival fare.
And even last night, as the queue for Barbie lengthened out the door, a young woman sat somewhat forlornly at a table set up for will-call tickets to the International Film Festival. Her eyes flicked over our rosy attire and I think she didn’t see us again.
One thing I’m snobby about is education and a certain cultural tone that goes with it… I think people should do — and enjoy — learned things, and especially I feel I should do and enjoy those things. One should lift one’s nose just a bit, and choose The Atlantic over Cosmopolitan. And whatever the film equivalent of that analogy (I think that might even be an example of synecdoche, but I’ll let you decide) might be.
So Barbie? No way. At least when I go to Marvel comics movies I’m tapping into my own boyhood memories… but neither of us has any known affinity for the doll.
But we went because everyone else is and because the smart reviewers we listen to gave us permission… And here’s the thing: it was a really really good movie. I was moved to tears multiple times, even as I catalogued the clichés. Like a few other of the best directors in their various genres of film, Greta Gerwig seems to have just nailed this one. Because she got me and Lee, but she also got the four VERY sparkly 9-year-olds next to us whose moms brought them. And, as far as I could tell, everyone else.
Above, Exhibit A: last Tuesday morning, the front door of an especially pretty bungalow I walk past on the way to the pool. The especially beautiful pussycat was managing to look baleful and resigned to their lot. Sort of how I would describe Melania Trump’s expression.
And below, Exhibit B: Thursday morning. The bird of paradise has opened up a bit, but the well-presented slackers who look after this kitty still haven’t seen fit to let their highness in for breakfast at dawn when they were quite obviously ready for it.
Sigh, life just isn’t fair sometimes.
With or without a wetsuit, I’m coooollllldddd when I get out of an ocean swim in winter. Sometimes we have access to hot showers at the Mairangi Bay Surf Lifesaving Club, but mostly not. One of the other guys in the group turned me on to the solution on the right a couple years ago. Fill up a milk jug with hot tap water and wrap that into your towel. When you get out of the water, switch to a lid with some holes punched in it, and presto, it’s a hot shower.
But let’s be honest, it lacks a certain James Bond cool factor.
Thanks to the magic of targeted advertising, Lee was presented with the solution on the left the other day. And presto, a gift was born. You fill it up with hot tap water, pump the handle to create some air pressure, and presto again, it’s a shower. Very stylish.
I’m now the envy of all my friends, but luckily the new gadget holds more than twice as much as the milk jug, so I can afford to be generous with my good fortune.
Later in the week we got another hailstorm. Wow! Another month till spring.
Misty has been a bit moody the last couple of weeks. After strewing the laundry around, she settled in on a blanket that she recently appropriated.
In this picture, she was hanging around the office (and bike storage room) one day being a pest, something she doesn’t normally do. I gave her my swim towel/poncho and that made everything ok.
Brattleboro Adventure – the Auckland Edition 