Tuesday, January 25, 2011

You have got to be farking kidding me

So - praising Wellington airport?  I fucking take it back.  Air New Zealand are sick.

Filthy sick.

They cancelled our flight from Welly to Rotorua at the time of boarding call.  I whipped out my cell to ring Mum and Dad who were driving out from Ohope (over the hill from Whakatane, usually its just easier to say Whakatane - no one knows Ohope.) luckily they had only gotten to the end of the spit, they turned around and we all trooped off to find our bags.

Found the bag - and then saw the dog dumped in a random corner.  Lovely.  Picked him up and trooped up to the second floor to find the info desk.  At this point the dog had been in the cage 4 hours and was starting to fuss - fair enough.

The (admittedly, lovely) woman at the info desk was setting people up with motel rooms and booking them on flights in the morning.  I of course felt the need to point out my wee (non-human) doggy, at which point I got a blank look.  "Yeah", I said.  "I *do* have a dog, no food for him, he's been in the cage for an age and no motel in Wellington is going to let him in".  So we check every other flight option, with finally the only one being to fly up to Auckland in 40 minutes and then bus back down to Rotorua.  Having no funds, no food and no options, I re-checked my bag, re-relinquished my wee poodle and fought the crowds onto another plane.

In my spoiltness I am quite used to flying during the week - lovely quite and reserved business men and women, alcohol and cheese and a wee bit of relaxing.  Not on weekends - screaming kids, no drinks, and myself in a dark, filthy mood.

We got up to Auckland after 8, last flight and everything was shutting.  Everyone was given 5 minutes to run to McDonald's for kai, I grabbed some water out of the vending machine and took the dog outside.  6 hours in his crate I figured he would oblige me by pissing all over the show - not a drop.

I have never been so disappointed in my life.

We all piled into 2 shuttles and set off in the pouring rain to head back down to Rotorua.  Come up to the bloody North Island for some bloody sun and what so I get?  Bloody tropical cyclone.  Luckily I had a couple of scones in my purse (new experimental recipe.  Yes, I have been playing about with scones lately, these ones were for Mum to try - they never made it past Tirau.) so Jabber and I munched on them and marveled at the heavy rain.

Got into Rotorua about midnight and then the drive back up to Whakatane - got in to the house at about 2 in the morning.  Not a happy camper.

It rained for 2 days and today has been dry - but still overcast.  Hopefully tomorrow the clouds will break apart.  We went in to town for Dentist and to take photos of the flooding on Monday (heavy rain plus King Tide - fun times for coastal towns) at the wharf, got some impressive shots.  I have never seen it so high in all my life.  And par to course the dunes are shorter than they were last time I was up.  This whole bloody spit is going to be reclaimed by the ocean one day.

Had a good chat with the tooth fairy about Dunedin and once he knew what I did he bothered to go into the specifics behind the shit going down in my mouth - interesting stuff.  Need two wee fillings on symmetrical teeth, first fillings ever, which isn't bloody bad for an old woman of 25.  (perfect vision and near perfect teeth, the only good physical gene shuffle I got).

So that's the holiday so far - I have finished one book and sewed most of one dress.  One day left and then down to Palmy for the wedding event of the year. 

I'm exhausted already.

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Wild at something

I am at Wellington airport kicking my heels, Trouble is in some warehouse somewhere awaiting out next plane and probably issuing such a fuss they have shot him full of tranq.

I wish.

Two planes up, Dunedin to Christchurch and then Chch to Welly - both flights so far the wee darling was accompanied in the hold with a small terrier, they had a competition to see who could bark the loudest, for longest, and with the most frequency.  The terrier won, but I would like to think Trouble would trounce him in everything else.

Like...being naughty.

Two good things about Wellington airport, no - three.

One - I can no longer hear the dogs barking (*that* was an embarrassing flight.  "Oh gee, who would put dogs on a plane - its just so cruel".  Yeah lady - that would be me, and the little shit is loving it - able to bark as much as he wants without me telling him off? Plus every baggage handler thinking he is just 'Soo cute aren't you sweetheart?".  Lies!  Doggy bliss.).

Two - free Internet.  How else would I pass my time.  Plus I look cool and important with my Laptop out all working on *work* and stuff...yeah.

Three - Wishbone.  Good stuff.  I had a salad.  A salad people.  Dad is cooking me up a steak for when I get in - and I say 'cooking' loosely - I like it bloody.


The past couple of weeks have been rough.  I never would have thought I would become one of those people (you know, 100% of the PhD population, who all begin by saying "I never would have thought I would become one of those people...") who come to hate, hate their work.  My three years are up in half a month and I find myself hating my project, hating my supervisor, hating my lab, hating Dunedin, hating all the people around me.

I am exhausted, I have not had a holiday since 2 weeks at Christmas 2009, and I have itchy bloody feet.

So begins my break.  I have two weeks from now, separated by a wedding, to start loving my work again.  It will happen.  I say I hate everything but it lacks conviction - the only thing I'm truly hating on is my project and that only needs 2 weeks to get over.  Then I'm all about the finishing baby.  And a change in scenery.  And new people.  And new adventure.

None of this is helped along by the sister and her newly minted fiance booking flights to London for April.  And they have marketable skills - can walk into a job and money in Europe with no worries.  Jealous much?!

Yes, I have issues.

So - two blissful weeks stretch before me.  Sleep and sun (oh god - sun!  something Dunedin has been sorely lacking) and saving some money and good (parent supplied) food and beach and sun and family and sun.

And I am still in Wellington airport.  Have seen our next plane - a wee cloud hopper up to Rotorua.  Which means the walls are even thinner and the dog song will be even louder.

Did I mention I was a wee bit tired?  My mind is all over the place.  For example - this song is in my head.  You get points (you know what for) if you know straight away where it is from.
I miss old people (old as in 'having gone', not 'old in years', though I miss some of those too.) and want things I do not have.  Nostalgia and tiredness are very, very bad.

Honestly - go do some work, you are just distracting me from my own crazy.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

New piccies on Flickr

New camera, new uploads!

My current favs:
Book heart


Harry Tongue


Doctor flatmate cut fresh herbs for dinner and found an unexpected guest.

He was huge - at least 3 cm wide at the shell.  Obviously eating well in the herb garden.  I transferred him to my silver beet (I hate silver beet).

Love the Lumix

I'm loving my new camera.  Have you noticed the increase in awesomeness of the most recent photos?!

Trouble and Logan are loving it too - see, little posers:

New Year of Make

Ignoring recent aging events, I have been sewing again - made a couple of headbands for the crazy, marathon running, book writing flatmate, and two new skirts.

The head bands are just a length of enclosed elastic with a box band for the top of the head.  Second one I made shown below.  10 points to Slytherin if you can spot the issue in the second picture which lead to my unpicking the bastard.  Got far too confident after the first one turned out perfectly first go.  I hate unpicking.

I made several skirts before Christmas, focusing on pleats and skills.  Every now and again I visit the local fabric warehouse and wander round in circles till I see something that inspires me.  I am anti-sewing pattern - in sewing like in cooking, and just went nuts with the shears and pins.

This was the first.

Those are paisley skulls.  Beautiful skulls. (ignore the lack of iron use, I am not my mother).  Simple, small, spaced, right hand pleats, waist band and of about knee length.

My sewing creativity sparked, I wanted to try box pleats and had seen this fabric on the clearance table - tropical birds meet nuclear explosion.  I love it, this is one of my favs - combined with a bright pink top it just screams "SM has entered the room people!".  Not sure if that is a good thing...

Eager to discover my limits with pleats I found this beautiful gypsy drill - I figured old school retro curtain fabric was going to be so in in 2011.  Fully tripled in circumference via butting neighbouring pleats, this one turned out a bit short - I will sew a band of green drill around the bottom I think.  At some stage.

Yesterday, in my recent old age, I tried a new technique - ignoring pleats I went for the circle of fabric, think poodle skirt.  Having found this fabric on the clearance table - how could I not?!  Robots people, robots.  (and to show how perfect coincidence is - Roro got me Robot earrings for my birthday - how perfect is that?!).  Also - please note how beautifully ironed the two next skirts are.  Turns out, in my old age, I am my mother.

These skirts are slightly longer - covering the knee, and very swirly.  Dare I say it - very princess.  (you know every princess wishes to wear a Robot skirt.).  Quite a bit more work to make, over 4 metres (Four.  Metres.) of fabric to sew the base band on - and then hem the bastard.  (I love it.)

I love the cacky, puce green of this floral fabric, and the forest band brings it out beautifully.  I stupidly hemmed in white thread, which I cannot work out if I regret or not - I like the contrast, but I think there is enough contrast in the skirt already.  I will think on it - but most likely my hate of unpicking will overwhelm my desire to have green hemming thread.

So this summer - I am skirt girl.  I think being 100 seasons old causes some kind of brain hemorrhage - there is no way in hell I would have worn skirts in my youth let alone last year.  And yet, I'm loving this shit.  Perhaps because I have made them how I want them, not some bulk factory in China.  Who knows.

What I do know, however, is that I am on the look out for more geeky science fabric - think of the opportunities people!

Gerroff my lawn you punk kids!

It's open season on Cat breeding ladies and gentlemen - I am now 25.  Get your Kits and Toms and let them have at it. 

My rocking chair is primed and ready to go, I have the angry disposition down pat, but unfortunately - only one cat to throw at the neighbourhood unruly youths.  One cat just isn't enough.  And don't get me started on the let-down that is my vicious, killer poodle, Trouble wouldn't hurt a fly.

We saw in the New Year (and my Birthday, 100 seasons.  Urgh.) with gin, wine, Jagermeister and little umbrellas.

And now I am old.  Good day to you sir.