s e v e n i s a j o u r n e y

Friday:
Sylvia’s Jazz Age themed birthday party. Woo fun. I wore the brown & copper dress that Judith and I made for our duet (and that I wore to Bill’s Oscars party), with the headpiece and other accessories. Stephen, for lack of anything approaching a suit, wore his martial arts jacket and the ginormous chinese basketry hat that Bill got me a billion years ago when we actually lived somewhere there was a Chinatown, and carried (and held over me for the first, oh, 20 minutes or so the painted parasol I got at the Manukau fair) and came as my own personal coolie. We had to explain to everyone what a “coolie” was. The hat was a big hit (someone, I think it was Phil, said, “Wow, you never know what Stephen’s gonna turn up in next !”).

There was a mix of home-cobbled outfits like ours, rented flapper dresses, etc. Most of the men were in fedoras & one was clever enough to bring along a violin case. Hee. Hillary wore this gorgeous bias-cut blue satin gown she’d whipped up two days before — I’ll have to see if I can get pics off someone. It had a plunge back and two big train-gores (she called them “Spinakers. They make me go faster !”), and was all kinds of funky.

Saturday:
As Stephen mentioned, we swung up through Paraparaumu & picked up Beverley’s niece(?) Helene, the chick with the home-tanning hobby. The show was good fun — the wide variety of plants at the various nursery booths sent me into enough ferret shock that we didn’t go home with any. Got a bag full of fejoas, though, and more organic apples than 5 people could reasonably be expected to eat in a week. I wonder if we could try oven-drying some ? Yummy apple rings…

Met some really neat people from the Tree-Croppers association, the Grasslands Association, and the Regional Council. As Stephen mentioned, we scrooched the *sweetest* 11 month old Murray Grey bull (he licked me ! Hee !). The Highland Cattle guy that we chatted with at the last Field Days we went to was there. Helene grilled him about the fabulous pelt they had on display & we learned that feeding a white bull carrots will turn him *peach*. Also learned that there are a couple of women up north of Auckland who are setting up a farm park & may have some extra yaks to sell. (Oooooh!)

Side note: This guy went to GREAT PAINS to explain how the two women — one of whom, we are told, is widowed & the other of whose husband “ran off” — got into business together, because he didn’t want us to think there was anything “funny” there. Because, you know, we wouldn’t want to buy yaks from LESBIANS. LESBIANISM is contagious, you know, and we wouldn’t want to buy what might be LESBIAN YAKS, would we ? They wouldn’t breed well. Or something. Who knows. I asked him (with what I have had described as my “Are you on crack ? Are you speaking English ?” look) why the heck we should care. Anyway, gotta look these gals up & ask them about their lesbian yaks.

Sunday:
Sunday was my birthday. After the bleak horror of last year’s birthday, and given that May seems to be a common month for birthdays on this side of the planet (see Friday), I didn’t want to try and do anything too socially strenuous, so I picked something I wanted to do and just invited some people along. We went horseback riding. Stephen asked Yvonne for advice & Stephen and I and a handful of others ended up in Ohariu valley on a 4 hour coastal trek. Gorgeous, gorgeous scenery. Lovely ride, too, and we only got drizzled on a little bit.

Stephen got put on a big-boned Clyde cross named “Hercules” — nicknamed “Mouse”, because “he’s afraid of everything”. Just what you want in a trail horse ! He was fine, though, and, usefuly, he was best friends with Melanie’s horse & since Melanie was a bit nervous, it meant Stephen could use him to keep her horse calm & happy. Melanie & Sybille were also on big Clyde crosses, as was Patrick (more about him later). I got a standardbred (to judge by the freeze brand) pacer(!). I’ve never ridden a pacing horse before & it was *wacky*, let me tell you. Pretty smooth, actually, except when it tried to trot instead & that was like riding one of those bouncy rubber ball toys with the horse head, only made of concrete. Hillary got this pretty little appy mare (I say “got” — what happened was they looked at the two of us & said “this one can get stroppy”, I pointed mutely at Hillary, and she took pity on me) who looked like she had powdered sugar dusted on her butt. Because she was a appaloosa, she had whites around her eyes, which meant you could tell where she was looking, which was kind of strange. Stephanie got a lazy chestnut with an apparent deep affection for the back end of one of the grays (kept scratching his head on its tail).

Why is it that the one person who sticks up his hand, says he’s a beginner, and asks for an easy horse ends up with the problem beast ? Poor Patrick’s horse sat down and tried to roll with him still on board, then tried to scrape him off in half the bushes on the trail back.

So, a four hour ride. Stephen and I limped around the house for the rest of the evening moaning, “My ass ! My Ass !” But hey, how often can you leave several of your friends in agony and have them thank you for it ?

Monday:
Today, I got into work and found my desk and chair covered in toilet paper, glitter, silly string, and sticky notes. All of my moveable equipment (phone, mouse, headphones) was duct taped to the ceiling. This was, of course, in part because I had to work late Friday on the refresh, and they had to wait — drinking — for me to leave before they could get started. Aiie.

They also took me out for coffee (tea, in my case). Oi.

So, last night we finally got around to watching “Bowling for Columbine.” Really quite interesting, especially the discussions of cultural differences (or lack there of) and homicide deaths. Specificaly talking about Canada where there are lots of guns in private hands but the per-capita gun-death rate is about 1/10th that of the USA. Interesting (and no easy answers).

I did find the “living in fear” bit fascinating, especially when Michael Moore walked around Toronto testing a theory- yes, most of the doors were unlocked. In the city no less. Tam and I had to smile, as we have gotten in the habit of leaving the doors unlocked. Sometimes for days on end. During the sumer we would forget to close them at night some days!

I think I am now understanding a bit more of the American psyche (and it helps getting some outside perspective). When you are afraid (the Black Man down the street, the Rag-Heads in some foreign land, the Godless Commies- whatever) then your actions, no matter how crazy, become “self-defense.” And anything is justified if you are defending yourself, your loved ones, your home, right? It is interesting to note that by the NZ gun code there is NEVER a good reason for shooting another human being, even if you claim self-defense. A firearm is always considered excessive and dangerous force.

So, are your doors locked? And is that making you safer or not? Interesting question. But enough gloom and doom. Now for some Fun Stuff.

Went to a farm show (Small Farmer Field Days) in Otaki on Saturday. On the way there we bought Chainsaw Chaps and an EZ-Pull (fencing appliance) at the Farmlands. At the show I got a good demonstration on how to properly tie high-tensile steel wire. We looked at some small-to-medium size cow breeds (Murray Grey, Dexter, Highland), and Tamara is trying to convince me that Cows are not in fact furry minions of Satan. I am not yet convinced. We went up to the show with Helen, who afterwards loaned us two Timms Traps. Tonight I go out and set the traps, and I will see if we have anything by morning. Should be interesting! Helen is keen on making more tanned Possum skins, so if we catch ‘em, she wants em. Time to ge tthe chest freezer in the garage going!