The Big Bang

http://www.thegreengoblinshideout.com/

What an eventful day it was yesterday.
To set the scene: I awoke early and went for an hour-long walk and was back home before the sun had risen.  It was rather windy, but not remarkably so. We put a couple of loads of washing on the line.   I worked all morning painting in my little outdoor studio. An odd rain (light as feathers) began to float down from an almost cloudless sky so we got the washing in again.  I think it was about 100% humidity.
  Just before one o'clock I came inside to scrounge something for lunch and that was when there came an almighty 'BANG!' - a sharp crack which seemed to emanate from everywhere in the house at once, and which was followed by a small explosion and sparks in the vicinity of the microwave.  My son emerged from his room and said "I think that was a power surge!  I heard it through my speakers and on my computer."  We went around the house checking on things.  There was a loud, ominous hum from the television, so we switched everything off and pulled all the plugs out from the walls, except the fridge, which seemed to be still going, indicating the power was amazingly still on.

The charger for the modem blew itself up.

The casualties:
James's laptop charger was smoking
His Laptop, despite showing fully charged, won't start up properly.
His stereo won't go.
The wireless modem's charger had blown itself apart (that was the kitchen fireworks). But the modem itself was, amazingly, ok, when we plugged in a spare charger.
The surge protector on the TV/DVD player/stereo/Apple TV was smoking.
The Apple TV itself is kaput.  (The TV, stereo, and DVD player are all ok).
There's no power in my studio.  (I'm not sure why this is.  I think there must be another trip fuse somewhere that I need to reset).

Everything else seems to be ok, although on showering last night, I wondered about the hot water cylinder. But there's plenty of hot water this morning.  Phew.

The reason for the excitement was that the lines to my neighbour's and my house pass through some trees (on the road verge) that my neighbour hates to trim.  In the past when the council have approached him, he has kicked up bobsy die, and claimed that as he planted them, he doesn't want them touched (his house is very close to the road and they do provide a good screen).  The wind yesterday was obviously the last straw for them.  The lining wore off the last one, they touched, and bang!  Half the road had to be blocked off in rush hour yesterday while they trimmed the trees (no choice for my neighbour) and mended the lines.

Rush hour traffic diverted for only two homes

We spent the evening looking for receipts and original boxes.

Thank goodness for insurance. It's a pity I'll be down the $250 excess, however.  I'll just have to sell an extra painting.

Blogland Revisited

Fewer Words, Less Writing

I have a pet hate.  It's when people say or write 'less' when it should be 'fewer'.
Just now a chap on Radio New Zealand National was being interviewed as to the correct way to read to pre-schoolers.  I would have thought he'd be well-versed in grammar, but no.  To cater for 3 and 4 year-olds' small attention span (taken as a 'given' - but that's another rant of mine), one of his suggestions was to 'read less words to them'.   Augghhhh!

How hard is this?  Can it be counted?  If it has an 's' or it's plural, it's 'fewer'.
If it is stuff that can't be counted, it's 'less'.

Fewer raindrops. Less rain.
Fewer bees. Less fruit.
Fewer teachers.  Less money.*
Fewer plants and animals.  Less biodiversity.
Fewer sweeties.  Less candy and less money required for dentist bills.
Fewer weeks left before exhibition.  Less time in which to paint.

Farewell Song to Blogland

Cold Day in July.

The moon is full and my heart is feeling empty

All night long this island's pleaded and cried

I always said the day that I'd leave Blogland

Would be a cold day in July.

My bags are packed and not a word is spoken

Yorkie said everything when he said goodbye yesterday.

Time moves so slow and promises get broken

On this hot morning in May

Sun's coming up, coming up fast back on my beach

Seagulls shout as they're flying up to play

Head in my hands, standing on the deck in my bare feet

Watching Blogland jungle drift away.

I said I would stay forever

I said my love would never die

It looks like the tropics and it feels like sunny weather

But it's a cold day in July.

Oh sun's coming up, shining gold on the sands of my beach

Seagulls cry as they're flying out to sea

Head in my hands, here I am standing in my bare feet

Watching you drift away

Watching you walk away.

Now the moon is full and my arms are full of suitcases

All night long I've flown in this bird and cried.

I always said that the day that I would leave you

Would be a cold day in July

Oh yeah it feels like a freezing cold day in July.

Apologies to the Dixie Chicks.

The Three Days of Motherness.

I've never really 'done' Mother's Day.  Well, that's what I tell my three kids.  But in the last few years each of them has gone to some trouble and/or expense to remember me.  How lovely it is!

This year (the day before) daughter presented me with a heavenly scented bunch of scented gorgeous whiteness.  I wish you could smell these.

A 'classical' bouquet of perfumed stocks and lilies.

 Oldest son and his partner organised for the delivery (the day after) of a huge bouquet of .... chocolates!  I wish I could offer you one.

A bouquet of star-shaped foiled chocolates

And youngest son brought me breakfast in bed on the day.  Marvelous!

Mothers

Yesterday was Mother's Day in New Zealand.

My own Mum died about sixteen years ago, and although I can call her smiling face to mind any time I wish, the pain of loss has been blunted over the years.

The reason for this is not just the passage of time (which heals all things ... except old age, a condition which creeps inexorably on) but also because of the many wonderful women in my life since her death, that have, at times, acted in the capacity of mother.

By this I mean that they were 'there' for me at certain times when I needed advice, listening to, and physically holding.

(Now, I hasten to add that there are wonderful men in my life too, who have, and continue to have this role, not least my terrific, loving and patient partner of the last two years who has had a very soggy shoulder on a number of occasions, and also tired ears!)

But being Mothers' Day, I've been thinking about all the non-mother wonderful women (and girls) who have mothered me, and I realised that I want to acknowledge them.  Here are some of them. (At least a couple are very shy and I haven't photos of them!)

Aren't they all a fantastic bunch of people?  Aren't I lucky?

Thank you, all of you. From my heart.

Dissapated

dis·si·pa·tion (ds-pshn)

n. 
1. dispersion, spreading thin, scattering
2. useless or profitless activity
3. dissolute indulgence, unrestrained indulgence in physical pleasure, esp. alcohol.
4. an amusement, a diversion.

I'm feeling stretched out and too thin... like butter spread over too much bread.*
I can't concentrate on my painting.
My children miss me.
My followers miss me.
Behind the scenes I'm starting to get expressions of confusion and inquiring emails.
In the last month, I have lost almost all of my commentators except the fiercely and probably stupidly (but wonderfully) loyal few.

No man (nor woman, presumably) is an island, even one as alluring as Blogland.
It's time I left this wonderful, but dissipated island life and went home.

Sorry YP.
Thanks for the ride.

* Bilbo Baggins