One day my prince will come. Actually he has already. Well, at least I thought he was my prince, but I now realise he was a frog all along. Anyway that is another story. One day my house will be repaired. I have no idea when this will happen and part of me doesn't want to deal with it. In fact, a big part of me. My strategy would be to run far away from all this nightmare. It has been 3 years since the first earthquake in September 2010 and if that had been the one and only things would not have seemed so bad.
But, of course we then had another more devastating earthquake in February 2012 and the damage to my house and land was a hell of a lot worse. According to my insurance company my house is a repair, not a rebuild. What a joke. My house will be lifted to replace the piles and foundations. Sounds simple, but I am on TC3 land which means the house will be lifted higher than normally required to allow the new super strong foundations and piles to be laid. My kitchen is to be dismantled and refitted, all the windows and doors are to be replaced. Then there are all the internal walls that need to be repaired as well as the exterior weatherboards. The garage and carport are to be lifted, so the concrete pads can be replaced. Well, good luck with that as they sit under a huge tree. And these are only some of the repairs that need to be done.
Logic tells me it would be more economical to rebuild, but then what do I know. I am still here, but only just. My life has been on hold for 3 years and I am wondering how much more I can take. I hate my house. I hate coming home to it and want to move on. At this time I have no idea what moving on means to me. Do I stay in Christchurch or do I move overseas as had been planned before September 2010? Do I buy another property here or do I rent? I have no answers at this time, but once my house is repaired I want to get on with living my dreams.
Saturday, October 12, 2013
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
To Soothe My Soul
Last weekend I made the opportunity to send a couple of nights away to regain some sanity and recharge the batteries. As I travelled to my destination I started thinking about the things that bring tranquillity to my mind and also refresh me. Three things came to mind and on their own they all comfort me, but put them together and I have bliss.
Reading is one of these things. I have always been a reader and libraries have been a part of my life since I was very young. Having a mother who loved words and a small library across the road my destiny was certain to include books. I am hardly ever without one just in case there is an opportunity to read a couple of pages. There have been times when the lack of a book in a car has lead me to reading the car handbook in desperation. Curling up with a book and losing myself in a whole new world is wonderful. I forget the stresses of the day and within minutes I am relaxing. Whether I am reading for pleasure or information the printed word is beautiful to me.
Listening to music is another way to help me relax. Music has always been a part of my life. Travelling in the family car always included singing with my sisters, and singing in church was always a favourite activity. Looking back I feel sorry for the extended family members who had to suffer through concerts starring my sisters and myself. When I started my own family I created a scrapbook of songs. This scrapbook travelled everywhere with us and soon my little family was continuing the tradition of singing whenever we could. I still have that scrapbook, minus it's cover, and maybe one day I will pass it on to continue the tradition. My taste in music is eclectic and my mood at the time dictates my choice. At work it can be anything from contemporary jazz to rock. Once I am plugged in the hardest part is sitting still in my chair when all I want to do is tap my foot and move in time with the music. Experience has shown me housework is best accompanied by music that makes you want to dance and played as loudly as possible (Alive, Linkin Park, The Feelers and Goo Goo Dolls are good choices). Singing along relieves tension, but should probably be practiced when one has the house to oneself. When I need time out, though, I slip away to my bedroom and play something to quieten my mind. My choice of music depends on my needs and includes opera, meditation music, the rich tones of Dean Martin, the bluesy vocal style of Janis Joplin, the haunting tones of the saxophone, etc. All those stress hormones are killed off as I slowly become cocooned by the music as it's way around the room.
Reading is one of these things. I have always been a reader and libraries have been a part of my life since I was very young. Having a mother who loved words and a small library across the road my destiny was certain to include books. I am hardly ever without one just in case there is an opportunity to read a couple of pages. There have been times when the lack of a book in a car has lead me to reading the car handbook in desperation. Curling up with a book and losing myself in a whole new world is wonderful. I forget the stresses of the day and within minutes I am relaxing. Whether I am reading for pleasure or information the printed word is beautiful to me.
And finally I find I am drawn to water as a way to calm me. Not the sound of a leaky tap, but the sound of waves, rain, streams and waterfalls are soothing. Listening to the crashing of waves on the shore while lying in bed at night is heaven. Sitting by a fire while the rain pours down steadily is comforting. Lying beside a stream and listening to bubbling of the water as it moves over the stony bottom is almost hypnotic. Water features try to imitate these sounds, but the best way to experience them is in their natural environment. Maybe it was those childhood years I spent on river banks watching my father fish that nurtured this delight in the sound of water. I really don't know. I know it quiets my mind and washes all the stress away.
So as you can imagine reading a book while listening to music with the sound of waves on the shore nearby is my idea of heaven.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Love
A little word that carries so much power, has many uses and different meanings. It has the power to make us miserable, but also the power to evoke the greatest pleasure. At times we use the word, love, loosely. For example, I tell people I love reading. Not that I like reading, but that I love it. This demonstrates the passion I feel when it comes to the written word.
When it comes to people I do not use the term loosely. I like many people, but I love only a few. However, the love I feel for each individual differs according to their relationship with me. My love for my mother and sisters is very different from the love I feel for my partner and daughters. Then again the love I feel for my daughters is different from the love I feel for their father. Maybe one of the good things about loving different people is understanding the love can be different, but just as beautiful. I remember the worry I felt when expecting my second daughter terrified that I would not love her as much as my first child. My love for daughter 1 seemed so big and perfect that surely I wouldn't have enough love for another child. I did. Love taught me that I had more than enough to go around and that I would love each daughter for who they were. My fears of loving one more than the other were nullified.
Love means different things to different people. Even our partners will experience love in a different way to that which we expect. We all have different love styles, so our experience of "being in love" must differ. For some love is based on strong sexual feelings - lots of passion and intensity. Others take a more pragmatic view of love especially when selecting a suitable mate - a decision which requires careful consideration. What about those who experience love as being out of control -they fall in love quickly, are impulsive and make rash decisions. Then there are those who see love as selfless and have an overwhelming desire to take care of their partner. Those who experience love as a game use manipulation to control their partner. Finally there are those who approach cautiously getting to know someone over time before experiencing love. Most people will experience a blend of these styles which explains why our views on love will differ.
Given these differences in love styles it is important to discuss a variety of topics before committing to a relationship. These topics can include such things as money and finance, careers, division of household responsibilities, children, relations with others and sex. Being in love is not enough to keep a relationship going. It is the base for a successful relationship, but there are emotional and life skills that are necessary for a healthy marriage. Communication being one of the most important. We need to be able to be honest in our communication and able to communicate in good times and bad. We need to be able to show our partner our appreciation for the things they do for us. We need to spend time together. Even if it means scheduling this. We need to know how our partner wants to be loved and show our love in ways they will feel loved.
"I love you" can be so easy to say, but it is our actions behind these words that matter. Love does not conquer all, but our actions do. All of us want to be loved, but first we need to love ourselves. If we don't we will never feel worthy of any one's love. And what can be a better feeling than that of being loved and of loving another.
When it comes to people I do not use the term loosely. I like many people, but I love only a few. However, the love I feel for each individual differs according to their relationship with me. My love for my mother and sisters is very different from the love I feel for my partner and daughters. Then again the love I feel for my daughters is different from the love I feel for their father. Maybe one of the good things about loving different people is understanding the love can be different, but just as beautiful. I remember the worry I felt when expecting my second daughter terrified that I would not love her as much as my first child. My love for daughter 1 seemed so big and perfect that surely I wouldn't have enough love for another child. I did. Love taught me that I had more than enough to go around and that I would love each daughter for who they were. My fears of loving one more than the other were nullified.
Love means different things to different people. Even our partners will experience love in a different way to that which we expect. We all have different love styles, so our experience of "being in love" must differ. For some love is based on strong sexual feelings - lots of passion and intensity. Others take a more pragmatic view of love especially when selecting a suitable mate - a decision which requires careful consideration. What about those who experience love as being out of control -they fall in love quickly, are impulsive and make rash decisions. Then there are those who see love as selfless and have an overwhelming desire to take care of their partner. Those who experience love as a game use manipulation to control their partner. Finally there are those who approach cautiously getting to know someone over time before experiencing love. Most people will experience a blend of these styles which explains why our views on love will differ.
"I love you" can be so easy to say, but it is our actions behind these words that matter. Love does not conquer all, but our actions do. All of us want to be loved, but first we need to love ourselves. If we don't we will never feel worthy of any one's love. And what can be a better feeling than that of being loved and of loving another.
Friday, May 31, 2013
Winter
Living in a climate where you get to experience four distinct seasons is one aspect of living in Christchurch that I love. My favourite two are autumn and spring, but they all have their beauty.
Tomorrow is the officially the first day of winter and I must say this season tends to bring out the hibernation gene in me. My instinct is to pull the covers over my head and remain in bed for the three months, but it is not a very practical solution to dealing with cold days. Instead I have decided to relish the weather this season brings.
Waking up on a cold frosty morning and running to the shower to immerse myself in hot water in an attempt to wake up. Hats, gloves, scarves and gumboots are retrieved from their summer homes. Layers of clothing are essential to keep out the chill and parts of the body that not so long ago enjoyed the summer sun are hidden from view. The crunch of the frost beneath my feet as I walk to the bus stop trying to make sure I don't slip on the uneven surface. Given that I am still waiting for the footpaths to be repaired I mostly walk on the road. This has it's own dangers as for some time my street has been a detour while waste water repairs are undertaken on neighbouring roads. Winter can also mean sheltering under an umbrella with daughter 1 as we both struggle to keep out of the rain while on our journey home. And who can resist jumping in puddles? One of my secret joys is going home after work lighting the log burner and relaxing on the couch while watching the flickering flames dancing in the fire box. There can be nothing better on a dreary wet weekend than watching the rain, through the windows, pour from the heavens while inside the fire is burning and keeping me warm. Given the state of the roads in my part of the city, post earthquake, and the fallen leaves in the gutters occasionally there is flooding, so careful navigation is required whilst driving as you try to avoid hidden potholes and wet brakes.
Daughter 2 dislikes our climate intensely, especially winter, and spends the time longing for hot summer days. However, there is one thing that make winter bearable for her and that is the possibility of snow. One of my earlier posts tells of her snow dance which has proven successful in the past (I have been known to join her in this endeavour). As a city we are not very prepared when it comes to snow, so a decent snowfall can bring the city to a halt and people asked to stay home. I, too, love the snow. Watching the flakes (or fluffies as daughter 2 calls them) fall silently to the ground is magical. The stillness of the air and the pristine layer of white that covers everything is breathtaking. You cannot resist going outside to admire the beauty of nature and how the snow blankets imperfections making the landscape an awesome sight. Deciduous trees that had been left naked by autumn are now more formally covered in white like brides waiting to walk the aisle. Of course, throwing snowballs is all part of the fun. It is not long before your gloves are soaked and at some stage numbness creeps into your fingers and you wonder if they will ever be the same again. The more energetic or resilient create snowmen/women. Drawing upon their imaginations to create the best design using all manner of props. Then it is back inside to the comfort of the fire and hot drinks feeling smug because you were brave enough to experience the chill to venture out in the first place.
Tomorrow is the officially the first day of winter and I must say this season tends to bring out the hibernation gene in me. My instinct is to pull the covers over my head and remain in bed for the three months, but it is not a very practical solution to dealing with cold days. Instead I have decided to relish the weather this season brings.
Waking up on a cold frosty morning and running to the shower to immerse myself in hot water in an attempt to wake up. Hats, gloves, scarves and gumboots are retrieved from their summer homes. Layers of clothing are essential to keep out the chill and parts of the body that not so long ago enjoyed the summer sun are hidden from view. The crunch of the frost beneath my feet as I walk to the bus stop trying to make sure I don't slip on the uneven surface. Given that I am still waiting for the footpaths to be repaired I mostly walk on the road. This has it's own dangers as for some time my street has been a detour while waste water repairs are undertaken on neighbouring roads. Winter can also mean sheltering under an umbrella with daughter 1 as we both struggle to keep out of the rain while on our journey home. And who can resist jumping in puddles? One of my secret joys is going home after work lighting the log burner and relaxing on the couch while watching the flickering flames dancing in the fire box. There can be nothing better on a dreary wet weekend than watching the rain, through the windows, pour from the heavens while inside the fire is burning and keeping me warm. Given the state of the roads in my part of the city, post earthquake, and the fallen leaves in the gutters occasionally there is flooding, so careful navigation is required whilst driving as you try to avoid hidden potholes and wet brakes.
So as I sit here, warmly toasted by the heat of the log burner, I vow to try hard not to complain about whatever the weather gods throw at me over the next three months. For each season has it's own charm and brigns with it an opportunity for new experiences.
Friday, April 26, 2013
A New Set of Wheels
I have been wanting a new set of wheels for some time and now Myrtle is a part of my life. She is not what I was expecting, but she is shiny and nearly new. I know she will be reliable and improve my quality of life when I need to use her. You see, Myrtle is a wheelchair and I finally have had to admit defeat and bring her into my world.
I have a condition called Fibromyalgia which causes muscle, tendon and ligament pain along with severe fatigue. It has been 7 years since I was diagnosed with this condition and I am lucky as it comes and goes. It wasn't that long ago that the diagnosis did not exist as doctors said it was all in the mind. There is no cure or magic medication available. Most sufferers manage the condition through exercise, rest and stress reduction. The cause is unknown, but mine appeared after severely tearing an abdominal muscle which required weeks of bed rest. http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/fibromyalgia/DS00079
Most of the time I am fine and have the odd reminder I have fibromyalgia, which I manage very well. Some people suffer so badly they are unable to work or enjoy the normal activities most people undertake. Occasionally my condition will flare and I am unable to get out of bed and sleep for hours at a time. Luckily these flares have been few and 12-18 months can pass before the next one. However, in the past month I have been unable to throw off the latest flare successfully. When it gets bad I sometimes have no warning and it is almost as if someone has flicked a switch changing me from a functioning person to someone who can barely stay conscious long enough to know what is going on around her. I have no energy and the effort to get out of bed is very nearly beyond me. The fatigue is severe, parts of my body go numb while other parts are in pain. Talking is difficult and I sometimes cannot find the right words. There are numerous systems associated with the condition, so recently I printed out a symptom list (it is a very long one)and highlighted those I could identify with. Sufferers don't always exhibit every symptom and for some the pain may be worse than the fatigue. It was a useful exercise as I was beginning to feel I was losing my mind. Now I know what I am experiencing it not abnormal for the condition.
In my case the overwhelming fatigue is hugely frustrating.. My limbs feel like they don't belong to me and my legs stop working. Sometimes I try concentrating on the idea of moving one leg in front of the other, but the exercise is pointless. Now and again the idea of acquiring a wheelchair has been discussed, but pride and embarrassment have prevented it becoming a reality. A couple of times in the past I have had to use the wheelchairs provided in shopping malls when my legs have decided to give up working mid-way through shopping, and I am reduced to a painful shuffle.
Myrtle has given me more freedom and some control over my life. When the fatigue has decreased, but I am still not back to normal activity levels I am able to venture out of the house with her aid. It means I can go to the mall or take part in other activities that would normally require being on my feet for long periods of time. I am still embarrassed when using Myrtle, but I am learning to live with her. Only a handful of people know about her existence at this point and time. However, I bumped into a work colleague yesterday, so I imagine she will happily share Myrtle's existence with others once she returns to work next week. People react in different ways when they encounter wheelchairs, but that is another story. So, Myrtle welcome to my life and although you are there for me I hope the times I have to use you are few and far between.
I have a condition called Fibromyalgia which causes muscle, tendon and ligament pain along with severe fatigue. It has been 7 years since I was diagnosed with this condition and I am lucky as it comes and goes. It wasn't that long ago that the diagnosis did not exist as doctors said it was all in the mind. There is no cure or magic medication available. Most sufferers manage the condition through exercise, rest and stress reduction. The cause is unknown, but mine appeared after severely tearing an abdominal muscle which required weeks of bed rest. http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/fibromyalgia/DS00079
Most of the time I am fine and have the odd reminder I have fibromyalgia, which I manage very well. Some people suffer so badly they are unable to work or enjoy the normal activities most people undertake. Occasionally my condition will flare and I am unable to get out of bed and sleep for hours at a time. Luckily these flares have been few and 12-18 months can pass before the next one. However, in the past month I have been unable to throw off the latest flare successfully. When it gets bad I sometimes have no warning and it is almost as if someone has flicked a switch changing me from a functioning person to someone who can barely stay conscious long enough to know what is going on around her. I have no energy and the effort to get out of bed is very nearly beyond me. The fatigue is severe, parts of my body go numb while other parts are in pain. Talking is difficult and I sometimes cannot find the right words. There are numerous systems associated with the condition, so recently I printed out a symptom list (it is a very long one)and highlighted those I could identify with. Sufferers don't always exhibit every symptom and for some the pain may be worse than the fatigue. It was a useful exercise as I was beginning to feel I was losing my mind. Now I know what I am experiencing it not abnormal for the condition.
In my case the overwhelming fatigue is hugely frustrating.. My limbs feel like they don't belong to me and my legs stop working. Sometimes I try concentrating on the idea of moving one leg in front of the other, but the exercise is pointless. Now and again the idea of acquiring a wheelchair has been discussed, but pride and embarrassment have prevented it becoming a reality. A couple of times in the past I have had to use the wheelchairs provided in shopping malls when my legs have decided to give up working mid-way through shopping, and I am reduced to a painful shuffle.
Myrtle has given me more freedom and some control over my life. When the fatigue has decreased, but I am still not back to normal activity levels I am able to venture out of the house with her aid. It means I can go to the mall or take part in other activities that would normally require being on my feet for long periods of time. I am still embarrassed when using Myrtle, but I am learning to live with her. Only a handful of people know about her existence at this point and time. However, I bumped into a work colleague yesterday, so I imagine she will happily share Myrtle's existence with others once she returns to work next week. People react in different ways when they encounter wheelchairs, but that is another story. So, Myrtle welcome to my life and although you are there for me I hope the times I have to use you are few and far between.
Sunday, April 07, 2013
Renting in Christchurch
The Government says there is no housing crisis, but there are challenges around housing in Christchurch. Rentals have increased 15-20 percent and people are living in garages, tents and cars. Can they explain why a family I know of has 14 people residing in one residence? Can they also explain why there is a family with young children, in this group, living in a tent on the property? These are middle class citizens who are unable to afford the rental prices in Christchurch. The father has a job, but the mother stays at home with her young family. They have been unable to find rental accommodation they can afford with one income. And now winter is coming.
Daughter 1 and her partner are living with me and have been for over a year. They have saved for a bond, but have been unable to find suitable accommodation within their budget. Now they are looking to share with another couple to be able to afford a decent flat. They should not have to.
I have been to a couple of viewings with them and now understand their difficulty in finding somewhere to live. I have seen earthquake damaged residences where landlords want $350-$400 per week. I have seen cracks in walls, uneven floors, mould on walls, etc. Yet, there are queues of people desperately viewing these properties in the hope of being selected. My daughter has broaden her search to include properties up to $450 per week in the hope of finding something better.
Recently one of my husbands colleagues talked about buying a property to rent out. My husband wanted to know more thinking it might be suitable for his daughter. It turns out the colleague is only interested in renting it out at $1 000 per week to those who need temporary accommodation while their home is repaired or they await a rebuild. He is one of many who wish to make money out of other's misfortune.
Workers coming to Christchurch for the rebuild have not helped the situation. I have seen them at viewings trying to find accommodation for their families. We need these people, but there is not enough accommodation to go around. What happened to the proposed villages for these workers?
My daughter currently wants to remain in Christchurch where she and her partner have good jobs. Her partner intends to return to studying next year and then they wish to go overseas. Personally, I hope they stay overseas. What does this city have to offer them? Maybe in 15 years it might be worth coming back. In the meantime leave this city for people like property investors and construction companies to make money from. Apparently the people don't matter.
Monday, March 11, 2013
One More Cat
Research tells us having pets is beneficial to your health. Petting your animal will lower you blood pressure, which can only be good for you. Dogs require exercise and give you a reason to get off the couch. Pets will love you unconditionally and listen to you talk as long as you talk. They provide companionship when you are feeling alone.
There have always been pets in my life. Sandy was our first dog and I remember her sitting, at the end of our driveway, waiting for me to get home for school. Then there was Billy the budgie, Peter the rabbit (he had been rescued when his mother became roadkill) and a pigeon who adopted us. When I married I convinced my husband we needed a cat and Wicket (as in Wicket the Ewok who lived on the forest moon of Endor) came into our lives and stayed for 18 years. Unfortunately she was not a fan of children, so spent many of those years trying to avoid them. A very sensible cat.
Shah, a Labrador Cross, soon joined our family when he was about three months old. He was gorgeous and I should have realised that those huge paws he had as a puppy would mean he would grow into a large dog. I am 5'2" and he would jump up resting his paws on my shoulders. I witnessed strangers get back in their cars when Shah appeared at the door as he looked so intimidating. What they didn't know was he had a heart of gold and was a pushover. He had lots of bark, but no bite. Although you had to watch him around the girls, when they were little, as one wag of his tail was enough to knock them over. Shah loved the girls and there was nothing they could do that would annoy him. He was one in a million.
During those years Sally and Sam the budgies joined our family as did a couple of goldfish and a couple of rabbits. Oh! And there were also the frogs. After the deaths of Wicket and Shah my husband and I declared the house a pet-free zone. It was nice - no pet hair, no trips to the vet, no poop or vomit to clean up. But somehow we slipped up and now we have Holly, a dog rescued from the dog pound, and Noah the cat. There was a second cat, but he succumbed to feline aids at a young age.
So once again my husband told each other that this time we will get it right. When these pets go to animal heaven we will definitely be pet-free. But then we met Joey. Actually Daughter 2 came across Joey first when she rescued him from a tree and he followed her all the way to her place of work. I got the phone call about this little kitten all alone in this big ugly world and what should she do. It was decided the kitten could come home, but Daughter 2 was to contact The Cat's Protection League (CPL) as he was not staying. We started well with good intentions. Yes, he was as cute as a button, but I was determined he was not going to stay. A visit to the vet confirmed he was underweight and approximately 15 weeks old. And he had fleas. Oh joy!
Daughter 2 did contact the CPL, but was told it would be 2-3 weeks before they could take him. I was not overly impressed as I knew Daughter 2 would start to get attached. I hardened my heart and made it clear he would not find permanent residence with us. My husband reinforcing this message. In fact I refused to call him by the name Daughter 2 had given him and referred to him as Kitty Kat. Over the next few weeks he managed to develop relationships with our existing pets. I was starting to get worried about all this bonding that was happening right under my nose. One day the call came for Joey to be taken to the vet to be picked up by his foster mum. Luckily I happened to be home as Daughter 2 told me she wasn't going to do it. Ignoring the frosty atmosphere I picked Joey up from my bed, where he had been sleeping, and placed him in the carrier. The trip to the vet was quick, but as I stumbled home it was hard to keep myself from crying. This little bundle of joy had wormed his way into my heart.
Over the weekend the atmosphere in the house was dreadful. It was as if a death had occurred and we were all affected. Even Noah was searching the house trying to find Joey. By Sunday night my husband and I caved deciding to try to get Joey back. Two days later I picked him up from the vet (all desexed and micro chipped). It was the most wonderful feeling to surprise my daughter with his return. He is her cat now and when she finally leaves our home he will go with her.
The last 2 years have been hard and I think Joey managed to bring a ray of light and hope into our lives. I know it sounds corny, but he makes us laugh and smile with his antics and his unconditional love. Somehow Joey was meant to be part of our lives and yes, I do call him by his name. BUT my husband and I declare for the final time - No More Pets.
There have always been pets in my life. Sandy was our first dog and I remember her sitting, at the end of our driveway, waiting for me to get home for school. Then there was Billy the budgie, Peter the rabbit (he had been rescued when his mother became roadkill) and a pigeon who adopted us. When I married I convinced my husband we needed a cat and Wicket (as in Wicket the Ewok who lived on the forest moon of Endor) came into our lives and stayed for 18 years. Unfortunately she was not a fan of children, so spent many of those years trying to avoid them. A very sensible cat.
Shah, a Labrador Cross, soon joined our family when he was about three months old. He was gorgeous and I should have realised that those huge paws he had as a puppy would mean he would grow into a large dog. I am 5'2" and he would jump up resting his paws on my shoulders. I witnessed strangers get back in their cars when Shah appeared at the door as he looked so intimidating. What they didn't know was he had a heart of gold and was a pushover. He had lots of bark, but no bite. Although you had to watch him around the girls, when they were little, as one wag of his tail was enough to knock them over. Shah loved the girls and there was nothing they could do that would annoy him. He was one in a million.
During those years Sally and Sam the budgies joined our family as did a couple of goldfish and a couple of rabbits. Oh! And there were also the frogs. After the deaths of Wicket and Shah my husband and I declared the house a pet-free zone. It was nice - no pet hair, no trips to the vet, no poop or vomit to clean up. But somehow we slipped up and now we have Holly, a dog rescued from the dog pound, and Noah the cat. There was a second cat, but he succumbed to feline aids at a young age.
So once again my husband told each other that this time we will get it right. When these pets go to animal heaven we will definitely be pet-free. But then we met Joey. Actually Daughter 2 came across Joey first when she rescued him from a tree and he followed her all the way to her place of work. I got the phone call about this little kitten all alone in this big ugly world and what should she do. It was decided the kitten could come home, but Daughter 2 was to contact The Cat's Protection League (CPL) as he was not staying. We started well with good intentions. Yes, he was as cute as a button, but I was determined he was not going to stay. A visit to the vet confirmed he was underweight and approximately 15 weeks old. And he had fleas. Oh joy!
Daughter 2 did contact the CPL, but was told it would be 2-3 weeks before they could take him. I was not overly impressed as I knew Daughter 2 would start to get attached. I hardened my heart and made it clear he would not find permanent residence with us. My husband reinforcing this message. In fact I refused to call him by the name Daughter 2 had given him and referred to him as Kitty Kat. Over the next few weeks he managed to develop relationships with our existing pets. I was starting to get worried about all this bonding that was happening right under my nose. One day the call came for Joey to be taken to the vet to be picked up by his foster mum. Luckily I happened to be home as Daughter 2 told me she wasn't going to do it. Ignoring the frosty atmosphere I picked Joey up from my bed, where he had been sleeping, and placed him in the carrier. The trip to the vet was quick, but as I stumbled home it was hard to keep myself from crying. This little bundle of joy had wormed his way into my heart.
Over the weekend the atmosphere in the house was dreadful. It was as if a death had occurred and we were all affected. Even Noah was searching the house trying to find Joey. By Sunday night my husband and I caved deciding to try to get Joey back. Two days later I picked him up from the vet (all desexed and micro chipped). It was the most wonderful feeling to surprise my daughter with his return. He is her cat now and when she finally leaves our home he will go with her.
The last 2 years have been hard and I think Joey managed to bring a ray of light and hope into our lives. I know it sounds corny, but he makes us laugh and smile with his antics and his unconditional love. Somehow Joey was meant to be part of our lives and yes, I do call him by his name. BUT my husband and I declare for the final time - No More Pets.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Demolition of Childhood Home
My childhood home has been demolished. As a result of the 22 February 2011 my mother's house was red zoned meaning it was unsuitable for residential occupation due to significant earthquake damage to the land.
Christmas 2011 was a happy, yet sad occasion as we realised we were probably celebrating our last Christmas in the family home. Mum had been in the process of redecorating and the last work to be done, prior to the earthquakes, was in the lounge. While the men installed a new window my sister and I became expert at installing batts (insulation) in the exterior walls. Then the new gib (wall lining) was installed, by the men, and the plasterer came along to add his expertise. On that last Christmas evening we realised we had a pristine canvas to work with. Our history, our feelings about growing up in the house and our thoughts about what was to come became part of the legacy my mother was to leave behind when she finally vacated the property. Over time more words were added to this canvas. I suppose it was a form of therapy for us all as we came to terms with the loss of what had been a place of happiness (well mostly) and safety.
Some people cannot relate to our feelings about this house, but it had been a home for nearly 40 years. Three daughters had grown up and left from that house to be married. Two of those daughters returned, with their families, for various lengths of time. My two children spent most of their childhood with Grandma as she was their caregiver while I worked. My grandmother, who lived with us since I was 4, died there the same year my sisters were married. My father left that house never to return when he died as the result of brain surgery. There were unhappy times and tears, but I remember the laughter and love that echoed within those walls. That is what made it a home.
Mum left that house at the end of October 2012. It was a busy day and there was little time to reflect. Even when I walked through the empty house I felt numb. Mum was not happy at all. Her new house is lovely and much better for her, but she didn't want to move. Her only happiness was knowing she would never have to deal with CERA (Canterbury Earthquake Recovery Authority) and Southern Response ever again.
On 21 February 2013 I received a call, at work, to tell me the demolition had begun. I left work and with my two daughters made my way to Breezes Road. The demolition was being carried out by a father and daughter team. They didn't mind the audience which included my mother and sister. Basing ourselves on a neighbour's deck (the house is vacant) we stayed all day to watch the house that had been a large part of our lives disappear with each movement of the excavator. According to the demolition team many come back to watch the demolition of their homes. Father and daughter had taken the time to read our words on the lounge walls and were careful during the demolition not to damage surroundings trees and garden. They even gave Mum a couple of floor joists, which are rimu, so she can have something made from the wood. The company they are contracted to will come later and sow grass seed. My mother has some wildflower seeds she will add to this.
Caught up in watching the demolition of the house I didn't really feel much emotion. There was alot of black humour to help us get through the day. The next day was the 2nd anniversary of the 2011 earthquake. I went to work and with my partner watched children from a school in the CBD throw flowers in the Avon River and participate in 1 minutes silence at 12:51pm. It was a difficult day. Daughter 2 was with my mother and sister watching the 2nd day of demolition at Breezes Road. They took a break to attend a service where they threw flowers in the Avon River, at Kerrs Reach, at 12:51pm. 22nd February will never be an ordinary day for any of us. They returned to Breezes Road to continue watching the demolition of the garage, sleepouts and shed.
It was dark before I was able to go to Breezes Road. Although I had watched the demolition the day before I was shocked when I turned the car lights on high beam to view the property. All the outbuildings had gone and the section was empty. It was then the emotion of the last couple of days hit me. This house that had been my home was no more.
Mum has still not adjusted to her new house and feels as if she is house sitting. When she talks about home she is not talking about her current home, but is referring to Breezes Road. It can be confusing and I hope with time her new house will start to feel like home.
Christmas 2011 was a happy, yet sad occasion as we realised we were probably celebrating our last Christmas in the family home. Mum had been in the process of redecorating and the last work to be done, prior to the earthquakes, was in the lounge. While the men installed a new window my sister and I became expert at installing batts (insulation) in the exterior walls. Then the new gib (wall lining) was installed, by the men, and the plasterer came along to add his expertise. On that last Christmas evening we realised we had a pristine canvas to work with. Our history, our feelings about growing up in the house and our thoughts about what was to come became part of the legacy my mother was to leave behind when she finally vacated the property. Over time more words were added to this canvas. I suppose it was a form of therapy for us all as we came to terms with the loss of what had been a place of happiness (well mostly) and safety.
Some people cannot relate to our feelings about this house, but it had been a home for nearly 40 years. Three daughters had grown up and left from that house to be married. Two of those daughters returned, with their families, for various lengths of time. My two children spent most of their childhood with Grandma as she was their caregiver while I worked. My grandmother, who lived with us since I was 4, died there the same year my sisters were married. My father left that house never to return when he died as the result of brain surgery. There were unhappy times and tears, but I remember the laughter and love that echoed within those walls. That is what made it a home.
Mum left that house at the end of October 2012. It was a busy day and there was little time to reflect. Even when I walked through the empty house I felt numb. Mum was not happy at all. Her new house is lovely and much better for her, but she didn't want to move. Her only happiness was knowing she would never have to deal with CERA (Canterbury Earthquake Recovery Authority) and Southern Response ever again.
On 21 February 2013 I received a call, at work, to tell me the demolition had begun. I left work and with my two daughters made my way to Breezes Road. The demolition was being carried out by a father and daughter team. They didn't mind the audience which included my mother and sister. Basing ourselves on a neighbour's deck (the house is vacant) we stayed all day to watch the house that had been a large part of our lives disappear with each movement of the excavator. According to the demolition team many come back to watch the demolition of their homes. Father and daughter had taken the time to read our words on the lounge walls and were careful during the demolition not to damage surroundings trees and garden. They even gave Mum a couple of floor joists, which are rimu, so she can have something made from the wood. The company they are contracted to will come later and sow grass seed. My mother has some wildflower seeds she will add to this.
Caught up in watching the demolition of the house I didn't really feel much emotion. There was alot of black humour to help us get through the day. The next day was the 2nd anniversary of the 2011 earthquake. I went to work and with my partner watched children from a school in the CBD throw flowers in the Avon River and participate in 1 minutes silence at 12:51pm. It was a difficult day. Daughter 2 was with my mother and sister watching the 2nd day of demolition at Breezes Road. They took a break to attend a service where they threw flowers in the Avon River, at Kerrs Reach, at 12:51pm. 22nd February will never be an ordinary day for any of us. They returned to Breezes Road to continue watching the demolition of the garage, sleepouts and shed.
It was dark before I was able to go to Breezes Road. Although I had watched the demolition the day before I was shocked when I turned the car lights on high beam to view the property. All the outbuildings had gone and the section was empty. It was then the emotion of the last couple of days hit me. This house that had been my home was no more.
Mum has still not adjusted to her new house and feels as if she is house sitting. When she talks about home she is not talking about her current home, but is referring to Breezes Road. It can be confusing and I hope with time her new house will start to feel like home.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Turning Fifty
N whisked me away for three nights in Hokitika. This is a small town on the west coast of the South Island. Once a thriving gold mining town and seaport, Hokitika is now the gateway to the glaciers that lie south of the township. The carving of ponamu (greenstone) has become a major industry and attracts many tourists. I love Hokitika and was thrilled to find our accommodation was across the road from the beach. It was perfect for walks, relaxing on the balcony watching the surf and listening to the waves at night.
As for the day of my actual birthday it started with a delicious breakfast at Sweethearts, a local award winning restaurant, then it was off to have a deluxe manicure before getting together with my family. When I came home a beautiful bouquet of flowers, from N, had been delivered in my absence. The best was still to come. Dinner was at The Old Vicarage where the original house dates back to 1898. But I am ahead of myself. N had arranged for a colleague to chauffeur me there in a classic 1970 Ford Fairmont. My father had owned a Ford Falcon from the same era and N thought I would enjoy a trip down memory lane. He was so right. Listening to the V8 engine it was so hard not to cry, so instead I chattered away about all the memories the car brought to the surface. Once at the The Old Vicarage I was taken to the library for the meal. This had been thoughtfully booked for the occasion. I cried then. www.theoldvicarage.co.nz
And still it was not over. For some time I had been thinking about a tattoo and one of my gifts was just that. The design was carefully worked on and looked amazing on paper. I couldn't wait for the day. D1 and her partner escorted me to the studio keen to watch me undergo the process. I am certain they both suffer from some sadistic personality disorder. However, while it wasn't painless it was not excruciating either and I managed to read my book during the three hours I was there. The result is a stunning piece of art I now proudly wear. The forget-me-nots symbolise all those I have loved and lost, but will never forget.
Turning 50 was a breeze. My family were absolutely outstanding in spoiling me and I get how much they appreciate and care for me. I am a lucky woman.
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