Tea Bagging It

Mindy has accused me of glumming up the blog with my last two posts, so I will change subjects to something lighter. Thanks to my subatomic attention span, I have moved on anyway.

As some of you know, I make an almost daily pilgrimage to a coffee house in Titirangi village called The Hardware Cafe. It has an eerie cult-like status among the locals and others who understand the place. The food is rich and satisfying, especially breakfast. A constant complaint by "outsiders" is the service, which resembles that you would get at home from a big sister. The cafe responds with typically-Titirangian indifference.

For example, some first-time patron's are put out by the loudly singing barista, who accompanies every song on the stereo. I saw one customer charge to the counter and bristle, "it is too early in the morning for Grease" -- referring of course to the wildly and undeservedly popular soundtrack.

I assimilated quickly out of sheer determination to be part of the brooding, artistic lot bend over white ceramic bowls of fluffed milk and espresso. I did silently lament the fact that the Hardware did not serve a Chai Tea Latte, but dared not express this disappointment audibly for fear of being excommunicated. However, after a particularly promiscuous weekend wherein I had relations with three or four other coffee houses, Chai-Tea-style, I absent-mindedly ordered a Chai Tea Latte at the Hardware.

A hush fell over the bar as the register attendant stared over her sharp nose and said, "'We do not serve a Chai Latte." Before panic set in I was able to quickly switch my order to a long black with a side of hot water -- an edgy and progressive adaptation of a popular drink. This order always merits esteem from coffee connoisseurs, so my faux pas went unnoticed.

My next trip in, the Euro-hip barista was working the bar alone, both taking orders and working the equipment distilling the sweet elixir. Having remembered my slip from the day before, he asked if I wanted a long black or a Chai latte. Was I being mocked? His eyes showed sincerity, rather than scorn, so I acted like I hadn't heard him. He explained that he can make a drink like Chai latte by putting a chai tea bag in a bowl of hot, frothed milk. I gave a nod of approval just as the register girl returned. He explained to her what he was making so she would know what to charge me. "Oh, its the drink that guy ordered ... What was his name? ... John?," she said. The barista gave an exaggerated wink of agreement between bars of some 80's techno revamp.

Half-joking I asked, "So, if I like it, I should order the John?" The barista's lips, that had been curled into the twisted grimace that one must assume to accompany the head bob when listening to 80's techno, grinned slightly at my weak attempt at humor. He said, "What's your name, mate?" Caught off guard I responded honestly. "We'll call it the Brandon," he said.

Since then, he has remembered my name and greeted me with my signature drink at every visit. I have yet to make the menu, but think surely it must still be at the printing shop. The drink really is better than the Chai Tea Latte that other cafes serve, which consists of frothed milk and two pumps of a "Chai" syrup that has never seen a tea leaf in its long, chemically shelf-life. Go ahead, order a Brandon or Soy Brandon at your nearest cafe today.

The funny farm

I had a work shop last week and the speaker had a hilarious story that I just have to share!

At the special school where he works there is a boy with Autism that communicates through singing. He has a song for everything--"wheels on the bus" when he gets on the bus, a color song he sings at stoplights, a flower song he sings when he passes a garden, etc. One day they went on a field trip to ride horses. The adult with him got a little side tracked with another student and when they looked up the boy that sings had gotten on one of the horses backwards and the horse started to trot away. So they got the horse and got the boy down and were trying to see if he was ok. The boys eyes were as big as plates and he was SILENT. This really freaked out the adults because the boy is never silent. So they decide to take him back to the bus to get him away from the horses to see if he would be ok. They get to the bus and he doesn't make a sound. A couple of them try to sing "wheels on the bus" but nothing. They get nervous that he is about to have a major meltdown and decide to take him back to school. The entire way they are trying to sing all of his favorite songs and he is just sitting there silent. The adults decide they had better call the school and have them ready to receive them when they arrive because they can't imagine what is going to happen when he gets out of this "shock". After 30 minutes of silence they decide they had better call and get the mom their too because the adults are about to panic with worry that he has been silent so long. So the bus arrives and everyone is tense. The doors open and mom comes on trying to be cheery and says, "Hi son, what happened to you today?" Everyone watches with great anticipation as the little boy finally looks at his mom and starts to sing "I've been through the desert on a horse with no name"

Poor kid, just couldn't think of an appropriate song! :)

I'm OK, you're OK. Right?

I went on a hike yesterday to Mt. Donald McLean, 15-minutes drive from our house. I fancied the mountain was named after the American folk singer, so I sang "Bye, bye Ms. American Pie; drove my Chevy to the levy, but the levy was dry ..." while I hiked. Come to find out, the mountain is named after some boring land commissioner, yada, yada, yada. Sometimes it is better not to ask.

The hike (called tramp by the locals) did yield breathtaking views of the ocean and, thus, great pictures (though I was unable to capture the grandeur of the place on film -- actually, digital).



My last post generated more comment out of the blogosphere that it did in it. I have received several e-mails expressing concern over my mental health -- asking whether I am depressed, etc. Maybe so, though the pharmacopoeia I ingest daily are designed to prevent such things. I have been doing more reflection and soul searching than is good for a person. My mind is a scary place and it is best not to go in there alone.

The opinions I expressed in the blog have been there for a long time, but are best kept to one's self in Texas. Such attitudes are grounds for a good old-fashioned "ass whooping" by some less-than-understanding redneck whose "granddaddy fought for the freedoms [I] enjoy in the good ole U.S. of A." -- just not the freedom of speech.

I blame the outburst on two things: (1) it was written during a bought of insomnia at 3:00 am; and (2) Kiwi's are notorious complainers and I may be picking up that cultural trait -- unfortunate though it is. Given my lifelong propensity towards petulance, that is the last thing I need.

Still, the situation in Israel does require thoughtful consideration by all, no matter your political leanings. I am going to plug another blog I frequent, whose author is in Hafia, Israel under shelling from Hezbollah right now. Also, I think these home videos from both sides are poignant: Israel Attacks, Haifa Bombed, Bombing of Bekka. These others are stark and disturbing (something you will not see on major US networks): Disturbing Photo Montage; From the Mouths of Babes.

I think it telling that Israel is calling this offensive "Operation Just Rewards" -- which seems to indicate retribution for more than Hezbollah's capture of 2 Israeli soldiers or even the shelling of Haifa.

After seeing some of the bloodshed on the internet, I wonder why our media (US and NZ) is so watered-down. If the public is going to support something it ought to be shown what it is supporting and how its tax dollars are being used, limbs and all. I hear the retorts now of "what about the children" who, wrapped in the ample bossom of Lady Liberty, ought not to see such violence. First, they already are not only seeing violence but participating in it on the Nintendo that mom and dad bought so that they wouldn't have to parent. Second, these are future voters and taxpayers. Third, what better chance for mom and dad and little Timmy to have a "teachable moment" -- psychobabble for actually parenting. I could go on ad infinitum.

What about being real about what's going on at home and abroad -- not only with our children, but with ourselves. Nothing screws a kid up more than an apple being called an orange. Worse yet: "Apple, what apple? I don't see an apple." Come to think of it these two examples seem an apt description of American foreign and domestic policy.

I wish there were a "superpower" whose diplomatic response is always "War is Bad," which it is. It is hard for the US to say this when we are fighting our own war of questionable motives and fuzzy logic. Unlike other armed conflicts that come immediately to mind, it is increasingly hard to tell the good guys from the bad.

Disjointed Rant on Israel

On Saturday, Mindy and I intentionally found ourselves in the middle of a protest against the Israeli invasion of Lebanon. In the last two years, I have found it best for my serenity to allow the social and political happenings of the world to proceed without my comment or involvement. I generally think this theory best for me, but am not sure it fulfills my human duty. God forbid everyone deal with the unpleasantries on the world scene as I do, by sticking their head in the sand.

I have found myself having an opinion of late about the continued shoddy leadership and dangerous foreign policy currently afoot in my home country. I would like to blame George W. Bush, the neo-conservatives, and the religious right for the current lack of vision, compassion and logic in both foreign n and domestic policy. However, blame must be shared by the weak and disorganized opposition at home, a large segment of the citizenry that continues to lend blind support and refuses to ask for real answers and other Western nations, afraid to go toe-to-toe against the US on important issues.

It is easy to see how the Dixie Chicks, in London at a time of increased American stupidity and rightly-deserved foreign disdain, so easily commented on their lack of support in our Commander-in-Chief. I can also see how the uneducated masses back home that have never been more than 100 miles from a Wal-Mart could not fathom making an "unpatriotic comment" on foreign soil. [Of course, they really don't want any "unpatriotic comments" made on domestic soil either.] The ability to think critically is being bred out of the American public. This seems reinforced at school, where thinking, or doing anything else, "outside the box" is grounds for discipline. Conform, survive, borrow, and accumulate -- that is the new American Dream.

The fact is that it is easier to see the folly of America's foreign policy at a distance. The news here does not play the watered-down, gutless sound bites and one-sided rationalizations for American action that the media in the US must, or else be branded unpatriotic and "liberal." In international matters, the news here tends to report the facts. [Though on domestic matters, they too side-step facts and twist stories. ] Also, the BBC is easy to find and it tends to report the actual goings-on as opposed to the "pro-America" spin that we see from the major US networks (not to mention FoxNews, the shirtless pool boy of the Neo-Conservatives and religious righties).

I remain dumbstruck that the American public does not demand an honest debate of the issues involved in the continuation and seeming escalation of the war of terror -- especially in light of the glaring folly of the War, the worldwide political fallout caused by it, the vacillating reasons given since its inception, and the very real possibility that we are being drug into yet another war in Lebanon, which 99% of the American public don't know the first thing about. Given the various offensives and defensives occurring on so many fronts, we seems hell-bent on creating our own World War III. Surely an honest debate is not too much to ask for with such weighty stakes. I don't mean the kind occurring in Washington, where the plastic puppets shriek their prepared scripts at an empty chamber. I mean a real honest-to-God debate.

Why do debates only occur at election time. I say put four to five of the key players (Bush to be included) in front of an audience of veracious, educated constituents during primetime. Bush's people would never go for it because it would show what an absolute idiot and floundering, bumbling figurehead he truly is. Why is the President immune from extemporaneous debate once elected? There are those that say he is subjected to such a going-over by the White House Press Corps, but is he really? These people are either his friends or else that are disinvited to the slumber party. If one of these press officials really called the leadership on the carpet and exposed just how inept our President is (especially without a talking head nearby), he would be evicted from the Press Corp. and, as such, lose his job. Why would he ask the "tough question?" Lobbed softballs are much safer. I want Tony Snow and George W. Bush to dread going into the White House Press Room. I want them to get nauseated and maybe even throw-up a little at the thought of being grilled and having to defend every minute facet of the administration's rationale. That is a free press and that is democracy.

Islamists are again the target of George W. Bush's "War on Terror." No wonder so many Islamists hate the United States. They have earned the right by putting up with its single-minded, often bigoted and always short-sighted bullying. I note that the US is rushing a shipment of laser-guided bombs to Israel for its use against Hezbollah -- or rather against the Lebanese Army and Lebanese civilians, which seem to be dying in equal measure to Hezbollah at the hands of the Israeli army. Once again the US is supplying weapons to a nation without the faintest idea how they will be used. Hell, they might be used against US troops, just as the arms we supplied to the USSR, Iran, and Iraq have been. Israel does not have the best human rights record, especially on its western and southern fronts (West Bank and Gaza), where the surplus of our arms shipments will likely be put to use.

Bush and his cronies have said repeatedly that Israel has the right to protect itself. It seems that this "right" does not apply to Lebanon. One of the pre-invasion exit strategies that Israel is proposing (at least it has one) would have a "Free Zone" cleared along the border to be secured from Hezbollah by the Lebanese Army. It is clear this strategy is being advanced solely to curry political favor with the West, especially the US. If Israel really wanted an alliance with the Lebanese Army against Hezbollah, it would not be bombing the hell out of Lebanese Army, destroying its ability to occupy a "free zone" or to resist Hezbollah.

I have seen no mention of UN Resolution 425 and the fact that it is once again being violated. We've been through this before in 1978 and it took 22 years to resolve. Does the American public really have the stamina?

Lest we wonder why Bush supports Israel, we need look no further than his support base: the evangelical Christian. Evangelical Christians support Israel for a number of fallacious reasons, not the least of which, I'm sure, is the hope that they will be able to convert Israeli Jews into Christians. Evangelical Christians have weighed in on the recent conflict and sent "lobbyists" to Washington, with one clear message: God wants us to support Israel. One of the most vocal Christian supporters of Israel is Rev. John Hagee of the Cornerstone Church in San Antonio, Texas. It would be interesting to know how much Rev. Hagee and his congregants have contributed to George W. Bush, the Republican Party and local Republican candidates. Bush has sold his soul to the religious zealots on the right and is now being used in their most un-Christian campaigns both at home and abroad.

All in a day (by Mindy)

We had the most interesting day today. We started out at the Tititrangi Art Festival. It had several pieces that we loved, but we are holding out for those five dollar Auction bargains. On a side note, we found one this week, along with fake tulips that light up! Anyway, after the art festival we went into New Lynn to catch the train downtown for a movie. At one of the stops there were three hoodlums waiting...for a train, I suppose. One of them was on the ground with blood covering his hand and face. As people got off he yelled things out at them and then attempted to get up but he was so drunk or high (or both) he stumbled about and nearly fell onto the tracks but one of his mates grabbed him and pushed him towards a bench. They thought it was hilarious. Everyone else looked appalled and a little scared. After reaching our stop we walked about a block and noticed a protest, so we went to check it out. There was a man standing on an awning of the US Consulate shouting things and working the crowd. The police were turning up about the time we did and asked them to move to the side of the building because the throng of people were gathering in the street and blocking traffic. We followed the group around to the alley (at this point we were still unclear of what they were protesting) and noticed lots of anti-American statements written on the sidewalk and figured out that they were chanting "Free Palestine". About the time we made it around the corner the police had arrested someone and the crowd was going crazy, chanting "let her go" and when the police would try to push them away or say anything they would change and start chanting "shame, shame, shame". A few policeman started showing up in riot gear. We worked our way into the crowd to get a better look and got close enough that we were nearly hit with a shoe the person getting arrested flung off trying to get away! At this point the police hooked arms and started pushing us all back so they could haul off the person getting arrested. It was very exciting! We decided they were protesting the US involvement in backing Israel's attack on Palestine. After our protest we continued on our way to the movie. We were a bit early so we decided to go find some coffee. We passed a church were a Japanese wedding was about to take place so we stopped to enjoy all of the festivities. There was an older woman dressed in a beautiful kimono. I can't imagine how long it took her to get everything tied and folded so perfectly (and Brandon thinks I take too long getting ready!). Then the bride got out of the car and had the most beautiful silver shoes and a smart enough photographer to take a picture of them up close! Her dress was a traditional wedding-type dress, and was also very gorgeous. We supposed the family had money since the wedding was taking place at a beautiful church in downtown Auckland. Just as we were about to continue on our way some of the grooms family appeared. I am going to guess that they are English because of they way they were dressed--it reminded me of the mom on "Bridget Jones' Diary". The lady looked to be in her 60's and had her hair curled under in thick pieces with these crazy feathers stuck in on one side that fanned out and flopped a bit as she walked. It was all very entertaining. We finally made it to the movie, which was the "Sasquatch Dumpling Gang". It is written and directed by the same guy that did "Napoleon Dynamite". It was very funny. For all of you Napoleon lovers out there you will enjoy this one, too, so keep an eye out for it. We made it home without any further excitement, but I think that was enough for one day, anyway.

Deficit Living

I have found it unfortunate but true that the best of whatever – be it books, music, foods, etc. – is the hardest to find. So it is with the book I am currently reading – The New Revised Hard Times Handbook by Keith and Irene Smith.

In searching the internet (including the Amazon.com behemoth), I have been unable to find a method by which I could tell you to buy, or scarcely even a mention of the book. But buy it you should; especially, if you were born and raised in the United States like me. Growing up in the United States, one learns by absorption that the world is his oyster and he has but to wrench it open, pilfer the pearl, slurp the delicate center, and discard the shell. The New Revised Hard Times Handbook challenges this notion with straightforward commentary and practical advice.

Sad though it may be, the rest of the world views the United States very differently than it views itself – and rather differently than it views the way the rest of the world views it. Worse still, we don't care. It is a commonly-held belief by outsiders looking in, that the United States is the bastion of waste, greed, and overindulgence. We are frequently, and deservingly, mocked for our rampant obesity. Even so, only an American can appreciate just how wasteful, greedy, and overindulgent our culture is. For most outside the culture, it would defy comprehension.

In part voluntarily and in part forced, I have begun to deprogram myself – with the objective of becoming more frugal and self-sufficient. I have come to understand that life must necessarily be about more than working to survive and surviving to work. To quote the book:

Life has become too complicated. We feel the goal should be to lead a healthy, satisfying and happy life, rather than to strive for wealth. We need to slow down, live more simply and improve the quality of our lives.

Speaking as someone who bought the myth, the “American Dream,” in its current form, is tepid and hollow. Having attained the goals I set for myself and enviable employment to boot, the smell in my nostrils was not the “sweet smell of success,” but was acrid and gut retching. The obtaining only increased the wanting. I had become the rampant consumer my culture had bred me to be.

Fast-forward to the present. Following our bliss half-way around the world has meant that, at present, we are surviving on my wife’s salary as I search the dark places within, knocking on doors and clanging at pipes, to determine if a writer, artist, philosopher or something else that I can put a name to hides inside. Feeling the need to contribute to our financial security in some way, I have turned energies toward conservation, production, and frugality, and found the same to be surprisingly satisfying. Hence the book mentioned above.

At the outset, I thought that the book would be too radical for all but a few old hippie, Earth Mother types living life disconnected from reality. I have found that the principles in the book are practical, timeless and connected with deeply-rooted (perhaps instinctual) values.

The basis of the principles in the book is the “Frugality Theory,” which states, “live below your means whatever they may be.” This includes making a conscious decision to:

1. Separate your needs from your wants;

2. Know when you have enough; and

3. Become as self-reliant as possible.

One of the principles is not to buy anything ready made if you can make it. Applying this principle, I am making meals that are healthy with ingredients that are identifiable. I am making whole meal bread that requires the use of your teeth, not that part on the roof of your mouth just behind your incisors.

I joke with my wife at mealtime that she will see the same thing again, though perhaps in a different form, but this is true. Last week’s produce becomes this week’s soup or muffins. Yesterday’s meat and vegetable scraps are frozen to make stock for future use. Soda bottles become decorative vinegar and oil decanters. Plastic crocks become candle molds. We have reduced our weekly output of rubbish to one small bag.

We are buying far more groceries, but eating out less. We are buying all our clothes and household items second-hand. We are using less energy and petrol, by considering how and why it is used. In general we are making a smaller footprint on this world of ours.

Perhaps it took moving to a place with just a little less to help separate needs and wants. Perhaps I have flipped my gourd and become the barefooted, tree-hugging Kumbaya singer mom always wished for. But it seems to my small brain that if we continue to consume more than we produce (in our homes, in our communities and in the world at large) there will be shortages and/or deficits until resources are exhausted or change is forced.

Birthday celebrations

I finally did it! I figured out how to get people to celebrate my birthday for days--now you know the real reason we moved to New Zealand :) I had a very good New Zealand birthday (despite having to go to work). Brandon baked a delicious meal of Orange Chicken and rice for dinner and chocolate cupcakes. He surpised me with a framed photo of our babies! I have it sitting on my desk at work and people can't help but ooh and ahh over their cuteness. My US birthday brought my first NZ paycheck and several early phone calls. It seems my sweet, dear husband told well-wishers to call me b/f work, which he thought was around noon Texas time, but is actually 5 am here. So thanks to all those who left messages-I don't wake up till 7! Actually my entire birthday week has been good. Yesterday we finally found a tv and today I received a phone call telling me my boots could be picked up tomorrow. So another birthday month has come and gone and we can pack away the party hats once more :) I included pictures of all the really important stuff--the food!

My Bridge Over Troubled Water

I have had another instance of amazing coincidence, which is just another way of saying God consciousness. I have a time of prayer and meditation at the beginning of the day. Sometimes, I listen to music from my Ipod during this time. This morning, my Ipod was in the car Mindy took to work. Hers was left here. So I plugged it into the speakers and pushed "Play."

About ten minutes into my prayer time, I was asking for God's guidance and for clarity of vision (a common prayer for me). Fleetwood Mac's "Silver Springs" had just finished. In that brief moment between songs, I was concurrently filled with tranquility and God-consciousness. My attention turned to the Ipod just as Johnny Cash's recent version of "Bridge Over Troubled Water" began. The clarity of the moment, the words of the song, and the sound of Johnny Cash's voice combined to create a God-presence that almost made me sob.

If God spoke with a human voice (which I am sure he does frequently), I am sure it would sound like Johnny Cash's. I am reprinting the words to "Bridge Over Troubled Water" below, as I learned this morning that it is a terribly appropriate description of my concept of God. I had never thought of the relationship described in the song as God-man. I had always assumed it was man-man or man-woman. Paul Simon is a brillant lyricist, but I always thought he was a little fruity. Mia culpa.

Here are the words:

When you' re weary feeling small
When tears are in your eyes I'll dry them all
I'm on your side oh when times get rough
And friends just can t be found
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down

When you re down and out
When you re on the street
When evening falls so hard
I will comfort you ooh
I'll take your part oh when darkness comes
And pain is all around
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down

Sail on silver girl
Sail on by
Your time has come to shine
All your dreams are on their way
See how they shine
Oh if you need a friend
I'm sailing right behind
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind

It is near-impossible to convey a moment such as this in words, but I hope that you have your own moments of certain God-consciousness.

[By the way, if you have the audio, that haunting female voice is Fionna Apple.]

It's a Small World After All ... A Small, Small World

It seems as though I moved half-way around the world to see a movie about the place I grew up, and just left.

As previous posts note, the Auckland International Film Festival is on this month with fifty-some films featured over the two week festival at three downtown venues. The centerpiece of the festival will be a screening of "The Wind," a silent film, with accompaniment by the Auckland Philharmonic Orchestra. Unlike the other movies brought the festival by our benevolent communications monopoly and patron of the arts, Telecom, this movie will only be show once. [Maybe because it could serve to unsettle the audience by making them recall Auckland's 15 hour power outage last month, which Telecom has blamed on, you guessed it, the wind.] This shit is true -- I am not creative enough to make it up.



The Wind is appearantly about the endless West Texas wind and was adapted from the novel of the same name written by Emily Dorothy Scarborough about the period of time her family lived in Sweetwater, Texas. I can personally attest to the maddening effect of the West Texas wind. If it were not for tightly-sealed windows and modern conveniences creating artifical environments both in our buildings and in our vehicles, I would have gone mad long ago. My behavior on the rare occasions that I allowed myself to stay in the wind for any length of time assures me that, if I were an early settler in the horse-and-buggy days, I would have faced the gallows.

Of note, Ms. Scarborough's family is repleat with lawyers. According to UT's Handbook of Texas Online, Ms. Scarborough's father and brother were lawyers. Having lived in Sweetwater only 5 years (maybe the wind drove them out), the family moved to Waco and was appearantly very influential at Baylor University.

When I practiced law in Abilene, Texas (just 50 miles from the town upon which Ms. Scarborough based her book), the city had a long history of lawyers named Scarborough being capable and well-respected members of the local bar. I do not know if the Scarborough I practiced law with in Abilene is any relation to Emily Dorothy Scarborough, but those that read this blog may know.

Forget All Your Cares and Go DOWNTOWN ...

It is late Wednesday morning, and we are having trouble getting anything done around here because of the steady rain tapping on our roof is lulling us into wanting to curl up in bed with our books. However, since it's Wednesday we have the auction calling out to us and are trying to ignore the coziness of such a perfectly rainy day. This really has nothing to do with what I wanted to write about it is just a mean poke to all of you in the hot, dry Texas heat. ;)

What I want to tell you about is the fabulous day we had yesterday. We walked into the village and had our morning coffee at the cafe before catching the bus to New Lynn. In New Lynn we switched and caught the train to downtown, which was free thanks to an older gentleman who was taking tickets not wanting to mess with breaking a $20 dollar bill. We strolled downtown making our way to the movie theater to watch Pirates 2 for my birthday. We discovered that this theater has what they called "Gold Class Seating" so went to check it out. Gold class seating is shown in a theater that has 30 reclining, over-stuffed Lazy boy chairs and where you can place orders for food and beverage and have it served to you. After discovering that the Gold class ticket office was its own concierge desk with full bar attached, we decided that we could probably not afford it. Indeed, tickets cost $35.00 each, but that did include popcorn and drink. Since we have plans to see several movies this week at the Auckland Film Festival we decided to skip the fancy seating for another day. Since we had to wait to see the movie with the common folk we had time to kill. The mall where the theater was located was a strange mixture of futuristic space station and fun house. It had multiple floors that were attached with crazy crooked bridges, escalators, and spiral staircase enclosed in pink neon lights. We found the food court after walking through a slanted staircase. We dined on some delicious sushi and made our way to a gigantic Borders book store. It was made up of at least 5 levels and included a coffee bar and balcony. We only had time to explore about half of it before having to go to the movie. Pirates 2 is considered a blockbuster and so you have to pay the full price of 15.00 a ticket AND has allocated seating. Not understanding the allocated seating we showed up very early to get a good seat only to be shown to the seats on our ticket. I did at least appreciate that they had 4 staff members working to help people find their allocated seats, and the huge theater was sold out. The movie was excellent and I highly recommend it. I also recommend that you watch the previous Pirates first because they do make a few jokes based on the first that are hilarious if you remember that particular scene. You do not need to see the first one to understand the plot, just to better enjoy a few jokes. After the movie we perused another mall and strolled back to the train station. While waiting for the bus in New Lynn we dined at our favorite Indian spot "Ali Baba's Kababs". The counter is between two sconces with dancing fake cloth fires (we pretend they are real and do not acknowledge the fan and lighting effects that are required to make the cloth "flames" dance and look like real flames). With our bellies full we caught the bus back to the village. Our walk home was brilliantly lit with a full moon that you almost need to wear sunglasses to protect your eyes.

Ode to Cade

"Shall I compare thee to boot of leather?
Thou art more kind and more cuddly"

Those of you who have had the pleasure of meeting my former office-mate Cade will appreciate this article in the Texas Bar Journal about him. [For those of you who are new to the blogosphrere, you will just click on the blue word "article" above to get there.]




This article has made me miss my friend Cade very much. It is an accurate picture of a day in the life of a West Texas lawyer. It is a life that Cade seems made for and one which I am happy I experienced (note: past tense).

This is called Lion Rock, can you see it?
 

Today we went to Piha Beach. It is about 20 minutes from us and supposedly a great surfing beach. The waves did look wild, maybe I'll learn how to surf! We climbed all over the rocks and found some amazing sights and more interesting sea-life. I can only post 4 pics at a time so that is why there are several sections.



Danger is my middle name :) Don't worry, Brandon called me back and would let me go no further than that! [Brandon -- Environmental destruction of delicate areas is her middle name.]


 

Piha Beach

 

Around Tititrangi

This is the Titirangi market. We are counting the days until the next one!
This is a view of the mainstreat in Titirangi. The building on the left has a drama theater, art museum, and incredible bakery that is all-natural (organic and glutin free--no idea how to spell that!)

My favorite veiw from the road that we take from the village to home. The sun has been setting about the time I have gotten home from work so when I pass this spot the bay is purple, pink, blue and orange--incredible!


Another beach scene phote I think looks really cool.

 

Around the house

Here are some of the latest pics around the house:
The cute door mat Brandon found




Some of the fruits and vegies from market day

Our teeny-tiny washer and dryer and just above the mirror is the wonderful heater that makes this the all purpose room. We have a better picture of the room I'll post later.


Proof of what a wonderful house-husband Brandon has become!
 

More pics of the tramping trail

 

Tramping trail

The other day on our walk to town we found a tramping trail that leads to the beach. Yesterday we checked it out and here some of the pictures. It is a beautiful little trail with with a babbling brooke that follows close by down multiple little waterfalls. .





I jogged up the mountain to town and then down through this little path to the beach--I think I'm going to get very spoiled with such breathtaking (excuse the pun!) running paths. :) 

Beach Scenes

Here are some of the long-awaited beach pictures:First, is one of my favorites--it made me feel close to home. We watched as a John Deer tractor lumbered its way down to the water's edge, hooked onto a boat that had just landed and pulled it up to the shore. And we thought that only Texas had red-necks!

.
I loved the color of the pier, and it just happens to be the color I'm doing in the bathroom, so it worked out lovely that I was walking with an up-and-coming photographer.

This is one of the crazy starfish we spoke of in an earlier blog. There were millions of them all over, ranging from the size of my thumbnail to just a bit larger than this one.

In this picture, my up-and-coming photographer was capturing how the beach was so rocky and full of shells. It sounded like we were walking over shattered glass and we felt terrible for the damage we were causing to the shells (and some, still very alive, shellfish). We quickly lit onto the rocks and made a game out of leaping down the shore from stone to stone