Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Bothering to bother

I used to get so annoyed at people's dramas and issues, that at some point in my life I thought, "Bugger that, I can't be bothered anymore."

In recent times though, I have come to realise how wrong my attitude was.

Don't get me wrong, it still annoys the hell out of me when I think I can clearly read a situation, and someone who is in it can't. What has changed though is that I know that my view is only one view. At times, I still think that my conclusion is best based on all that I know, but I've also come to accept that (shocking as the revelation was) I don't know everything, do I?

These days I am glad that when people that are close to me have issues, it bothers me. Because it still means that I care. And although in a lot of cases I can't change the situation and I can't change how those people will respond to it, what I can definitely change is my response. Making sure that what is bothering me is the situation and not something within myself, and then making sure that if I do need reach out to help, that I do it with love.

Friday, December 23, 2011

I'm Feeling It!

Holy guacamole, Christmas is only 2 SLEEPS AWAY!

Finally being on leave from work really does change the mood of the season.

Tonight, the man and I just laxed out and watched a DVD together. It's been a very long time since that last happened. What good fun. Mind you, two fobs watching 'Rise of the Planet of the Apes', you can just imagine it can't you? Of course, we were going for the apes. Lol! Go Caesar! Make ai a Draco.

But enough about the ape japes.

The answer to "Doesn't it feel like Christmas?" is "Heeeell yea!"

Bring it.

Buzz Off

You know what is kinda killing my Christmas buzz? People that owed me money and promised it paid in full months ago. The last "promise" was last week, when the debtors received a bulk holiday payment that they insisted had the debt budgeted in.

What happened? A part payment showed up in my account. No communication, no consideration, just less money.

It's not really the money itself that is causing me grief, it is having to deal with constant disappointment and getting lied to and fobbed off.

When the people concerned asked for the favour they provided fervent and solemn promises in return. We'll definitely have the amount X by date Blah. Ok, something has come up, it will be in Y weeks time. Oh, I just bought some tissues lined with silver. My cat needed a colony of rats for entertainment. I unexpectedly bought some fancy things for myself. The excuse list is endless.

But it's not the excuses that piss me off. It's the general lack of any sort of consideration. Why do I have to chase my money? Like I'm some kind of finance company sucking them dry with interest and charges. Because I'm not. These people are in the inner circle of people you are supposed to trust and respect. But how can you respect someone who treats you like crap?

Are fancy gifts and shiny things really more important than respect, love and integrity? It seems to be. How sad.

Monday, December 19, 2011


I decided to let the photos (and captions) speak for themselves.

Gingerbread  - first attempt

Stir it up

Rollin', rollin', rollin'

Taste test. From the look on her face, it's a pass.


Telecom Christmas "tree" (our view from a quick drive-by)

Laughs and bean bag fun under the Telecom tree

Cosier hanging-under-the-tree time at home.
And yes, it is plastic. (D'oh)

The orange tree with butterflies at Southern Cross Restaurant,
where we had our life group Christmas dinner

Daycare party

All made up for their performance of the 12 Days of Christmas  - Kiwi edition
Her part was "6 pois a-twirling"
(that's why she had Maori style face paint ... lol)
Evil evil rum balls and caramel slice

Friday, December 16, 2011

Ding Dong Merrily On High

In the true spirit of Christmas, I give to you all a gift. I am a cheapskate, so don't get your hopes up - I did not buy anything.

This gift is just a hint. If you find yourself ChristmasTree-less at Christmas, and have some decorations or lights, grab your man and ...

...voila! DIY tree! (Kiwi mate)

[Try to blink, ma solo le faua]

Jingle all the way

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Kids, don't try this at home

I fell off the exercise wagon a week ago, mostly due to a "medical problem" (if you know what it is, ssshhh).

So yesterday, to make up for it yesterday I thought I would try something new and challenging. I sought advice from the man on some of the stuff he's been doing with his training team. Twenty reps of this and that. I thought, this should be ok, 20 is not a big number. And squats? Pfft. I squat on a semi-regular basis to...well, you know, everyone squats.

So I psyched up, and got into it, all the while thinking that I looked something like this:

Me, at the start of my exercise session

Then reality hit. Doing twenty lunges is not as easy as eating twenty pies (not that I've tried...ahem). By the end of it, my legs were jelly, and that was just the beginning. Today I woke up feeling sore in muscles that I doubt I have ever used all my life. To get from our lounge to the garage, there are 2 flights of stairs to take. Oh the pain. Sitting down at church - pain. Standing up to sing - pain. Climbing up the stairs, going down the stairs, even sitting on the loo - pain, pain, pain.

If I looked like how I feel, it would be like this:

Hobbling to get coffee after the Lunge-Session-of-Doom.
The sunnies are to hide from the paparazzi.
 I take it back now. I do not want to challenge myself to be super-athletic. I prefer to eat grass (note, eat not smoke) and leaves, while lounging back on the couch exercising my fingers on the buttons of the TV remote control.

Saturday, December 10, 2011

Procrastinator's Christmas

This post was initially titled 'A Procrastinator's Guide to Christmas.' But in keeping true with the theme of procrastination, I put off writing it so long, that it has just become a rushed jumble of my experience as an example of what not to do.

In a previous post, I mentioned this Christmas is going to be the first that our little family get to spend by ourselves...just the 3 of us. I was so excited, I started making big plans. Lyla and I would bake gingerbread and tarts, we would decorate the house beautifully, and we would get a real pine Christmas tree.

Fast forward a couple of months, and the tree is yet to arrive. Ha! I said "arrive" like we'd already ordered it. When in actual fact, we have been putting it off, become lazy or distracted, and now it's a couple of weeks before Christmas and our living room is still tree-less. Right this moment, it's slightly more than tree-less, it's a bombsite. So while the little one is still napping, I shall whip the house into tree-ready shape. Then we will set up the tree, decorate it, and stare at it in awe. The end to justify the means.

Deck the lounge with clothes and rubbish.
The "before" state of the living room.

Monday, December 5, 2011

Beautiful Dangerous

Featuring on our Christmas menu this year is a dish that is loved in the islands. Can I even call this a "dish"? All that is required to cook it is to chuck it in a big pot with water and boil the heck out of it.

Presenting ... (drumroll) ... povi masima!

Povi masima.
Killing islanders since ages ago.
 For the non-Samoans (and wannabe non-Samoans, ha!) it's basically salted beef brisket. And I don't mean salted as in "just add a pinch of salt there" or even "make sure it's well seasoned". It's more like "oh crap, did I just dump the whole bucket of salt on that beef" salty. I'm not sure if it's the salt that's the killer or the juicy globs of yummylicious fat around the edge of the meat. Drool. That's what the Samoans are doing right now as they read this.

On Christmas day, when I eat this with my umu kalo, I will pretend I hadn't read this earlier today on some NZ diabetes website:
Povi-masima, corned brisket marinated in salt, is a food that increases the risk of obesity and diabetes for many Pacific people. It is fatty and literally thick with salt and many people eat it every day as well as on special occasions.
Povi-masima is not seen in any country outside the Pacific and it is not good for our health. The government needs to stop butchers producing this food that plays a role in making our people sick, or at least limit the amount of salt and fat that is allowed in each bin.

We don't eat it every day. Well, if we could afford it we would. But we can't, so we don't. The government needs to stop butchers producing this food? Eh. The government needs to stop cigarette companies from making cancer sticks. Leave my povi masima alone! Mmmmmerry Christmas!

Sunday, December 4, 2011

Baubles and bull

As the kiddo loves to constantly remind me, "It's Christmas time!"

How could I not know? The Christmas advertisements started long before the Wellington weather showed any sign of summer. Christmas candy and toy displays were jam packed into the supermarket as soon as Halloween passed. It's now such a mission to do something simple like grocery shopping without the kid seeing something with Santa / Rudolph / Christmas trees etc and wanting to buy it.

I have already told her there is no such thing as Santa, but I don't think she believes me. How can I be telling the truth, when he has a picture everywhere you go and the ads on the radio and TV start off with "Ho, ho, ho!" If that is not Santa, then who is it? How do you explain to a 3 year old that the whole world is in on it?

I may be sounding slightly (just slightly) grinch-like at this stage. It's not that I don't like Christmas. I love Christmas. I love sharing the love with family and friends, the feasts, the carols, Christmas church service.

But I hate the bullcrap. Getting mailbox circular spam, the pressure to buy gifts, send cards, and do things a certain way. And the way that people go ape-mad in shopping malls. Never mind the Christmas spirit, push and shove your way to that hair straightener that's 60% off! Retail employees can work up to midnight for most of December, to cater for the people out that are busy from the moment they wake up until 11:30pm.

But like I said, I love Christmas. It's a special time of year. It's a special person that we remember and celebrate. It's special people that we share this time with. Exciting and memorable times to be had. Looking forward to it.

Monday, November 21, 2011


Q: You know the one look that I just can't rock? (Ok, so maybe there's more than one, but this is one that I don't think I will ever ever channel).

A: The pulou loku, the hats that are worn by women in Samoan churches. Like this one:

Those hats fascinate me (laugh). I'm sure there must be some kind of religious significance to them. It can't be "cultural", else MENA's fall collection would have a whole range (that I still wouldn't be able to afford).

I recall wearing a similar hat only once. It was during my initiation (is that what it's called?) into the EFKS church as a tween. A lovely lady at church had plonked it on my head as I walked up to the stage with my (gasp) hatless head. I felt like a tree had sprouted out the top of my head. You know that feeling when something feels so unnatural, no matter how hard you try to go with the flow? That's what I felt like. And it wasn't because it was an ugly hat, and most if not all the women in the church at that time were "hatted". I felt like "OMG is everyone staring at this thing on my head?" And of course they weren't, I mean the guys at the back had had their eyes closed hungover and sleeping praying, and the Sunday School teachers were patrolling the children's aisles with sticks / brooms.

To this day it baffles me. And to this day I have never ever worn a hat to church again. Now that I've been living in NZ for a good ten years (eek, has it been that long?), when I see those hats I think of the races or some other type of party-like (possibly boozy) shindig. Also, I think my head is a bit too wide, and I don't have anything to wear that would go with a hat! Maybe I just need to own it, you know? Make it work.

I hope that no hats, fascinators or hat-wearing church-attending ladies were hurt by this post. My goal is not to offend, and if someone out there actually knows why people wear hats to church, I would be interested to know.

Monday, November 14, 2011


Warning: This post contains bad grammar and rude language that will most likely offend and may cause vomiting. Read with caution.

I'm on a bit of a dictionary buzz (in case you couldn't tell). Here are my definitions for a few slang terms/spelling offenses I have seen young folks use on social networking sites.

baby; usually used in reference to an infant child or a gal pal (female friend)
Usage: Waju doin bebe?

a female dog; also used to refer to an unsavoury female character
Usage: OMG she is such a bij!

believe (to be used by those allergic to the letter "E")
Usage: I gant biliv she said that.

can't; can not
Usage: (Refer to biliv above)

church; a place of worship (where there is hopefully fervent praying for forgiveness for such horrendous language sins)
Usage: Me and my bebe are getting ready for jurj.

muj luv
much love. (seriously, if you have any love for humanity, you would stop writing/typing muj luv)
Usage: Muj luv to my gurls, mwah mwah.

a big juicy lip kissy sound, used to convey affection
Usage: (Refer to muj luv above)

Oh My [insert any word starting with G], for example "goofiness", "goodness", "golfballs", etc; used to express disbelief
Usage: (Refer to bij above)

short form of "What are you up to?"; to be used by those who have either lost both thumbs in a shark/dog attack or labour employment accident, or those who have severe ADD (to the point where they lack the mental capability to concentrate on stringing a six word sentence together)
Usage: up2?

What The [insert any word starting with F], for example "fridge", "fudge", "froglegs", etc; used to express complete and utter bewilderment
Usage: WTF is wrong these kids and their spelling???!!

I may regret asking this, but do you have any "favourites" that I've missed out on? *puke*

Saturday, November 12, 2011

Money dictionary

Here is how I, a born-and-bred Samoan now living in New Zealand, understand some terms associated with money, based on my own personal experiences.

This usually occurs due to an event outside the immediate family that requires financial input, also known as a faalavelave. Examples are: funerals, weddings, grandparents' birthdays, unveilings, church openings, milestone birthdays. In this context, no gain or return is expected when the money is given.

Nearly the same as "giving" money to an individual family member, except there is usually some kind of agreement regarding repayment. More often than not though, the loanee's commitment to payment lasts as long as the loaned money in their hand. Something usually comes up that takes higher priority than your payment and you, being the loving understanding family member, are expected to take the forgiveness path, and hopefully before the next need of a loan.

This one is a bit of a toughie. I think I define this differently from other family members (and maybe Samoans in general).
1. If I can afford something, I have enough finances available or to spare after any existing financial obligations. In that context, I can't really afford much. I can afford to live comfortably, and by that I mean pay the bills and debts, fuel the car, and feed the family, but not much else after that.
2. There is another understanding (out there, somewhere) that being able to afford something is being able to raise the finances to do something. Based on that idea, I can afford to go to Samoa for Christmas, and spend a good amount on holiday feasts and generous gifts. I can stop by a Fiji resort on the way for a little RnR. Or maybe I can pay for the next funeral/wedding/birthday myself. Who knew it would be such a bad thing to be in the good books of credit companies?
The two do get confused though, and at times I wonder if I get mistaken for being a Scrooge, but for the record I am not sitting on pots of gold. If you must look at my income, then please also consider my outgoings. Why do I have only one pair of working pants that's taking a hammering? (So much so that Lyla looked at the seams and asked out loud in public "Mummy, what's wrong with your pants? I think it's breaking!") Because I can't afford to buy another.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011


It has been about a month since my last post. There was no particular reason for the fast...except laziness. That's a valid reason.

Anyway yesterday afternoon, I promised a dedicated blog fan (ha!) to post an entry within 24 hours. I am fast approaching that deadline, and am now where I work best...adrenaline-pumped at the 11th hour, and working (ok, blogging) at twice the speed I usually do. I did seriously contemplate not blogging. But last night at our life group study, one of the Bible verses we studied was about letting your "Yes" mean "Yes". Note to self: Don't say yes.

So taking it slow on my blog return, I'll do one up-one down. One good thing and one bad about the past 4 weeks.

One Up
Our little family - the man, the kid and I - have decided to spend our first Christmas at home by ourselves, instead of travelling to Auckland (to my family) or to Samoa (to the man's family). This was a bit of a down, because we will miss the gigantic extended family gatherings that we're accustomed to, along with a lot of noise, not enough space, and way too much food. Instead, we'll be decorating our home (first time!), planning our own Christmas meals and activities, and possibly starting our own family traditions. It's exciting times. I think what really nails this as an "up" is the massive financial saving. Lol! Time to get our own copy of the Boney M and Mariah Carey Christmas albums. Ooooh yea...

One Down
Two words - toilet training. How on earth do you toilet train a child? What is more confusing is how I don't know the answer to this, being the eldest of 7 children. Anyhow, the kid is now "of age" to be toilet trained, but she's not co-operating. I've asked friends how they did it and they shrug and say "Dunno, daycare trained them." Maybe I should get their daycare to call my kid's daycare, because they have a strange notion that I somehow have to be involved in the whole process. What? Isn't that what I pay you for? It seems not. Now I will have to read articles / books and parenting forums, for tips on toilet, sorry, that PC term is toilet "learning" because it's about the child taking the lead and blah blah snore snore snore. Help.

Friday, October 14, 2011

Where The Heart Is

In the (weird little) movie "Where The Heart Is" a pregnant Natalie Portman says of her bump "You hear that? That little bom-bom-bom? That's where the heart is."

What if the heart, or at least a small part of it, is somewhere else. Somewhere far away?

The past several weeks, I have been feeling an overwhelming sense of homesickness. Samoa is calling me. I am guessing that it was triggered by the whole World Cup hype. Watching Samoans coming together to celebrate and cheer on their team, I felt myself bursting with pride. But at the same time I felt so far away from "our people". Now I know there are plenty of Samoans in Wellington, but from what I could see, it wasn't really visible in town. (And besides, I'm antisocial, so I'm not exactly going to go LOOKING for this community that I yearn for) So I continued to go to work (no Samoans) and to church (one other Samoan...woohoo!) Home was the only place where I felt a sense of belonging. Home and online.

My craving for Samoan food, which is a normal thing for me, only intensified from the usuals (faalifu kalo, pa'u mu, panipopo) to the really intense only-in-Samoa type dishes (vaisu, alili, makamalu, limu, faalifu ufi, and that yummy dessert made of mashed ulu and a kind of coconut cream based syrup).

I reminded myself of the things I would miss about New Zealand. My income. The climate. The road code. People that follow the road code. My church. The food (yum char!). Comfort. Affordable broadband. Privacy. Did I mention my income?

I reminded myself of things I hated about Samoa. The sweat. The pefu. Flies. Mosquitoes. A whole new/different set of working standards. The politics. The constant faalavelave's. Everyone commenting on how fat I am ... especially the fatties.

And then there was the small fact that I have never actually lived in Samoa as an adult (which even I still find a bit shocking), having left the country at the age of seventeen.

But my logical analysis does not seem to have any effect on what seems to be a matter of the heart. I want to go home. I feel like I'm in that illogical state that one is in when they are "in love". You may be able to see the logic, the arguments for and against what you want, and despite it all, your heart will not give in.

Is this my RWC patriotism in overload? Is this just what happens when people get old? I don't know. All I know is, I want to go home.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

RWC Confessions

With all the hype around the Rugby World Cup, I thought it would be the perfect time to make some rugby confessions. Actually they're not all that dramatic, so I'll rename that list:

3 Rugby Things You Didn't Know About Me And Probably Couldn't Care Less About

1. I thought the way the RWC song (the "World In Union" one?) was performed during the opening ceremony was ... lame. I apologise if you're reading this and you're the chick that sang it or whoever put the music together, or if you're a friend or relative. I don't mean this as a personal insult, and unfortunately your relation to them does not influence my opinion on the musical arrangement. I always thought of that song as a dramatic and inspirational sounding song, not a poppy lip synched one. I guess South Africa spoiled it for me. If you disagree, feel free to try and convince me, because I have recorded the opening ceremony but can't bring myself to watch that part again.

2. I don't think Dan Carter is all the field. And I mean in the looks department, just to clarify! I don't deny that on the field he deserves to be drooled over by all the SKY commentators. But in the looks department ... I don't see it. (GASP! Oh no you DIDN'T!). Oh yes I did. It's such a burden, to have this complete disregard for all those Dan Carter undie ads. And that little boy face of his. Don't get me wrong, I don't think he is "ugly". Far from it. But when I see Dan Carter, all I can see is "that really talented first-five that comes from my beloved Canterbury." The end.
[starts ducking all the eggs that female readers are throwing at me]

And last but not least, the nail in my RWC coffin...

3. I don't support the All Blacks. That's putting in "nicely". I have never liked the All Blacks. I guess I've always been one for the underdogs, and I guess that's something the All Blacks can't help. Living in New Zealand has only made my dislike grow. I don't understand how the best rugby team in the world can't win the world cup. Apart from the so-called "food poisoning" incident. I mean, people say Eliota Fuimaono-Sapolu is a crybaby for what he said about having only 3 days of rest before "that Wales game", and yet here you find a whole nation that can not shut up about their team getting "poisoned" in South Africa, causing them to lose the World Cup final. How many years ago was that again? How many world cup tournaments ago? Then you have all non-Cantabrians calling Richie a "cheat" during Super Rugby and NPC tournaments, and then he dons the black jersey and exhibits his same "cheating" ways and the nation grovel at his feet. I could go on, but I won't. I do value my permanent residence permit.

Deception. Disgrace. Exile - what could happen to me,
should the AB's not win the RWC

So there you have it. Feel free to stone (with words only). I'm interested to hear what you have to say. (Well, I'm also a bit bored now that I've vowed to log on to Facebook only once a day for a few minutes in protest of its stupid new layout and security issues).

Crazy little thing called love

"When love calls, how sudden the fall
 But falling's the easiest part"
- Bic Runga

The love of a nation for a rugby team. Love that causes a massive outbreak of some unknown illness in Samoa, resulting in an all-time high record of people staying home, and the more serious cases referred to New Zealand ... to Hamilton, to be precise. You know of what I speak.

Manu Samoa played against Wales, in a match we all hoped, prayed, wished, and (let's be honest) assumed they would win. It was not to be. We played well. Wales played better.

Social networking sites exploded with blame, accusations, and rants of a hurting people. The following day was a Monday. I was unable to take sick leave (which rightfully should have been bereavement leave...I was suffering from a loss), but being forced to go to work allowed me to take a harden-up pill and move on.

Several days on, I think the rest of the country has healed too. The Manu's open training session in Auckland was still full, the people still showing love. Of course, there are still hater groups targeting certain players, but haters are gon' hate, and players are gon' play.

Love has its ups (remember the Wallabies game?) and downs. But love is unconditional. So despite a big hit to the pride and ego, I know that come the weekend, we will be back. Forgive me, Manu, for my anger. I am back, and ready to partake in your victory over Fiji.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011


And the winner of the FREE electronic copy of TELESA: The Covenant Keeper  from our previous post is ...

OMGeek Girl

Please mail me your contact details, and Lani will get in touch with you.

From the comment it sounds like you may already have a copy of the book...? If so, here is one you can give away as a gift to some lucky person you know :)

For everyone else (all the other 4 of your who commented...ha!), don't despair. Everyone's a winner. How so? Well, you get to continue behind-the-scenes with Lani Wendt Young, as she touches on another important topic in her book: rugby. Loves! Today's tour stop is in Stellaville. Drop in and say Hello!

Saturday, September 10, 2011

TELESA: The Covenant Keeper

By Lani Wendt Young

Available NOW at Amazon and Smashwords

Why there’s a lot of Fire in this Book

I’m thrilled to be a guest on Rock Fob’s site today – the very first stop on the Telesā Book Blog Tour. Two months ago, I saw a photo of star Samoan rugby player Ezra Taylor for the first time, right here on RockFob’s blogsite. I was intrigued. Why? Because I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had seen Ezra before…

Striding through the pages of the TELESA book. Dancing the Samoan slap dance. Training on a Samoa College rugby field. Smiling with those laughing, dancing eyes. I went back and double checked the TELESA book…

Excerpt from TELESA: The Covenant Keeper. Daniel walked out onto the stage which had been set to represent a forest clearing. There was a pool in its center, ringed by burning flares, and a cluster of rocks was where he would sit. He wore only a brief piece of siapo fabric tied at the hips. His burnished chest was bare save for the single bone carving that hung around his neck. His whole body gleamed with glistening coconut oil and his tattoos spoke their story clearly in the moonlight. He was the noble warrior of every myth and legend and there was a hushed breath of awe before the audience rippled with applause, the more feisty among them whistling and catcalling. ‘Woohoo! Go Daniel! Work it, baby, work it!’

I compared the descriptions with the photographic evidence. And then I was certain. Ezra and Daniel were one and the same. (Or at least, they were very closely related!)

As TELESA: The Covenant Keeper  takes flight into the world, it’s my pleasure to introduce to you, the first reason why there’s a lot of fire in this book. Say hello to:


Thank you Sina for the opportunity to visit your blog. And a huge thank you for helping us to find ‘Daniel’.

Everyone, would you like to read Daniel’s story for yourself? You have the opportunity to win a FREE electronic copy of TELESA: The Covenant Keeper  right here on RockFob! Leave a comment and be in to win. Why do you think Ezra Taylor is a great cover-model for Daniel?

Monday, September 5, 2011

Last Friday Night - the remix

Katy Perry has a song called "Last Friday Night (T.G.I.F)". When I first heard it, I was thinking "Very catchy beat and tune", then when I listened a little closer I discovered the lyrics are about going out, getting trashed, getting chased out of bars, random sex, etc. Ok, not my thing. My own fault for not seeing that coming, I mean it's a Katy Perry song about a Friday night.

It made me think though, I can no longer relate to that. My Friday night is the yang to KP's yin one. And I'm very happy about that, and thankful for my two buddies that I get to spend every Friday night with, the house we get to spend Friday night in, and the delicious food we usually pig out on every Friday night.

So here's the reeeemix, Rock Fobby style Friday night (sing it to the tune of KP's song):
Last Friday night
Yeah I washed all of the pots
But forgot to wash my socks
Stinky feet next day, that's hot
Last Friday night
Always rugby on TV
One-eyed for my Canterbury
Constant Facebooking and Tweet
Last Friday night
Lyla bossing us around
While snack shopping at Foodtown
Think I gained about 4 pounds
Last Friday night
Thought about doing some chores
Instead I chilled to Jersey Shore
This Friday night
Do it all again
This Friday night
Do it all again

What the Foo?

About 5 weeks ago, I blogged in excitement and anticipation for the Foo Fighters stadium tour in December. In that post, I threw together a quick to-do list in order for us to be able to attend this concert. This was all before ol' Murphy (owner of Murphy's law) joined the party...

One of the main determining factors of us making it to the concert was one of my favourite f-words: financing. So, surprise surprise, we were blessed with the opportunity to financially assist with some extended family happenings. Big bummer in terms of the Foo plans, but no matter, I still have a sellable kidney available right?

Well actually, it turns out I don't. That's where things get very interesting. The last bullet point on my planning blog post was to make sure I didn't get pregnant. The last time the Foos were touring NZ the hubby and I had tickets, but they were in the General Admission area (where you would wanna be in a Foos concert) but I was too far along and we sold the tickets. So guess what happens this time around. I kid you freaking not. I am preggo. Again. So there will be no invasive surgery to get that kidney out for the black market. Gutted.

What is up with the Foos fertility fever?

Next time, if there is ever a next time, I will perhaps follow Telecom's failed Backing Blacks campaign line and abstain for the Foos. Ha! Make that a Tui ad.


This has been sitting as a Draft since I found out I was preggo, awaiting the second I passed the 12 week mark so I could post it. Although things didn't turn out how I had hoped and expected, and I am once again un-preggo (as far as I know), I still want to post this. Hopefully, you've read down this far, so I don't get awkward congratulatory messages. I do, however, still accept support in the form of brownies and choc chip cookies :)

Also, I just noticed that had I mentioned my supplementary folic acid and iodine tablet intake, this blog could have been titled: Sex (or the lack thereof), Drugs and Rock'n'Roll. SCANDALOUS!

Friday, September 2, 2011


A very small amount of something

Here are this week's crumbs:

Manu money matters
An article was published in "Le Weekender" exposing details about the misuse of finances donated to the Manu Samoa by the people. I won't go into it any further, except to say that it is disappointing and just downright stupid. Greed plus power is a recipe for disaster. It is especially a downer in this case, where people who had little gave a lot, and gave wholeheartedly, trusting that the funds would be managed appropriately by the stewards.

That money could have been spent on so many useful things, like paying someone to do the team's washing, to prevent this from happening:
Honest to goodness tweet from one of the Manu players,
whose name has been filtered out to protect his identity
(coz I'm profesh like that)
 Mad love
No matter how bad things can get, and for me they got pretty bad 2 weeks ago, God has been the light. I dread to think of where I would be without Him. This week's impossible work challenges I also overcame as a result of God's power. Nothing but mad love for the ultimate Father.
Consider it a sheer gift, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides. You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors. So don't try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way
- James 1:2-4 (The Message)

Tow Woes
On Wednesday, my car got towed from the parking lot behind work. The way it works is this: you drive in, park your car, pay the ticket machine thing and print out a ticket, and place the ticket inside your car on the dashboard.

I haven't had any previous problems following those instructions. Until Wednesday. I did everything except the all important last step, putting the ticket on display. So when I walked to my parking spot after work and looked at the empty space, before my heart could complete its sinking motion, my head had already replayed the morning's actions and I knew what I had done...or not done.

We got the car back, but our parking expense for the day, instead of the usual $10, was $185. Big fat tired sigh.

And last but not least...

Hot and Spicy
(No, this is not related at all to the Rugby World Cup)

KFC hot and spicy chicken is "back" ... from wherever is usually goes before it periodically returns. Big yippee from me...I only like the spicy chicken from that place. So every time it returns, our little family has a KFC feed. Just the one...until the next time it returns.

You know where that's going. Straight to the bootay.

And that's where I leave you, folks. Looking a photo of a delicious piece of hot and spicy chicken thigh. Off I go to bed before I make a late night dash to the nearest KFC.

Friday, August 26, 2011

Big promises to little people

I have learnt a valuable lesson. Do not make promises to your kids in the spur of the moment.

For example: About a month ago, one of the kids at Lyla's daycare celebrated their birthday party by bringing a Kung Fu Panda cake to share. Lyla raved about the cake and then she said "Mummy, when it's my birthday, will you come to my school and have some of my Percy cake?"

Your wada what?

With a big fake smile on, I asked "Who is Percy?". It turns out that Percy the small engine is one of Thomas the Tank Engine's mates. Oh ok then, I thought. How hard can it be to make a Percy cake? That was my first mistake.

So against all my natural inclinations, I tried to be organised about it. First step, Googling this Percy person to see what he looks like. Second step, find a good cake recipe. Thankfully, I "knew" (stalked) a Domestic Goddess over at Sleepless in Samoa, and she gave me her secret ingredient chocolate cake recipe, and it was very good.

Before I could tackle step three, which was practising the decoration side of things, I lost my mojo. And next thing you know, it was the Thursday night before "Percy cake day". I hit the Panic/Turbo button and somehow from somewhere amongst the failed batches of buttercream, self taught piping "skills" and "all those baking spillages" (as my wise husband put it - wise by completely avoiding having anything to do with this Mission Impossible), I managed to produce this result:

Ta dah!
Chocolate cake, with base Betty Crocker choc frosting,
and topped with piped buttercream "graphics"

And even though the cake was finished and I was exhausted, I couldn't even sleep properly because I was so worried of how Lyla the Perfectionist Monkey Queen would critique my cake.

No more promises from this big person to a certain little person.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Fix you

Thank you for all those who reached out with a line, a comment, an email, a text, a call.

Flowers. A thought. A prayer.

Fix You - Coldplay

Monday, August 22, 2011

I heard a Who

Dr Seuss: "A person's a person, no matter how small"
You swept into our lives on a Monday morning, and graced a usually mundane day with your good news. We had been expecting you, and yet you were still a surprise.

I wanted to trumpet it from the Tweetops and splatter it over News Feeds. Such was my joy at the mere thought of your existence. Who to tell first? When to tell first? You were the sweetest secret.

But now you are no longer with us, and tiny as you were, you leave a big hole in my heart. You will never get to read this but I write it nonetheless, to celebrate you, and the shortest few days that we had with you.

For my unnamed Mini Me the Second, who left this world yesterday.

Saturday, August 20, 2011


How do you know that the honeymoon period is well and truly over, and there is no return from the land of old married couples?

Here are three hints, fresh from personal experience tonight:

1. When on a Saturday night you, the hubby and kid get ready to go out. To do your grocery shopping at Pak'nSave.

2. As you are getting dressed (old married people tend to forget to get dressed while wandering out their old married home), your hubby looks at your much-loved trackpants and says "You know who you kind of look like? Sporty Spice."

Excuuuuuse me? First of all, honey, Mel Chisholm stopped calling herself "Sporty Spice" only...what, ten years ago? And secondly, Sporty Spice? Really? Not even Ginger? Or (gulp) Scary? No, I was Sporty Spice, the most unsexy of them all. To make it worse, I'm not even sporty, I just like trackpants because they're comfortable. Tragic!

3. While navigating the maze of aisles that is Pak'nSave, your husband looks at your trackpants in horror and asks what those white handprints are all over your butt, like mine did.

It's ok, I assured him. As I was testing the icing sugar pack for holes, it kind of exploded and I got sugar all over my hands. Then I had to crawl under the lowest shelf to get another one and the sugar marks were from me dusting myself off after.

He still looked could I be ok with walking around in public knowing there were white marks all over my pants, and specifically in the shape of handprints smack on my behind?

He summed it up quite well, the old hubby of mine: How times have changed.

Imagine this chick with a rugby jersey, brown skin and an extra 40kgs.
Apparently that's me.

Me version 1.1

Those who know me and my wee family know that our nearly-three-year-old daughter looks nothing like me. Well, to be more precise, she looks just like her father but she has her mother's eyes (yes, like Harry).

What I didn't give her in terms of physical attributes, I made up for in the personality area. She is a serious, introverted and slightly OCD-like little girl. At the age of 2, she pays a great deal of attention to detail, is a bit of a perfectionist and (as much as I hate to say this) legalistic.

As excited as I am to see myself in this kid, I also hope she doesn't "inherit" my flaws. So of course, like the paranoid creature I am, I have put a few steps in place to help her not have these "issues"

Reptile phobia
I'm sure there must be some kind of scientific name for this, but I hate reptiles, in particular the type that slither and are represented by Voldemort's second-to-last horcrux. Yes, those things-that-shall-not-be-named on this blog. *Shiver*
I let Lyla watch Diego, the Latino animal rescuer, Dora the Explorer's cousin. His show features a lot of these little buggers *ew ew ew*. So when Lyla is happily following Diego's instructions to slither like one-of-them, I try not to spew or faint or run away or turn off the TV. And when she's in the bath and decides to make one-of-those out of her wash cloths ... I don't panic and run from the bathroom screaming. I just die inside.

Fear of bodies of water
Yes, I did grow up on an island. In fact, I lived about 100 metres from the beach. And the drive to school and back every day was along the coast. But I don't like bodies of water, from about the size of a filled laundry basin (getting goosebumps).
So we give Lyla baths at night, and let her spend time alone in there. So far she loves it. She tells herself stories and plays with her bath toys and if I let her have a wash cloth she would sometimes even start scrubbing the bath (oops...not that it's grimey or anything).

I suck so much at sports I can't even play the video game versions. So every time Lyla brings a ball to me and says she wants to play basketball or soccer or whatever the Bubble Guppies are playing, I happily join in. Never mind that I lack basic knowledge and basic skills, she could be the next best [insert sport with heaps of money to be made] player. I will not be the one who stood in her way.

Fear of heights
Ok, I know what you're thinking, I have a lot of issues and may need professional help. That's not the point, but thanks for your concern (email me any recommendations..ahem).
Lyla loves climbing. At her previous daycare, they identified this very early on, from when she just started learning to walk, and they really encouraged her to climb unaided (koikiki pe lo'u faku the first time I saw her on the jungle gym!). I myself prefer to stand on solid ground (i.e. am scared of heights). Taking her to the playground is such a struggle because it takes everything in me to not hold her completely while she's climbing these ridiculously high and tricky bars / ropes. When she's old enough I'll take her to one of those indoor rock climbing things. She'll love it. Me...not so much.

The list could go on forever, but pretty much the gist of it is that I would like to break the cycle with me. I want her to be like me, but be an even better version of me. With known bugs resolved and some flashy enhancements added - Me v1.1

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Not a review

I am a little out of practice. Work is to blame for stealing all my blogging time. Excuses, excuses, I know. But I hope to make it up to you, my faithful reader(s) with this post.

I have been planning since about 3 months ago to blog about this topic, but I never got around to putting my thoughts together. Well, I'm sorry to say that those random thoughts are still rambling around in my head, but upon seeing one of the stars of this blog-post-to-be on a post by Sleepless, I decided to just do it.

A Song of Ice and Fire
This is the name of a series of epic fantasy novels by George R. R. Martin. The hubby has been quite a fan of the series for a while, but it wasn't until HBO developed a television series based on the first book, A Game of Thrones, that I myself became interested...or more like hooked.

This is not a review of the greatest fantasy TV series in the, this is just a tribute.

A Game of Thrones
Firstly, two words. Sean Bean. He plays Lord Stark of Winterfell. No surprises that his character is the noble and honourable one, you know, the kind that if given a chance in a sword fight to stab you in the back he would wait for you to turn around first before continuing. Ugh.

Lord Stark on Winterfell, sitting on the Iron Throne of the Seven Kingdoms
 Then follows a whole cast of beautiful people.
Cersei Lannister
 Queen Cersei from the House Lannister is a beautiful, strong and cold lady, willing to do anything to keep her family's line on the throne (yea, one of those tuff chicks).

Ser Jaime Lannister
Twin brother of Queen Cersei, pretty rich boy Jaime is the one of the main guards for the King, whom he despises.

Jon Snow
The bastard son of Lord Stark. Yes, the honourable man has a bastard son. Smack bang in between his "legitimate" kids. Scandal, scandal. Jon leaves his family to join the Men of the Night's Watch, a life long commitment to guard the people of the Seven Kingdoms from the wildlings and The Others that roam the northern winterlands. Ooooh...

Robb Stark
 Eldest son of Lord Stark, destined to follow in his father's rather large footsteps. Gulp.

Daenerys (Dany) Targaryen
 Now why can't I have a cool name like that? And flowing golden locks? I guess because neither the name nor the mane would go with my thighs. Daenerys is the young daughter of the previous King, and she and her brother seek to have their family, the Blood of the Dragon, restored to the throne. But how to do that when you are the last of your line, and exiled to a foreign land? *Drumroll*

Khal Drogo
 Drogo is a chief of the Dothraki people (they're into fighting and riding horses). Drogo is a very rich and powerful man, and he wed Daenerys by her brother's arrangement. Some people have it tough.

But it's not actually the good looking people that make the series. It's the DRAMA!
From marital mishaps to family feuds to friend face-offs to unknown spooks...lies, betrayal, honour, and twists in all the most unexpected places.
Oh, and they do quite a bit of the nasty. No abstaining for the game here! But what do you expect, with all these hot-looking, hot-blooded people in one book? The fast forward button on the remote comes in handy if you're not into that stuff, like me.

So imagine this, all the drama of all the blogs you read, rolled into one, multiply that by a million, then slap some Brangelina genes on top of that. My kind of TV series.

I give it a rating of: Why on earth are you still reading this instead of downloading it?!

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Wintry magic

How to start this post. A week or two ago, I was taking photos of the hail on our deck and wishing for snow during what was to be the "last Antarctic blast" for this winter. The blast came and went and it started becoming warm in Wellington.

So pre-snow-wishing life continued. Lyla received her first ever invitation to a birthday party, and I mean a non-family party. Today was the big day, and off Lyla and I went to conquer the windy, narrow, badly labelled streets of Wellington to find this party. It was the chaotic affair that you would expect a 4th birthday party to be (with the added bonus of some really BADLY BEHAVED children...grrr...but that is for another post).

As we were getting ready to leave, I received a text from the man - "Its snown hea." I had to read it twice, and then check the date received. I looked outside, and it looked like it was raining, so I stuck out my hand and felt the soft snowflakes land and then melt in my palm. I was ecstatic (to put it mildly). As I much as I tried to contain myself and react in a suitably mature manner, I just couldn't. So I ran back inside to where the palagi parents were having a cuppa tea and civilized conversation and (wide-eyed and maybe slightly crazed in appearance) I shouted, "It's snowing!!"

Everyone else was excited of course (maybe not on the same insane level as me) and ran out to see the snow. The cars on the street were just starting to get a dusting of snow. Like the responsible parent I am, I put Lyla in her carseat, forgot to strap her in, and instead grabbed the camera and started taking photos. The drive home conservation was something like this... "Lyla, look outside. It's snowing!!" "Mummy, my shoes are wet."  "Everything is so white! OMG this is SO cool!" "Can I change my tights when I get home?"
Could I get more fresh? And could my kid get more OCD?

We arrived home to a completely white street, and we immediately bundled up and trooped outside to make a lazy, not-quite-so-snowmanny-shaped snowman and take more photos. However, being tropical natives, the man and I didn't last long in the snow, and before you know it we were back inside having hot chocolate (for Lyla) and koko Samoa (for Lyla's parents).

The snow seems to be melting now, but that's ok. While the snow was here, it was everything I had imagined it would be. I could not ask for more.

Staring upwards in awe

The same deck that was hailed on only a week ago

The view of the street from the deck. So pretty

Lyla and our snow guest, a dedication to David Tua :)

The perfect way to end a snowballin' session - hot koko Samoa

Friday, August 12, 2011

The horrible truth

I received a blog nomination from the reluctant Coco Girl. In the end, she didn't have a choice...I mean, how could you not award this fantastic blog an award? (Throw up in mouth)

I was extremely flattered, then I was excited (woohoo...yay me!) and then it dawned on me. I would have to pick 5 bloggers for the award. That part wasn't hard. I follow/stalk a few great blogs that I would have awarded in a second. The problem is that most of them have just received the award, and I don't want to be a copycat, and if I did have to copy, I would prefer not to copy Sleepless or Coconut Girl, who would whoop my sizable behind in writing and my presentations would just be blah.

The truth is, I like the 5 or so blogs that I follow. I like them very much and I'm happy with liking just them. The horrible truth is, I'm not one to venture out into the unknown, and discover the wonders of the different blogging tastes out there. If only blogs were like food, I'd be throwing out the awards left, right and centre.

But (before you think I'm a complete hermit loser, which I am but that's not the point) in the spirit of the whole blogging-award-and-spreading-the-love theme, I have endeavoured to try reading a few new blogs. Some I have found to be a bit awkward to read (e.g. sex poems are definitely not my thing...I take my poetry and sex separately and not necessarily in that order). But (good but, like Pippa Middleton's) there are some that I have found to be refreshing and funny and bullcrap-less (thanks for the recommendations, Sleepless).

So, this is not the award blog. This is to let you know that I have not given up on the award blog, but that it is a work in progress. Just in case you're sitting there eager to receive your award. Good things come to those who wait (and deserve it...ha!).

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Random thoughts and the f-word

I don't have a cohesive train of thought for blogging today.

Because I'm still so sick *cough cough cough* See?

So today it's random thoughts day.

Random thought 1
I want to get hot for summer. Ok let's make that a realistic goal: I want to get to a weight that is not so obscene to the sight and unkind to the clothes by summer. As I stuff my mouth with the last of my 3rd cheese bun this morning, I wonder how I will do.

Random thought 2
I wonder if I'll ever get to travel to Europe. As much as I would love to, I can't see it being affordable anywhere in the forseeable future, and that's a future where NO family members die, which is honestly very unrealistic. I estimate at least 20 aunts and uncles still alive (on both my side and the hubby's)...that's a lot of sii, pigs, pisupo, povi and cash to be bought/spent/exchanged/loaned/begged. Should I just be one of those fakaga-blonde ones and just spend all my money on myself and then play dumb when family calls for financial assistance? I was not blessed/cursed with such a switch in my brain though.
I'm not down about it though. Honestly. It would be a great thing to do. But I am so immensely blessed that anything on top of what I have now, debts and all, is in the bonus zone. (Besides, I hate flying, and very fussy about accommodation, i.e. no backpackers or the Laughing Samoans said, I've been camping all my life!)

Random thought 3
I wonder who Lyla will marry, and if he's not Samoan, how he will feel about faalavelave. (Hmm, seems to be a running theme, and perhaps not so random, these thoughts). Actually, I wonder how Lyla will feel about them. I know quite a few NZ born Samoans who are against anything to do with giving family in Samoa money.
e.g. Why do they need a car anyway?
e.g. Dad's in Samoa, but we booked his return flight early so they don't take all his money.

I keep forgetting that Lyla is a Kiwi (vomit...e, that was a JOKE, people. Joke alert!). I guess it's up to us, her parents, to teach her why we do what we do, and what that means for her. I guess I should find out first for myself.
Mum asked me in high school if I was going to marry a South African. HA! I wonder why *ahem*
Thank goodness I married a Samoan.
There's nothing as comforting at the moment you find out your uncle has passed away, as telling your husband "Uncle died" and he nods, not only to acknowledge your grief, but to also approve the funds for your contribution to the maliu.

Ok, that's enough random thinking for the day, because it's quite obvious it's all heading down the same line .. the f-word.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Lovin' not hatin'

As a change of tune from the usual complaining and whining on my posts, here are a few of my Likes for the past week or so (just to switch things up, and before that monthly time when I will like nothing and no one, and my goodness if I miss that monthly time, well...let's not think about that just now)

Nothing deep. It's Sunday, for goodness sake. And I'm sick and drugless (self-diagnosis of tonsillitis has been lifted after consulting a medical professional...pfft). So here goes:

Raspberry lemonade

This is some seriously scrumptious shiz. Since it is lemonade (i.e. juice squeezed from lemons, if only 6% of it) plus raspberries, I have concluded that this is what I will indulge on to soothe my burning throat (burning is from my cough, just clarifying...)
"Legit" lemonade

Once (the movie)

Irish busker meets Czech flower-seller on the streets of Dublin. Together they make sweet music (literally) and rekindle hope. I don't want to ruin the plot for anyone who hasn't seen it, but I highly recommend this movie.
My two favourite things about it:
1. The soundtrack: All original music (both the male and female leads are professional musicians), really heartfelt. I would buy it. Ok, no, I don't buy music. But I did record the movie on MySky, so I kinda bought a way.
2. "Feel good"-ness: Of course it's a happy ending (otherwise I wouldn't like it), but not in the predictable Hollywood way. (I think it gives me secret hope that something so simple yet life changing could happen to boring old me...sshhhh)

Blog dramas

There have been plenty of dramatic breaking news stories on the blogs I follow. Funny times. Maybe not for the subjects of these posts, but definitely for me. And don't pretend you didn't have a good laugh while reading them either! And it's not particularly the news that made the post, it was the point of view and the injected humour and personality. Keep it know who you are!

Final wintry blast

NZ is experiencing what will apparently be their last wintry blast (don't quote me on that, I got the news second hand from the hubby, hardly Jim Hickey).
How is this good news? Well, it usually isn't, but I figured since I'm already sick and it's already freezing cold anyway, this is my last hope of seeing snow this year. So I'm back to my super fob styles of excitedly watching the hail with my nose pressed against the window, hoping it would soon turn into snow.

All hail the hail

National party

Yea, I bet you didn't see this coming! A brown person giving props to the National party. Well this week I received my tax rebate, which is 33% of all my donations from the last financial year. This was usually capped at $630, but this cap was lifted when National went into power. Makes sense, the more money you have, the more you donate, so naturally this would keep their supporters happy. On a personal level though, I do give a lot to non-profit organisations, so receiving the tax rebate this week meant I could give some joy to my long-suffering credit card, if only until the next relative dies.

On that note, I hope you all have a great week ahead. God bless you heaps, peeps! (including all the annoying ones...hehe!)

Saturday, August 6, 2011

No comment

Since I started blog-following (stalking) a little while back, I have found that on top of the generally entertaining blog content there is the added treat of blog comments. From what I have seen, the commenters are usually seasoned bloggers themselves, so they add their own flavour of humour to complement the original post. I myself have been guilty of spending more time commenting on the other blogs than writing on my own (blame the lack of creativity and imagination, with a pinch of laziness).

Then comes the big butt BUT.

But...I have also seen some strange (for lack of a better word) blog comments. You know the ones of which I write. Here are some fundamental principles of blog commenting that I try to abide by, not just for blogs but for Facebook, Twitter, and pretty much any place that a person is able to publicly post personal information/statements/ideas and receive feedback. I'm not saying you need them. In fact, you probably don't. But this is my blog *shrugs*

No (bad) comment
 BLOGCOM101: Commenting for idiots beginners

Probably the biggest thing that gets lost in translation between blog content and comment is humour. It's annoying when a post is HILARIOUS, and it is pretty obvious that about 0% of it is serious, and then you see some hardcore sneeeerious feedback at the end. Lecturing, finger pointing, berating.
Tip: Log out, look on TradeMe for a sense of humour to buy, install, then log back in and comment. Then continue to regularly update your humour software for optimum results.

The circumstances that form the setting for an event, statement, or idea, and in terms of which it can be fully understood and assessed.
Don't see a word and go ape-mad and start commenting. I've seen comments that have had absolutely nothing to do with anything, and have made me question whether the commenter had actually read the whole post, or whether they are having their "monthly sick time" and need an avenue to vent.
Tip: If you are not prepared to read the whole post, please don't comment. That is all.

Faafetai lava mo le fesili (Thank you for the question)
Some blog posts end with a question that invites feedback, and most importantly YOUR opinion on things. In this case, please feel free to unload the burden you bear on the topic.
But some posts can be a personal recount, or the blogger's own opinion, or just a statement rather than a question. Consider this if/when commenting.
When someone posts a blog saying "I don't like sausage rolls", and they're quite serious about it, then don't comment multiple times trying to convince them of the health and economic benefits of buying/eating sausage rolls. They don't care. I don't care.
Tip: If it's not a question, don't answer it.

To comment, or not to comment
If in doubt about any of the above, just don't comment. Don't feel pressured to comment, just because everyone else is coming up with something witty or enlightening on the matter. If you don't think you have anything of value to add, you probably don't maybe another blog post will be more down your alley.

Some blogs allow "anonymous" comments. Some people use this to protect their identity when stalking hot rugby boys *cough*
But some people use this to straight out hate and curse on comments, and pretty much just do everything they don't have the gall to do under their own login. To the latter group, I have no tips. Your issues lie much deeper than a 5-minute read of my waffley post could even start to address.

This is my view on commenting, and not a reflection on all bloggers. Please, comment freely on this post :P

Monday, August 1, 2011

One of dem days

When the day knocks the wind out of you, and words fail you, and you feel like screaming "What's going on?"

All the while wishing you were in such a peaceful place that you could stand balanced on one leg, and just let your fingers dance and your guitar wail, while your frizz mop hung over your face to shade you from the blinding lights

One night only special guest appearance by Emo Fob

Saturday, July 30, 2011

Virtual will

A legal document containing instructions as to what should be done with one's money and property after one's death

I have been planning to get my will done for a while now. I am the paranoid type and am constantly worrying about Lyla's welfare should something happen to me before she reaches adulthood. I am also the lazy procrastinating type, rescheduling my appointment with the Public Trust a few times now.

The driving force behind me getting a will done is pretty much to state Lyla's legal guardians in her parents' place. It must be someone who loves her nearly as much as I, because there ain't gonna be no money coming with that kid.

It's an embarrassing truth. When the Public Trust person starts listing my assets and liabilities, and they excuse themselves, I know they'll be having a good laugh at the back somewhere at how unbalanced my will is. I will pretty much be delegating who will be paying my loans, and I don't even have a mortgage...kalofa e. Any takers?

So I had a good think about what I do have, that may not be Public-Trust-will-worthy, but nevertheless will need to be passed on to those who will truly appreciate them. And I have come up with this.

I, Bina, daughter of the Most High God, aged 21 years, resident of Windy Wellington, do hereby revoke all my former Wills that I made when I was a pimply teenager in Saoluafata. I declare this to be my virtual Will until I actually get around to making my real will.

I maintain good health (barely), and possess a sound mind (mostly).

I hereby bequeath the following items as specified:

A. Collection of rugby pics: I leave this to Sleepless. I know you will be presented with a big burden to steward such an important collection, but I trust that you will do everything in your ability to look at the pictures every day and night and will not spare your life to keep them safe.

B. My Springboks jersey: I leave this to Stella. I don't know anyone with such limitless fanaticism, and more deserving of this most treasured article of clothing.

C. My boss: I leave him to Coconut Girl. You deserve a boss that recognises and rewards your hard work, that will give you his parking spot when you are preggo and don't want to walk from the carpark way down the road (I think you will find this perk especially useful ... lol), that encourages high standards but sets these by example. Because you're worth it.

D. My trusty laptop: I leave this to Laura. The laptop is actually from work, so make sure you get to my house first and nick it. The only condition is that you must Facebook, blog and YouTube on a daily basis with this laptop. Difficult, I know. You must put aside all that socialising and extrovert activities you are currently involved with.

E. My binoculars: I leave these to Kuaback. They will come in use for your ... ummm ... "bird watching" at the beach. Please feel free to share your findings with your virtual friends.

F. My husband: Are you serious, I don't trust him to any of you crazies!!

As witnessed by my five or so blog followers this beautiful but chilly Welly day.
Long live the queens. Over and out.

Friday, July 29, 2011

Shout out from the top

After a week of sleepless nights and intense work stress, I received a pleasant surprise today when our CEO called to tell me that I got a special mention/award thingy at our company's monthly meeting (which I was unable to attend since I'm the only-the-lonely loser working from Wellington while everyone else is in Auckland - but that's another story).

Not the award I got
 So I stand up here on the stage to receive my Oscar Geek award, and would like to give thanks to all those that have helped me achieve my goal of being Geek of the month.

1. God
The source of all my geekiness blessings. Thank you for providing an awesome job and boss, for always being faithful in answering prayer and for such favour at work.

2. Mum and Dad
For the genes. Sure, you also gave me thunder thighs, a flat head and hairy fingers, but the brain genes didn't turn out too bad. And thanks for paying my school fees at RLSS because I was too much of a wussy kid to survive public school.

3. Pati
The Duran to my Duran. For clearing Lyla out of my path when I'm at my most stressed, shouting me nice lunches when I need to get out of the office and understanding about me spending some nights with the laptop instead him.

4. My boss
Chances are if he read my blog I would not have received this award. So thankfully he has more important things to do, like running a great company that hires awesome fobs...actually, one fob.

Oh my goodness, I'm so overwhelmed...who else do I need to thank...

5. UPY science labs
By spending 9 hours every week sitting in labs, while the Arts and Commerce kids lounged and laughed at the canteen just outside the window, I was put off any career involving labs and stumbled blindly towards IT (because I was told they were paid well).

6. Angie
The lovely Malaysian lady that runs the Malaysian restaurant Sri Pinang on K'Road. Where I spent hours of bonding time with workmates while chowing on the best roti ever, and copious amounts of curry. Friday lunch at work has never been the same since I left Auckland. Thank you Angie, for filling me up so much with scrumptiousness, that I was able to handle the Friday afternoon brain haze by sleeping-with-eyes-open at my desk.

Ok, the music is playing really loud now...the ushers are dragging me off...but thank you last but definitely not least to my blog readers and the blogs I read, for the bucketloads of laughter in the wee hours of the morning that helped me to make it through to where I am today *tear*