We started in Wellington at around 6 am on Friday. Then we spent about 20 hours travelling back in time to arrive at LAX around 6 am on Friday morning. Then we told sleep to get bent and spent the day in the Happiest Place On Earth. So, a 37 hour Friday, spent pretty perfectly.
There's this local initiative going on among the nearby lunch establishments, including the one where I buy overpriced salads of dubious nutritional value. They've convinced area artists to donate handmade bowls, which are sold at a premium with all of the proceeds donated to the Wellington food bank. This is a perfect strategy to extract money out of public servants with disposable income and it worked like a charm on me.
Now, I would love to say that I was completely motivated by altruism when I bought this gorgeous bowl. But the truth is that I was more motivated by the fact that it is unique and therefore will be easier to track down when one of my coworkers inevitably steals it.
Still, it's a pretty grouse bowl.
Today I went exploring with the big guy and got fantastically lost in rural Hutt Valley.
You know you're not in Kansas anymore when you are being heckled by pukeko on your morning walk.
Spotted on a walk through sleepy Upper Hutt at 7:30 this morning.
I have so many questions.
Growing up in apartments in the city, I never really had my own trees before, much trees that grow food. Watching this one evolve from barren to white to pink to green (and ultimately to red) is a marvel I never tire of.
Speaking of never tiring, underneath this picture is One Good Dog standing sentry waiting for that glorious moment when the Gods see fit to rain treasures down upon him in the form of apples.
You know sometimes all you need is a different perspective on something.
Every morning, I fight my way through the crowded train station full of morning commuters and surly teenagers in uniform, all hell bent on reaching their destination without the inconvenience of courtesy.
Most days, I want to drop a shoulder and lay one out.
Today, I looked up instead.
That moment when you realise that you're sitting next to a clock tower, on Back To The Future Day, waiting for a ride...
Today, I was feeling particularly mischievous when I woke up so I openly defied the standard Wellington dress code of black on black in favour of this colourful number.
Then I got called to the Beehive at short notice. Talk about setting yourself apart in a sea of indistinguishable officials.
If the Minister had a hard time remembering me before with the purple hair, I don't think that's going to be a problem now.
And here we observe the springtime ritual of the public servant, emerging from hibernation to have a communal meal near the hive.
The big guy and I have developed a new routine, heading out early for a long walk every Saturday morning the weather permits it.
The streets are deserted, save for the young girl who works the coffee cart on the main road.
If he behaves well enough we make it to a bridge that crosses this stream, where we take a rest.
I like to gaze out at the creek and get lost in the sounds of water and think deep thoughts about life.
He likes to poop on the bridge.
There was a time when I used to do my best bonding with a girlfriend over a sea of empty wine glasses.
These days, I am more likely to use gelato as a social lubricant.
And you know what? I'm actually okay with that.
Except for the obligatory phase of sleeping all day while I was in college, I have always been an early riser.
My nine year old self used to delight at being the first one up in the lounge on Sunday mornings, watching the soft early light cast delicate shadows on the wall.
My forty year old self still does.
This is the closest thing to a traffic jam you will find in Days Bay. Not pictured: salted caramel gelato, adoring husband, bliss...
One of the things that I love about being an immigrant is that I can be way more Texan here than I probably would be in actual Texas. I mean, the Kiwis expect the caricature. Might as well give the people what they want!
"What's the iced mocha like? Is it blended?"
"It's basically a caffeinated chocolate milkshake."
"Sold."
Say what you want about the boring old suburbs but it has occasional, almost spiritual, moments of beauty.
You just know that when your duck curry comes out with some grapes in it... some next level shit is about to happen to your mouth. Boom.
