I must be insane

"Are you insane!?" I asked my mum (in Cantonese), after she proposed that I spend the afternoon of Christmas Eve at Pak 'n Save with her. Shopping at the busiest supermarket chain in the country, during the busiest day of the year, can only lead to trolley rage, sky-high blood pressure and plans for emigration.

My mum took offense at having her mental capacity questioned.

Nevertheless, I ended up realising that I'll need to buy fresh produce for the fresh fruit salad I am making for Christmas lunch - meaning that I will end up in a supermarket on Christmas Eve anyway. But I insisted on visiting a far less crazy-busy supermarket, and at a far quieter time.

So she got her way - sort of - in the end.

I am not alone

Yesterday, I was the first to arrive at the pimp's Christmas lunch (oh, the embarrassment!). Eventually though, everyone else showed up, including a few people I was friendly with. So my fear of spending two hours shovelling food into my face because I'd no-one to talk to, was unfounded.

The interesting thing about this lunch, apart from the fact that the NZ CEO and the global boss both came over to say hi, was that the woman I sat next to has also worked with a woman-who-hates-her (not the same person as the-woman-who-hates-me).

I find it quite shocking really, because this firm's point of difference is their cosy, caring atmosphere. It's why having lunch with the NZ CEO is no big deal. They are nice. This is not the working environment for office politicking, and there definitely shouldn't be two cases of junior staff (albeit contractors) being bullied by insecure, passive-aggressive senior staff.

The two of bonded over our mis-treatment. We even swapped phone numbers. But...it's not really a good basis for a friendship is it?

The food was delicious.

TLM's Christmas party

Yesterday we all went to a Christmas party at TLM's daycare.

I'd taken a few hours beforehand to practice deep-frying my mum's wontons, and - against all expectations - they turned out really well. I should know, because I ate six of 'em and my tummy is still fine.

At the last minute I realised the party had a Seventies theme. Apparently we were encouraged to "brush off" our Seventies gear (like I have such things in wardrobe!). At first, I went for a hippy look. But my maxi skirt is denim and my flowy top is black. So the overall effect was not so much hippy, as bogan. In the end I just wore jeans and a nice top.

TLM decided not to dress up as a fairy or a baby jaguar. Instead, she wore a too-small, pink, bib-front dress over a green tank top. I told her that if anyone was to ask, she was a go-go dancer.

The head daycare teacher was dressed up as the Captain Stubing of the Love Boat (thereby reinforcing my suspicion that she is gay - not that I have anything against that). If there'd been any prizes for costume, I'd have voted for her.

The highlight (apart from watching the crowd of mums and dads and kids eat all the wontons) was watching all the kids stand on the stage and sing Christmas songs. TLM stood at the front next to her best mate, both stage-struck. But at least they were brave enough to stand there, right? Anyway, considering only about half of the kids actually sang, there was an impressive amount of volume.

And then Santa came out and handed out the presents, and we all went home.

Busy all of a sudden

Just when I have a sexy top and nice trousers to sew up for our holiday getaway at the seaside, it looks like I won't have the time to do any sewing after all:

I found myself a couple of days's work this week (which is great, because soon I'll have money to buy Christmas presents), so Monday and Tuesday were busy. Plus, I didn't finish what I'm being paid to do, so I'll go back in to work on Thursday morning to get it all done.

Wednesday is TLM's day with her mum, and we're going to take my mum for a morning out (to the bank and the supermarket - how exciting).

Thursday I have to practice deep-frying wontons for TLM's daycare's Christmas party. Hopefully there will be some left over from practice, that are actually nice to eat.

Friday I have Christmas lunch with the pimp - it's free and I get to go "Hi! Merry Christmas! Why haven't you been returning my calls?"

And then it's the weekend, 2 days of Christmas shopping...then it's Christmas.

Not that I'm complaining.

The annual Christmas letter

Actually, I never do these. But if I did, then this year's letter would go something like this...

Dear Friends and family,

It's hard to believe another year is nearly over with, isn't it? I hope you're well and aren't too badly affected by the economic downturn that those irresponsible Americans are putting the rest of the world through.

TLM is doing well at daycare; at the parent-teacher meeting I was told that she has "outstanding" knowledge and vocabulary. I told her that this is due to all the DVDs she watches, though the teacher might have thought I was joking. I am thinking of enrolling TLM in Chinese and/or ballet classes next year. What a pity there are no classes that teach both at the same time; it might be cheaper. Oh yes, and she has started sleeping in a big kids' bed. It has been a week and she has only fallen out twice.

As you know, I was thinking of going back to work as a technical writer. Well, I did indeed get some work in that area! But then I got fired so I'm back to being a stay-at-home mum until I get another contract or permanent job. But in the meantime I am using my free time to do 7 months' worth of housework that didn't get done while I was working.

The boy is well; he is still expanding his collection of electronic games and wants to rearrange his study so that half of it (not my half, I hope!) can have his XBOX, PS2, Game Cube and Wii consoles set up permanently. Fair enough, I suppose, as he doesn't spend every night at the pub like some dads.

Well, I'd better sign off now. Write back soon and I hope the rehab is going well.

Love,
Violet

Or something like that.

Crossing off the financial to-do list, not

Way back in March, I posted a list of the things I wanted to spend my spare money on, once I started earning again.

But I haven't managed to get many of those things done:

buying a compost bin (they probably don't cost much, but the boy isn't interested so if we get one it'll be because I paid for it) Nope

- having my will done (I mean, as in "my will and living testament" or however it reads - not some kind of Willow-magic) Nope

- buying shoes that are both stylish and super-comfy. (It may not be possible, but apparently Kumfs come pretty close.) Yes. Twice.

- and some nice white shirts (I have a problem with white clothes, as they have to be washed separately - but I hate to underload the washing machine. So the only solution is to wear a lot more white) Yes, if you count 2 nice white t-shirts.

- spend more time in cafes (probably in the form of half-hour lunch breaks, but time spent in a cafe is time pretending to be a Beautiful Person) Surprisingly, not really.

As you can see, the only items I could cross off my list are fashion-related.
There were further items which didn't get onto the blog post (putting in underfloor insulation, having my vision checked and getting new glasses, saving up to renovate the kitchen and bathroom), but they didn't get done either.

And now I'm unemployed again. So, not much achieved then.

On the other hand, my friends tell my I look very stylish now.

Sewing for a square peg

My second sewing project was going to be a pair of close-fitting trousers - pocketless, unwaistbanded trousers with a side zip to minimise tummy bumpage. I now know that I was too ambitious, because it's turned out that getting the damned thing to fit properly is a hell of a job. It's a good thing I decided to make a trial pair first, because they were way too tight around the waist and a bit too loose everywhere else.

This should not have been a huge surprise to me, as commercial sewing patterns made by the big brands seem to be based on the hourglass figures of women in the Fifties. I've read that women are getting bigger and more straight up and down - yet this isn't reflected in the fit of sewing patterns. I don't understand how sewers put up with this, unless they are mostly differently-sized versions of Marilyn Monroe.

I'm going to press on, though I'll need the help of some good dressmaking books and websites.

Dresses and skirts must be so much easier to fit. Thinking about the shop-bought trousers I own, really the only ones that fit well are the stretch denim jeans. I can see now why it's a good thing that women have the option to wear dresses.

But the boy is far prettier...

In the midst of much tantrum-ing, due to wanting another hundreds'n'thousands biscuit and not being allowed one, The Little Madam lightened up jungle hour with this nugget of cuteness:

"That's dadday!" says TLM.
I look over to where she is pointing.
She's eyeing the back of the weekend newspaper, where they put pointless photos of celebrities at parties and opening nights.

She is pointing at a photo of David Beckham.
I rush to the phone to tell the boy. He sounds as pleased as I'd expect him to be.

TLM does not, however, identify the not-Posh model standing next to Mr Beckham as her mummy.

Oh, and in case you were wondering - Becks was not in New Zealand at the time of TLM's conception.

I made that

It took me years to decide that I like the dress-over-trousers look. Here's a picture of me wearing my first sewing project in many years, a green-on-black tunic dress (i.e a mini dress which I will only ever wear with trousers). I've even reviewed it for the Pattern Review website (the link is over on the right - go and click on it to see my review of the sewing pattern).

Anyway, on the envelope it says One Hour Pattern in large, friendly letters. But trust me, it did not take me one hour. Actually, just hemming the dress took longer than that. I must be out of practice.

p.s. you can thank the boy for taking this photo in such a way that I look even shorter than I am.

Mummy's got a brand new project

Recently I've decided to accept my slightly unhealthy obsession with fashion; like all my previous obsessions, it's just a matter of giving in to it until it's out of my system. I'd predict that, at most, I've another 18 months before I'm ready to move onto something else.

This is a little at odds with my need to rein in my spending, what with being out of work and all. So the aim will be to minimise the glossy magazines and make do with fashion blogs and related websites.

I'm also going to sew.

Actually I'm kinda excited about it, because it'll provide me with a creative release and a cheaper way to get style-y.

There is the possiblity of ending up with masses of almost-dresses, held together only by crooked tacking and destined to be completely dated by the time they're finished. There is also the possibility of having to scan the living room floor with a large magnet at least once a day, to avoid pin-in-foot disease.

But it'll keep me off the streets (at least, once I've chased down some patterns and fabric etc).

The Day After Tomorrow, last night

It was TV last night and there was nothing better to view.

The Day After Tomorrow could be the movie to convince the masses that climate change is a load of bullshit. Because, if you can believe that the world (well - Tokyo, New York and LA, at least) can shift from "normal" to ice age in a matter of days, then you'd have to be a moron. And if that scenario is unbelievable, then how believable is the idea that it could happen over a few decades?

Those tornadoes over LA were pretty impressive, though.

But not impressive enough to stop me from turning the telly off so I could get the dishes done and get myself off to bed.

Getting back into SAHM mode

At first, I continued to dress in casual Friday clothes during the week. I didn't want to wreck TLM's daily routine by suddenly acting like I didn't have a job to go to.

After the first week, I stopped taking my work bag with me when I dropped her off in the mornings.

By the middle of last week I'd stopped putting on makeup in the morning (which, admittedly, is just foundation and concealer).

Today I almost put shorts on after my shower.

But that would be going too far.

bellevue

It used to be my daily fitness walk - nothing as strenuous as a full gym workout, but a cheap and easy-to-schedule substitute. Somehow I got out of the habit, and yesterday was the first time I'd ventured up into the hills since last summer. Today, the view was even more beautiful than yesterday.

Sometimes I forget just how pretty my home town is.

(And no, that is not my house. If it were, I'd either have a mortgage hefty enough to buy someone a couple of those jewel-like islands in the Marlborough Sounds, or sell it and live off the proceeds for the next ten years. Lovely building, eh?)

Notes from Unemployment Land

It's been two weeks since my last contract ended (not counting the 2 days' work I found at the end of last week), and the novelty of having all this free time is finally wearing thin (missing the income has something to do with it). TLM is still attending daycare on her usual days, but I pick her up earlier.

That extra mummy-and-daughter time at the end of the day has not been filled with fun activities, as I'd expected. I'm finding that even by 3pm, TLM just wants to relax with a Dora DVD or - if she's feeling energetic - smear acrylic paints all over the furniture. But the shorter daycare days will be cheaper so hopefully I won't be under financial pressure to get work.

My days have not been completely idle. This morning I washed down the front porch, which I've decided has been specially designed to catch and store as much dirt as possible. Yesterday I baked a batch of muesli bars for TLM's lunchbox. On Tuesday I hemmed up a pair of work trousers which I bought last year, before realising that they look rubbish on me. And on Monday I turned the bedroom rug around so that the non-worn-down end is now where we actually put our feet. That last one was actually hard work, because there were half a dozen pieces of furniture keeping the rug in place.

I've also been looking around for permanent jobs, but the interesting-sounding ones are all full-time.

Tarrah for now, I think I'll go for a walk in the hills.

It's called having priorities

I am not a shopaholic. Because if I was, I wouldn't have left The Editter's Tupperware party empty-handed; I would have bought the Madagascar lunch box, or a set of vegetable-freshness-preserving boxes or even the Happy Chopper. Though it was nice to see The Editter of course.

On the other hand, I discovered a wonderful clothes boutique called Scintilla. Not only did I want to try almost everything on, but several of the things I tried on looked good on me, which was a pleasant surprise. So, although I saved a hundred bucks by not buying any Tupperware, I spent some (and then some) at Scintilla. I liked the clothes so much I've even posted photos, so you can validate my taste.



Here on the left is the red tunic dress I bought, which looks great over jeans (and hopefully also over leggings or work trousers), with or without a t-shirt underneath.



And this is the sleeve detail on a cowl-necked black t-shirt which also looks great with jeans (have you guess I was wearing jeans today?), and hopefully also with skirt or work trousers.





Another boutique on the same street, Rose Petals, had some really costume jewellery (they also had some lovely trendy, cheap, clothes). I'm not a jewellery person - I don't even wear a watch. But this necklace pictured here would be a nice shot of colour (there's more blue on there than the photo shows) on those days when I go to work in top-to-toe black.



That is, if I get another contract.

Which reminds me. I'd better stop spending money.

Like putting money into a shredder...

The boy and I have a car each. But for a couple of months we had to make do with just the one, because the boy's car had something wrong with it. And two months passed before he could get it fixed because the spare parts weren't available. I think they had to be freighted in all the way from Japan. By canoe, I reckon.

So, two months came and went and finally, the spare parts arrived and the boy could get his car fixed. In that time, the car's warrant of fitness expired. The day before the boy drove the car to the mechanics' garage to get it fixed and warrant-able, he got a fine for having a car without a current warrant of fitness.

Ah, you say - but he hadn't been driving it. And he couldn't get the WOF because he was awaiting the sparts, etc. I said that too. So the boy rang the police (for they are the dudes who collect such fines). And it turns out that, if your car doesn't have a current WOF you'll get fined for it, whether you're driving it or not. The only way to avoid paying the 200 smackeroos is to hide it off the road, like in a private garage.

Well, that's all well and good if you have a garage (we do, but that's beside the point). But what if you're one of the huge proportion of households in or around the inner city who don't bloody have one?

It seems pretty bloody unfair if you ask me.

Taking Tinkerbell seriously

After about the twentieth viewing of Disney's Tinkerbell movie, I started to treat it as a media studies case. That's not to claim that I have any credentials whatsoever in the field of media studies. But I've heard enough dissing about Disney films like Pocahontas etc, to encourage me to have a go at analysing Tinkerbell.

The plot goes loosely like this: at the beginning of Tinkerbell's existence, she discovers that her fairy talent is as a tinker. Whilst exploring her new home and place of work in Neverland, we see that she is probably the only tinker fairy who is classically pretty - her main workmates are a plus-size boss-woman (voice by the enormously talented Jane Horrocks), a geeky boy fairy with oversized spectacles, and a Scottish boy fairy who looks like John Candy. Tinkerbell's best mates are a cluster of nature fairies; all girly girls and all looking forward to going to "the mainland" to make Spring happen. Tinkerbell decides she doesn't want to be a boring old tinker and tries to learn another talent. Along the way she accidentally destroys all the fairies' Spring work but saves the world from another Ice Age with a plan that includes much tinker-made machinery. Tinkerbell learns that tinkering is her thing, and to be proud of it.

So. Themes.

1. Tinkerbell's gadgets and automated Spring-creation allows the fairies to re-make Spring in a fraction of the time it took them to do it the labour-intensive way. Obviously this story is all about the triumph of industrialisation over agrarian economies. Those pointy-eared pixies would be stupid to go back to their old ways of working.

2. Tinkerbell initially wants to change the way she makes her living, but eventually learns that she can't be anything other than what she is - a tinker. Doesn't this concept contradict the Great American Reinvention myth? That you can better yourself, be whatever you want to be as long as you believe in yourself and work for it? Tinkerbell, meet Flashdance.

3. On the other hand, perhaps it's a positive message, that we should all accept who we are, regardless of what our respective strengths and weaknesses are.

4. Tinkerbell, and most of the other female fairies, have large, childlike heads atop grown-up bodies. This is very disturbing. At least Barbie is supposed to resemble a physically mature woman.

5. Tinkerbell wants to be a nature fairy like her friends. Her friends are like a high school girl clique, but nicer. Tinkerbell's workmates, fairies she ought to feel a bond with, are not. Tinkering is unsexy. Nature is sexy. But tinkering wins the day. Maybe Disney is trying to tell us that geekdom will inherit the Earth - but don't expect it to look pretty.

6. There is one fairy "of colour" i.e. she's black. I didn't see any fairies with Asian features, nor any with wide flat noses or frizzy hair. Hell, it's not like the producers had to go and find a bunch of actors to fit the range of human appearance and ethnicity. It's animation!

7. Vidia is a fast-flying nature fairy. She's a lot like the-woman-who-hates-me at work, though far prettier (and, of course, the latter is not a fairy by any sense of the word). She's the one fairy who isn't "nice", and she's the one who gets Tinks into trouble. Why oh why oh why did the animators have to make her a brunette! That's soooo stereotyped!

TLM doesn't seem to mind any of the above. So I'll probably be watching it again tomorrow morning.

Not just a gob-smackingly pretty face, y'know...

1. TLM was going through a pile of old greeting cards. She pulled one out, announcing "This is a grown-up card!". I looked up to see what was on that card - it had a photo of a couple having a steamy up-against-the-kitchen-bench kiss. I took it off her and put it in the recycling bin. Funnily enough, that was a birthday card to me, from a woman friend.

2. TLM was playing with a set of shape blocks, specifically with some pentagons. I said "You've got two pentagons there, and there are 5 holes in each pentagon. How many holes are there altogether?" TLM took an astoundingly short time to answer "Ten!".

Smugness ensues.

Her father's daughter

I always hoped that TLM would be more like her dad than like me - tall, clever, confident and allergy-free. So far, she's fulfilling my wishes.

But there's a downside to the fact that she's so much like the boy (albeit smaller, female and Asiatic in colouring). The downside is that she burns really easily.

My brother and I have that classic Chinese ability to turn almost black with sun exposure.
The boy, who comes from original English stock, has skin so white it's almost blue. When it's slightly off-white, that's when you know he's got a tan.

TLM's skin is so white it's almost English. She burns a little if she spends time outdoors even if it's very overcast (when it's very overcast my skin doesn't even get out of bed). Yesterday afternoon she spent an hour at the park, mostly covered up but un-hatted because it was so windy. Not long after, she started exhibiting the symptoms of mild sunstroke (I, on the other hand, don't even have tan lines around my sunglasses; the boy was safely tucked away in his darkened study playing computer games).

It's a shame that TLM is so sun sensitive. On the other hand, it's way better than having eczema.

The hard decision

When old people are portrayed in the media as cantankerous and grumpy, their anti-social behavious is usually offset by an admiration for having "attitude". And if it's a movie, that old person probably ends up passing on great wisdom to the younger person who previously resented them.

But what if an old person is cantankerous, grumpy, utterly negative, paranoid, unappreciative, demanding, suspicious, and miserable - and refuses to redeem themselves Hollywood-style? What if that person is your aging parent and you can see that in the near future you're going to have to make that choice?

Old folk's homes with Chinese-speaking staff and/or residents are pretty damned rare in these parts.