December

I honestly have no idea where December went.  I know I was there, but it seems to have slipped me by completely.

It has been ridiculously busy here.  It began rather promising with a job interview, and I was convinced they were going to offer me the job until -- they didn't.  They declined to give a reason.  Then all of New Zealand shut down for Christmas.

Which honestly was just as well, because we decided to move.  Without getting into specifics, we decided that rather than trying to sell this house and buy another one in town, we'd rent for a year.  Of course, that was before we realised how expensive it would be to rent a four bedroom house in town...

Whenever the kids were with their dad, we went into the city and looked at homes.  Quite a few were just depressing.  We did see one we liked -- it had just been completely refurbished -- but the "fourth bedroom" wasn't large enough to hold a bed.  We spent a week trying to figure out how to make it work, but finally had to abandon it.  Then we saw a large five bedroom house in an ideal location that was completely out of our price range, but many people in New Zealand "host" international students (i.e. rent a room for the term) which would have made the house affordable.  We immediately submitted an application, and five days later were told...someone else had pipped us to the post.

Christmas was also in December, but if I had trouble getting into the "winter spirit" in Los Angeles, you can imagine what it's like south of the equator, when you spend the day at the beach and the sun sets at 9pm.  In addition, most of the people I know here are Jewish, so it wasn't a big deal.  On Christmas eve we were supposed to have Chinese food with members of the synagogue, but I wrote down the wrong time and so we completely missed it.  The kids were with their dad on Christmas so we got together with family on Boxing Day...and had a picnic outside.  (We also took advantage of the after-Christmas sales to buy new furnishings for the house we don't have.)

We also emptied the garage and loft, which has been tricky because kids are natural hoarders, and if they saw anything -- particularly something they haven't played with for years -- they still want to keep it.  I sold a dozen DVDs and when I went to ship them, there were only 10 -- the fourteen-year-old had made off with the Barbie and Bratz videos!  While the kids were in school this wasn't an issue but when they were home on holidays, we were like drug dealers -- cars would pull up in the driveway, there would be a furtive exchange of cash and goods, and they would pull away.  For larger items, one of us would distract the kids whilst the other completed the sale.  However, we managed to get rid of seven bicycles, a rabbit hutch, a swing set, a piano, a TV and a refrigerator without them noticing.

But there is no rest for the weary, I'm afraid.  House hunting is starting over, again, and I should mention we need to move by the end of January so the kids can enrol in their new schools!  I will have to remind all the agencies that I'm still looking for work, and hopefully will have a few more interviews.  And of course as soon as we move, we need to get the old house ready for sale, so it will be mid-February before we get a break...and by then I hope to be working!

I wish everyone a belated Christmas and New year, and a happy 2015.

Food

Q: What do you get when you cross a vegetarian with four coeliacs, one lactose intolerant and one nut allergy?

A: Delicious food.

Long gone are the days when being diagnosed as coeliac was a culinary death sentence.  Today, even in the erstwhile backwaters of New Zealand, there is a gluten free aisle in every supermarket, and although the bulk of items are pre-packaged cakes unfit for human consumption, they taste more or less the same as pre-packaged cakes in the bread aisle. There are several brands of gluten-free pasta, ranging from passable to "tastes like corn" (because it is corn).  Of course, pasta was only ever meant as a vehicle for sauce and I can empty the crisper tray into a skillet and turn out a fantastic sauce.  (Of course each child will pick certain things out--one the mushrooms, one the chickpeas, one the pasta--but that's normal.)

Cheese makes everything go down better, except for the lactose-intolerant where cheese acts in the reverse direction.  Fortunately she is responding well to the lactase tablets, and so the rest of us do not have to suffer (either from the lack of cheese or the digestive complaining after).  The nut allergy was a bit of a challenge to adapt to, which is funny considering I was nut-free for almost ten years, and only started eating them again about a year ago.  (However, I've been making up for lost time and eating quite a lot of nuts.)  After several accusations of trying to kill the child, I've learned to use two knives to make a peanut butter and jam sandwich -- and to make sure I don't double-dip the jam knife after it has touched the peanut butter.

All that aside, I'm used to cooking for one person, two tops, and even then my chef skills greatly atrophied during the 18 months while I was travelling for work. Suddenly cooking for five has been a challenge.  I get laughed at when I put out a small pan for pasta -- and out comes the large stock pot.  I know longer buy bagged lettuce because the kids will demolish an entire head of iceberg in a day.  (I also have to guard the cucumber jealously or it will never reach the table.)

Thankfully, although the kids can be fickle, they aren't against trying new foods, so I've been able to introduce mexican, thai and even some Jewish foods.  They can't deal with spice so I've toned things down, although they still have a glass of milk ready whenever I feed them, just in case.

And although their mom hasn't raised them vegetarian, meat was never a focus of the meal, and so they haven't missed it at all.  I did feed them brisket once--although it was a small amount in a large bowl of cabbage borscht.  (I also gave them beer--although it was a small amount in a large vat of Welsh rarebit, served with a locally produced fig chutney and some vine-ripened tomatoes.  Absolute heaven.)

Sugar rush

I've just been reading the (large body) of scientific evidence that flies in the face of what every parent knows: There is no link between sugar and hyperactivity in kids.

To be fair, I already knew this from a conversation I had with a pediatrician years ago: The body tightly regulates blood sugar level, ensuring a steady supply to the brain.  If you eat a small amount of sugar, such as a teaspoon, it will have no noticeable effect on blood sugar.  If you eat a significant amount of sugar (say, a soda) then the body will release insulin, which triggers the cells in your body to convert the sugar to triglycerides and store it away for future use, effectively removing it from the bloodstream.

In some people, the insulin removes too much sugar, temporarily causing hypoglycemia, or a sugar crash, but that's rare.  You mid-afternoon sleepiness is not caused by a lack of sugar, and your recovery is not caused by a rush of sugar; it's caused by the act of eating and relaxing as much as the placebo effect--since you expect to feel better after eating a sugary snack, you do feel better.

Why, then, do kids seem to behave so badly after eating sugar?  Again, it's the context--if they are at a celebration, with other kids, they are bound to act up.  If their parents are indulging them with sugar, it's likely they are indulging them in general.  The expectation is they will act up, and kids readily oblige.

So if there is no such thing as a sugar rush or a sugar crash, I have one more question: Is there a sugar hangover?  In the morning after, they certain seem to exhibit the classic signs of withdrawal: Difficult to rouse, anti-social behavior and an over-riding desire for the tail-of-the-dog, more sugar.  From hot chocolate to ice cream, it doesn't seem to matter how miserable they feel, sugar is the answer.

Of course, kids don't have the self-awareness to blame their mood on the sugar; it's the person who woke them, or gave them an omelette instead of pancakes (with jam and syrup).  Or in my case, the person who physically lifted them up and put them in the car, because we had prior commitments that morning.  However, by noon I got a hug, an apology, and an "I love you."

I still get tired in the afternoon, and I still reach for a sugary sweet as a pick-me-up, but I also don't start screaming, crying and throwing things when I don't get my way.  Unfortunately I can't blame it on the sugar; I will have to recognise it was my own fault for not controlling the situation and letting them stay up too late.  Perhaps that's the hardest part of being a parent--whenever you try to reward them, it ends up biting you.

New Zealand vagaries

I'm in Paraparaumu, about 45 minutes north of Wellington.  State Highway 1 passes through Paekakariki, Pukerua, Paremata, Papakowhai, Porirura, Paparangi and Ngauranga before reaching Wellington harbour.  Those are all transliterations of Maori names, so they sound (more or less) like the look, except Paekakariki is pronounced "pie-cock-a-riki."  Also, "wh" is prnounced "f" most of the time.  But not always.

New Zealand is about the same size as Colorado, but only has 4.2 million people, and more than a third of them live in Auckland. (Colorado has 5.3 million people, and only 12% live in Denver.) About 500,000 live in Wellington (the capitol city) and 400,000 in Christchurch (on the south island).  Outside those three cities, the population density is less than 19 people per square mile, as you can see from this map.

The UK, by contrast, is slightly smaller than New Zealand (94,000 square miles compared to 106,000 square miles) but has 15 times as many people, with an average population density of 675 people per square mile!

New Zealand is a weird conglomeration of British and American culture, with a bit of Maori thrown in for flavour.  They use English spelling, they drive on the left and the second floor is still the first floor. "Stop" signs aren't as common as"Give way" signs (with predicatbly hilarious results) and intersections are as common as roundabouts.  (They also appear to be experimenting with X-shaped intersections, which just shows that civil engineers really do have a sense of humour.)  Courgettes are back to zucchini, and aubergines are back to eggplants, but yams are called "kumera" and bell peppers are called "capsicums."

Despite a very large dairy industry (both cows and sheep), the variety and quality of cheese is appalling.  Generally, they sell mild cheeses in large, one kilogram blocks. You can't even find a sharp cheddar, never mind a decent mozzarella.  Locally grown produce is quite reasonable, but anything imported is astronomical.  There are only three national supermarket chains -- Countdown, New World, Pak'nSave -- and two of those are owned by the same company.  There is a large chain called "Commonsense Organics" which sells specialty foods at eye-watering prices.

The main petrol chain is called "Z" and instead of Nectar points you collect "Fly Buys" (which you can no longer use to fly).  Unlike the US, which couldn't handle the metric system, or the UK, which bastardized the metric system, New Zealand is purely on the metric system, so at 44 I'm finally having to figure out what a kilometer is.  This old dog does not like learning new tricks.

The weather is highly variable, unless you're in Wellington, in which case it's always windy.  Where I am gets about 3 times as much rain as Los Angeles, but evenly spread over the year.  (It's about the same amount as Glasgow.) Christmas is the longest day of the year, and most people spend it at the beach.  No matter where you are in New Zealand, you're never more than 80 miles from the ocean.

Because it's below the equator, of course drains spin in the opposite direction, and the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. 

Drama

Things move so quickly here, it's hard for me to keep up. Some days I think I should keep a diary, but then I realise I'm much happier living in the moment, rather than recording it. (Hence the infrequent blog updates.)

It's also hard to keep track of who is upset about what. At 10, 12 and 13 going on 16, there is no end to the drama. It was "labour weekend" in New Zealand, a three-day weekend that is primarily used as a marker for when to plant vegetables, which is exactly what I did Friday afternoon--plant vegetables. The eldest wasn't interested but the younger two came out to watch. When I tried giving the middle child a job, she disappeared and was not seen again. The youngest did stay, although he much preferred stabbing things with the fork, so wasn't much help. (Once I'd weeded, turned the soil and added mulch, he did plant the seedlings, so I'll give him credit.)

Friday night, I made borscht, aka sweet and sour cabbage soup. I haven't had borscht since I went vegetarian, because restaurants invariably cook it with brisket, and I never thought to make it myself! And in fact I did cook some brisket separately, as I did not think cabbage soup would be an easy sell with the kids. (They did eat it with the brisket, but turned their noses up when the leftovers were offered without meat.) In the evening, the eldest child -- who has been an absolute angel for the past four weeks -- had a bit of a setback and started yelling, but I honestly can't remember about what.
Saturday, the kids got up at 6am, 8am and 10am respectively, and each one announced they were staying home the entire day and "relaxing." Of course, I have no idea what they were relaxing from, but it didn't matter as we'd made plans to meet their uncle for lunch on the beach. Just like the UK, it always rains on a holiday weekend, and as Saturday was the only sunny day we were determined to make the most of it. The kids, however, were determined to do the opposite. After much groaning and protestation, we finally got them out the door, but at the beach they refused to go in the water, or play any games, and instead just dug holes in the sand.

Sunday morning is usually a hassle because the kids go to cheder (Jewish school) and normally have to be out the door by 9, but it was on hiatus and so we had a leisurely morning and I made hash browns, frittata and toast. (Toast is a luxury in the household because the kids are all coeliac, gluten-free bread is very expensive and they'll go through an entire loaf in a day!) The kids have a terrible habit of starting the meal before it is even served, grabbing food off the serving plates, and I was determined to stop this, and was gunning for the first kid to snatch a hash brown. Unfortunately that turned out to be the middle child, who was also at the receiving end a week ago when she snatched some lettuce off the chopping board and I was quick enough to grab her wrist and force her to drop it. That two-second incident turned into a two hour festival of screaming and crying, and so criticising her a second time was playing with fire. To be fair, all I said was, "That's very rude. You don't even help making the food, and then you can't even wait for us to sit down before you start eating?" Amazingly, there was no crying, but she stormed off and wouldn't talk to me for an hour. (Although she happily ate the hash browns when they were served.)

At breakfast I mentioned I was meeting their uncle for tennis, and then a strange thing happened--all the kids said they wanted to go with me! (Even the one who wasn't speaking to me.) We were actually going to a tennis club, with lots of older people, so it was really inappropriate for me to bring them, but their uncle has been trying to kindle their interest in tennis for a while so I didn't want to quash it. Fortunately the club was great, and gave us a private court to play on. The middle child promptly had a meltdown and went and sat in the car for the rest of the time, but the other two kids had fun, and their uncle and I took turns playing with the club and teaching the kids.

When we got home at noon, their mom was swimming, so I told the kids we needed to pack for the river. The middle child promptly disappeared, but she was in such a foul mood I was happy to let her go. The eldest announced she wanted to bake a cake, which was not on the list of things to do, but I love cake, so was happy to let her go. The youngest said he wanted a lemon cake, and after some argument she agreed. The recipe called for two teaspoons of lemon rind so I gave the boy a lemon and a zester and showed him how to strip off the peel. He told me he was too tired to do it. I snapped at him, a bit harshly, that he had just asked his sister to make a lemon cake for him and now couldn't be bothered to make the lemon? He relented, and I left the two alone while I loaded the kayaks onto the car. When I came back, the kitchen was spotless--even the middle child had returned and helped clean the dishes!

We met some friends on the river and after a few rough starts -- the two youngest kids insisted on sitting in the car, where they proceeded to argue about who-knows-what -- the kids all went on the kayaks upstream, and we had a lovely time. The Met Office predicted rain at 6pm and, although the skies were threatening all day, it did hold out. We got home and everyone helped unload the car, I got pizza for dinner, and the whole family was playing a board game--it was idyllic, so you know it couldn't last for long. Her mom asked the eldest to do something, and she shot back with a rude remark. Her mom wasn't having any of it, and told her to go to her room and think about what she said, but the girl wouldn't back down and announced she wasn't going to her room, and we should continue playing the game.

This is usually the point where I jump in, just to sever the "casual rudeness" that the children displayed toward their mother, except I could see how this was going to play out -- the eldest has been working hard to behave, and has been enjoying the fruits of that labour -- talking, playing, laughing, having fun. Rather than escalate the situation, I decided that denying her those things would have a more lasting effect. So I didn't stop the kids from playing, but I didn't play with them, and of course their mother stopped as well. At 8pm I announced it was bedtime, even though we had planned on letting them stay up as Monday was a holiday. The kids were also planning a "sleepover" -- sleeping together in one room -- but I cancelled that. Funnily, whereas before they would have had a meltdown and just started screaming until they got their way, the younger two were quite philosophical, and understood this was because the eldest was misbehaving. In fact, the younger two were so exemplary that in the end I did let them have a sleepover--which turned out to be a huge mistake.

While I was reading to the younger ones, their mom was talking to the eldest, who (as predicted) was crying inconsolably about how she never does anything right and how sorry she was. It was very heartfelt--and heartbreaking--but an important lesson, and she needed to know their were consequences for bad behaviour that would not be waived for an apology. Unfortunately, just as she had stopped crying and resigned herself to this, the middle child came in and pleaded on her sister's behalf to be allowed in the sleepover. Her mom refused and the crying started all over again.

Monday the forecast was for rain all day, so the kids were allowed to do their own thing in the morning. We were going to a friend's for tea in the afternoon, and the lemon cake had been such a smash the day before, the eldest wanted to make another. Again, I was happy to let her. Unfortunately the younger two decided to play Minecraft in the same world (on two different devices), and started bickering about things in the virtual world the same as they might argue over real-world toys! Their mom is a luddite and very intolerant of technology, so she told them to stop playing. Unfortunately the youngest gets very addicted, and does not handle being disconnected well, so he started crying.

We called their grandmother (on Skype) and had a video chat, which was going well until she asked about my job situation. We've been trying to not discuss the situation with the kids until we had some concrete plans, but of course they have been asking how long I'd be here and have been frustrated that we haven't given them any answers. The eldest, in particular, has accused us of keeping secrets, and I feel for them but I think telling them "I don't know" isn't any better of an answer. So when her grandma asked, and her mom fobbed off the question, she got very upset. Very, very upset. It stewed for a while, but by the time we got over to her aunt's house it boiled over, and she and her mom had an hour-long screaming/crying/glaring session. (Fortunately I was inside, with the other two kids.)

And then it was over and she was fine. Her mom was a wreck, of course, but it's amazing how kids can turn it on and just as quickly turn it off! We went over to the friend's house and had a lovely afternoon. We got home, made a quick dinner, and over dinner discussed a Halloween party the girls had been invited to. The issue was over the time they had to leave, as we have to be in the city at 10am the following morning--which means getting up at 8am--and the kids are nightmares if they don't get 10 hours of sleep. The girls assured us that they could be in bed and asleep in 15 minutes, even though it normally takes them an hour to settle down. A compromise was reached with the proviso they could show -- over the next four days -- that they could get to bed on time.

The two girls then sat down to practice guitar for a school show they had the next evening. The eldest was playing her own song, and had invited her sister to play with her. Unfortunately, at 8pm -- bedtime -- the eldest told her sister she no longer wanted her to play, and the middle one went into a meltdown. Interestingly, again whereas she normally would have started screaming until she got her way, the middle one started screaming into a pillow, obviously trying (in some small measure) to control herself. Her mother offered her comfort and she slammed the bedroom door in her face, but later came out and demanded her mother come in and comfort her! Her mom took a hard line and told her to control herself and she started to lose it, but then managed to pull herself back from the precipice and go to bed. It was an amazing turnaround, and I was very proud of her, even though I couldn't tell her that because she was still behaving badly.

So night one of showing us they could get to bed early, the middle one went to bed nearly two hours late. (Tonight we won't get home from the concert until after 8pm, so that should be an even more interesting test.) I expected the middle one to be abominable in the morning, but she was perfectly pleasant, whereas the eldest was arguing vociferously about why her mom should be able to just tell her if the dishes in the dishwasher were clean, rather than her having to go and check! Sometimes it's hard to not just laugh in their face. Their mom, who also needs her sleep, was shattered, so I offered to drive the girls to the train station, leaving her with the youngest who was happy as larry. When I got home 20 minutes later, I found him crying in the hallway.

It was piano day and all the kids are afraid of their piano teacher, because she scolds them when they don't practice, and so Tuesday when they realise they haven't practiced all week -- despite their mother reminding them every single day -- they all get upset. (Although they never seem to learn from it.) So I assumed he was having another "stomach ache" -- which only happens on school days -- but it turns out he had gotten on Minecraft again, and when his mom asked him to come off he had given her lip, and she announced there would no longer be any computer time in the morning. (Oddly, he wouldn't admit that was what had upset him, but this is the same child who will assure you that in spite of the tears rolling down his cheeks, the trembling lips and between the choking sobs that he is absolutely not crying.)

So that's the last four days, in a rambling nutshell. I'm hopeful I'll get some more leads this week, but regardless of my situation I think we'll have to talk to the kids. Their dad may be back in town next week -- as usual, he hasn't communicated at all -- and so I don't want this hanging over their heads. It's not great timing simply because, although their parents divorced four years ago, they still haven't agreed on a settlement, so having someone else in the picture only complicates things. (I will have to do another post on the draconian and neanderthal New Zealand divorce laws...)

Chores

I don't remember having chores as a kid.  Perhaps I just blocked that out, or perhaps I was such an angelic child that I did everything without needing to be told.  Whatever the case, at least I wasn't a spoilt brat who expected everything to be done for me, and then complained if it wasn't done exactly the way I wanted it.

Of course my mother may disagree, but she can write her own blog.

Anyway, as I said before, being a single mom with three kids is an impossible situation because you're always in triage mode. If you ask one child to do something, and they throw a tantrum, you can't take that child aside and deal with it, because the other two will start acting up.  They will always be able to outflank you, and in the end it is just easier to do it yourself.

Of course, if chores are the stick then an allowance ("pocket money") is supposed to be the carrot.  But if the kids insist on immediately spending it all on candy ("lollies") -- and then behave even worse after the sugar crash -- then it becomes almost a win-win: If they don't do any chores, you don't have to give them any money, and they can't buy any candy.  In the long run, however, the children are missing out on personal accountability, family participation, and financial responsibility.  In other words, they're becoming American.

But I'm not interested in the long run; I'm interested in control, and carrot-and-stick is the second oldest form of control.  ("Might-makes-right" is the oldest.)  So we've been talking about how to re-introduce pocket money for several weeks, and I'd even drawn up a list of responsibilities, chores and behaviors to reward.  We haven't shown them the list but this week we're filling it out for them, and on Sunday we'll show them how they are currently doing, and what we expect if they expect to get any money.  So far, it's not looking good.

Two of them refuse to keep their rooms tidy, throwing everything on the floor until you can't even walk through it.  (One has terrible dust allergies so this just contributes to her sinus problems.)  The past two mornings, the middle one has had a meltdown and started screaming about nothing.  Asking them to set the table immediately launches a vehement argument about whose turn it is, and asking them to take food scraps to the compost heap sounds more like we're sending them to Siberia.  Yesterday I had to discipline the kids twice--once when the youngest was just being rude, and later when the middle child decided she could ignore her mother and grab some food off the counter.  (I was able to grab her wrist and make her drop it, but that lead to an hour of hysterics about how I shouldn't be allowed to discipline them.  Fortunately their mom disagrees.)

That said, they have been practicing piano, yesterday they folded clothes without any complaint, and this morning the eldest made breakfast for her siblings.  The eldest even did some math practice, although she did spend the entire ten minutes repeating, "This is stupid."   So maybe there is hope.

Then again, last Saturday was a school carnival and their mom gave them $5 each for rides and such.  They immediately spent all of it on sweets.

Six weeks

I've been in New Zealand for six weeks now, maybe more. Excluding my 11-month job search in 2008, I've never been on vacation for this long. I'm talking about buying a second-hand bicycle, and a kayak! I hate the water, but I want a kayak. Go figure.

I spoke with immigration last week and they said I could stay nine months without a job; I just need to submit a form and pay a fee. (Obviously I can't afford to be without a job for nine months, but it's nice to know I have the option.)

The kids are very confused, of course--my first visit was just a few days, my second visit was two weeks, and this seems open-ended. They have been asking when I'll be leaving and I keep giving them vague and unsatisfying answers, such as "I don't have an end date scheduled yet." Yesterday one asked why I was keeping it a secret--I assured her that as soon as I knew, I'd tell her straight away. I'm not sure that appeased her much.

Fortunately they are asking because they don't want me to go. Tonight the newly-minted twelve-year-old said it would be strange not having me around. It almost moved me to tears.

Earlier that day she also told her siblings to do what I said, because otherwise I might get mad and she didn't want me to get mad! What I wanted was for them to get out of the car, where they were staging a protest against walking to the Dewali festival, about half a mile away along the waterfront. We did finally go and the kids (of course) had a great time. The 12-year-old who is famous for not wanting new foods not only tried--but loved--masala dosa and vegetable biryani! (Then she drank all of my mango lassi, which I was less impressed with.)

Unfortunately we were having so much fun I completely forgot I'd arranged for the kids to play tennis with their uncle in the afternoon! (Thankfully he wasn't upset, but he did get me to agree to help remove his old TV, which weighs a ton.)

In the evening we chased each other around the playing field with nerf guns, completely ignoring a perfect sunset. Then we tucked into a vegetarian shepherd's pie, finished with cake and ice cream. I read to the kids from a book called "Captain Underpants" and they were all asleep by 9.

Meanwhile their mom had been cooking, doing laundry, cleaning up, ensuring the kids were ready for school the next day, following up on homework, and a host of things I'm not even aware of. Of course the kids want me to stay--when does their mom have time to play with them?

New Zealand products

The days are just packed

I've been here a month now, and some times it feels like I just arrived and other times like I've been here forever. Today I'm at the pool--sorry, "aquatics center"--though after two laps I was so exhausted I could hardly pull myself out of the water. I may need to work on that.

Yesterday we had my girlfriend's family over to celebrate a birthday, and the day before we were in synagogue all day for Yom Kippur. (The kids were stars, entertaining themselves the entire day.) Friday evening we were also in town for kol nidre.

After the kids came home from their weekend with dad, the girls went off to "music camp" on Tuesday, and Wednesday evening we went to a "concert" put on by the kids.

In between all of this is the shopping and cooking and cleaning, plus the constant drama! One day I spent half an hour just lying on the floor, waiting for a child to calm down and pick up a piece of paper. This morning it was a half hour battle to get the kids to go to the pool, and another battle to get them out of the pool! It's fine that they don't know their own minds, I'm just unclear why they feel the need to argue about it all the time. I may need to go buy a book.

Of course what I'm *supposed* to be doing is finding a job, and I've devoted precious little time to that. I updated my CV and submitted it to one company, plus an IT guy at my synagogue.

Someone else also informed me I was applying for the wrong kind of visa entirely--rather than apply for a work permit, which just gives me the right to work here, I should be applying for a "work-to-residence" permit, which gives me the right to work and live here! (Either way, I'm beholden to my employer for two years, which is exactly the situation I was trying to avoid when I applied for the skilled work permit...)

So that's about it. The kids are still on term holiday this week, so I asked them what they wanted to do. After being told, in no uncertain terms, that they wanted to do *nothing* this week, they then came up with a list of 20 things and then started complaining they didn't have time to do all of them!!

But I'm learning to take it one day at a time, enjoying the moment and not take it too seriously. It really is exactly the right place for me at this stage of my life. Funny how life does that.

Introducing...

You may be wondering why I'm in New Zealand, and of course the answer is as old as time: I met a woman.

As she is reading this, I have to be circumspect in how I describe her.  Let's just say she's beautiful, intelligent, talented, charming and honest.  (And let's pray to God she's not into acronyms.)  She has a fantastic sense of humour, and did I mention she's a red-head?

She has three kids, which she's raised effectively on her own.  (Her ex-husband always travelled for work and was never around much.  Now he shows up about twice a year and blames her that he doesn't see the kids more...)  Although the 13-year-old took a little while to come around, the 11-year-old and 9-year-old took to me right away (as did the cat).  They're all good kids, with the usual teenage and pre-teen angst thrown in.  (I look at it as karma for all the horrible things I did at that age.)

Plus...it's New Zealand.  She lives about 40 minutes from Wellington, and 5 minutes from the ocean.  I came in January (summer), April (autumn) and September (the tail end of winter) and can say it's gorgeous year-round.  (She complains about the rain, which is true--they get about three times the annual rainfall of Los Angeles, and a third more than London, but still less than Glasgow!)  The only thing I can complain about is the accent--think of a Scouse, only happier.

So that's the short answer.  Right now I'm enjoying the novelty of it--especially trying to pronounce maori names, such as Paraparaumu and pukeko--but in the long run, I have no doubt I'm right where I'm meant to be.

P.S. Before I moved here, I told my mother New Zealand was the same distance from California as the UK, just in the opposite direction, so I wasn't moving any *further* away.  However, it turns out London is 5,350 miles while Auckland is 6,525 miles.  Sorry, Mom. :-(