Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 17

On November 17, 1984, a new song went to Number One, and it was one of my favourites of the year. This week 40 years ago, ”Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” (video above) by English pop duo Wham! went to Number One. The song—the duo’s first Number One in the USA—was the lead single from their second album, Make It Big, and it would stay at the top of the Billboard “Hot 100” for three weeks.

I don’t know when, precisely, I first became aware of Wham!, but it was probably through a video. As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, in the mid-1980s, “video bars”, that is, bars that played music videos, were quite popular, and there were several gay bars in Chicago that featured them. It could be that the reason I saw the video for their single ”Club Tropicana” was because of the success of “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go”, since that song the album it was on marked the beginning of their success in the USA.

Regardless of what the timeline actually was, I distinctly remember going to a long gone video bar called “Take One” with one of my childhood friends, and that video was played. I loved that video, not the least because the band’s lead singer, George Michael, was definitely my type at the time, and I thought he was hot (for the record, I was around four years older than him, though I didn’t know that at the time). That bar played several videos that have stuck in my mind for decades, also including We Close Our Eyes by another English pop duo, Go West, mainly because at the time I thought their video was visually interesting. There were plenty of others that seared themselves into my brain, too, but it was those two songs most of all.

The music video for “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” was directed by Andy Morahan, and was a very energetic performance video. What I remember most about it to this day are clothes. First, the “Choose Life” t-shirts (designed by English fashion designer Katharine Hamnett). By the mid-1980s, that slogan was being adopted by US anti-abortion activists, and even in 1984 it was kind of confronting—in fact, I briefly wondered if the Wham! were righwingers, which is hilarious to me now, of course, especially because of the US-centric assumptions about what the shirt's words meant. The second memorable clothing was at a little more than a minute into the video when their outfits suddenly changed, and George’s shorts! I’m pretty sure I swooned.

When I was a teenager, I didn’t have the chance to have crushes on pop stars, because they would’ve been male. Even so, I remember that in the 1960s, when I was probably too young to realise the significance (or danger…) of it, I thought that Davy Jones of The Monkees was really cute—when he was in his early 20s, actually—though my age wasn't even in double digits yet. He was probably my first celebrity crush.

I think that George Michael was among my first celebrity crushes after I came out, and since then I’ve certainly appreciated the beauty of famous men (singers, actors, etc), but it was all innocent. In the 1980s, I formed my first relationships, none of which lasted very long until 1984 (though even that one only lasted around four years). So, for me, crushing on George Michael and others was all just part of me figuring out who I was was. I had no idea back then that figuring out would be a lifelong process—nor that pop music would always be the backing track to my story. George Michael and Wham! were definitely part of that soundtrack. Skimpy shorts were always optional, though.

“Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” reached Number One in Australia (2x Platinum), 2 in Canada (Platinum), 2 in New Zealand, Number One in the UK (Gold), as well as Number One on the USA’s Billboard “Hot 100”, and was also Number One on Cash Box, and on the “Contemporary Hit Radio” chart from Radio & Records. It was certified Platinum in the USA.

The album Make It Big reached Number One in Australia (Platinum), Canada (6x Platinum), New Zealand (Platinum), in the UK (4x Platinum), and on the USA’s “Billboard 200”. It was Certified 6x Platinum in the USA.

Back on December 8 with the next Number One song of 1984.

Previously in the “Weekend Diversion – 1984” series:

Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 1 – January 21, 2024
Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 2 – February 4, 2024
Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 3 – February 25, 2024
Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 4 – March 31, 2024
Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 5 – April 21, 2024
Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 6 – May 12, 2024
Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 7 – May 26, 2024
Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 8 – June 9, 2024
Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 9 – June 23, 2024
Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 10 – July 7, 2024
Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 11 – August 11, 2024
Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 12 – September 1, 2024
Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 13 – September 22, 2024
Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 14 – September 29, 2024
Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 15 – October 13, 2024
Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 16 – November 3, 2024

Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 16

A new song went to Number One on November 3, 1984: ”Caribbean Queen (No More Love on the Run)” by Trinidadian-British singer Billy Ocean. The song was the lead single from Ocean’s fifth studio album, Suddenly, and it would stay at the top of the Billboard “Hot 100” for two weeks. The song won Ocean the 1985 Grammy Award for Best Male R&B Vocal Performance, making him the first British artist to win in that category.

What I didn’t know until I researched this post is that the song was originally released in the UK in May 1984 as "European Queen (No More Love on the Run)", but the song didn’t succeed. According to the Wikipedia article for the song (linked to above), people at the record company suggested it be re-recorded for different parts of the world, and there were also two other versions "African Queen" and the hit, "Caribbean Queen".

”Caribbean Queen (No More Love on the Run)” was released in the USA in August 1984, and some ten weeks later it hit Number One. Ocean said about it:

The song was released in Europe as "European Queen" and nobody was interested in it. When we changed the name to "Caribbean Queen" and released it in the U.S., it took off and started snowballing and they started playing it in Europe. I guess it had more appeal as "Caribbean Queen" because Europe conjures up a vision of rain and snow and cold, but Caribbean sounds like sunshine and blue skies. It's much more exotic.

I probably saw the video at the time, though I apparently didn’t pay much attention to it, because when I watched it for this post I realised that I didn’t remember much about it. The song, however, I remember very well. It may have been Number One for only two weeks, but it was a popular song for much longer than that. I had the song on a Time-Life compilation disc for 1984, and I may actually have heard the song more when listening to that.

I was kind of indifferent to this song in 1984. I thought it was bouncy and catchy, but it just didn’t manage to catch me. I certainly didn’t DISlike it, it just wasn’t one of my favourites from that era. C’est la vie, and all that. Nigel liked Billy Ocean’s music generally much more than I did; our pop music tastes didn’t align all the time—just most of the time.

”Caribbean Queen (No More Love on the Run)” reached Number 2 in Australia, 8 in Canada (Gold), Number One in New Zealand (Gold), 6 in the UK (Gold), as well as Number One on the USA’s Billboard “Hot 100”, “Hot Black Singles”, and “Hot Dance Club Play” charts, and was also Number 2 on Cash Box. It was certified Gold in the USA.

The album Suddenly reached Number 13 in Australia, 14 in Canada (3x Platinum), 35 in New Zealand, 9 in the UK (Gold), and Number 9 on the USA’s “Billboard 200” and 3 on the Billboard “Top R&B/Hip-Hop Albums” charts. It was Certified 2x Platinum in the USA.

Back in two weeks with the next Number One song of 1984.

Previously in the “Weekend Diversion – 1984” series:

Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 1 – January 21, 2024
Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 2 – February 4, 2024
Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 3 – February 25, 2024
Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 4 – March 31, 2024
Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 5 – April 21, 2024
Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 6 – May 12, 2024
Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 7 – May 26, 2024
Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 8 – June 9, 2024
Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 9 – June 23, 2024
Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 10 – July 7, 2024
Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 11 – August 11, 2024
Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 12 – September 1, 2024
Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 13 – September 22, 2024
Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 14 – September 29, 2024
Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 15 – October 13, 2024

Shoe and tell

Shoes are kind of weird. They’re necessary much of the time, like for safety, but what they’re made of and look like—those can be odd things. I recently threw out the shoes I’ve worn for mowing the lawns (and all other outside work) since I moved into this house. It was definitely time for them to go.

In general, I’m a kind of “waste not, want not” kind of guy, but even I have my limits. I bought those shoes while we were loving on Auckland’s North Shore, and they were my everyday shoes for many years (though I had some others, too, and I had shoes that I wore for outside work back then, too).

After Nigel died and I started looking at houses in Hamilton, I wore those shoes to the open homes because they were easy to slip off and back on. That was a good idea because most Kiwis don’t wear shoes inside someone else’s house, and never a home that’s being shown by real estate agents, including home open homes. In fact, if a house attracts a lot of folks to the open home, there can be a crowd of shoes outside the front door. However, even by that time, the shoes were showing signs of wearing out.

When I moved into my house, I at first kept wearing the outside shoes I’d been wearing for a few years, but their rubber soles cracked through, and there was no way to fix them. At the same time, the signs of wear on my open home shoes had accelerated (once it starts…), and they became my new outside shoes, especially because in those Lockdown Days I didn’t have a lot of options.

A brief digression: What I call “outside shoes” are just ordinary shoes that are wearing out that I wear for gardening, mowing the lawns, and other work outside (and yes, I’m aware that shoes I wear out in public are also technically “outside shoes”, but my shoes, my rules, mkay?). I also have “inside shoes”, which are inexpensive shoes that are bit more robust and, well, shoelike than slippers are. I never wear those outside (except, maybe to check the letterbox).

The thing is, anyone with dogs has to contend with gifts left on the lawn, ones that may be invisible until they leap out underfoot while we walk across our lawns. Having outside shoes means if such an event happens, I won’t track the gift remnants into my house because the shoes don’t go inside except for the garage. Also, and somewhat miraculously, I manage to avoid stepping on the gifts; perhaps I have an invisible force field?

As those outside shoes continued slowly deteriorating, I made efforts to extend their life: I re-glued the back of the sole of one shoe twice, and then it peeled off a third time. By then the rubber soles had a hole worn through to the harder rubber underneath, the padding at the back had popped free as the stitching at the heels failed, and the stitching along the upper was opening up in places. At the end, the heal of one shoe was flapping as I pushed the mower around. It was time for them to leave, and they went out in the rubbish collection a couple weeks ago, immediately after I took the photo above, and that was right after I finished the mowing that week.

I already had replacement shoes ready to go: A pair of runners/trainers/joggers/whatever they’re called where you’re from that had been Nigel’s. He bought them maybe more than 20 years ago, but I know that he was still wearing them in 2006 because my friend Jason snapped a photo of Nigel and me (at right; I originally shared the photo five years ago, in one of my earliest grief journey posts) while Jason was visiting us. Nigel eventually stopped wearing them, having bought other shoes—some of which he also stopped wearing. I tried the shoes for mowing one time, and when I took them off, I accidentally loosened one sole from heal to about two-thirds of the way to the toe (because I hadn’t loosened the laces enough, and had used the toe of one shoe to hold/push the damaged one down to make it easier for me to slip out. Oops.

I forgot about that until I went to get them to mow the front lawns Wednesday of last week. I wore them, anyway, but the back of the sole was flapping around just like the now-gone former outside shoes did. Wednesday night I re-glued the sole and they were perfect when I mowed the back lawn on the next day.

I know that my current outside shoes, already showing signs of wear, won’t last forever, and I may not even have the opportunity to make any further repairs before it’s time to put them in the rubbish, too. However, what this tale underscores is that I do what I can to repair and even make do rather than always buying something new. So much of what we buy, even “good” brands, is designed to have a short useful life, and I do what I can to upset corporations’ plans.

In this case, the now-gone outside shoes were ones that other people would have thrown away long before I did—though this isn’t a competition. Many people don’t have the time, skills, resources, whatever, to do what I do, and I probably won’t be able to do it forever. But right now, I do what I can to extend the usable life of the products I buy, and that includes repairing what I can repair, reusing or repurposing perfectly good things I already have (and donating what I no longer have a use for). This is part of the values that Nigel and I shared, namely, to live as sustainably as possible—though he would’ve thrown out those shoes much more quickly than I did (our values were aligned, but not entirely identical…).

I still buy new stuff, of course, though not a much as I once did (us pensioners have a strong incentive to live frugally so that we don’t have to live austerely). I’m not part of any sort of “no buy” movement, but simply the stop-and-think movement. Do I need that that new thing, or do I already have something that will serve the purpose? Can that old thing be repaired or refreshed, as needed, or is it too far gone? And all that aside, is the new thing I want something that I really want, regardless of the answers to the other two questions? Because if so, I’ll buy the new thing—I’m just human, and neither a monk nor a radical.

Everyone needs to decide for themselves how to live their lives and how to put their values into action. This shoe story is really about how I go about doing that. Old shoes can tell us a lot about a person, apparently.

Twenty-nine years later

November 2 has been a VERY significant anniversary since 1995, because that was the day I arrived in New Zealand to live, and because Nigel and I began our life together that day, and so, as I’ve said many times, it’s what we thought of as our anniversary—until we gained more. Nigel is gone, but I’m still here, and in New Zealand, and the two meanings of November 2 will always be connected for me.

When I recently talked about the eleventh anniversary of our marriage, I said that, just like having an eleventh anniversary, the fact that today is the 29th anniversary of my arrival is “seemingly irrelevant”, and also that 30 “just sounds more significant, even though it’s merely one year later.” Does the fact that perhaps it sounds more significant mean that one celebrates the 30th anniversary of being in a place? What about in 2031 when the number of years I’ve lived in New Zealand will equal the total number of years I lived in the USA? Or, does it become even more more significant the following year when the number of years I’ve lived in New Zealand will be greater than the number of my years living in the USA? For the record, I’ll be 72 and 73 in those two years—assuming, of course.

Obviously, Nigel was the entire reason I came to this country, and so, the fact that I arrived took a backseat to the fact that we began our life together on that day. Both were very big deals, but it really was a case of the sum being greater than the parts.

Nowadays, this anniversary, and its powerful memories, is more about me and my life without Nigel, and that’s something I’ve been talking about more often in these anniversary posts. For example, in last year’s November 2 post, I mentioned Facebook “Memories” from the previous year, and they were about a couple projects I apparently didn’t talk about here. Aas I said in that post:

I mention all that because my life now is slow and ordinary, and sometimes it feels that little or nothing has changed from the previous year. This is my current reality, and it’s so very different from… 2018 [because that] was the last November 2 anniversary Nigel and got to spend together. I don’t even remember if we did anything special for that day, but our 23rd anniversary of living together wasn’t exactly a notable date at the time, and we just assumed we’d have many, many more anniversaries to spend together.

Those same Facebook “Memories” popped up again this year, of course, and that was especially relevant because I mowed the back lawn yesterday, and,yet again, tried to figure out what to do with the now severely overgrown bank along one side of the yard—and I came up with a new plan. This, too, is common sort of thing for me now that I no longer have Nigel to talk about such things with. All of this underscores how this November 2 anniversary now is mainly about my life, along with the powerful memories and emotions attached to November 2. I'm here in New Zealand because of Nigel, and everything I now am is a direct result of that—and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I have no idea what my life will be like next year, except for the fact it’ll mark my 30th anniversary in New Zealand. I can easily imagine the cheeky sarcasm—and endearing warmness—that Nigel would pack into comments about such a large number. But he didn’t even got to be here for the 24th, let alone the 25th or beyond, so I can just barely imagine what he’d say seven years from now—assuming, of course. I’d like to think that somewhere there’s a plane of existence in which that 30th anniversary would make Nigel smile. Whether that exists or not, I’ll have to smile enough for both of us—this year, next, and every other I’m fortunate to experience.

Even as I rebuild myself and my life, everything about this date is, and will remain, directly connected with Nigel. I’m so very glad it is, too.

Happy main anniversary, sweetheart.

Previously:
Twenty-eight years later (2023)
Twenty-seven years later (2022)
Twenty-six years later (2021)
Twenty-five years later (2020)
Twenty four Years (2019)

Posts from happier years:
Twenty Three Years Together (2018)
Twenty Two Years Together (2017)
Twenty One Years Together (2016)
Twenty Years Together (2015)
Surreal 19th Expataversary (2014)
Eighteen (2013)
The day that really mattered (2012)
Sweet sixteen (2011)
Fifteen (2010)
Fourteen (2009)
Lucky 13: Expataversary and more (2008)
Twelfth Anniversary (2007)
Eleven Years an Expat (2006)

Related:
Ex, but not ex- – A 2006 post about being an expat
Changing policies and lives – A 2011 post about becoming a permanent resident
12 years a citizen – A 2014 post about becoming a NZ citizen

Eleven years married

Here I am again: Another anniversary of when Nigel and I were finally legally married. That was eleven years ago today, on October 31, 2013. It’s something I think about often, including the fact that he died around a month short of our sixth anniversary. But, then, of course I think about Nigel and the fact he’s not here.

I’m keenly aware that an eleventh wedding anniversary—or any sort of eleventh anniversary—isn’t particularly significant. Maybe it’s just me, but I tend to pay particular attention to anniversaries (including my birthdays) that end in five or zero, something I’ve mentioned in the past (including last year). But, an eleventh anniversary? What’s that? Apparently steel is the appropriate gift, though I’ve never paid attention to that.

Also seemingly irrelevant is that this coming Saturday, November 2, is the 29th anniversary of when I arrived in New Zealand to live, and Nigel and I began our life together. I’ll have more to say about that on the day, but just by the numbers alone, next year’s anniversary just sounds more significant, even though it’s merely one year later. And yet, just like today, Saturday’s anniversary is still important to me and my life even though the person who was at the centre of both has been gone five years.

When I write one of these anniversary blog posts—and I have several posts for several anniversaries every year—I always look up, at the very least, the previous year’s post. That’s what I did this year, and I have to say something I wouldn’t normally ever say: I think that last year’s anniversary post is among the best things I’ve ever written, and not just among my best blog posts. I’m not suggesting that anyone else should think the same thing, or even that it was merely “okay”; my core attitude about everything I create is I that it’s for others to judge the worth, if any, of my work. However, to me, that post captures extremely well what I was thinking and feeling at that time, and, in fact, what I’ve thought and felt about this anniversary pretty much every wedding anniversary since Nigel died.

I’ve always felt that storytelling is at the very core of what makes us human, and who better to tell our own stories than us? Ideally, others may get something from our stories, whether it moves them, enlightens them, or maybe just reminds them of the glorious wonder in our all too brief stay on this watery planet speeding through the universe.

The future is still as murky to me as it’s ever been, and I still have know idea whether that will change or when. But when I think about the improbable path that led me to the wonderful life I had with Nigel, I know not to make any assumptions about what is to come. As I said last year,

I’ll eventually figure things out, despite how difficult that is, and the reason I know that is embodied in the photo at the top of this post: I carry him close in my heart now just as I did then. I know that’s what will get me through into whatever my future will be. And when I do, I’ll have him and our life together to thank for it.

Our wedding anniversary is a reflective time for me, and has both sadness and optimism precisely because of what this is an anniversary of. And that, I think, is the best wedding anniversary gift possible.

Happy Anniversary, sweetheart. I love you. Always.

Previously
Ten years married (2023)
Nine years married (2022)
Eight years married (2021)
It’s still seven years married (2020)
Mixed feelings day (2019)
Fifth Anniversary (2018)
Fourth Anniversary (2017)
Third Anniversary (2016)
Second Anniversary (2015)
Still married (2014)

Related
To be married
Husband and husband
Just one more

Halloween again, again

Today is Halloween again. Again. It’s still a day that I don’t have any interest in—though I don’t hate it, either. To each their own, and all that. Today is a far bigger deal for other reasons, but more about that in another post.

I said last year that one of the reasons I stopped buying candy for trick or treaters was that there were seldom any that stopped at any of the houses we lived in but I also said, “I’ll probably buy candy” for this year. That never happened.

While this has been a difficult year for me, and for a lot of reasons, the issue right now is that I haven’t had enough good sleep, even though the number of hours have been enough, and it’s left me feeling tired and disconnected. I managed to mow my front lawn today (the back is scheduled for tomorrow), and that left me physically tired, too.

In fact, I was so worn out after the mowing that I didn’t have my shower until late afternoon, and that was when I heard kids’ voices coming for a neighbour's yard that I remembered it was Halloween today. As it happens, I had some things to do in the back of the house (including writing a couple more blog posts), so I wasn’t up front when the kids started knocking on the door.

The doorbell camera told me that between 4:57 and 6:43pm, there three groups of kids in costume who came to my door, around ten kids in total. Three of the visitors were mid-teen girls who stood looking at their phones after they’d knocked. One of them said, “He says he’s in the area”, and they went on to the next house a moment later. Just like last year, the only response the trick-or-treaters got at my house was a telling off from Leo. Also like last year, I had the blinds closed so I could have my dinner and watch the TV news in peace—well, relative peace.

There still wasn’t much news coverage, but Stuff reported that, ”Billionaires’ Auckland mansion transformed into haunted house for trick-or-treaters”, an event which turned out to be a fair bit more than the average New Zealander could do. Not content to let the billionaires have all the fun, RNZ reported that the NZ Police warned “Don't throw caution out the window for Halloween” , which began, “It's that one night of the year where parents basically throw out the stranger danger warning, send their kids out at dusk and green light them taking lollies from random people,” which is true enough—and the biggest irony of the holiday. Even so, the piece had a bit of a buzzkill to it.

I still don’t know whether anything can ever rekindle an affection within me for Halloween, but I do think it's kind of fascinating to watch how Halloween participation in New Zealand is growing in spurts and shrinkages. Last year I wondered whether “more people start adopting it, could change things for me, but the jury’s still out on that.

The drawing accompanying is post is one I originally shared last year, something I made when I was in my late teens or early 20s. I’m sharing it again this year because I can, I never did before last year, and because this particular crude doodle thing is still the only treat I have to hand out this year.

So, I guess that’s again my Happy Halloween to those who celebrate.

Strangeness on Facebook

Everyone knows that what we see on Facebook, as well as their other services like Instagram and Threads, is driven by algorithms. Their goal is to keep us using Facebook as long as possible so that we’ll see more ads, and the best way to do that is to show us more of what they know we interact with of click on. But what if there’s more to it than that? What if they’re engaging in some sort of deliberate “de-emphasis”?

I noticed in recent weeks that I wasn’t getting notifications when the New Zealand Labour Party posted something, including a Live Feed. Instead, I’d get a Notification about something they’re supposedly posted “5 minutes ago”) or whatever. When I follow the Notification, I find out that it was actually posted six or seven days earlier. Here’s an example, first a Notification I saw yesterday morning (October 30):

And here’s what it sent me to, a Reel that had actually been posted on October 23—not an hour earlier, but a week earlier:

I also realised yesterday that I hadn’t seen any Facebook Posts from Kamala Harris in a long time. I went to the Page to make sure I was following it (I was), clicked “Like” on a post, and then a little while later a post from the page was in my feed. That has never happened with any Labour Party post, even though I often leave a “Reaction”.

I don’t think this is any sort of censorship of centre-left politics, and as far as I know the same thing could be happening with any other politically-focused Page. I also vaguely recall reading that Facebook made a decision to de-emphasise, or whatever they called it, political posts for the US elections. For all I know, this could be nothing more than them trying to keep politics out of people’s feeds, not necessarily completely, but just a bit slower.

Whatever the truth is, it’s annoying as hell. I’ve followed the Labour Party Page for at least a decade, yet I no longer see their posts in my feed nor do I get timely Notifications of posts as I used to. The fact that clicking “Like” on a post from the Kamala Harris Page made another post show up in my Feed, when doing the same on Labour Party posts never does is odd, though.

I’ve noticed something odd in Instagram, too: I’ve Liked and followed numerous political folks in recent months, and yet I seldom see their posts when I launch the Instagram App. Threads isn’t quite as much of a mystery, though, because I use it so little that the algorithms probably don’t have anything to work with.

I think that Facebook should respect our choices in what we want to see in our Feeds, or, at least, they should give us timely Notifications so we can choose to look at the post. Facebook deciding for us is a bit condescending and even infantilises uses to some extent. They already feed me lost of posts I never asked for and don’t follow, but not posts from people and Pages I do follow.

Pretty much every Facebook User I know has complained at some point about how Facebook often fails to show us things from people we actually know and/or have been FB “Friends” with for many years, and instead it shows us posts from the same handful of people over and over. There’s simply no way for Users to change this situation. Seems to me Facebook would have better luck in getting ads in front of eyes if it gave us more of what we want rather than what Facebook decides for us.

Just let us have more say in what we see. I don't think that's an unreasonable thing to ask.

Update – November 2, 2024: Yesterday evening, I noticed I was getting Notifications of posts on the Kamala Harris Page again, and today there were several more, as well as posts showing up in my newsfeed, too. However, I still don't get timely Notifications about Labour Party posts, nor do I see anything in my newsfeed. That particular strangeness is still going on.

Penned up demand

I had a shopping excursion this past week, and because of that, some eight months of austerity gave way to me buying something for myself: Pens (photo at right). There’s a bit more to it, of course.

Back in February, I really did stop spending unnecessary money on myself, with my only “splurges” being some treats from the supermarket, but other than that, nothing I avoided buying anything I didn’t need. Prices, especially including for food, rose steadily since last year, and after my trip to Fiji, I decided it would be a good idea to just kind of coast for awhile (food prices have eased somewhat in recent weeks). Technically, I’m still hesitating about buying anything I don’t truly need, but if there was something I really wanted that I could afford, I’d probably (possibly?) go ahead and buy it. My shopping trip actually included something in that category, too.

The pens were the main reason for my shopping excursion. After I moved to Kirikiriroa-Hamilton and started going through boxes, I found a LOT of mechanical pencils that had been Nigel’s, plus some pens. I also had some pens—and a lot of them were dried up, it turned out. This small problem started becoming bigger over the past year or so.

Like a lot of people these days (apparently), I don’t often handwrite, and when I do, it’s often been with a mechanical pencil (so I can edit it easily). However, when I write notes or shopping lists by hand, I prefer pens (no idea why—habit?).

More importantly, there have been several times when I’ve needed to sign a form so I could scan it and email it where it needed to go, the most recent such time being when I needed to sign the FPCA form so that I could vote in the US election. Every time I’ve needed to sign something, I first needed to find a pen—and then search longer for one that wasn’t dried out. I decided that for the first time in many, many years, I needed to buy some pens.

The reason it’s been so very long since I last bought pens is partly because it used to be common for businesses to give pens to customers or potential customers, something that now seems to be as rare as cursive handwriting. Add this change in culture with the fact all pens eventually dry up, and my need to buy pens slowly became urgent.

I chose the box of blue ink ones and a box of black ink ones, because sometimes I need one or the other, and because the boxes with multiple colours had ones I don’t need/use. For example, I already have a couple pens with red ink, probably the only other colour I’ve ever actually needed.

Once I got home, I looked at the pens more closely. The black-ink ones from Bic looked in the photo on the box like the pens that were standard in every New Zealand office I ever worked in—but they pens are now made much more cheaply and are far less robust than the old ones that were ubiquitous in all my workplaces.

The blue pens were—unusual. First the tip of the pen had a teeny, tiny little plastic cover over it (photo at left, in the middle of my palm). Maybe that was to keep the pen from drying out? The pen body also opens up and has a tube-like ink container that looks like it could be replaced or maybe refilled. It reminded me of a fountain pen, and that intrigued me.

I was also surprised by the blue pens’ bilingual packaging. I don’t see that very often, but there were several other products in-store with bilingual packaging. It was a pleasant surprise.

The thing I bought just because I wanted it was a new cookie jar. It was incredibly expensive: $6.

Many years ago, Nigel and I tried several different containers for cookies (which most Kiwis call “biscuits”). We bought a nice glass jar with a metal lid that has a silicon seal, but the opening was too small for our hands to fit inside easily. This reality was arguably a good thing for calorie restriction, but it was nevertheless incredibly annoying. We next used a plastic container that was a bit too big, and the plastic was damaged in storage by contact with some of the spongey sheet stuff that’s usually used underneath small rugs or matts to stop them slipping on a smooth floor. So, in this house, I went back to the jar with the too-small opening.

The new jar is shorter and more squat than what I had, and holds around 2.1 litres, according to the label, so it’s probably roughly equivalent in capacity. The shop had two larger sizes (and two even smaller), but the one I bought is all I need: I usually buy a bag of cookies from the supermarket that wouldn’t fill even half the jar I bought. I’m the only human living in this house, after all, so I don’t need to have a lot of cookies sitting around (and Leo’s not allowed any). A photo of the new and old jars is at right.

I could make a joke about all this extravagance, but the truth is that once I got home, I noticed a tall-ish ceramic casserole pot on my kitchen shelves that I haven’t used for years, and realised I easily could’ve repurposed it to use as a cookie jar: After all, it would’ve been free, and the opening was large enough. A momentary twinge of guilt over spending $6 was replaced by the realisation that I actually prefer clear glass so I can see how many cookies I have left—is it time to get some more?—without having to open the jar to check.

I also realised that I—theoretically—could bake cookies and freeze half of them, partly because the jar might be too small, but mainly because I don’t eat cookies very often. As I’ve said before, I like making things from scratch so that I can control what, exactly, is in the stuff I eat. But considering how seldom I eat cookies, maybe it’s best to buy manufactured ones because of their preservatives?

Most of this post is tongue-in-cheek: I didn’t hesitate to buy the stuff I chose, and while I was in the shop I also checked out possibilities for future projects, so there certainly I certainly did have any existential angst at the time (or since). In fact, I next went to the supermarket and selected stuff without paying much attention to how much I was spending—like the old days, actually.

But it amused me that my first trip to buy something for myself was focused on pens and a cookie jar, and I’ve long thought it was a good idea to make fun of myself before anyone else gets the chance.

While my next purchase(s) may not be quite as restrained, I hope they’re at least half as funny to me. Laughing at myself is kind of a general goal I have. I guess that’s pretty obvious by now.

Problem kitty?

I’m a lifelong fan of dogs and cats, and have shared my life with several of both kinds. In general, I tend to prefer dogs a bit more mainly because dogs are so obviously happy to see me when I come home. Cats may do that, too—and some of mine did—but they’re far more likely than dogs are to show what seems like indifference when we return home. All of that, though, is really about furbabies I’ve shared life with. Other people’s furry companions are another matter—especially when they’re a bit, well, odd.

The photo up top is of Leo back in August of last year. It shows a brief pause in his barking at the cat on the fence. Leo likes cats and other dogs, as long as he’s properly introduced—he has very proper, some might say “old fashioned”, manners. However, if he sees a dog or cat walk past the front of his house, he will bark and bark and bark. And when this cat started walking along the top of the fence, he could also run along the fence to bark—and so did the two dogs next door.

The cat belongs to the neighbours over the back fence (I was “introduced” once, but I don’t remember its name—or the neighbours’, for that matter). Over the past year, I’ve occasionally had to go outside after dark to retrieve a barking Leo, with that cat laying on top of the fence, but directly behind my house, not at the corner, as in the photo. The cat seems to be wary of Leo—and intrigued by me. Maybe that's because when we first met, I talked nicely to it. Or, maybe it just likes exceptionally handsome men—that’s equally possible.

There's been a very recent change in the cat’s behaviour: It wants to come inside my house.

A week or so ago, I was standing in the living area, and I happened to look at the partially open slider door to the patio, when the cat appeared and placed one paw on the threshold, then froze when it saw me. I said, “I don’t think coming inside Leo’s house is very good idea…” and the cat turned and ran away which gave me just enough time to close the door before Leo could run out the door and chase the cat across the yard.

Last week, I was doing things in the back of the house and walked down the hallway and opened the internal garage door to get something when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned to see that cat running out the once again slightly open slider. I closed the door, and Leo was oblivious—until he caught scent of where the cat had be laying or sitting (and not peeing—I checked). He sniffed the area extensively, so much so that there are now very few fibres left in that spot of the carpet. He then demanded to be let outside so he could find the cat.

Yesterday evening, I let Leo outside after his dinner, and I heard a “thunk!” outside, which I thought was the next door neighbour (the parents of Leo’s dog friends) accidentally bumping the fence, like with a rake or something. Leo started barking, and kept at it, so I went out on the patio to being him inside. There was no one on the neighbours’ side of the fence, and Leo was going spare.

I walked over and peered over the fence when that cat suddenly jumped and climbed over the fence and ran across the yard to the same corner in the photo up top. Leo was oblivious, still convinced that the cat was on the patio, under the Vegepod (which I moved onto the patio two years ago this month). He could not be convinced to come inside, and ultimately I had to pick him up to bring him into the house.

As we were walking back through the same (more widely) open slider door, we turned and I tried to show Leo where the cat was sitting. He didn’t seem to really look, but the cat saw that and was prepared to jump and climb over the fence. Leo and I went inside.

I liked leaving the slider door slightly open in nice weather so Leo can go outside whenever he wanted to, but I’m not keen on having a cat I don’t actually know enter my the house, especially because its ideal choice of toilet may not be outside. More importantly, Leo isn’t keen on the idea.

The cat is clearly well-fed and seems happy and active—and it also could be a little too curious for its own good. For now, I'll leave the doors closed whenever Leo’s inside the house—like in winter or on a stormy day. I may eventually try again—until the weather gets too hot, when the doors are closed (and in the afternoon, their curtains are, too) to keep the summer heat outside.

I’ve never had a situation like this before, where a cat I don’t know wants to enter my house, despite a dog living here. But the cat definitely seems friendly, and it's clearly curious, so many I shouldn’t be surprised. Or maybe it really does just like exceptionally handsome men. I can understand that, too. Of course.

A super moon

Last night, many folks in New Zealand were talking about the “Super Moon”, which many feel appears to be bigger and brighter than an ordinary full moon. Scientists say it’s an illusion, and to them, it’s just the perigee syzygy—a full moon at its closest point to the earth during its orbit around us. Not quite as romantic a name as “super moon,” probably.

There have long been claims that a super moon can cause earthquakes and volcanic eruptions, but scientists say the data doesn’t back that up. Coincidence doesn’t necessarily mean causation, of course.

When I went outside last night to take the rubbish wheelie bin to the kerb, the skies were overcast, but there was a bright light in the clouds, which was a little unusual. Even so, I didn’t think anything more about it.

When it was time for bed last night, I stepped outside onto the patio to try to lead Leo outside (which didn't work…). It was fairly bright outside, as it is on nights with a full moon, but not as bright as when there are no clouds. Even so, I looked up, and the photo up top is what I saw.

I don’t think that the moon looked bigger than usual, and not particularly brighter, either. Regardless, I always like seeing the moon lighting up the clouds between us, and I like it even more when it also shines down on my solar panels, too, like it did back in March, and also in September 2023. I was a little less thrilled with the moon’s cloudless visit last month, when its light showed the condensation on my solar panels as the temperature dropped; I don’t like cold temperatures or wintry weather.

But I clearly DO like seeing the full moon and the pretty views when it brings when it visits our night skies. That’s probably super enough for me, even it it’s just the perigee syzygy. A rose by any other name, and all that.