September ends well

Today’s the last day of September 2026, and it was a good one—and this is a much more positive month’s end than the end of July was. This is because I accomplished what I wanted—starting back in July and thought I’d have finished in August, but still: I’ll take the win.

Today I finished the decluttering work in the living area (lounge/kitchen/dining), with a few concessions to reality, which I’ll get to. The goal, though, was to clear out all the excess stuff so the living area is neat and tidy. However, I decided to install the guest room wardrobe system first, and the reason was that the guest room was already neat and tidy, and so, the closest to being done. When I began working in the living area, sorting magazines was probably the biggest project in that room, and it wasn’t all that big—none of them were. I didn’t feel well for several days last week (maybe a cold, but probably allergies: It’s still pine pollen season), and that delayed me a bit.

I also added in a bit of work: I cleared part of the kitchen, too. The kitchen is U-shaped, with a long peninsula (with the sink in it) separating the kitchen from the living area. It was the peninsula that I focused on, mainly because it had become cluttered over the past few weeks while I was busy with other projects.

This is where the concessions to reality come into it. I haven’t yet cleared the benchtop on the other side of the kitchen, and for a very specific reason: The shelves I installed in my kitchen are above that area, and they’re filthy (I think I might not have cleaned the shelves in Spring of last year). Cleaning the shelves means taking everything off each shelf, cleaning the stuff, and then the shelf itself, and then putting all the stuff back on the shelves. This will inevitably mean that the kitchen bench beneath the shelves will get dirty (well, dirtier…). I realised it made more sense to clean the shelves and then clean the final benchtop underneath them. Why do the job twice?

One other concession is that I have a small end table that has parts for outside projects, but it’s still pretty pleasant outside most days, and so, the projects are still on the waiting list. Sure, I could put it all away and then get it back out again when I’m ready to do the projects, but yeah, that’s not happening.

Over the next few days, including this weekend, I plan to do my Spring Cleaning chores starting with those shelves in the kitchen, but also including pulling furniture out of their normal spots so I can vacuum underneath them (I’ve actually already started doing that, so it should be completed tomorrow or Friday).

By next week, the living area will be tidy and Spring Cleaned, so the next task will be clearing my bedroom, and that will be a challenge: The stuff in my bedroom that doesn’t belong is in there mostly because it should in my office—which is already overflowing with stuff. This means that, at the moment, I’m not sure what to do with some of that stuff—in fact, clearing stuff will probably be the most time-consuming part of the whole project.

Once all that’s done, the plan is still to turn my attention to my office. I have absolutely NO idea how that’s going to go, but I’m motived to finish it because once the house is orderly, then I can finally begin the “Operation Re-invent My House”, which is about redecorating and refreshing my house. On the plus side, the weather will be improving and warming in the coming weeks, and that’ll be handy if I decide to paint, because I can leave the windows open.

I haven’t talked about The Garage Of No Return, but it was supposed to be after I finished my office, and before it gets too hot in there. Honestly, I’m no long sure I’ll make that deadline after all the delays leading to today. The same goes for outside, too, of course, but that work has always been dependent on good weather, and that’s still true, of course. I’ll fit it in where I can.

My new plan (hope?) is to finish all this before the end of the year. That means up to around three months of work, some of which will be physically demanding. I honestly don’t know how all of this will go, but it’ll make for things to talk about here, I suppose. Onward.

Spring sprang, again

By anyone’s measure, it’s Spring in New Zealand. The September Equinox arrived at 12:05pm today, so regardless of whether one observes meteorological seasons, as New Zealand and Australia do, or astronomical seasons, like the USA does, it’s indisputably Spring in this part of the world. Well, mostly: The weather forecast has been all over the place this month—sometimes really warm, sometimes cold and snowy (in fact, frost is possible overnight tonight in Kirikiriroa-Hamilton).

Weather and nomenclature/jargon notwithstanding, there have been definite signs of Spring. Up top is a photo of the tree on my street that’s been in so many of my photos. I took the photo this afternoon, after the equinox arrived, because it clearly shows the tree is finally leafing out. In fact, every year I “watch” this tree out my window, looking for this very thing because that means that Spring is pushing Winter off the stage.

So, what are our Spring and Summer expected to be like this year? Even before this year’s El Niño started to SuperSize itself, it was predicted that Kirikiriroa-Hamilton will have temperatures that are at or above normal, and rainfall will be at or below normal. It’s increasingly looking like hot and dry could well be our reality.

This raises a small conundrum for me. I was determined that this year I’d grow more vegetables than I have before (and some flowers, too). In normal dry summers we have watering restrictions, but if we have much harsher dryness this year, will there be total bans on all watering? Parts of England went through that in their summer (and they call garden hoses “hosepipes”, which confused me when I recently first heard it in the phrase “hosepipe ban”). I think that I’ll probably just proceed and hope for the best, though my stamina and energy levels may ultimately decide for me before the weather is an issue.

I’m also trying to work out how a way to hang some translucent fabric under my patio cover to reflect the hot summer sun. Failing that, I have a sun shade that I could tie to the frame with rope or whatever. Stay tuned.

Whatever this summer brings, though, I know I’ll like it—though I can’t promise I won’t still complain if the temperatures really do turn out to be hotter than normal. Or, maybe I won’t: The whole house air conditioning I had installed last year will mean I’ll be comfortable inside my house even if outside becomes too uncomfortable—and that was the exact reason I decided to add it.

Whatever happens, I’ll definitely be documenting this summer, whatever it brings. Of course.

The seventh horrible anniversary

Today is the seventh anniversary of the day I lost my husband, best friend, and soulmate, Nigel. It’s been a varied journey, and sometimes a rough one, which is true for most such journeys. The past couple years have often had among the most difficult patches I’ve faced, which underscores something I’ve often pointed out: We don’t grow out of our grief, we grow with our grief and it becomes a part of us.

I recently saw a video that pretty much encapsulates what I mean. Four years ago, actor Andrew Garfield appeared on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert. Garfield was promoting what was then his new film, Tick, Tick... Boom! After a commercial break, Colbert asked Garfield about the recent death of his mother, and he said that his grief “is all the unexpressed love”, and I literally said to the screen, “Exactly!” He also said, “I hope this grief stays with me, because it’s all the unexpressed love I didn’t get to tell her—and I told her every day!” He then talked about how his art was related to that, which made perfect sense to me. [You can watch the segment on YouTube, and while the link is cued to the part I’m talking about, you can re-set it to the beginning of that particular YouTube video).

From time to time I read a quote that matches exactly the way I see grief. Garfield’s description is what I was getting at in a post from six years ago, “Love has everywhere to go”, and it’s still the way I see it. But none of that is meant to suggest that the pain stays with us, because it usually softens over time (most of the time), but the grief itself is always there.

This also has very little to do with happiness in the future. Some grieving people find it, others don’t and some, like me, aren’t trying to find it. Some nine months into my journey I wrote, “I came to realise something very important about my future: I don’t have to be happy, I just have to be content. Finding happiness is beyond my control—some people spend their entire lives looking for happiness, never finding it. But the latter? That’s something I can help along.”

I think that many seem to think that people are either happy or unhappy, but there’s a third option: Neither, and that’s where I’m at. I suppose it’s possible that happiness could be a continuum, at least for some people, but if so, I think it’s also possible to be outside of that continuum, in “contentment”.

All of which is precisely why I memorialise that day in 2019: Everything changed that day, and I did, too. This anniversary is a time I set aside to remember, and, more importantly to feel. I also check-in with myself to assess where my journey is.

Most important of all, though, is that it gives me yet another, and a very specific, chance to send out more love. As I said in last year’s post:

September 20, the day Nigel drew his final breath, is the lowest point of my personal year, and probably always will be, but there’s an important thing about that: To have been so utterly and profoundly affected and changed by this one person and his love is a treasure I can carry with me forever. There’s the saying that goes, "with great love comes great pain", and that’s absolutely true.

However, I’ve come to understand that great love is worth it, despite the possibility of great pain. Most days, it’s the great love that’s front of mind, other days, like September 20, the great pain reminds me that the great love is still there. But, through it all, it’s the love that endures.

Always.

The AmeriNZ Blog is 20

Another day, another anniversary, this one the second in my Ole Timey “Season of Anniversaries”. Today, the AmeriNZ Blog turns 20. I published my first post, “I live in a land downunder. No, the other one…” on September 13, 2006. From the very beginning, I posted an annual average of at least once per day. However, that all ended in 2019 when Nigel died and my entire life was upended, and I’ve never returned to that annual average. This year I may end up having the lowest annual output ever—or maybe not. Ive given up making predictions about what I may or may not do in the future.

I still feel, as I said last year, that “first and second generation blogs like this one are kind of quaint and old-fashioned,” and I said that because even though people now use things like Facebook or Substack in ways that are very similar to the blogs of 20 or more years ago, it’s not the same (arguably Facebook is closest, in my opinion). I’m not (necessarily) saying that this new reality is good, bad, or neither, just that things are definitely different now. However, I definitely miss the community that blogging was 20 years ago.

Be that as it may, I nevertheless continue pretty much as I always have—apart from publishing frequency, of course. One of the biggest reasons I keep doing this, despite not meeting my own standards, is summed up in what I said in last year’s Blogoversary post:

As I’ve said many times before, I began this blog in the first place because Nigel talked me into it—and then he encouraged me to podcast, too. And that’s the other big reason I continue: It’s among the very last things I did when Nigel was alive that I’m still doing, and the fact he encouraged me to do it is probably the rest of the reason I’m still doing this.

It’s also true that I’m nowhere near finished with the work of reimagining my life, so there’s still a lot to talk about. However, I need to make space in my life for blogging and podcasting, and I think that maybe I should try scheduling work on them rather than keep hoping that I’ll suddenly feel motivated, because that’s clearly not working.

Despite all that, and the frustration and even disappointment that I sometimes feel about my current blogging and podcasting, what I said in the last line in my very first blog post is still accurate:

“So pour yourself a cuppa, relax, and let’s see where this leads.”

Previous posts on my blogoversaries:

Anniversay Time (2007)
Blogoversary 2 (2008)
Anniversaries Three and Fourteen (2009)
Fourth blogoversary (2010)
Fifth blogoversary (2011)
Sixth blogoversary (2012)
Seventh Blogoversary (2013)
Ten years of the AmeriNZ Blog (2016)
The AmeriNZ Blog is eleven (2017)
The AmeriNZ Blog is twelve (2018)
The AmeriNZ Blog is thirteen (2019)
The AmeriNZ Blog is fourteen (2020)
The AmeriNZ Blog is fifteen (2021)
The AmeriNZ Blog is sixteen (2022)
Anniversaries 17 and 28 (2023)
The AmeriNZ Blog is 18 (2024)
The AmeriNZ Blog is 19 (2025)

31 years

Today is the 31st anniversary of when I arrived in New Zealand as a tourist, and Nigel and I met in person for the first time. Basically, September 12, 1995 was arguably the true beginning of us becoming US—and yet, we eventually stopped mentioning this anniversary, focusing instead on November 2, the 1995 date I arrived back in New Zealand to stay.

Another reason this particular anniversary fell away is the calendar: September 12 is September 11 in the USA, and the events of that fateful date in 2001 overshadowed everything. In fact, I only started talking about it again when I began this blog, and it eventually became the kick-off for my “Season of Anniversaries” posts. Now? It’s even more poignant for me, because it was the very last anniversary Nigel and I shared was still alive: It was the very last time Nigel and I ever said "Happy Anniversary" to each other.

So, Thirty-one years ago today was the true start of the "us" that Nigel and I became, even though it was some weeks later that it became permanent. But, as I said last year, “I got to be with the love of my life for the rest of his life: How could I ever NOT remember this anniversary?”

Indeed.

Previous posts about my arrival anniversary (the first three and 2023 only mention it):

Anniversary Time (2007)
Blogoversary 2 (2008)
Anniversaries Three and Fourteen (2009)
Where it began (2010)
Anniversary of the beginning (2011)
Another anniversary (2012)
18 years ago today (2013)
19 years ago today (2014)
Twenty years ago today (2015)
21 years ago today (2016)
22 years ago today (2017)
23 years ago today (2018)
24 years ago today (2019)
25 years ago today (2020)
26 years ago today (2021)
26 years ago today (2022)
Anniversaries 17 and 28 (2023)
29 years ago today (2024)
Thirty years, Part One (2025)

Nigel would’ve been 62

Today my Nigel would’ve turned 62, and, just like last year’s, that would basically be “a shoulder-shrug birthday”. For me, however, the notable thing is that this is the seventh birthday Nigel never got to experience, and I use the word “experience” deliberately, because he hated being the centre of attention—and I loved to try to make a fuss of his birthday at least a little bit as much as he made a fuss of mine (sometimes I even succeeded)..

So, here we are, another birthday missed by the most important person in my adult life, and once again I’m reflective about—well everything, and this year in particular. Last week was the tenth anniversary of when I got my cardiac stent. The thing I haven’t really said often enough about that whole time is how utterly terrified I was. I was worried about how snaking a probe up through the vein in my arm and into my heart was something that might end up killing me, but that wasn’t what I was actually focused on. When they said I was going in for the procedure much earlier than I expected, I was even more terrified, not of the procedure, but that I might die without Nigel even getting the chance to say goodbye (because he couldn't get to the hospital before I went in). The only thing—literally the only thing—I kept focusing on was how much I wanted to get through the procedure so I could see Nigel again. Fortunately for us both, everything went well, and even though we only got some three more years together, we got three more years together than we otherwise might have had.

In last year’s post, I wrote, “I’ve been thinking lately how time feels to me like it’s moving far more slowly than it really is,” and that’s still true. I don’t really have any feeling for how long it’s all been, but I’m always keenly aware of Nigel, who he was, his character, his intellect, his humour, and, of course, how very much he both meant to me and also influenced me. Every single day I remember things he did, said, joked about, and, especially, the way he made me feel. All of that is because of who he was, and I was just the luckiest bastard on the face of the earth that I got to share life with him, far too short though that time was.

As it happens, I visit Nigel’s mum, my mother-in-law, on Thursdays, and I joked with her at one point, “It’s really convenient that Nigel’s birthday this year coincided with my visit day,” and she laughed and said, “Isn’t it!” It’s always nice to spend those Thursday visits with her, but I’m particularly glad that I was there with her on Nigel’s birthday, and I think it made the day a little bit easier for her. This evening, again just like last year, I made Nigel’s signature dish for my dinner, a meal I talked about back in July of last year, and just like last year, it was a good batch. That, too, made me happy.

As always, I’d much rather be celebrating Nigel’s birthday with him (obviously…), and “living whatever our life would have become”, as I put it last year. But the main thing is that he’s still a real presence in my life, and always will be.

Happy Birthday, sweetheart. Always.

Previously:

Nigel would’ve been 61 (2025)
Nigel would’ve been 60 (2024)
Nigel would’ve been 59 (2023)
Nigel would’ve been 58 (2022)
Nigel would’ve been 57 (2021)
Surviving the day and being okay (A 2021 post on how I handled his birthday)
We celebrated Nigel’s birthday (About the party in 2020)
It won’t be a good day (2020 – the first birthday after he died)

Special Note: I didn’t talk about Nigel’s birthday on this blog while he was alive because I wanted to protect him, and so, I didn’t share stuff that was personal to him. I talk about it now because I have no way of knowing who may run across my posts, and maybe they'll help someone else in a situation similar to mine. Besides, I love talking about my Most Important Person.

The very consequential week

Ten years ago this week as very consequential for me. This week in 2016, I unexpectedly recived a stent in a 90% blocked coronary artery, and because of that, I’m still here to talk about it.

The story began on Monday, August 15, 2016 I went to my doctor because I thought my medication was making me feel bad. Nigel coached me on what to say, how best to stand up for myself. Neither of us expected that I’d be sent to the hospital in the back of an ambulance, let alone that they’d admit me so they could give a treadmill stress test the next day. That test was stopped after only a few minutes due to the readings. I was scheduled for an angiogram for the next day, Wednesday, andwhen they discovered the blocakage in my coronary artery, they inserted a stent. I went home the next day, Thursday, August 18, 2016, and on Friday, back at home, I mostly just rested and relaxed.

I talked about this story in great detail a few days after I got home, and in that post I said:

All of this came about because my doctor listened to me and investigated my complaints, but the reason I complained was because Nigel both nagged me and coached me. Without his support, I may not have pursued this, and there’s no way of knowing whether I’d have had another chance.

As I've said many times and in many ways, Nigel was my rock, my trusted advisor, my advocate, my coach, and the one person I could always count on—including taking me for treatment when my heart started acting up, like the two times I ended up in hospital. I spent the three years after getting the stent dealing with tachycardia, then atrial fibrillation, and also trouble with several prescriptions, and Nigel was there every step of the way.

The last time I was admitted to hospital (so far…) was around four months before Nigel died. In fact, when he was first admitted to hospital in September 2019, we joked about how it was his turn and the Middlemore “spa” (the hospital name is Middlemore). Ten days later, he was gone.

Around a month after Nigel died, I had a follow-up appointment with the cardiology team, who recommended me for cryoablation treatment to try to fix my afib. That appointment was the first medical thing I’d done after Nigel died—and suddenly realised I had to figure out who to name as my emergency contact, after a quarter century of Nigel being that person for me, and me for him. It was an incredibly difficult moment for me, but I managed to not cry in the waiting room.

Three months after that cardiology appointment, I shifted to Kirikiriroa-Hamilton. A couple months after that, we had the first Covid lockdown. In December 2020, I finally got my cryoablation procedure at Waikato Hospital (a day treatment), after months of delays caused by the insurance company I had at the time taking many months to finally decide to decline the claim, then there was Covid, and the fact I needed to see (and pay for) a private appointment with a cardiologist here in Hamilton to get onto the waiting list for the procedure.

When the day finally arrived, my brother-in-law drove me to the hospital, a my sister-in-law Barbara picked me up afterward (both because I wasn’t allowed to drive due to receiving a light anesthesia). Also, my sister-in-law Carolyn stayed at my house that night (in order for the hospital to let me go home, they required that I have someone stay at my place overnight—just in case, I guess). The procedure seems to have been a success, since I haven’t had any afib incidents since. But the we also lost Carolyn to cancer in February last year.

My story underscores several things. First, paying attention to one’s body is extremely important—obviously. It’s also important to have people on your “team”, and, as so many of my stories have underscored, when I married Nigel, it meant becoming part of a large family, and I know that if I need help again in the future, they’ll be there. However, I have to be honest: It’s not even remotely the same as having Nigel with me, in sickness and in health—though that particular phrase wasn’t actually part of our civil union or marriage vows.

I’ve had other health challenges since Nigel died, some scary (like the cryoablation procedure), others merely annoying, and most were just kind of meh. The family was, of course, there when I needed them to be, and I’ve been deeply grateful each time. I know, though, that if Nigel had been with me over the past nearly seven years, my journey would have been so much easier. Even so, there’s one thing more: I also know that Nigel would be proud of me for having successfully navigated the challenges of my health journey, things he never lived to see, and especially that I’ve been working hard on trying to prepare myself as well as I can for my elderly years. He’d also be sad that sometimes my journey’s been really difficult for me, but mainly he’d be happy that I chose to thrive well into the future (if the fates allow…).

In so many ways, this week a decade ago was a turning point, though some of what my journey was to become was utterly unimaginable for me back then. Even so, I’m still here, and still pushing forward. Sure, Nigel would be proud of me for that, but maybe more importantly, I’m proud of myself. That really is just like ten years ago.

A project finally ends

Today I finished a project to install a wardrobe shelving system in my guest room wardrobe (this is the project I mentioned a couple weeks ago). The short video above shows the project.

This sort of project would normally take me two or three days, but this one took four weeks. Part of the reason for the extra time was that I had to make a LOT of repairs to the walls because the supports for the former single shelf were glued and nailed to the walls, and when I removed the supports, it tore chunks out of the wallboard.

However, the main reason it took so bloody long was that I started the project during the time I was taking that ill-fated prescription I talked about a couple weeks ago, and it’s taken time for me to feel like my usual self. Today I was determined to finish the project—forcing myself, if necessary—and I succeeded. My guest room is again neat, tidy, and ready for guests—FINALLY! This evening I turned on the bedside lamps so I could see the room as it should be every time I walked past the room. Kind of my reward, I suppose.

The video was made automatically for me by the Photos App on my iPad, including adding the backing music. I’d placed all the progress photos and videos I took over the weeks I worked on the project into an album I created, and then the App put all of them into the video, in order (though I rearranged a few photos because I’d added them to the album out of order). And, of course, the photos and videos are all mine.

The stuff of life

Many years ago (up to 15, I think), I switched us to the soy and linseed variety of a supermarket bread called Bürgen. It was for specific health reasons, and that decision meant that bread was a part of the life Nigel and I shared. Today it was announced that the Australian owners of the Bürgen brand are withdrawing it from New Zealand. That baked up some memories.

I suggested to Nigel that we switch to the bread because its soy and linseed were good for heart health, and especially because at the time it was the only low GI bread sold in supermarkets (this was well before my cardiac stent). Nigel and I ended up having some nearly every morning after that—in fact, it was part of Nigel’s weekday breakfasts for the last several years of his life (usually prepared by me): Peanut butter and jam on toast, and put on a plastic plate so he could bring it in the car on his commute to the office, and he’d use an old tea towel as a bib so he wouldn’t drop any on his work shirt. Because he’d often forget to bring them back into the house when he came home, he’d sometimes bring in a stack of plates and tea towels for me to deal with—and several times I had to go out to his car to collect them myself because we were starting to run out of the supplies (I mentioned all this in a a 2023 post (forst iterm).

After Nigel died I moved to Kirikiriroa-Hamilton and noticed that particular variety of bread was getting harder and harder to find, especially at my local Woolworths, where it was often out of stock (I could get it for more often by home delivery from Woolies, or from the nearest New World). So, I started using my breadmaker sometimes, and then started experimenting with other supermarket brands, including others with soy and linseed. That led to a bit of a revelation.

I was surprised at how much more fibre per 100 grams other brands had than the Bürgen loaf we’d always bought. In fact, I thought about blogging about that, since I’d talked about the bread and it also relates to my continuing health journey. If I’d done that post, I would’ve mentioned that the Bürgen Soy and Linseed bread has 4.4 grams of fibre per 100 grams of bread, along with 347g of sodium per 100g, and total cabs of 27.6g per 100 grams. This compares to the bread I usually buy these days, a “lower carb” loaf: Fibre is 8.9g per 100g, sodium is 355g per 100g, and total carbs is 24.8g per 100g. Well, at least the fibre of the current bread is a lot higher. But, there’s more!

As it happens, I’ve been learning a lot lately about healthier eating, and I learned that if you freeze bread, the carbs are turned into what’s called “resistant starch”, which is important because the body can’t break it down as quickly as normal starch, and that means the body treats it more like dietary fiber, which reduces the bread's glycemic index (GI), reducing blood sugar spikes (and lower GI bread was one of the reasons we switched to the Bürgen all those years ago). Bonus fact: refrigerating cooked pasta or white rice overnight does the same thing for them, and that doesn’t change when you re-heat it the next day. I definitely plan on starting to keep my bread in the freezer, but I need to clear space—and I only learned about these “resistant starch” tricks in the past week, so I’m cutting myself some slack on this.

in the past couplpe years, and probably partly because it was often difficult to get the Bürgen bread here in Hamilton, I gradually became less enthused about the bread we’d had for all those years, so I doubt I’ll miss it. However, the Bürgen slice size was smaller than most supermarket breads, and that I will miss.

Seeing the announcement this morning made me think of two things. First, how even something as small (literally) as a loaf of supermarket bread can be a constant in our lives. The other thing was that I really ought to resume trying to find a breadmaker recipe that I actually like (the results have been mostly “meh” for me for several years, which is why I hardly ever make bread any more). I know I probably won’t do that, though—there are far too many other things demanding my time, attention, and my sometimes limited energy. Besides, there are plenty of options available already made for me.

Yes, all that. But what I wouldn’t give to still be making peanut butter and jam on toast for Nigel. Of course.

A good day’s adventure

I had a good day today. The big event for today was that I was meeting-up with some of the family for lunch at the casino in central Kirikiriroa-Hamilton. First things first: Getting there was a challenge for me. Several challenges, actually.

The big challenge for me today was the fact that I’ve never driven myself to the casino before, and I usually get pretty anxious about driving somewhere I’ve never been. In this case, it was especially true because I’m not familiar with the streets in Central Hamilton. Nigel always drove us to places like that, and he never seemed to have the same issues that I do now. It's just yet another thing I need to work out on my own. Nevertheless, when faced with tasks that make me uncomfortable or anxious, I try to force myself to do things (like today’s trip), despite the unease I feel, because I refuse to let fear, great or small, stop me from doing things I want to do (except when I do let it do that, of course—it’s a journey…). Nigel was often impressed (surprised?) when I'd "feel the fear and do it anyway". Maybe because it wasn't often enough? 

As it happens, I only made two wrong turns, both of which were my fault, and not the GPS’ (because I’m not familiar with the layout of the streets, I twice turned a street earlier than the GPS commanded, but I guess that at least I became slightly more familiar with some of the streets in the area?). When I turned onto the street that I knew led to the casino carpark, Apple Maps kept growling at me with what seemed like increasing annoyance (though reason tells me it was probably just increasing frequency…), over and over again demanding that I “return to the route”. Instead, I ordered Siri to “cancel navigation”, and silence again reigned supreme.

Today was the birthday of one of my sisters in law, which was the reason for our gathering. I thought the food was nice (I had the fish and chips, for the record, and the fish of the day was snapper). One odd thing, though, was that if a customer doesn’t finish their meal (And, again for the record, I absolutely finished my meal), they can’t take the leftovers home. It supposedly has something to do with food safety, but I’ve never heard of a NZ cafe doing that.

In general, casinos aren’t a draw for me, mainly because I’m not the least bit interested in gambling (unless you count me buying NZ Lotto tickets, where the profits are returned to the community, not shareholders). The Hamilton casino is much smaller than Auckland’s, of course, but it has a strong advantage for Hamilton in that it’s pretty central in the CBD (aka “downtown” in Americanese). But both the Auckland and Hamilton casinos are mainly about gambling, and so, they aren’t places I’d go to except for occasions like today’s.

All joking aside, I had a good day today, and I got myself to my destination and back home again. Actually, I already knew how to get home from the casino, and that means that next time I’ll also know how to get to the casino, too. So, it turns out that today’s mission wasn’t just a travel adventure, it was also a genuine learning opportunity.

Today was a good day. But I still didn’t gamble—well, apart from the drive to the casino, maybe.

A creative haul

Two weeks ago today, I went on a mini-shopping trip. I intended to do a blog post of the “haul”, much as I did way back in March of 2022, when I shared a “shopping haul” photo, in a post that was somewhat tongue-in-cheek. So, I began a post in the same vein, however, I was having trouble making it come together. When I got to the third draft of that post, I realised that this one was different: It was motivated by a very specific thing, something I kept putting off: I wanted to get supplies for certain creative things I wanted to do.

The photo up top was my second attempt to capture the “haul”, after I worked out there were two very separate “hauls”, both with stuff with different stories. This post is about the more important of the two (the other will follow tomorrow).

Of the stuff in the photo, the item standing in the back is the most general: It’s an A2-size cutting mat, something I use whenever I use a razor or craft knife to cut things out of paper, like when I make labels for storage containers in my pantry, but I’ve used cutting mats for all sorts of creative projects over the years. I already have one cutting mat that’s smaller than a sheet of office paper, and I’ve had it for 20+ years. I also have one that’s A3 (similar to 11x17 in US paper size, and the A2 one is like two of those side-by-side vertically). The small one is often too small (even WAY too small), and right now I have no idea where the larger one is, or even if I still have it (I think I do…). This new cutting mat is big enough for everything I need/want to do, which is why I’ve wanted one like it for so long.

At the right-hand side, and leaning against the mat, is a pad of paper suitable for use with acrylic paints, and on the ground in front of it is a set of acrylic paints. To its left, in the centre on the floor, is a set of mixed media brushes. To its left (the left side on the floor) is a pad of watercolour paper. I already have a set of watercolour paints that I bought a couple years ago and never used because I didn’t have the right paper. The final part of the painting supplies is standing up on the left-most side: A pad of palette paper for use with the acrylic paints. Together, all of those supplies were the real point of my shopping excursion.

Both my parents occasionally painted, mostly using oil paints, so I grew up with the (occasional) smell of oil paints, linseed oil, and turpentine, and to me, it smelled like art. A decade and a bit later, I was in high school and found myself with long blocks in “study hall”, which was boring. So, I added a basic art class. The next semester I took a painting class. After high school, I continued to paint in oil and water colours, but stopped—for absolutely no reason—before I was 20.

In the decades since, I often thought about picking it up again, and in the Covid Era I even ordered a basic set of water colours, which is what I referring to earlier. A couple years ago, I went with my brother-in-law and his partner to Raglan, a bohemian beachside community on New Zealand’s Tasman coast, west of Hamilton, and it has a lot of artists’ galleries of various kinds. We were walking through one gallery when I said offhandedly that sometimes I thought about taking up painting again, and my brother-in-law said, “why don’t you?” In a rare moment of clarity I said, “Because the last thing I need is yet another thing I’m NOT doing.” And there it stayed.

Three weeks before my shopping trip, I went to Warehouse Stationery and looked at the stuff I’d need (all of which is in the photo), but bought nothing. The first Tuesday of every month is “Gold Card” day, which gives us cardholders (folks 65+) a 5% discount, and while that’s not much, it’s also not nothing. But, why this month, and not any of the previous “Gold Card” days over the past few years? It was because I came to a realisation.

There are many things I want to do that I’ve felt I couldn’t do for one reason or another. For example, I can’t work on furniture because there’s no room in the garage, and because that was the case, I felt I couldn’t do anything about any of the other creative things I’ve wanted to do, either, and that obviously included painting. I also realised that there were specific barriers, such as, I didn’t have any of the things in the photo. Buying them wasn’t horribly expensive, and getting them means that I can paint, regardless of whether I actually do. The barriers are now removed, and the rest is up to me—and inspiration.

I have no illusions that I’ll ever be objectively “good” at painting—though, how can I ever find out if I never try? However, the reality is that the main reason I started focusing my visual creativity on photography was that it was the first time I managed to capture what my mind saw. At least now I have what I need to find out if painting is for me—assuming I choose to try.

There’s one more thing I bought for creative reasons: In the centre of the things standing and leaning against the cutting mat are some house-shaped cookie cutters. I saw them by chance when I was looking for something else, and they’re perfect for a craft project I’ll work on later this year, which I’ll talk about then—also assuming I actually do that, of course. However, I’ll also use them for making cookies, so even if the craft project doesn’t work out, I’ll still get use out of them—which is honestly more than I can say about anything else in the photo, apart from the cutting mat, which will get a lot of use.

Part of my motivation for acting was that I got 5% off everything I bought, which, as I said, isn’t much, but it’s also not nothing. But everything I bought—in this “creative haul” and the one I’ll talk about tomorrow—was something to me, regardless of whether I use the creative stuff or not. The biggest thing, though, wasn’t the stuff I bought, nor what ultimately happens with them, it was that I decided to start removing barriers that have kept me from doing the things I want to do, the things that might actually finally help me build whatever my life is going to become. Actually, that’s precisely why I created my latest plan to change my house, as I discussed last Friday.

In the end, my hope is that all of this barrier removal so far will lead me to remove even more barriers. If that happens, it’ll be a bargain at any price. Discount not required.

The next phase

I have a plan. It’s no longer theoretical, or merely possible, but actually already in progress. I entirely skipped over the concepts of a plan stage, though, obviously, no sensible person would ever think that was actually a thing. Of course. Instead, I’ve made actual plans, and they’re now beginning.

This all relates to what’s essentially the last remaining work on the inside of my house, and I’m starting inside for good reason: It’s literally the middle of winter here in Aotearoa-New Zealand, and that means that it’s not pleasant to be doing stuff outside (or in the garage), though I do make sure I mow the back lawn every other week. It’s cold and damp outside most days, and while neither would my choice of weather to work in, it also a lot rains this time of year, and so, outside work isn’t happening right now.

A month ago, I wrote about sending piles of clothes and bedding off to a charity shop, something that took me a couple months to finish because I constantly kept finding more stuff to donate. On that last day, when the stuff left my house, I already had a vision for what was next.

As I said last month, my priority is the inside of my house because “I want it to be my sanctuary”. I decided to start with what seemed to me to be the “easiest” room, the living area. The stuff headed for the charity shop had been piled up in the living area of my house all that time, and after helping me get it all packed and ready leave, family members then helped me tidy and clean up the living area, something I definitely neglected during the sorting phase. Since then, I’ve focused on keeping it tidy, and that includes vacuuming a couple times a week (and I’m very glad I bought my stick vacuum last September.)

The next phase is to finish decluttering the living area, because there are three spots that have some excess stuff. However. This work will be interspersed with a different room, the guest room.

Work on the guest room isn’t about decluttering as such because the room doesn’t have unnecessary stuff in it. However, the room’s wardrobe has become a sort of storage cupboard, and one that’s not well-organised. So, I’m going to finally install the wardrobe system I bought for the guest room wardrobe. That project will mean I first have to do some wall repairs, then prime and then re-paint the inside of the wardrobe. While those repairs are drying, I’ll work on finishing the living area. I emptied that wardrobe today so I can start working on that wardrobe tomorrow morning.

I’m pretty sure that I’ll finish the decluttering in the living area before I’m done installing the wardrobe system, so if I still have down time on that wardrobe project, I’ll use it to work on tidying my bedroom. I’d almost completed work on my bedroom (not including the wardrobe) quite awhile ago, but when family was staying with me for a time recently, I needed to empty out the guest room and its wardrobe, and some of that stuff ended up in my bedroom, back where there hadn’t been any clutter since last year.

Finishing my bedroom’s not a big job, so I can do it in small doses, like when I’m waiting for paint to dry in the guest room wardrobe. Installing a new wardrobe system in my bedroom’s walk-in wardrobe will be sometihng I’lll do much later on, mainly because the decluttering of clothes gave me a lot more space to hang things, and so, the reorganisation of that wardrobe isn’t a priority any more. My final inside project will be completely re-doing my office, which is so overrun with stuff that doesn’t belong in there that I very rarely actually use the room. I’ll talk about that more when I get to that stage.

I also have a number of relatively small projects for every room that are related more to decorating than mere decluttering and reorganising. Much of this will also be work I’ll do concurrently, and not entirely separately, so I’ll mostly talk about each room separately because it’ll be easier to understand what I’m talking about. There will be photos, of course.

The final inside project is The Garage Of No Return, and I hope to begin that in early spring, when it’s no longer bloody cold in there, but before it gets hot. That’s also the time I’ll start working on outside projects, too, so that when spring actually arrives I’ll be ready for it. As with the projects for each room, the garden is a subject all on its own, and I’ll talk about that when I get to it.

And that’s the entire plan: It’s not linear, but it’s definitely about methodically working on the things I need to, and in the ways that work best for me. I expect it’ll be quite a ride. I planned for that, too.

Successful return to the past

Yesterday morning I did something I haven’t done for nearly 60 years: I made scrambled eggs in a cast iron pan. That sentence raises so many eyebrows (even for me), that there’s only one logical solution: A blog post. And here we are.

When I was a young boy, my mother used cast iron pans—a larger-sized one, a medium one, and a small one. She also had a large deep-sided pan with a cast iron lid that she called a Dutch oven, but, to modern day me, it was like a very deep fry pan with a lid, though the use is what matters. Her pots, on the other hand, were all aluminium.

At some point around 1970, my parents got an aluminium fry pan with a Teflon coating, and that’s what I used after that—and nearly all my fry pans from that point were also aluminium with a nonstick coating right up until very recently. Some years back, I became aware of the research showing evidence of the potential toxicity of PFAS, the chemicals that are the artificial chemicals that are used in nonstick coating for cookware, but also in flame retardants, waterproofing treatments, carpets, yoga mats, wall paint, adhesives, and lots of other stuff. The stuff stay around in the environment for such an incredibly long time that they’re commonly known as “forever chemicals”. Some PFAS are carcinogens or endocrine disruptors and have been linked to all sorts of health problems. I wanted to move away from non-stick cookware to avoid PFAS.

Sometime between 15 and 20 years ago, Nigel bought us a set of stainless steel pots and pans from an online liquidation auction company, and I still have them all. He later got us a set of name-brand non-stick pots and pans that were all in a line carrying the name of a famous British chef and TV cooking show presenter (the brand and names aren’t relevant to my point). Nigel preferred the non-stick pots and pans, and for a time I was indifferent—though the nonstick frypans were undeniably easier to clean than the stainless steel one we also had.

Around 2015, give or take, I’d started becoming increasingly concerned about the proliferation of chemicals in everyday life—but I still used the non-stick cookware. That all changed after Nigel died and I moved to Hamilton: The hob (cooktop) in my new house was induction and incompatible with the non-stick cookware, apart from the two frypans, which had a steel plate in their bases for better heat capabilities (the pots’ metal were all exclusively aluminium). I gave the pots away, and kept the frypans.

The smaller of the two frypans (the oldest one, which Nigel bought separately) began to lose its non-stickiness, and I knew I needed a replacement. I decided to go back to my roots and buy a NZ-made cast iron fry pan, which I did in 2022. I didn’t mention that here at the time, but I did in 2024 when bought the same company's cast iron dutch oven to replace our older one that was also incompatible with my induction hob.

Cast iron has to be “seasoned” to be used, and over time it develops a natural non-stick surface. However, I only recently started using that pan reasonably often, so I didn’t know if it was non-stick enough. But it was becoming more urgent that I use it because a similarly sized ceramic-coated pan I was using was losing its non-stickability, and I needed an alternative.

It turned out that the cast-iron pan performed very well, with only a little sticking at the edges, where the base meets the wall, which is acceptable to me. It was, in fact, better than either the failed nonstick pan or the ceramic one, and the scrambled eggs stayed together, which is what I was after that day. My next attempt will be to try making fried eggs, and if that’s acceptable I’ll no longer need either the ceramic pan or the last remaining nonstick pan I have, although that one I’ll need to replace regatless because it’s slowly losing its non-stickability, and its surface is starting to get pits in it, which means it’s time for it to go).

I’m still mastering (re-mastering?) the use of cast iron cookware, a lifetime after I last regularly used that kind, but I feel good about this change—actually, it’s not a change as much as it’s going back to my roots. Apparently, this really is a successful return to my past from decades ago, but one that’s been in the works, one way or another, for many years. It’s about time. And patience. And the right cookware.

Resetting the house, part one

This photo might not look significant, but what it represents is huge: Four large rubbish bags, one ordinary one, a shopping bag, and a box, all filled with stuff that I was donating. This is an ongoing story.

In late February, I started going through clothes and continued off and on until last week (I kept realising there were more drawers or boxes to sort through). It’s a mix of stuff that was mine, Nigel’s, and Nigel’s partner before me, Gary (who died a couple years before Nigel and I became a couple). On Friday, as my final sorting before the donation, I gathered all the bedding I don’t want or need anymore, mostly duvet cover sets and some sheet sets for a bed I no longer have.

Friday evening, one of the family and I finished sorting and folding the clothes, and then Saturday morning another family member packed it all up and took it to the op shop (aka charity shop or thrift store). The photo is of the stuff’s last stop before leaving the house.

Getting rid of the clothes, etc., wasn’t even remotely emotionally challenging for me, though I did keep three things of Nigel’s for purely sentimental reasons (two shirts and a jacket). However, most things had memories or stories attached to them, and remembering them can actually be more tiring than the sorting itself—tiring, but not even remotely painful.

I still have a lot more stuff in the house to go through, like, for example, Nigel and I had lots of stuff for big family get-togethers, and I don’t need all of it anymore. That’ll be a big job, too, but it’ll free up a lot of space for the stuff I DO need or want.

Then, of course, there’s still the garage to declutter/clear out, but I don’t actually care about that: My top priority is to free the house itself of excess stuff, and then take on the garage. The reason is simple: I don’t go into the garage often, but I’m inside my house every day (obviously…) and I want it to be my sanctuary. First things first, in other words.

I first mentioned this decluttering in a post back in April, when I described as a project “neither planned nor even intended”. Technically, it’s actually a “sub-project” because it’s really one part of my “Operation Re-invent My House” project—or maybe “mega project” is more accurate? Anyway, this particular part was done in small bits, mainly because I kept sorting through more stuff until I decided to stop for the time being simply because I wanted to get the massive piles of stuff I’d set aside to donate out of the house. There will definitely be a lot more.

So, yesterday what felt to me like a massive amount of stuff left my house, and that was just the beginning. Suddenly this long and difficult journey I’ve been on felt a little bit shorter and easier, and, yet again, the family helped me get there. Now, on to the next goal! It feels a bit more achievable now.

Leo is nine

Today isn’t merely the first day of winter in this part of the word, nor is it merely the King’s Birthday public holiday in New Zealand, no, the MOST important thing is that today is my little boy Leo’s ninth birthday!

Leo came to live with us shortly before his first birthday, and was such a gentle, loving soul that Nigel said, "we're besotted with him,” and he was right. I still am enough for both of us.

I've written several times about the how he and I are the only survivors of the family he joined back in 2018, and how how he's on of the main reasons I'm still here to talk about it—and no, I'm not talking about anything dire that might have happened, but, rather, simply that he gave me a reason and focus to keep moving forward. In other words, Leo was with me during every loss, and that's made me feel incredibly lucky to have had him with me.

As has often happened in past years, he needs to be groomed, but unlike in the past, he's been allowing me to trim his fur and we're making progress. Hopefully he doesn't change his mind before we finish. Today, however, was a day off for him. Of course.

Happy Ninth Birthday, Leo!

(Also I don’t think he’s intentionally giving me side eye in his birthday portrait…)

Related:

Leo is eight – 2025
Leo is seven – 2024
Leo is six – 2023
Leo is five – 2022
Leo is four – 2021
Leo is three – 2020
Leo is two – 2019
Leo is one year old – 2018
Another new addition – The post in which I announced Leo joined our family
All blog posts tagged “Leo” – All the posts in which I’ve talked about him

Fortune’s favour

Maybe fortune favours the bold, as the saying goes, but maybe it’s simply persistence that wins the day. I’d like to think so, anyway.

Back in March, I wrote about a failed project to help Leo: I bought some steps to help Leo get up onto the bed more easily. At the time, it seemed like a good idea, but he wouldn’t use it, which I talked about in that post. But, contrary to what that post implied, I didn’t give up.

I recently moved the steps back to the foot of the bed, but rather than being parallel to the end of the bed as before, I turned them so they were perpendicular to the foot of the bed. I thought that in that position, when viewed from in front of the steps, they’d appear to rise easily from the floor to the bed top, and so, be less intimidating for Leo.

While I’d thought about doing that back in March, the reason I didn’t do it is that I felt it would stick out too far, maybe even creating a tripping hazard for me (I walk past it every twice a day, in the morning to open the window blinds and later in the day to close them for the night). I thought the tripping hazard had become minimal because I’d cleared out some “stuff” that had been stored in my bedroom for “quite some time”, and that meant there was more room at the foot of the bed. It was worth a try, I thought.

A couple weeks or so ago I moved the blanket box over a bit and dragged the steps to the side of it (see the photo up top). However, Leo still seemed uninterested in the steps. As I did in March, I tried to encourage him up the steps, placing his paws on the steps for him, and I did that a few times. That much worked, but he never initiated the climb on his own. I decided to regroup—and chill out.

I thought that maybe he just needed more time to feel comfortable with the steps and so be willing to use them on his own terms. Over maybe a couple weeks, he didn’t use the steps, preferring to jump up, awkwardly and seemingly with much effort.

Then, it suddenly changed.

The night before last, I said to Leo, as I do every night, “let’s go to bed,” and as is our ritual he walks slowly, looking up and me expectantly. I then ask him, “aren’t you forgetting something?”, and he runs back into the living are to grab Brown Dog, his favourite toy. Then we can go down the hallway to the bedroom at the other end of the house, Leo trotting ahead of me, tail wagging.

Two nights ago, he entered the bedroom, and started to veer right, which usually means he’s about to climb under the bed (he always goes under the bed from that side). However, he simply walked up the steps and then climbed them to get onto to the bed. I was shocked, and may even have gasped a bit as I put my hand over my mouth as I muttered a (nearly) silent, “oh my god!”

I praised Leo effusively, and he looked up at me with one of his, “what are you carrying on about? looks. I understood my notes from him and left him to play with his toy while I got ready for bed—wondering all the time if that had been a simple accident.

Last night we did our nightly ritual again and, as I’d hoped, he climbed the steps onto the bed. I cannot express how happy this made me: I started the whole thing to make his life a little bit easier, and seeing that he appeared to have adapted gave me all the feels. Nothing will change that, even if he doesn’t continue using the steps—but I have a feeling he’s worked out that the steps are a much easier way to get up there rather trying to jump up. It did make me think that maybe I should come up with a similar solution to help him get up on the sofa, but that space is much smaller and tighter than the bedroom is. More thought is required.

One thing I didn’t bother to mention in March—or at any other time, for that matter—is that for both me and Nigel, our dogs have always been allowed on the furniture, including the bed. I’m well aware that some people are against that, perhaps even strongly so, and such folks may harbour quite negative judgements of people like me. I couldn’t possibly care less. Both Nigel and I always considered our furbabies to be family, but after Nigel died, having the dogs sleeping near me every night was comforting, and now, after we also lost Sunny and Jake, I appreciate Leo’s presence even more. Many nights I wake up, then reach over to pat Leo before I go back to sleep. After so much loss and the change that demands, having Leo’s reassuring presence is pretty damn important.

And, that, in a nutshell, is why I launched this little project in the first place, and why I persisted after the initial failure. Leo has been so vitally important in my journey to learn how to create a new life for myself that there was never any doubt that I’d find a way forward.

This isn’t just about a plan coming together, or that persistence was a vital ingredient of the success. Instead, it was always about doing that I could to make my little guy’s life a little bit easier. It the very least I could do.

But, yeah: Maybe fortune really does favour the persistent.

A well-meaning fail

Not every project I take on works out, but all of them begin with good intentions. Recently I tried a project with the best of intentions, but it didn’t pan out. Even so, I don’t regret a thing.

The background is simple: Leo will turn nine in a few months, and I’ve noticed that as he’s grown older, he’s had more trouble jumping onto furniture, like our bed. To be honest, I think some of it is performative, because if I walk over to lift him up, he suddenly manages to jump up on the bed or whatever. Even so, he’s a little guy about to turn nine, and, just like me, he’ll need some minor alterations to things to make his ageing easier.

I thought that there was something I could do to help him, and I designed something, a kind of steps to put at the foot of the bed. I imagined a three-tier thing with storage in each tier. It’d be strong enough for me to sit on, like wooden the blanket box that’s there right now. However, the Garage of No Return doesn’t have enough room for me to build anything, and I don’t know when that will change (note I didn’t say “if”—I live in hope).

It was then that I found a four-tier step system (the bottom of the two photos at left; the blanket box I mentioned is the top half) that I thought would work. It’s a bit smaller than what I designed, but I thought that the four steps would make it easier for Leo. Each “step” is actually a soft-sided storage box, and each step is attached to the next-smaller step using a zip (aka zipper) on the front and back. The zips were a little tricky to fasten, but assembly was otherwise straightforward

And that was the end of the success. Leo wouldn’t step on any step, and wouldn’t jump onto a high one like he did on the old blanket box. I tried to lead him up the steps, but his reaction was as if he thought I was trying to hurt him. He didn’t “get” how to walk up stairs. He’s a smart guy, so this puzzled me—after all, we had stairs in the last house we all had together.

Yeah, well, I often forget how much time has passed since then. He lived in that house for 19 months (beginning shortly before his first birthday, and we moved away when he was 2 years old). I can’t remember how often he went up and down stairs at the old house, but we left that house more than six years ago, and we’ve lived in this one-storey house ever since.

I know that it may have nothing to do with his past, but the small stairs I bought for him may not have felt safe to him. So, I put the old blanket box back with just a blanket on top of it (making the top he jumps onto a centimetre or so lower than it had been).I moved the fancy steps over to the other side of the bed and put some of his toys on higher steps: He’s never tried to get them, not even when I put his favourite toy on it. I think that if the steps were more conventional, he might’ve been more willing to use it—or, at least, not as frightened of it as he seemed to be, but it it what it is.

This means I’m probably back to building something for him. Right now I think it should have a wide lower step for him to step onto, but I’ll have to create a temporary one to see if he uses it. We’ll see. The point is, just as I have various plans to make this house better for ageing me, I’ll make changes to make things easier for an ageing Leo, too. This particular attempt just wasn’t a good one. Oh, well—onward.

Being prepared is a journey

Three years ago yesterday, on February 14, 2023, two days after Cyclone Gabrielle had left Kirikiriroa-Hamilton behind, we lost power in my neighbourhood, something I mentioned in my treatise post about the cyclone a week later. It turned out that the power was shut off in order to repair a fallen cable, which is why it was only off for a couple hours—though I didn’t know any of that when I made the Facebook post up top.

In the part of my post where I talked about the power outage, I talked about what I did to cope, thinking the power might be off for a couple days. I mentioned going to one of the hardware home centres to buy a shop light that runs on the same 18v batteries I use for my power tools (and that now also powers the stick vacuum I bought last year). I later misplaced that light during one of my millions of failed attempts to tidy the garage, but, fortunately, I haven’t needed it since.

I also mentioned that I got an LPG (propane) bottle for the BBQ so I could cook, and that I couldn’t get it to work. That’s still not working. However, I didn’t mention that I’ve never actually used a gas BBQ, because that had always been Nigel’s job and I never learned). However, I still have the full gas bottle, and now that I’ll be able to actually use the patio I want to get the BBQ going again. Failing that, I also still have an LPG table-top outdoor heater that was the only thing Nigel wanted for his 40th birthday, and it may be more useful to me, particularly with Autumn only two weeks away. Or, not.

At any rate, I blame sleep deprivation three years ago for my lame jokes in the post. Coincidentally, parts of the country, especially the east coast of the North Island, have been experiencing a big (but non-cyclone) big storm, and that includies areas that got hit by a fatal storm three weeks ago. Kirikiriroa-Hamilton’s weather wasn’t too bad, though, fortunately.

In the three years since that cyclone, I haven’t done anything about electricity reslience, like adding a battery bank to my solar power system or getting a battery back-up that I can use to keep my fridge running it the power goes out. I still think a single back-up is a better option than a whole-house battery backup, but it’s a huge topic and researching it has require far more time than I’ve had available. Finding the right solution is still on the agenda, though—alongside so many other things.

New Zealand, like most places, has been experiencing more bad storms more frequently than, say, 30 years ago when I arrived in New Zealand. That trend will only continue in the years ahead, and we all need to do what we cane to prepare doe “severe weather events”. Despite everything, I’m actually better prepared than I was in 2023. That’s a good start.

Keeping the bugs outside

Today the flyscreens (aka “window screens”) were installed at my house. It took a couple months for that to happen, but they’re better than I expected. This is also the final of the home improvement projects I hired others to do. It’s been a long journey.

Back in October, I went to the Waikato Home and Garden Show with my cousin-in-law, and I signed up for quotes on patio covers, ducted air conditioning, and fly screens. The quotes were all in by mid-month, apart from the screens because I decided on a different kind of screen than was originally quoted, and they had to re-measure the affected windows. That happened in early December.

What I opted for were simple screens that attach with magnetic tape. Because all the joinery (windows and window and door frames) is aluminium, they put magnetic tape of one pole onto the window frame, and the other pole is attached to the screen. My windows are all awning-style, hinged at the top and opened with latch-handles at the bottom. When the window’s closed, it pushes the bottom of the screen forward, then when the window is closed, the screen snaps closed against the magnet tape on the window frame (see the photo up top).

I originally wanted a more or less conventional type with an aluminium frame, but it’s hinged at the top. Unfortunately, I couldn’t have those because the blinds I had installed when I shifted into the house didn’t leave enough room. It took me around a month to decide what I wanted to do, basically, if I couldn’t have what I wanted, did I want what I could have?

What motivated me to proceed was nature: I always open the en suite window after my shower (year round) to help the extractor fan remove the moisture better/faster, and I leave it open for around 15-20 minutes. Two different times this past Spring, a big, ugly outdoors cockroach crawled in through that open window. Both of course exited the house as ex-cockroaches. That horror was enough to convinced me to get the screens I could have.

I ordered nine screens: One for the en suite, three for the main bedroom, one each for the other two bedrooms, one for a little window in the living area, along with one for the window in each set of stacker doors (and because they’re stacker doors, this was the only screen option possible).

I chose not to put them in the two front windows because Leo might go through them to try to get at a passing cat or dog, and, anyway, I’ve never opened those windows, and can’t image that I ever would. I also didn’t get screens for the two windows in the garage (I’ve never opened them, either), nor for the toilet (room, not throne) or main bathroom, mainly because of cost.

The guy arrived a little after 9am (ugh) this morning, and he was finished a couple hours later. I kept Leo close to me, on lead, and he eventually settled, though he wasn’t too pleased about it—apart from when I slipped him a little treat. Twice.

So, that’s that: The last project I hired people to do is now finished. The first to be completed were window blinds for the toilet (room not throne), bathroom, and en suite. Then it was the ducted air conditioning (with an add-on project to remove the broken split unit from the living area, along with its compressor on the patio). Next was the roof over my patio (installed on my birthday, no less), and today the screens.

I’ll probably have more things done, but the only one I’m planning at the moment is having the range hood/extractor fan raised because it’s far too low—though, technically, it’s in the common range of height above the cooktop. I’ve my head on the thing many times, and I can’t see any pots on the rear elements unless I duck—and probably hit my head. I’ll need to replace the backsplash, too, but I’d thought about doing that, anyway, because the builder installed grouted tile, which is hard to get/keep clean.

I should add that I’m aware that there is an ideal height for hoods so that they can work efficiently, but this thing had a very powerful fan motor, so much so that when it’s running I feel like a guy at the airport loading luggage onto a jet—only a slight exaggeration. Actually, when I began talking about this above, I accidentally typed “rage hood”, which is a pretty fair name for it, really.

Mainly, though, the projects will now be all mine. I still have my outdoor work to do, delayed by all the heat and rain. The rain will come and go, but the heat will ease in a few weeks—which also means I’ll be able to open the windows and use all the new screens, and not just the en suite one.

Inside the house it’s mostly about redecorating, but I’m also prioritising decluttering/downsizing. Then I’ll do whatever decorating, organising, etc. that each room needs, including putting in shelving systems in each wardrobe (this will the third house I’ve done that, actually). The garage will be last, and in mid-autumn or so, after the temps are cooler, but before it gets too cold. Then, if the fates allow, my entire house will be done. Finally.

Whatever happens—or doesn’t—I’ll document every part of it. And I thought that getting all those projects I hired people to do had been a long journey…

Obsessions

From time to time, I become obsessed with something or other. I’ve probably always been that way, but it was noticeably different in the Covid lockdown era, but then it morphed again, turning into something different and quite useful. But noticed that change only recently.

I should explain what I mean by “obsession”. I don’t mean that in the way that online influencers use the word to describe their focus on the latest trends in fashion, home decor, food, skincare, whatever. On the other hand, what I’m talking about is about a kind of hyperfocus on things, but mine is about stuff for my personal life and usually it isn’t remotely connected to anything trendy.

That out of the way, what I become obsessed with usually refers to things for projects or to solve some problem or other in my home. Like lamps, for example.

During the first Covid lockdown I became obsessed/hyperfocused/whatever with lamps to put on the nightstands either side of the guest bed. This was odd because during lockdowns I couldn’t have guest, so bedside lamps were irrelevant. I ended up ordering a couple inexpensive ones from a discount chain rather than the ones I actually liked because I wanted to see those in person, which I couldn’t do, obviously.

I think the reason I was so obsessed with lamps was because at that time we were all powerless against a disease that we still had no vaccine against. Maybe it gave me a feeling of some control at a time when we had very little of that.

I still have those lamps, so ordering them wasn’t a terrible decision. However, there was one other purchase born of obsession that was a huge mistake: A garden shed I bought online in February 2021. In the weeks that followed, I eventually realised that it was a mistake. In 2022, I sold it at loss just to be rid of it.

That shed debacle was both a low point and a turning point: Since then, I’ve never ordered something expensive merely because I was obsessed about something. I’ve ordered a few things I ended up regretting, but none of them were the result of an obsession, nor were they expensive.

As time has gone on, there’s been a change. I may become obsessed with something and do hours of research to to find the best option—and then I stop without buying anything. I saw a YouTube video in which the person described that sort of thing as enjoying the shopping without actually spending any money. I think that’s true, but it’s also true that doing all the research can make me realise I don’t want the solution I thought I did, but sometimes I realise I already have a usable solution.

The photo up top shows a grill named after a famour boxer. Nigel and I bought it many years ago, and we’d also had an early version of the grill (which was quite large). We used it mostly for making things like Rueben sandwiches, though we also sometimes used it to grill meat. We used it less often as time went on, and I think I may have used it only once since shifting to Kirikiriroa-Hamilton, though my lack of use was mainly because it was hard to get out of the cupboard (I had to get down on the floor and reach into the back of the cupboard).

I recently became obsessed with buying a sandwich press (this Google search shows examples). It’s a kitchen device for making toasted sandwiches, like Reubens and what Americans call “grilled cheese” (called a “cheese toastie” in New Zealand). I wanted to get one years ago, and Nigel didn’t want me to, though he never said why.

I don’t know why, precisely, I became obsessed with getting a sandwich maker, but I was. And then I remembered the red grill I already had. We used it as sandwich press, so I knew it was suitable for that. Last week, I used it to make ham and cheese toasties (using what the supermarket called "ciabatta pockets" instead of regular bread). At first I used the two ribbed grill plates, but then I remembered there was a smooth one for the top grill and switched to that. I think it worked better for the later sandwiches (like what's pictured).

I’ve also realised that the grill would be the best way for me to make burgers. I have a “grill pan”, which has ridges so the grease can drain. However, there’s often a lot of water added to the raw beef mince (aka “ground beef”), and that means the burger is steamed as much as fried. The grill machine has angled grill plates, which allows the grease (and added water…) to drain out. The thing is, I can’t remember if we ever used it for that, but we may not have because we used to have cheeseburgers and melted the cheese on the burger in the pan, so I may need to experiment a bit.

There have been times that similar things happened, but this particular reuse of something I already have is the most recent. I like that I’m getting use out of stuff I already own even more than that I'm not spending money I don’t need to. That’s what’s changed the most for me—and it's so thrifty, too!

Seriously, though, it really is satisfying to come up with solutions for my home using stuff I already have. Sure, I still sometimes spend a lot of time researching options to buy, and sometimes I still buy things, too. As long as it’s not a garden shed, I’m okay with that.