Small and orderly

I’ve done a lot of projects in this house since moving day on January 22. 2020. Most of those projects haven't been particularly big, but a few have been very small. This month, I completed another small project—sort of accidentally.

Back in February I spent about a week on some very small projects, which I mentioned here only in June when I completed another small project: Installing a shaving mirror in the en suite. My project this month was a little more involved than that mirror: I reorganised my fridge (Before and After photos up top).

The project actually technically began back in May when I bought an acrylic turntable with sides to store bottles in my fridge. I knew I needed to wash it before I put it in the fridge, and I didn’t get to that. Then I moved it to the other side of the kitchen to get it out of my way. Then, of course, I forgot all about it, as I so often do.

I decided to have the Hamilton family around for dinner on Friday, September 20, since it happened to be the fifth horrible anniversary since Nigel died. I knew I’d be fine, but it seemed like getting together with the family was the best thing to do on that particular day.

However, my house was a disaster area, the living area in particular, because of the stuff I brought in from the garage as part of the latest incarnation of that project, which I wrote about back in July. Getting the house ready meant clearing out all the stuff (and also sparked a new approach to the garage project, a whole topic on its own). I spent a couple weeks working on it a bit at a time, and when I was working in the kitchen I finally saw the acrylic turntable. I washed it and left it to dry while I started on the inside the fridge.

First, I took everything off the two top shelves, then removed the glass shelves so I could wash them in the sink. I don’t think I’ve done that since my niece cleaned them the day I moved in (to be clear, when I have spills, which is rare, I clean them up immediately, and I have wiped the shelves from time to time; it’s just I haven’t taken them out to wash them). The lowest shelf it too difficult to remove, so I cleaned that in position.

Next, I went through everything I’d taken out (and what was on the door) to see if there were any science experiments, and there was one: A jar of something or other at the back of a lower shelf, in a spot difficult to see unless I bent over, and I found som some rearly old raspberry jam that had become solid. There were some chutneys and relishes that smelled fine, but I was pretty sure they’d been in the fridge since before Nigel died. I emptied them and washed the jars and put them in the recycling that week.

I put the new acrylic turntable on the top shelf, then basically put things back where they had been. There wasn’t enough room to put the old lazy susan on the top shelf, so I put that aside while I carried on with the rest. A day or two later, I decided to put the old lazy susan on the second shelf, and I’d put the remaining chutneys and relishes, along with jam, onto it—but only after I took everything out again so I could raise the top shelf one notch so the old lazy susan would fit on the second shelf.

This, then, created a new problem: The moved top shelf was too high to fit the milk bottle on it. At first I laid it on a shelf, but I quickly found out the cap wasn’t tight enough to prevent it leaking. Actually, I found it out twice, because the first time I thought maybe I hadn’t tightened the lid enough. That wasn’t the problem.

The milk is now on the door, a place I stopped putting it because I saw a “food safety expert” on TV saying the door was too warm for milk. I also switched from a 3-litre bottle to a 2-litre bottle, which I go through faster, and so, it’ll have less time to go bad. Hopefully.

An unexpected bonus was that the second shelf now has enough vertical space that I can have a dozen eggs on top of another dozen eggs. I usually buy a new dozen when when I’m down to my last few, so it’s not uncommon for me to have two cartons in the fridge at once.

My fridge is now the most organised its ever been, the elderly products are gone, and I even ended up with lots of empty space, even though there’s actually not a dramatically smaller amount of stuff in there: It’s simply better organised.

The project started because I was tidying up the house for the family, and it ended up giving a clean, organised fridge. Everybody won! I may not have planned to do that project, but I’m glad I did it. I’ll take it as a good omen for my other projects to come.

Fed by experimenting

Up until maybe a year or two ago, I experimented with cooking quite a lot. I tried recipes cooking techniques that were new to me, and I even experimented with different ways to source food ingredients. For no particular reason, I just kind of stopped, something I realised only recently.

Back in September 2022, I tried making sushi for the first time, and that recently popped up in my Facebook “Memories”. That was something I’ve never attempted again—and I’ve never even thought about it very often. However, seeing that FB “Memory” reminded me that I haven’t really had any kitchen adventures in quite awhile, certainly nothing like I used to have. That changed this past weekend.

On Saturday, I decided to make myself brunch of poached eggs on smashed avocado, served on toasted bread I made in my breadmaker (photo above). The poached eggs were the experiment: I’ve written before about making them in a shallow pan of water and adding white vinegar to (supposedly) help the whites remain intact. That method allowed me to poach two eggs at once. Then, I tried the “whirlpool method”, in which boiling water in a pot is stirred rapidly with a spoon, the raw egg is dropped into the vortex, and the result is a nearly perfect poached egg—but I could only cook one at a time, which wasn’t ideal.

Then, TV changed everything.

I was watching a magazine-style show that had a story about how rough the hospitality industry in New Zealand has it at the moment. There was some video shot in a cafe kitchen, and I noticed the chef was standing next to a big pot of boiling water, and he was adding an egg to what appeared to be swirling water. The shot was very brief, but I wondered, first, if I saw what I thought I saw, and second, would that allow me to make two poached eggs at once?

This weekend was the time to try, so I got out a large pot I normally use to make homemade soup, got the water boiling, swirled the water, dropped in one egg, then dropped in the other—and they they were both perfect! Well, mostly: I think the eggs were too cool, and some of the white separated away, leaving the poached eggs smaller than they’d otherwise be.

I store my eggs in the fridge so they’re fresher longer, Cold eggs are fine for scrambled or fired eggs, but when I want poached eggs I take them out of the fridge and let them come up to room temperature, often cracking them into a small ramekin so they’ll warm a bit faster, but mostly so I can make sure the eggs an intact (if not, I make scrambles eggs instead). On Saturday, I was a bit too impatient, but they were still very nice.

Obviously this is not a new thing—the chef on TV really was making poached eggs in a large pot, and it must be quite common. The point is, I didn’t know it, and was willing to try it, and now I’ve changed my poached egg making technique again, to the best method yet.

The other point, of course, is that for the first time in ages I saw something I wanted to try, in this case a cooking method, and so I did it. Now, I want to gey back to trying new recipes, too. Maybe I’ll even revisit some, like making pizza base from scratch using my breadmaker to make the dough, something I last tried October 1, 2021. That’ll probably pop up in my Facebook “Memories” tomorrow, only a couple weeks after the “Memory” of making sushi from scratch. I guess I’ll add that to my list to try again, too.

Looks like my kitchen might be about to be a busy place again. Good.

Time for changes

New Zealand returned to Daylight Saving Time (NZDT) at 2am Sunday morning (which some people think of as Saturday night…). At the moment, the change just makes sunrise and sunset an hour later than they were on Saturday. However, the days are getting longer as we move toward summer, so the number of hours between the two will continue to increase until late December. All of which is good.

I’m not a big fan of seasonal clock changes, even though this one gave us an hour more of afternoon daylight right now. The reason I don’t like the time change is that as I’ve grown older, it’s taken me longer every year to adjust (presently a week or so, though the one in autumn is much worse…). In practical terms, this means I’m more tired and I’m grumpier than usual. But, as I joked on Facebook, “I know, I know: ‘Would we notice a difference?’”. Quite possibly not—it would depend on the day.

Last week was a particularly busy one, mainly because I needed to mow the lawns, which were overdue due to all the rainy days we’ve had in recent weeks. That same wetness also made the work extremely physically demanding, with the mower constantly nearly stalling on the thick, still pretty wet grass. I did that over two days, Wednesday and Thursday, but on Tuesday, I also gave Leo a bath (photos at the top of this post). He needs a grooming, but in the meantime I’m going to tidy up his fur a bit.

Friday, after three days of physical labour, I decided to go to the supermarket. Thursday evening, I toyed with the idea of ordering groceries for delivery, but hemmed and hawed, and decided I’d shop in person the next day. This was probably not the correct decision.

On Friday morning, I woke up early and my body said, “Look, I don’t care what you did the past few days: Six hours of sleep is FAR too much—get up ya lazy bastard”. I finally did after spending another half hour trying in vain to go back to sleep.

All of Friday, I felt like I’d been up for two days, so pretty much all I did that was the supermarket trip. After I got home, Leo and I had a long nap and we both felt better (well, Leo didn’t actually say that, but I’m pretty sure it makes him happy when I feel better…). I went to bed early that night, and Saturday night, too.

There was one time after I moved into this house where I stayed up specifically to see what my devices did at the moment of the time change. Unfortunately, I picked the September change and it went from 1:59 am to 3:00am, which didn’t look as weird as it might’ve going from 2:59am to 2:00am—but seeing that would mean I’d have had to stay up until 3am in the about-to-depart Daylight Saving Time, and, contrary to popular belief, and my chronotype being “Night Owl”, I’m seldom up that late. At any rate, seeing that September change was about as underwhelming when I was recorded the “leap second” for a brief 2015 video for my YouTube Channel. As it turns out, an international agreement has been reached to end “leap seconds” by 2035. There was no international agreement to stop posting videos to my Channel nearly eight years ago—life happened. Ironically, perhaps, the last video I posted (so far?) was also about time.

Frivolity aside, there’s work I need to do twice year: Change the time in several places. All of my “smart” devices (phone, computers, tablets) automatically change time, but my four wall clocks and non-smart appliances (my oven and microwave) don’t. I can’t be bothered changing the time on the time on my oven or microwave—not the least because I don’t where the manuals are and I don’t know how. For my four wall clocks, I took each clock off the wall to reset the time, and cleaned them at the same time, as I always do (something I wrote about last year).

As I mentioned in my post last year, the clock radio in my bedroom has a button to toggle between DST and ST, but, ironically, the only thing I use that clock for is for its projector function to display the time on the ceiling (Nigel and I stopped using alarms many, many years ago). However, at the last house both Nigel and I forgot how to do that, and we didn’t know where the manual was. Suddenly, Nigel fixed it, and when I asked him how he did it, he grinned and said, “it’s magic!”. That meant that when Nigel died, I didn’t know how to change to/from DST, so I did what Nigel had probably done: I looked it up online. The first time I had to do that, was the end of September 2019—just over two weeks after Nigel died. I’m kind of amazed that I was in any sort of shape to figure that out at that time.

At any rate, all my clocks are now correct, and I also checked the batteries in the smoke detectors, something I do periodically, and always when the clocks change—though I didn’t actually do that until today. This means that all my twice-yearly chores are now done. It’s about time.

Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 14

A new song went to Number One this week in 1984: On September 29, 1984, ”Let's Go Crazy” (video up top) by American musician/singer/songwriter/produce /etc. Prince, together with his band, The Revolution, went to Number One, and it would stay there for two weeks. The song was the second single from Prince’s sixth studio album, Purple Rain, which was the soundtrack album for the film of the same name. It was Prince’s second Number One on the USA’s Billboard “Hot 100” chart, a couple months after “Let’s Go Crazy” (the subject of Part 10 in this series) topped the charts, eventually becoming the Number One song of 1984.

There’s nothing about the music video on the Wikipedia article for the song (linked to above), but that’s no doubt because it’s basically taken from the film Purple Rain. This was fairly common for songs taken from movies, including Number One songs I’ve talked about previously. Nevertheless, the section of the song's Wikipedia titled ”Musical Style” talks about its relation to the film, and it's relevant to the visuals, too.

I remember seeing the film Purple Rain back in the day, probably rented on VHS tape. I liked the film, though it wasn’t one of my all-time favourites. The same could be said of the song “Let's Go Crazy”: I liked it well enough, but it wasn’t one of my favourites, including among songs by Prince. Because of all that, this song doesn’t connect with me with my life in that era—though there aren’t all that many 1984 Number One songs that did. In fact, many of the songs that resonated with me the most intensely at that time didn’t necessarily do well on the “Hot 100”, and that’s something that’s been true for pretty much my entire pop-music-listening life. Even so, I’m always pleased when the song I’m talking about isn’t one I disliked, because there have been plenty of those over the years, too.

“Let's Go Crazy” reached Number 10 in Australia, 2 in Canada, 13 in New Zealand, 7 in the UK (Silver), and Number One on the USA’s Billboard “Hot 100”, “Dance Club Songs”, and “Hot Black Singles” charts, and Number 19 on Billboard’s “Mainstream Rock” chart. It was also certified Gold in the USA.

The album Purple Rain reached Number One in Australia (3x Platinum) and in Canada (6x Platinum), Number 2 in New Zealand (5x Platinum), Number 7 in the UK (2x Platinum), and Number One on the USA’s “Billboard 200” chart (13x Platinum). In 2016, the album charted again, hitting Number 5 in Australia, Number 7 in Canada, Number 4 in the UK, and Number 2 on the “Billboard 200” chart, as well as hitting Number One on their US “Soundtrack Albums” chart. A remastered version of the album was released in 2017 (the first of his albums to to be remastered), and hit Number 4 in the USA.

This series will return October 13 with the next Number One song of 1984. Will it be one I liked, loathed, or maybe somewhere in between? I haven’t written the post yet, so even I don’t know what answer that post will reveal.

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

A new season

According to some people, a new season just began, with the arrival of the September Equinox. However, there are many different different dates we can pin seasonal changes to. Turns out, that’s true for human seasons, too.

The September Equinox, also known as “Astronomical Spring”, arrived in New Zealand at 12:43am Monday morning (or, to some, Sunday night…). Metrological Spring, which is what we generally use in this part of the world, began on September firstAs if all that wasn’t confusing enough, there’s a third option: Solar seasons.

Yesterday, Stuff published “Spring has sprung: Understanding the four different season start dates”, which attempts to explain the differences in the various choices for when we declare seasons to begin. Solar Seasons, the article says, relate to relative daylight in each hemisphere, and are six weeks either side of a solstice. It doesn’t say if that’s also true for equinoxes, but, if it is, that would only account for 48 weeks—are the other four weeks a sort of Seasonal Interregnum?.

None of the choices relate to weather, of course, and we’ve had both mild and wintry days/nights since September first, and we still are. In fact, yesterday I had my windows open, but today is a bit less Spring-like.

Seasons relating to weather are the ones we humans may obsess about the most, but we also have seasons in our own lives, something artists frequently refer to in their work. This has something that’s been on my mind lately partly because of the actual seasonal changes, but I’ve been reflective about ever since Nigel died, and especially with the recent fifth “horrible anniversary” of Nigel’s death.

I think it would be more surprising if I wasn’t thinking about the seasons of my life, now that I’m a 65-year-old widower: What is life going to be like for me as I continue aging and face those challenges alone? This is a bigger topic all on its own, and one I’m still trying to wrap my head around, but it’s probably been most noticeable in my relationship to my own health.

Because my parents died when they were younger than I am now, I have no sense of what I may be in for, apart from the fact that since I never smoked, I’m unlikely to face the specific smoking-related health problems they had. Other than that, who knows? The fact that Nigel isn’t hear to help me navigate these uncharted waters makes this even more challenging—and sometimes even terrifying.

Yesterday, I went to see my doctor, the first time I’ve seen him in 2 year, 4 months because of Covid restrictions and the ongoing overwork that most doctors deal with every day because of a shortage of doctors and lack of proper government funding (in fact, the fee the practice charges for a standard 15-minute appointment recently went up 25% to help them cope with fast-rising costs). In the time since my last in-person appointment, I’ve traded secure messages with my doctor using the online patient portal, I had an in-person vitals check, I’ve had annual blood tests, and, of course, I always keep up my vaccinations. I mention all that because I do the ordinary things one does to remain healthy.

My specific complaints were about lightheadedness: I’ve sometimes tried to get out of bed in the morning and felt lightheaded. This is a common enough thing for people on blood pressure medication, however, that’s never happened to me before. Also, one day recently I had a massive head-rush as I walked across a supermarket carpark, something that passed quickly and had no other symptoms.

My doctor said the general lightheadedness was a symptom of getting older, though he didn’t put it like that. It was clearer to me because he mentioned that folks in their 80s often have trouble with the same thing—actually, even more so—but because the don’t have the core or muscle strength to keep themselves steady, they may fall. I know that his point in telling me that was there are natural changes that occur as we age, but this also inadvertently gave me a glimpse of something that may be ahead for me 20 years from now (give or take). It also made me realise I need to take my own fitness more seriously, and work on maintaining muscle mass and core strength—actually, “work on” is being generous: I need to start doing that.

What’s important at the moment is that I’m quite good at monitoring my own health. For example, my Apple Watch records my heart rate many times per day (speaking of which, no more atrial fibrillation!), I sometimes check my blood pressure, and I even check my blood oxygen levels sometimes. All of that is on top og regular things like annual blood tests, routine vaccinations, and even my willingness to contact my doctor if I’m concerned about something, especially things that seem to have changed.

While I’m monitoring my own health and how things are changing as I age, there’s something else about that: I’ve become more relaxed. I’ve written several times about how after Nigel died, I was worried I might die soon, too. Then, it became worry about something happening to me and Nigel not being here to help me—or just to talk me out of my latest health panic—though I wouldn’t be having panics if Nigel was there, of course.

Nowadays, I’m far more relaxed about everything, including, even, my own death. I understand far too well that death is inevitable, and while being good about my own health can help delay that, and possibly improve the quality of my life between now and then, there’s absolutely nothing anyone can do to stop death itself. That’s why I no longer worry about that.

All of this is part, maybe the most visible part, of my ageing and my move into new seasons. I still can’t even guess what my future seasons might be like, buy they’ll arrive whether I’m ready or not. I think that maybe the best any of is can do is to be sensible, keep our eyes open, and to stay grounded. Actually, there’s one more thing: We can try to find more moments of joy, regardless of the season, and that alone will improve literally everything else. It doesn’t matter what we call the seasons or how we mark their beginning or progress. Just like the seasons on our planet, really.

The photo up top is of the trees on my street, the only one I have a good view of out my front window. I took it on Sunday, around nine hours before the September Equinox arrived in New Zealand. Mainly, I was just excited to see the leaves emerging again—always a highlight Spring for me, what with the promise of warm weather to come. And yes, I've share several photos with this same tree in it.

Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 13

Forty years ago today, a new song went to Number One, and it became the only Number One in 1984 to stay at the top of the chart for a single week. On September 22, 1984, the new Number One song was ”Missing You” (video up top) by English musician John Waite. The song, originally released in June 1984, was the first single from his second album, No Brakes. As I said in Part 12 of this series this was “a song that I frankly never think of when I think of 1984”, and I think part of it is that it was its one week at Number One—and there were a lot of big, dominant songs that year.

The song is about a man thinking about a distant lover who left, and he’s trying to pretend that “I ain't missing you at all”. At the time, I thought the song was a nice enough, even though I couldn’t personally relate to the lyrics—at the time; times change. It’s kind of funny to me that the song went Number One forty years ago today, because this past Friday was the fifth anniversary of my Nigel’s death. Over those five years there were definitely times I tried to lie to myself that I wasn’t still missing Nigel as keenly as in the aftermath of that horrible day in 2019. I wasn’t any more successful than Waite was in “Missing You”. I’m always interested in the way a pop song that I once didn’t feel any personal connection to when I first became aware of it can later—even much later—become very relevant indeed. That’s actually happened to me a lot over the past five years. I have a copy of the song on the 1984 CD in the Time-Life series of CDs of 1980s music called Sounds Of The Eighties. Because of that, I think I heard it more after 1984 than I did in the year.

The music video was written, directed, and produced by Kort Falkenberg III—whoever that is? It’s certainly not a name I’ve familiar with. In any case, it’s okay—not one of my favourites from that era, but also not one I disliked. A lot of 1984's mid-tempo/slower songs had similar looks in their videos, and I suppose that could be why it didn’t stand out for me at the time. In any event, it was pleasant enough.

“Missing You” reached Number 5 in Australia, 4 in Canada (Platinum), 18 in New Zealand, 9 in the UK (Silver), and Number One on the USA’s Billboard “Hot 100” and on the Billboard “Mainstream Rock” charts.

The album No Brakes reached Number 27 in Australia, 8 in Canada (Platinum), 64 in the UK, and 10 on the USA’s “Billboard 200” chart (Gold). It didn’t chart in New Zealand.

This series will return next week (!) with another new Number One, this time a song that I knew very well at the time. Only a week from now, huh? You won’t be missing me at all.

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

The fifth horrible anniversary

FIVE YEARS?! How the hell can that be true? But it is: It’s now five years since I lost my beloved husband, Nigel—in fact, it’s five years to the very day. Time is a weird like that.

This means it’s also 60 months, or 261 weeks, and, because of two Leap Years, it’s been 1827 days. There are some 43,848 hours between that day and today, or 2,630,880 minutes, or 157,852,800 seconds. I mention all that because it underscores two truths: First it seems like it can’t possibly be that long, and second, that there are times I felt every single second of that time. It turns out, both things can be true at the same time.

I’ve talked about how I knew this year would be challenging because of the three significant anniversaries within it: My 65th birthday back in January, what would have been Nigel’s 60th birthday last month, and now the fifth Horrible Anniversary today. What made each one challenging wasn’t sadness and loss: They’re actually always hanging around in the shadows nearby, waiting to jump me when I least expect it. What made the anniversaries challenging was I knew the three dates would make me particularly reflective—about Nigel, about our life together, about the loss of both him and the person I was back then, and that latter would mean reflecting on my life since that horrible day five years ago.

The essence of that day is that it was one of loss and parting and endings, but it was also a moment fixed in time, and I don’t live there—anymore.

Nigel and I both loved Star Trek, and especially Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. The series debuted on January 4, 1993, with its premier episode, ”Emissary”. In that episode, Commander Benjamin Sisko (played by Avery Brooks) encounters entities who take on the appearance of people in his life. They keep bringing him to the moment he found his wife dead as he prepared to abandon ship in the midst of a battle three years earlier. A synopsis of the episode is at the link, but it kept recurring in my mind in the first couple years or so after Nigel died because of one specific thing: Sisko asks the entities why they keep showing him that horrific event, and they reply: “Because you exist here.”

“Because you exist here!” For the first couple years, I existed in the loss of Nigel, including the very moment he left. That was partly my natural grief response, but, to be fair, it was also nurtured by the social isolation of the various Covid Lockdowns and near-Lockdowns of that time. Nevertheless, once I realised that I was stuck in my own past, and my loss, I started to focus on things that would bring me closer to whatever my future would become.

Over the past three years, give or take, I’ve focused myself on the future (to the extent I’m able to focus on anything…). This was literally everything, from projects around the house, to adventures of various sorts, as well as writing and podcasting. And then it was this year’s turn, and the inevitable reflection it brought.

Over the course of this year in particular, I’ve often felt disappointed in myself because my house is still not finished/sorted, and the guilt has become its own burden—its own chain holding me back, sometimes all the way back to before that horrible day in 2019 when I was living a very different and much happier life with Nigel. It doesn’t take any training to see that, in a sense, I was still exisiting there, and, in a sense, all my efforts to focus on the future were arguably little more than window dressing, maybe even sometimes it was me trying to fool myself.

And yet, things are also very different than even in relatively recent times. For example, I’m better able to (just) tolerate frustration than I was at the start of this journey, and I also get angry less often—but grumpiness still abounds. Maybe it’s the last remnant.

On the other hand, I’ve done things, especially with technology, that I never would’ve thought I could do—often that would’ve surprised Nigel, too. I’ve become a better cook—and a far worse housekeeper. And, I care far less about any of that than I once did because I understand nothing, good or bad, lasts forever, and some things just don’t matter in the overall scheme of things (who lays on their deathbed saying, “I just wish I’d vacuumed more often”?). Heck, even Leo is now considered a “senior” dog, no longer the puppy who joined our family in 2018.

Last week was the 29th anniversary of when I arrived in New Zealand as a tourist and Nigel and I met in real life for the first time. During the trip, I found a job that allowed me to return to NZ to live with Nigel. It turns out, five years without Nigel is equivalent to more than 20% of the time between that 1995 day and the day Nigel died. This also means that 17.24% of my New Zealand life has been without Nigel, a figure that grows every single day—and, appropriately, growing every day is my goal for myself (whether I succeed or not is beside the point…).

Five years ago today I lost the love of my life, my best friend, my trusted advisor, and my soulmate, yes, but we <i>both</i> had that. He lived long enough to be able to legally marry a man, and when we married, it meant that I, too, achieved a dream younger me never thought would be possible in my lifetime. No matter what happens in the rest of my life, however long or short it is, I’ll always have that truth—on top of the love and commitment Nigel and I shared, something that profoundly changed me for the better: I am a better man because of Nigel and our life together.

My journey over the past five years has been rough—even hellish sometimes. More likely than not, there will be challenges and rough times to come, too, because that’s generally true of most people’s lives. However, because of the life Nigel and I shared, I’m in a better place to meet those challenges than I’d be if we’d never met.

So today, of all days, I think about all of that. I miss Nigel, of course, and think about him every day—of course. But I go forward carrying him in my heart and in many happy memories. Five years ago today was an ending, absolutely. It was also a beginning, though of what, precisely, still isn’t clear to me. If I could, I’d still do literally anything to get my old life back, but that’s not the way it works with linear time. Even so, I’m still so deeply and profoundly grateful that for 24 years Nigel and I shared linear time together—and I know that no amount of time would have ever been enough.

Five years ago today, Nigel left us, and I remained—and so does the love. I’ll carry that with me for all my days, however many that may be. The biggest truth I’ve learned is also the most obvious: Love never dies.

Calm before the cold

A wintry few days has begun (snow is falling in the South Island already), and tonight the cold—but with rain, not snow—spreads to our part of New Zealand. In my part of Kirikiriro-Hamilton, the overnight low tonight is supposed to be 4 (39.2F), but the lowest nighttime temperature this week will be zero (32F). Yay.

Still, it was warm and sunny enough that I could have my windows open for a time this afternoon, which was nice, but I won’t want to do that for several days (lower temps and/or rain). I was also able to run the dishwasher using free solar power, which is always especially nice.

However, tomorrow is expected to be rainy, even quite stormy, so it’s a good day to do things inside, and to put off my errands for better weather in a few days. I have plenty to do inside, of course.

The photo up top is of the moon over my house, which I took a bit more than an hour after sunset. I noticed it when I looked up after going outside to herd a barking Leo (telling off the neighbour’s cat…) back into the house. It felt cold already. A few days of this, and it’ll be back to springlike weather—just in time for the September Equinox.

And so the cycles continue.

Visible signs of ageing

For many of us, turning 65 can be a major turning point in our lives. In New Zealand, it’s the age at which New Zealanders who meet certain criteria can begin collecting the national pension, known as superannuation (or “super”). They also qualify for prescriptions without the $5 co-payment per drug that the current government reinstated (the previous Labour Party government had ended it), we also get many immunisations, like the annual influenza jab, for free. And then there are the discounts, too. And yet, getting all that also means one is getting older, so there’s that.

Superannuation payments are managed by the Ministry for Social Development (MSD), which overseas all benefits. They also run the government programme to manage discounts for those 65 and over, a discount card called the SuperGold Card. On August 30, I took the selfie above (and made a little video) that I shared on social media. I said about the photo:

I received my SuperGold Card today, a card issued by the New Zealand Government to folks 65 and over, entitling us to discounts on products, services, and even public transport. Who doesn’t like a discount?! Yeah, but I’m not as keen when getting them means I’m now over 65… Oh, who am I kidding? I ALWAYS love a discount! 🤣

I then left a comment on version on my personal Facebook, saying that “Among the discounts are funeral services… 😳 Um, I wouldn’t exactly get to ‘enjoy’ that one. 🤣” There are other discounts similarly targeting “seniors”, but most of them are kind of general—like discounts at various cafes and shops. The idea, basically, is to give people 65 Plus a bit of a break, and I thought it was a good iead, years before the programme began back in 2007—when I was 48 and 65 seemed like decades and decades away.

Getting the card really does signify one is getting older, and the programme itself seems to cater toward the older end of the over-65 spectrum. I knew there was an App for the programme, but I didn’t download it until I got my actual card in the mail. Once I did and downloaded the App, I found out that it was basically just a small, easier to access version of the website that tells you where discounts are in your area. That’s useful, up to a point, if one is out and about, however, I’ve found the App listings to be incomplete. I also assumed that one could load their Super Gold Card into the App so in shops we could scan the screen rather than pull out the card, just like we can do with loyalty programme cards for various businesses: The App doesn’t have that functionality.

This is an issue for me because it’s yet another card I have to cram into my wallet—and I have several. My two supermarket loyalty cards, and my general loyalty card, are all loaded into their respective Apps, and the App I use to pay for petrol let me load both my general loyalty card AND my Super Gold Card so I get the maximum discounts when I buy petrol. Yet I still have to carry my Super Gold Card so I can use it everywhere else. I know that many older people struggle with technology, but not all of them do, and many adapt to smart phones quite easily. Maybe the App will catch up when younger baby boomers, Generation Jones, and Gen X make up a larger percentage of users?

This past Tuesday, I used my card and shared a selfie from the supermarket carpark (at the bottom of this post), writing on social media:

Today I used my Super Gold Card for the first time! That also means I got my first-ever senior discount… 😳 That’s probably a look of shock on my face.

This isn’t an ad for anything, of course. It’s really just an acknowledgment of how lucky I am to be around this long so I can get a small discount at the supermarket. Far too many folks never get that chance, as I know FAR too well.

I then turned to the comments to explain the supermarket situation:

Both the New Worlds I’ve been to the most in Kirikiriroa-Hamilton offer GoldCard discounts on Tuesdays, but the nearest Woolworths that does is in a part of the city I never go to, and Maps somewhat optimistically says it’s a 15 minute drive from my house. As I said to my mother-in-law, if I’m going to the supermarket on a Tuesday anyway, I might go to New World for the discount, but I wouldn’t go out of my way to save 5%.

For example, today I mostly stocked up on a lot of staples (and my impulse buy of a loaf of bread—I’m a reckless radical!) and I saved a whopping $6.82 (today, that’s around US$4.19). I’m pretty sure that their Club Card loyalty card gave me far more in discounts, but, unlike Woolworths, their receipt doesn’t summarise them.

I went because I thought it’d be kind of funny to break-in my SuperGold Card at the supermarket, but what I didn’t take into account is that Tuesday is one of the mostest busiest days at New World, with lots of folks there for their GoldCard Discount—and younger folks annoyed at what they perceive as the slower older shoppers. The carpark was *very* full, too. Honestly, I was glad to get away from there.

So, it was mildly amusing to use my card for the first time at a supermarket (clearly, I’m *very* easily amused…), but I’m firm now that I absolutely won’t go out of my way to go there on a Tuesday. Now, if they raise the discount… 🤔🤣

The thing is, I really am what used to be known as a “superannuatant” or a “pensioner”, and if people assume that such people are frail and very old, that says something about them, not the older people. So, I make light of the new existential land I now find myself in, complete with its various discounts, and sometimes, perhaps, I may perhaps push too hard. When I shared the photo up top on my Instagram, I said in a comment on that post:

Hm… looking at the photo now, my attempt to make a goofy face ended up making me look older than I really am. It’s probably punishment for joking about being “old”. 😂

The reality is that not only am I trying to adjust to being over 65, I’m also trying to grasp what that, and ageing itself, means. While I was (somewhat) joking in my Instagram comment, it nevertheless realise pays to tread carefully. This is, after all, so very new to me. Still, I take very little seriously, especially not myself—especially not myself. That’s been true most of my life, and I know that much is unlikely to change, even if visible signs of ageing do appear, including silly selfies mocking myself for my period of adjustment.

I really am keenly aware of how lucky I am to be around this long so I can get discounts because I’m 65. Like I said earlier, “Far too many folks never get that chance, as I know FAR too well.”

Indeed.

The AmeriNZ Blog is eighteen

The AmeriNZ Blog is now 18! Eighteen years ago today, I published my first post, ”I live in a land downunder. No, the other one…”. 18, huh? That means it’s old enough to vote (if only…) and old enough to buy alcohol in New Zealand—if it was a human, obviously. I began my AmeriNZ Podcast six months later, and technically I’m still doing both. The only one of my endeavours I’m not currently making any content for is my YouTube Channel—two out of three ain’t bad, right?

Yesterday was the 29th anniversary of when I arrived in New Zealand as a tourist, which was also when Nigel and I met in person for the first time. As I often say, those two anniversaries are the high points in what’s otherwise a terrible month for me (it’s not for nothing that my theme song for this month is Green Day’s “Wake Me Up When September Ends”).

This year has been a huge struggle for me in a lot of ways, and producing blog posts—and especially podcast episodes—has been difficult and even sometimes impossible for me to do. While I have a sense my challenges may be easing, and so, it’s likely to become easier for me to produce content for both, I’m not quite there yet. So today’s anniversary is a bit more mixed than normal, and less of an antidote to The Horrible Anniversary a week from today.

This is a marathon, I keep reminding myself, and not a sprint, but knowing and understanding that doesn’t ease my feelings of—what, exactly? Disappointment, I guess, frustration, certainly, and maybe even a bit of sadness. But I can’t change anything in the past—there are no redos. Instead, I’d like to just get back to some sort or normality as I define that, something I definitely think is possible.

All that aside, I’m still really thankful that Nigel talked me into starting this blog. More often than not, it’s been a great creative outlet for me, and it’s definitely been extremely useful for helping me remember things I’d forgotten, like some of the smaller events in my life over the past 18 years. There are still so many stories to tell, so many places to go, so much to find out. I think now, more than ever, the final line of my very first blog post rings true again:

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

I couldn’t have put that better myself—oh yeah, I did put it that way. And the sentiment is still every bit as valid.

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)

29 years ago today

Another year, another anniversary: 29 years ago today, I arrived in New Zealand as a tourist and Nigel and I met in person for the first time. As I said last year, “That went well: I was back to live here permanently seven weeks later.” That anniversary has changed often over the years, and it’s quite positive now, though, obviously, tinged with some sadness. Maybe it’s literally true that everything changes.

September is my least favourite month because of The Horrible Anniversary the end of next week, however, that doesn’t meant it’s unrelentingly bad or even just sad. There are high points in this month, and today’s anniversary is one of them: Had I not been able to travel to New Zealand, it’s entirely possible that what Nigel and I were building from afar would’ve burned out because it was just too difficult. Maybe not, but we couldn’t have known that: There’s little in life that’s definite or certain, and everything about my life over the past 29 years underscores that.

First, there was the fact that Nigel and I met at all, that I was able to come to New Zealand (because a friend who was a travel agent gave me a ticket), the fact that Nigel and I were as connected in person as we’d been over the thousands of kilometres, and then the fact I was able to secure a visa and work permit so I could live here. Not only was none of that certain, much of it would have seemed improbable before it wasn’t.

My story, then, is filled with improbable events that ultimately led me to where I am, literally and figuratively, today. The fact that this day in 1995 led to Nigel and me deciding build a life together is precisely the reason I picked this date for the start of my otherwise tongue-in-cheek “Season of Anniversaries”, which included events from today through to January, all of which are now coloured by what happened this month in 2019.

Despite all the shadow cast on today and the other dates in my “Season of Anniversaries”, I nevertheless always remember them all as they approach and then arrive, and all of them are actually quite positive now. That’s mostly because I have a sense of gratitude for what I had, and the fact everything changed, that I lost I the love of my life, doesn’t change the fact that up until 2019, this month, like all the others in the "Season", are, overall, good and positive. As I put it in last year’s two-anniversary combo blog post, “Despite everything, the good stuff is—by far—what I think about the most. Always.” That’s still true for all the anniversaries in the “Season”, even the horrible one. I’d rather have my old life than be grateful for what I used to have—obviously—but today reminds me that good things can happen no matter how improbable they may be. I guess that’s the motto for this particular anniversary; it’s a good one.

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)

Spring sprang

On Sunday, September 1, meteorological Spring began in the Southern Hemisphere. I’ve spoken about that many times before, but this year I ran across determined resistance, as well as validation. It was a good start to the new season.

I suppose I should restate that I couldn’t possibly care less which date one chooses for the start of seasons—meteorological or astronomical—however, I’ll continue to use the meteorological dates because the first of the relevant month is always the first, whereas solstices and equinoxes change dates and times with every visit (see the chart above; go to Time and Date dot com for such a chart; I presume it will display your local dates/times). I think most of us find remembering the first of the relevant month is pretty easy to do, and since the weather is so variable until well into each season, picking either date is equally valid if a change in the weather is what we think of (or maybe hope for) at the start of a season: We have pretty much the same chance to be thrilled or disappointed.

Earth’s seasons are mainly determined by axial tilt (also known as obliquity), the degree to which Earth’s axis—what it rotates around—tilts from the plane of its orbit around the sun (usually called the ecliptic plane). Because the earth’s axis tilts in only one direction, that means that at the June Solstice the North Pole is pointed in the direction of the sun, and at the December Solstice its pointed away from the sun. That gives the Northern Hemisphere summer at the June Solstice, and it gives the Southern Hemisphere winter at the same time. At the December Solstice, the seasons are winter and summer, respectively. At each equinox (September and Match) the sun’s apparent position (when viewed from earth) is directly over the equator. So, earth’s wobbly dance around the sun is the reason we have seasons.

However, while it’s absolutely true that the position of the sun relative to the earth’s tilt absolutely influences the weather, it’s not the sole factor. The tilt is why we don’t get blistering hot days in the middle of winter, for example, however, what, specifically, the weather will be during what we call seasons is determined by far more than merely which way the earth’s axis is tilting relative to the ecliptic plane (and so, the latitude the sun appears to be at when viewed from earth). That’s why, for example, we can still get, say, wintry weather in spring.

So, the sun keeps on doing its thing, and the earth’s wobbly circle dance around it will influence the weather we experience, but the sun’s position during earth’s wobbly dance doesn’t, by itself, cause our seasons, nor does it, by itself, determine our weather. Instead, it’s a complicated stew made up of the sun’s position, jet-stream patterns, ocean surface temperatures, and so much more that actually determines what weather we experience, regardless of the official season or what date we choose to mark its beginning.

Because of that complicated reality, I was surprised on September 1 when I read an incredibly odd piece on The Spinoff titled, “Breaking news: It’s still winter”. The author admits that, “we all have those pet peeves we allow to wind us up for no reason,” and her anti-meteorological seasons bias seems to be one of them. Her adamant, absolutist, dare I say, evangelical fervour for astronomical seasons struck me as, well, odd.

I couldn’t easily tell if she was being serious or just trying to tease people, but, either way, I thought the article was silly. She argues that astronomical dates (or astrological, if you prefer) are the only “correct” determiners of the start of seasons, but then makes the same mistake she accuses the meteorological date folks of making: Assuming the weather changes on a given date, when seasons don’t do that—as literally everyone knows. Still, if it makes her happy to stick to solstices and equinoxes, then good for her, but there have got to be far more important things to be rigidly dogmatics about, right?

As it happens. On September 1, I opened up the windows in my house and turned off the heat pump in my bedroom because the weather was so gloriously, well, springlike. I did the same ting the next day, too. On Wednesday, it was at least partly windy and rainy, so the windows remained closed, and that night I needed to turn the heat on again. On Thursday, the windows were open again and I got a load of laundry washed and dried, and the dishwasher was run, all using only solar power. That, and my hot water cylinder was fully heated using solar power on all those open window days.

I’ve had several more days with the windows open, and yesterday I ran the dishwasher and washed and dried three loads of laundry using free electricity from my solar panels. That’s pretty spring-like for a time of year some insist is still winter.

Still, whether Sunday, September first was or was not the “real” start of Spring is—despite what some (apparently) may passionately believe—beside the point. Transition from one season to another is a process, not an event, and the date we pick to mark the start of the journey from one season to the next is pretty unimportant. Still, for me, Sunday, September 1 was absolutely the most Spring-like day yet this year’s edition. If some people have pet peeves around such seasonal beginnings, well, quite frankly that’s about them, not me. I’ll just open the windows, do more loads of washing, and not care in the least whether anyone joins me in beginning seasons at the meteorological start or not.

I’m just glad for nice weather whatever time we get it, and the lengthening days are awesome. So is having hot water and not having to pay to have it.

Weekend Diversion: 1984, Part 12

A new month, and a new Number One: On September 1, 1984, ”What's Love Got to Do with It” (video up top) performed by singer, songwriter, and actress Tina Turner went to Number One. The song, her only Number One single in the USA, was the third single from her fifth solo studio album, Private Dancer.

One would probably have to have been living under a rock in 1984 to have missed the cultural phenomenon this song and its video were. Turner was 44 when the song was released, making her, at the time, the oldest solo female artist to top the top of the Billboard “Hot 100” (the current “oldest woman to reach Number One” is Brenda Lee, who, at age 78 went to Number One the week of December 9, 2023, with a re-release of her 1958 song, ”Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree”). Back in 1984, I liked the song and video both, and I still do. But one of the things that's stuck with me is that at the time I also noticed that there seemed to be a lot of folks—men in particular—who were surprised that a woman in her mid 40s could be seen as sexy. Mind you, that particular appeal was obviously lost on me, but I nevertheless understood and it frankly baffled me that some men were surprised.

This song was important for Turner because it made her a successful solo artist, something that she’d struggled to achieve until then. The beginning chords of the song were distinctive enough to instantly let listeners know what it was, and the chorus title/became something of a catch phrase, and it was for me, too: I referenced the title (in a different context) in a blog post way back in 2006. The song has stuck with me for 40 years, something that’s not necessarily true of other songs from 1984. The song received three awards at the 1985 Grammy Awards: Record of the Year, Song of the Year, and Best Female Pop Vocal Performance.

Similarly, the music video, directed by Mark Robinson, was also iconic for its time. It went on to win “Best Female Video” at the 1985 MTV Video Music Awards.

I had a copy of Private Dancer on vinyl back in the day, though I think my then-boyfriend may have bought it (that’s the sort of detail I don’t tend to remember). At rate, I no longer have it and haven’t heard the album in many years. It makes me wonder how many other albums I once had and have never replaced.

At any rate, in this case, I liked the song, the album, and the music video—and, in fact, I still do. It’s kind of rare for me to have such a trifecta for a pop song, particularly one that endures for four decades. Tina Turner died on May 24, 2023 aged 83.

“What's Love Got to Do with It” reached Number One in Australia, Number One in Canada (Platinum), 3 in New Zealand (Platinum), 3 in the UK (Silver), and Number One on the USA’s Billboard “Hot 100” and Number 2 on the Billboard “Hot Black Singles” charts, having been blocked from Number One on the latter chart by Prince’s “When Doves Cry” (the subject of Part 10 of this series back in July; Turner’s song was also the Number 2 single of the year, with Prince’s song at Number One). The song was also certified Gold in the USA.

The album Private Dancer reached Number 7 in Australia (Platinum), 2 in Canada (7x Platinum), 2 in New Zealand (Platinum), 2 in the UK (3x Platinum), and 3 on the USA’s “Billboard 200” chart (5x Platinum).

This series will return September 22 with another new Number One, a song that I frankly never think of when I think of 1984. That’s not a reflection on or judgement of the song, it’s just an odd little fact about me. It turns out that I'm a fan of my own trivia. I probably should’ve realised that ages ago.

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

Nigel would’ve been 60

Today my Nigel would’ve turned 60, another number that, like last year’s, underscores that we never got the chance to grow old together. That’s still my greatest sadness, not merely because I miss sharing life with him, but also because we lost our future, too—and I lost my future, too. I still haven’t found a replacement for the future that should've been, and I don't know when I will. All of that is front of mind at this time of year.

Last year I wrote about the thing about all this that really is funny to me:

This year, I’m particularly pissed-off. When I turned 59, Nigel often said to me, “Fuck you’re old!” and, “I can’t believe I’m going to be married to a SIXTY year old.” I was very much looking forward to returning the favour this year. However, he’d of course have already started his new jokes at my birthday this past January, with an updated, “Fuck you’re really old!”, and this year he’d have added, “I can’t believe I’m going to be married to a SUPERANNUITANT!”, using a somewhat old-fashioned term for “pensioner” one that he would’ve used precisely because it was old-fashioned: He would’ve felt it underscored me being old. I would’ve pretended to be annoyed and said to him, “Not yet!” every time he said that, just like I did when I turned 59. And we would both have thought that what we were saying this year was hilarious.

I’ve joked about that several times in the year since then, and each time it made me smile. Actually, most of memories of him, and us, and our life together, make me smile. As I also said last year:

And that’s the thing: For me, this grief journey isn’t about being sad and crying all the time, not anymore. Instead, it’s about remembering him, smiling, and laughing at our lame jokes.

To be clear, I think about him every single day, and sometimes I definitely cry, but now I’m far more likely to either be laughing, or maybe thinking about what he would do about something I’m trying to figure out, or I maybe imagine the great discussions we’d have had about the issues of the day, like, for example, he would’ve loved watching the recent Democratic National Convention and talking about it afterward. That sort of thinking makes me feel like I’m getting a warm hug.

Still, I knew this year would be trying for me. First, I had my 65th birthday back in January, and I knew it would be hard on me to reach a fuck, I’m old age without him there to make me laugh about it—and, especially, to reassure me that everything would be okay. That’s why I went to Fiji with family back in January, to do something so utterly different from anything I’d ever done for my birthday, including going to a country that he and I never visited together (that also now mean I've celebrated my birthday three countries, something that Nigel never got to experience, managing only two, as I had until this year).

The second challenge was today, and not just because I never got to tease him about getting old, but more because he never got the chance to get old, and I wanted so damn much to grow old with him. Again, it’s that lost shared future.

The final big anniversary this year will be in a few short weeks when we arrive at the fifth anniversary of his death (how is that even possible?!!!). I won’t speculate on how I’ll feel when that date rolls around, however, each of these dates has become easier every year, so I think—think?—it’ll be basically okay.

Against all that, though, I’ve also had a lot additional stress around applying for my superannuation (NZ government retirement benefit), something that’s been a big—no, huge—topic all on its own, and one I’ll need to discuss in a separate post. However, today I received my first full payment, and in my mind, it was absolutely appropriate that my first full payment should begin on Nigel’s birthday, almost as if, even now, he’s still talking care of me. And who am I to say that he isn’t?

This year, like last year, I went out for lunch with the Hamilton family who were in town, something that was my mother-in-law’s idea. Last year, we went to Saints Public House (a place I’ve blogged about before), and I amused myself thinking that Nigel would’ve joked that it was appropriate for us to go to a place with that name because he was such a saint all his life. However, this year I chose Thai for lunch because it was among his favourite cuisines, and it was what we often did for our birthdays when we lived on Auckland’s North Shore, so I felt having Thai food was the perfect way to celebrate his 60th.

So much has changed even since his birthday last year, and there are so many changes yet to come. Carrying him in my heart and in my memories continues to give me warmth when I’m cold, and comfort when I feel none. What we had isn’t entirely gone, it’s the foundation on which I’m slowly building whatever my future life will be, and that’s no small thing. Still, I'd much rather have him. Of course.

And, yeah, fuck he’d be old this year!

Happy Birthday, sweetheart. Always.

Previously:

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 the most important person in my adult life.

I’m still a helpful blogger

Everyone figures out ways to make everyday life easier for ourselves, and some folks share what they do so others can learn from their experiences. I often do that, too, but it’s been nearly three years since I last published a post specifically about shortcuts (so-called “life hacks”) to make life easier. It’s time to add another hint.

Just like my 2021 post, my first stand-alone helpful hints post was limited to one topic back in 2019, and dealt specifically with something to help dog owners. Today’s post is about a cleaning “hack”. First, though, some background is needed.

As I’ve documented here on this blog, New Zealand has been banning more and more consumer plastics, the most noticeable beginning of which was banning single-use plastic shopping bags in 2019. Since then, the New Zealand government has banned more plastics, and industry has joined the efforts, both of which I mentioned in a post last year. All of this has been awesome to see, and yet, some personal changes have proven harder than others, like doing without plastic bread bag tags.

I finally came up with a workable solution.

Of all the things I re-used those plastic tags for, the most common (and useful) was as small scrapers. In particular, I used them when scrubbing cooking pots, roasting trays, etc. (or cleaning up after painting), any time I wanted to scrape off something that had become stuck on something else. By using the tags, I could avoid using, and possibly damaging, my fingernails or scratching whatever I was trying to clean.

In 2022/3, those plastic tags started disappearing. At first, and sometimes still, they were replaced with brown cardboard, which are not only paper and too flimsy to use as scrapers, they’re also too small to recycle, so I cut them into small pieces and put them in my compost bin. Other companies have used other cardboard or hardened paper, which also don’t work as scrapers.

My solution was to use a cheap plastic paint scraper (example on the photo). Ordinarily such scrapers are used when using chemical strippers to remove paint or some other finish from wood (personally, I prefer metal ones for that work because they last far longer and removed the gunk better). What I use plastic scrapers for are using plaster filler to fill holes in the wall (life nail holes or whatever) because the plastic won’t scratch the paint. The one in the photo is part of a small bag of such scrapers that Nigel bought to use with his 3D printer, so I have plenty.

I only thought to use the scraper recently, and I’ve only had a couple chances to use it a couple times, but both times it worked really well. The fact I can grip it with my whole hand gives me more control and power than I ever had using one of those little bread tags. I highly recommend this method.

And there you have it: Another short, very specific tip to get small household jobs done better. What can I say? I’m still a helpful blogger.

Winter woes grow

If there’s one topic I return to frequently, even if it’s only in a brief mention, it’s my lawnmowing adventures, yet I’ve said nothing about it in ages. It’s just another example of how this winter is progressing—in this case, both good and bad.

Back in July, I published ”Winter of my discontent”, a post in which I said something I can’t remember mentioning before—that I hate winter. I also listed some of the challenges that I’ve faced this year, and all of those are still true, but now there’s another to add to the list: Taking care of my lawns.

I took the photo up top early afternoon on August 1. It shows part of the “lawn” nearest my patio, and how the water was beaded up on the leaves. It’s like that many days in winter.

As I often mention, it rains a lot in winter in the upper North Island, and this year my part of the country is at or above normal rainfall for the season. What this means in practice is that the lawns never truly dry out, and that makes mowing a real challenge. As I said back on June 7:

Mowing… is much harder when there’s been rain, especially when the grass is long, because moisture stays close to the ground for a long time. That makes the lawn much denser than it is when dry, and that can stall the mower if I’m not careful. [emphasis in the original]

My battery-powered mower simply doesn’t have enough power to deal with dense, wet lawns, though some newer models (and other brands) of battery-powered mowers have less problem with that, and petrol-powered mowers manage it pretty well. The past two winters were both much milder, and so I tried to wait two days after rain to let the lawns dry out a bit, but in a winter with at least normal rainfall, like this year, that’s just not an option. There may be no more than one day—or merely part of one—with no rain, and that means the lawns never actually dry out.

This is one of the reasons that nearly two months passed since I last mowed the lawns, however, the other reason is a benefit of winter this year: It’s been cold, and the grass grows very slowly (if at all) when the temperature is low. We started getting very cold (freezing or below) nighttime temperatures back in May, which is unusual. Since then, even the daytime temperatures have often been quite cool or even cold, meaning slow-growing grass. That was a very good thing because it meant I didn’t need to mow the lawns as often as in milder weather—until I did.

By this month, the lawns were getting quite long, the back in particular (which is obvious to me in the photo), and the edges of both needed to be done, too. Tuesday of last week, I finally mowed the front lawn and side yard, including using the line trimmer on the edges. The next day, I finished the back lawn and edges.

There’s a reason I always do the side yard before the rest of the back lawn, especially in winter: I know there won’t be much charge left in the battery, and if I don’t finish the entire back lawn right away, I won’t see a half-done lawn when I look out the windows. An additional benefit is that the shorter grass makes it easier for me to get my rubbish and recycling wheelie bins out of the side yard.

There’s one more aspect to all this, one that is also worse in winter: The lawn mower’s battery itself. My mower’s manufacturer says to store batteries part-charged, which they say extends battery life. However, I’ve read elsewhere that doing that minimises the chance of thermal runaway, explosion, and fire that lithium batteries are notorious for. That’s not a big issue by itself, but it means that tight planning is essential because I need to charge the battery before I can use it, something I try to do using solar power, and daylight hours are short in winter. I managed, obviously.

Thursday of last week, the day after I finished the mowing, the rain returned, and it’s been rainy at least part of every day since. A major weather system moved through the area over the weekend and into today, dumping lots of rain, giving some strong winds, and today we even got some thunder. Still, we had a sunny morning today, so I was able to run my dishwasher using only solar power, something that helps to keep my higher winter power charges somewhat less than they’d otherwise be. Nevertheless, the cold and rainy weather continues to give me challenges (not even talking about comfort), and back in July I talked about what I do:

To cope with that, on the many days with no sunshine, I do power-hungry chores—like running the clothes dryer or dishwasher—after 10pm when the electricity rates are lowest. When I can, I wait until a sunny day to do those sorts of chores so I have free electricity, but that’s not always possible—especially when we have the better part of two weeks with nothing but cloudy or rainy days.

In that same post I mentioned pressing the “boost” button on the device that prioritises sending my solar electricity production (if any…) to the hot water cylinder, and how it was only the second time I’d ever had to do that. Since that July post, I’ve had to do that two more times—and almost did it for a fourth time last night, but didn’t (the sunny morning today made that unnecessary).

All of this added together—the huge amount of rainy, or at least cloudy, days this winter, plus the cold temperatures at night, have made this winter the worst I’ve experienced in years, and it’s definitely the worst I’ve experienced since I moved to Kirikiriroa-Hamilton. I struggled to get the lawns mowed, I needed to boost my hot water cylinder three times (so far…), and I’m often cold, especially in the evening.

Still, it’s not been all bad: That grass I struggled to mow grew more slowly because of the cold, and yesterday when I vacuumed the heat pump filters, they weren’t bad at all, which surprised me considering how much they’ve been running every day and night.

Winter’s been a very mixed bag this year (and more bad than good), but the hopeful thing is that in two weeks we’ll have just started Spring. I wouldn’t mind a warmer- and drier-than-usual Spring, but whatever it is, these winter woes are going to end—eventually. That’s a very good thing.

Memory, realisation, and the Swedes

Facebook “Memories” can be interesting, showing us things we’ve forgotten about, good times, maybe bad times, maybe things we were even proud of. Even so, and despite appearances, I never mention the vast majority of “Memories” that Facebook serves me, and when I do share one here, it’s either to reminisce or to use it as a starting point for commentary of some sort. This post is the latter sort, but one of the “Memories” Facebook showed me today (screenshot above) was about something I don’t seem to have even mentioned here, let alone shared the photo—not at the time or since. That’s not what struck me about it, though: It made me realise something that I’d never thought of before.

The “Memory” was about something I posted on August 13, 2021, soon after I found the AOL diskette in a box in the garage. The text may not be clear, so here’s what I wrote three years ago:

Going through stuff stored in the garage means going through some boxes of my own stuff that I packed up “quite some time ago”. Didn’t know I’d find any antiques, though. Takes one to know one, I suppose. But, seriously: A *floppy disk*?! 😯 I remember when those AOL disks (then CDs) were everywhere. Also, I really am an antique. 😕

I never shared that moment here on this blog, just on Instagram, which automatically posted it to my personal Facebook (which is how it showed up today as a “Memory”). However, I never shared that photo or story here, which is similar to the “Memory” I wrote about on Sunday. In both cases, I have no idea why I didn’t share the photos here at the time.

The bigger thing for me, though, was a sudden realisation: Many people have things they feel should “go to family” when they die, and I do, too. In fact, I was recently thinking about some of the stuff from my childhood that I planned to put altogether so someone can send it to the USA after I’m gone, but then it suddenly hit me: no one will want that stuff. Sure, they might get a kick out of seeing some of it, but after that it should be disposed of—but they might feel guilty doing that.

This is exactly the dilemma that many families face: What to do when you’re willed grannie’s prized china? She loved it, but it might be hopelessly old-fashioned (and not in a good way), and if it’s not even valuable, the recipient will be left feeling they need to store something they don’t want.

There are solutions, of course. For example, before getting rid of inherited stuff, a recipient could ask other members of the family if they want it—maybe someone truly does! But I’ve come around to thinking “Swedish Death Cleaning” is more or less on the right track, though I certainly didn’t think so when I mentioned it back in January 2018. My thoughts about changed, something I talked about in November 2021:

I inherited huge piles of Nigel’s stuff, things that I now have to dispose of, one way or another. I don’t want whoever clears my estate to have to go through the same thing.

And that beings me back to the old-timey diskette. It occurred to me that many of us may have stuff that’s not old-fashioned china or some other thing we have no personal connection to, but things that are much more modern—though no less personal for us. I certainly have loads of old tech stuff that I think is cool or interesting, plus other stuff that has meaning to me—to me. I don’t want to burden others with having to deal with stuff I alone decided they might want, and I’m quite happy to make that decision for them. If I’m on my final days and still of sound mind, then people can tell me if there’s something they want. But otherwise, whatever I leave behind will be cleared after I die. If I still have that diskette by then, it’ll be included.

In the meantime, and hoping that the final clearing of my house is a very, very long time away, I’ll continue to enjoy the things I know to be useful or believe to be beautiful, as I alone define those notions, and also that I’ll continue to reduce the volume of stuff in my house, as I’ve been doing since ever I moved into this house, though I still have a long way to go. Actually, I suppose my attitude is the ultimate expression of optimism: I’m betting that my lifespan also has a long way to go. This clearing of stuff is, for me, a marathon, not a sprint, and I intend to win the race.

I doubt I’ll find any more old diskettes, though.