Kia ora e hoa ma, welcome to my little spoonful of Stonesoup.
What do you think of the colour scheme? I’m really not sure about the pea green… I’m learning to play around with Movable Type, and I’m not very good at it yet, so everything takes ages.
Props to Kim for setting up this space, and for tolerating panicked phone calls, also to Bec for indirect email support and useful suggestions… but especially sparkly props to Iona, for her endless supply of cool ideas, support, hours of amusement (especially the part when we realised the heater was blasting cold air into the already frigid downstairs) and chocolate. Mmmm, chocolate.
Ooooooh guess what?! Thanks to Iona I have been initiated. I am no longer a Buffy virgin.
“Well,” she says turning to me before the last frame has faded. “Opinion?” Good grief woman, that was my first ever episode, I haven’t had time to digest yet…
Oh all right. I liked it. I don’t think I fully understand why so many of my friends are obsessed with Buffy… but that could be because it’s been so long since I watched TV that I find it hard to imagine being obsessed with anything on the box.
I think I need to watch more Buffy before I comment extensively.
Last night we had our Passover Seder, which was so much fun. I made zucchini stuffed with ground matzos (unleavened breads) and a cake with ground matzos, nuts, fruit and chocolate. The kids each had a piece to say, and one of them kept talking about how “on this night we eat unlevelled bread…” Then we sent them off on a treasure hunt.
The best part was sitting around drinking wine with the Sunday school parents. I really enjoy their company, and I don’t see them much, except when they’re rostered on to help out on a Sunday. I had heaps of fun and laughed till my stomach ached.
And then I went to a Ger Warming Party. A friend of mine has built a ger (Mongolian nomadic tent, sometimes known as a yurt) in his backyard. It’s really nice inside, it’s round, with branches bound together and a calico lining, very cosy. I wouldn’t mind having one in our backyard!
Today I joined a few other bedraggled peace activists on a march and chalk mission through the city. It was fun, despite the rain. More about that tomorrow.
What with all the excitement of new blogs and learning about web friendly colours and watching Buffy and matzos and gers, I haven’t had time to dream up a proper entry, so I’m going to stick in an extract for a story I’ve just finished.
The Rubbish Bin Baby
Then, on Friday, William brought home a baby. I got home before him and I was sitting in the kitchen, eating peanut brownies, when William staggered in with the baby.
It was fat and squishy like a lump of dough, but much dirtier. It’s skin was covered in brown smeary marks and it had bits of food and scraps of paper tangled in its hair. And it was crying. Its eyes were screwed up like the twisty ends of lolly wrappers and its mouth was open wide like a garbage disposal unit, but three times as loud.
Ruth must have heard the racket, because she came flying down the stairs two at a time.
“What the…” she shrieked, and then she trailed off and took a deep breath. “William, what on earth are you doing with that baby?”
“I found it,” said William, and he smiled. The baby screamed. Ruth sat down hard on the bottom step.
*
“It was lying beside a rubbish bin.” William was telling his story for the millionth time that evening. He practically had to shout above the baby’s wailing. “It was lying beside a rubbish bin and it was dirty and it was crying.”
Claire was bouncing the baby up and down on her knee, and making shushing noises. The baby wasn’t paying any attention. Its screams were getting louder and its face was turning red, like a tomato ripening before our eyes.
“You don’t just find a baby. People don’t just leave babies beside rubbish bins. Not in real life.” Ruth was flicking through the yellow pages, looking for some kind of Lost Baby Emergency Centre. “Maybe we should take it down to the police station.”
“It’s not a criminal, it’s a baby.” William glared at Ruth. Ruth glared at William. The baby screamed.
Half an hour later we were all lined up around the reception desk at the police station.
[Want more? Sorry, but I have issues about posting my work in a public space – so you’ll have to give me your email address and I'll send you the rest of the story]
Posted by Fionnaigh at April 12, 2003 09:47 PM[something between a hee and an oops] :) I was just checking that you hadn't, y'know, taken an instant dislike to the Buffy or something. (It's been known to happen.) And that I hadn't picked the wrong episode to start with. Besides, I seem to recall I was pretty much in doofus mode - hence the Great Stylesheet Confusion. :)
Posted by: iona at April 12, 2003 11:14 PM