C or S?

I was having a little moan the other day about practice and practise and how it really is just an outdated and often annoying thing that really does not have much impact on our understanding of a sentence; more often than not we would be able to understand which one was meant to be used by the content of the sentence it is being used in. However, later that day I got to thinking about how I say that I will 'facebook' someone, turning a noun into a verb. I later raised this idea with Lauren and she suggested, and I applauded, that perhaps we could have fasebook (verb) and facebook (noun) I like this idea a lot. I think the reason I like it is that I think language is and should be a fluid force that changes over time, and it is not something we should get all anal about, unless of course it really does change the meaning in a sentence. Richard may disagree with me, as he is a little anal.

Imagine no longer - well still imagine a bit cause this is only 3 photos

This is my favourite photo from our trip on the overlander - when most photos through a window have a reflection I think its best to just roll with it.
and this is my little frogman - he swam non stop. I on the other hand did not enter the water once, not because it was not hot enough but because I had no togs and don't really enjoy getting into my togs in front of loads of people - I am a little shy. But not too shy to get on board a giant gun and invite all the jokes that such a photo generates.

What have I been up to?

I had all these fantastic ideas of posting these amazing pics I have taken of my trip to Auckland. Starting with our journey on the Overlander (imagine pictures of waterfalls and lots of greenery here) and pics of mine and Bennett's visit to the zoo (imagine pics of Rhinos, Giraffes and even a bit of video footage of swimming seals here) and of Christmas Day (imagine lots of pictures of Bennett in his new Taranaki rugby jersey, and a plenitude of pictures of Bennett swimming in the pool here) and of our trip to the mini putt (imagine picture of Bennett here after he got a hole in one, and don't imagine a picture of me getting a hole in one, not because I didn't get one but because Bennett wouldn't take one of me and my great big triumphant smile)
So now you know some of what we have been up to, and I have exercised your imaginations as well - My plan to show you these pics has fallen through because I am not the best planner and I forgot to bring my laptop or my cables to connect my camera to a computer so I am unable to download any yet. I think it is good that you have had to imagine though - especially people like music teachers, cause I bet they never have to use their imaginations.

Changes

I hope this photo uploads properly. It is my first attempt at adding a photo and if i can do it well I will then add some more of the photos I have been happily snapping with my new camera. I really love this photo of one of my students wharf jumping at Days Bay for a lot of reasons, but I decided to put it with this post for about 2 reasons. Reason number 1 - this is how I feel at the moment with all the changes that are happening in my life, I have a new job starting after the summer break, I have a new house, a new car (kinda) and it feels like I am taking a huge leap of faith. Reason number 2 - this is one of the many students that I will miss from the great big family that is Wainuiomata High - this picture has so many of the qualities that a lot of Wainui kids have: pizazz, courage, fun, flair, wildness...the list could go on... Anyway this student jumped without any fear and that is how I am going to take my leap into the great unknown of next year

Sadness

I have a case of sadness decending on me. Most people think that I am counting down the days until I leave Wainui, but infact I have tried to push it as far as i can to the back of my mind. It occured to me today that I only have 3 days left before I leave; I felt a huge misty cloud decend on me (much like the misty clouds that decend on Wainui and cover it all up in the mornings)
There are of course things I won't miss about WHS, those things include the drive to school, the drive home, the Wainui disease(a severe case of apathy), sugar bowls filled with grains of coffee, PD mornings, penis' being drawn on walls, books, worksheets, chairs, tables, ceilings(ok, I have not actually seen any on a ceiling, but if they could get there they would do it), and walking between the blocks when its raining. However, there are tons of things I will miss a lot. I will miss the amazing staff and the awesome friendships (friends that are destined to be relegated to facebook only friends, cause lets face it even though you say you are going to keep in touch, life always gets in the way). I will miss the crazy, amazing, friendly and loyal students (I don't think I will have a student say to me "Miss, do you know what a c**t is?" at Wellington East (for the record she had no idea that it was ever a reference to a vagina, just thought it was a way to tell someone to bugger off) I will miss my form class, mostly 9 and 10FM, but also 9CL. I will miss rolling my eyes with other staff members during staff meetings and PD, I will miss the really cool water tap in the staff room (small things amuse small minds) I will miss Wainui, and it probably won't miss me.

Grandfather's Garage

I had a mintie the other day and minties never fail to remind me of my Grandfather. He always gave us minties, oddfellows, ginger ale and hokey pokey ice cream; so whenever I eat these things I think of him. I wrote the following story after eating the mintie.

The smell of my Grandfather’s garage is enchanting. The aroma of wood shavings, varnish, grease and the almost tangible smell of his contented tinkering linger in the air. I tiptoe inside, almost scared that I could disturb that special atmosphere and dispel that magic. My eyes take a moment to adjust to the dark inside, I feel like I am entering a living, breathing creature and at any moment it will speak to me and tell me all its secrets. I see nails and screws of all sizes and varieties strewn across the wooden counter, saw dust and bits of discarded wood are in small piles and mounds in the corners of the room. Tools are hanging on the walls; some tools are missing from their assigned spots, leaving only outlines of their shape behind. Some of these tools are left in various places around the garage, waiting for their next assignment. Others are missing soldiers, their outlines the only reminder that they ever existed at all. I poke my finger into an embankment of sawdust piled up in one corner and create a small hallow; a story starts to form in my head of a little creature that lives in the hole I have crafted, I retreat into my private fantasy world. Such is the power of this place; its soft silentness envelops you, wraps you up and lulls you into tranquillity. I am not sure if this is the place itself or the essence of the man who crafted it, my Grandfather.

Shame

In the weekend I had a moment where I realised that part of my life had come full circle. Me and Bennett went on the bus to town, while waiting for the bus to arrive five boys from Bennett's class came to wait for the bus also. As soon as Bennett saw them he got up and walked away from me, and then for the rest of the bus trip and for part of the walk through town(they happened to get off at the same stop) Bennett wouldn't to talk to me or even look at me - Oh the terrible shame it is to be seen in public with your mother when you are a 12 year old boy! Being the annoying mother I am, I questioned him about it after they had gone
"Were you ashamed to be seen with me?"
"Yes" he said with a smile
"Why?" I asked (not really sure why I questioned him on this, as I do quite clearly still recall the shame of being in public with my mum and her loud, booming voice calling me Lovey while in town)
"Well at least if I was in town with Grandma she would look like she could be my mum" was his cutting reply.
I do not actually mind that he finds it shameful to be out in public with me. It feels like a parental right of passage or something, plus shows that he is becoming independent. It is some what sad though that the reason I am an embarrassment to be seen in public with is, and I quote, I am "too short"

The first story i wrote for the blog

The colour purple was the brightest of all the colours on the washing line that day. It flashed and flittered as it danced delicately on the breeze. Edna looked at the purple, she didn’t remember buying that dress; but that seemed to be a common feeling these days, forgetting things. The purple dress looked so much happier than all the other clothes on the line, the browns, tans, greys and beiges that also moved in the breeze looked like they were being pushed or bullied by the breeze; but not the purple it danced and celebrated, its creases looking like laugh lines stretched wide across a delighted face. Edna didn’t feel like the purple dress. It had been a long time since she had danced. It had been a long time since she had felt happy, free and full of abandon. She wondered if when she had worn that dress she had flowed and flittered the way the dress did on the line. Edna sat on the deck chair that was on its last legs. It creaked and groaned under her weight; even though her tiny frame did not deserve such a complaint. She ran her wrinkled, bent fingers over the edge of the chair, as if to soothe or massage its weary frame. There had been a time when this old chair had had other members, all of them the same; blue and green stripped canvas on shining metal. Now it was the only one, the last of the family. It no longer had bright colours or a shining frame, rust was eating away at the edges and tears and holes were appearing in the now dull, pallid colours. One day this chair too would have its day. The canvas would rip beyond repair, leaving nothing but a useless skeleton, a sad reminder of what used to be. Edna glanced up, clouds were starting to appear; big black, ominous clouds. Time to get that purple dress off the line and put it away.

First thought

I have decided to write a story a day, it is a way to not only be creative but I find it helps keep the madness away. So like the apple a day idea, it is a story a day to keep the madness away. I wrote my first story last night about a old lady called Edna. I will post it later today as it is on my laptop and I have not connected my laptop to the school server yet...