Saturday, January 19, 2013

A Week in The Life

The girls have made a fort out of their body-boards in the back of the ute. Lizy sits outside it.

Vincent: Are you the guard?
Lizy: Yes; if anyone comes, I will slice them up, and eat them for my healthy dinner, and cut off all their hair, and wear it for my winter coat.

I can't capture the tone and expressions accompanying this, but I can tell you that she is only five, this came out of her wonderful little brain without hesitation, and that if I ever put together a posse, she will most certainly be in it.

Yesterday we booked flights for our first visit back; less than a month from when we leave. It's soon - sooner than I had originally thought would be good for me, but now I think it's best for everyone, including me, to know that it will be like this, and that my new life will be completely entwined with this one. Also, we found out the day before that Rodriguez is coming (Rodriguez is coming!!!), and playing in Auckland the day of my parents' 40th wedding anniversary, which is also St Patrick's Day. Ordinarily I might be upset that one of my favourite religious festivals (harhar) falls on a day when I can't really get shit-faced, but after last year's sterling effort which saw us both coma'd before six o'clock, I think just a couple of beers will be observation enough. I should clarify we are not taking my parents to the gig; but isn't it lovely for them that he decided to come at such a special time?

Almost all of the admin is done for the move; sea-passages and motels/aunty's houses booked, apartment notice given (which was replied to with a list of things we need to do that is as long as my arm, and includes being ready for people to be shown around almost immediately), bosses told, moving organised. Now the really fun bit begins; the goodbyes, and the packing. I have decided to impose on myself a book amnesty, and my first goodbyes are to the small pile of books in front of me of which I took guardianship when my sister sold her first house, and I told myself the books belonging to my brother would be safer with me. My range of concern was limited; classics and philosophy. But now they've been with me so long that I can't actually remember if some are mine or his, and while my natural instinct would be to keep any book that might be mine, having called this thing an amnesty makes me feel as if I should give those things up too. This isn't helped by a visit to a very well-read friend's house, where I saw she owns twice as many books as I do, and gave me not only book-envy but a sense of wasted time; I am five years older than she is, and I only have this many?!

Spending the past week with my family and a couple of my friends has made the prospect of leaving a bit harder. Just hanging out is more special to me than special events; it's the in-between stuff, like having breakfast, or hanging out washing, or after-dinner sitting on the deck talking that I like the most, and there has been lots of just hanging out. But anyway. I've been listening to this song a bit, and pretending it's really about me and Vincent. Making it all a reality is going to great fun for all of us - I am no-one without my crew of family and friends, and with this move, we're getting closer to all of it.

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