Under my Nubrella...ella...ella...

For many years I've lived my life as a tightwad. But this week I did something extremely rash and impulsive. I had what I call a "Trademe Moment" (Trademe being the New Zealand equivalent of E-bay). Actually it's not the first Trademe Moment I've had but it's certainly one of my more expensive ones.  It happened once before when I bid on a Ladyshave Barbie which turned out to be some 12 year old snot who had attacked his sister's Barbie doll with a vivid and glued some hair on her pits. I genuinely thought it was a limited edition collector's item. Boy, was I mistaken! I don't even want to think about where he got that hair from! Anyway, that only cost a dollar - which I thought was very reasonably priced for a possible future antique.

So anyway, I was browsing Trademe and came across a Nubrella. I've been searching for the perfect brollie for years. I went straight to the official website HERE and by the time I'd finished watching the video I wanted that contraption more than anything in this world! Okay, it was a little expensive by the time the exchange rate and postage kicked in but it would be an investment. The Nubrella is a HANDS FREE umbrella that never blows inside out! According to the video, if I have a Nubrella, I'll be able to: Ride a bike! Drive a tractor! Push a baby stroller! Talk on my cell phone! Pull a wheelie suitcase! Quite possibly all at the same time!

It arrived today - within 48 hours of ordering it. Impressive. I had told all my friends at work and on Facebook that I was getting it. They laughed hysterically, quite possibly because they were overcome with jealousy and weren't sure how to deal with their emotions.  One of the first people I showed it to was my Mum. I knew she'd appreciate a great invention when she saw one. Funny thing is, she became hysterical too. I would have thought an 84 year old woman would be able to control her emotions and I really didn't get what she was spluttering about Agent 86's Cone of Silence at all.

As luck would have it, there was a sprinkle of rain while I was visiting my mum. I was hoping for a downpour but a sprinkle would do for a test run while I went out to her front garden to steal feijoas from her tree. She lives on a main road too, so that would give the general public the opportunity to be exposed to something new and innovative.

In just one fluid movement...

Okay, maybe two fluid movements...

Stylish!

Okay, so maybe the website neglected to mention that this contraption may not be best suited to the extremely claustrophobic...but I got my breath back eventually. Note the nifty harness which enables the user to wear the Nubrella with HANDS FREE!  Fitting through the screen door took a bit of negotiation but it was worth it to hear the toots and shouts of joy from passers by when they saw this vision of modern technology step out in front of them.

Note the handy dandy feijoa picker-upper doofer* I borrowed off my mum.

I am using my HANDS (and a doofer) to pick up feijoas in the RAIN!

Mother load! And it's all thanks to my Nubrella!

Oh, there is one other fabulous thing about the Nubrella. Once the sun comes out and you finish using it, simply pack it away into this nifty not-so-little carry bag that can simply be slung over the shoulder.

Ummm...It seems that the inventor, Alan Kaufman has a sense of humour ;-p

* Doofer - a word borrowed from Burger Fuel that I learned from K over the weekend.

Mmmm...Can't talk...eating...

I fell completely and utterly in love last night. It was practically a spiritual experience because I could literally taste Heaven in my mouth. As a coeliac I've been restricted to a gluten free diet for almost 20 years so I'm immensely appreciative of all the gluten free goodies available these days, despite the exorbitant prices.  Last night my friend R treated me to a GF burger from "Burger Fuel". I love you Burger Fuel. More importantly I love your Bio Fuel. 

Disclaimer: Picture lifted blatantly off internet. Not my own artwork.

I had a look at the Menu and really wanted to order the Ba$tard, but I'm a good Christian girl and I was just too polite to say it.  I've been to BF once or twice before over the last few years as an extra special treat. Which makes a total of just three burgers over two decades so you can imagine the sheer joy this meal brought me. We ordered our takeaway burgers and were especially impressed when a staff member came across to double check the ingredients were safe for a potentially flatulent coeliac to consume. Chur Burger Fuel!

20 minutes later at the dinner table, R set out plates and cutlery. CUTLERY! She's English, need I say more? There was no way I was going to sully my hands with a fork - I wanted the full burger experience. So, after a bit of instruction from K (who had instead opted for a very healthy salad from her mum's fridge) on how to hold the thing, I was away. I hadn't realized I was meant to pick up a "doofer" - something else K needed to explain to me. But it's alright, she's a science teacher so is very good at explaining things to quirky middle-aged women with no clue what a doofer is. Oooh, that gluten free bun felt so RIGHT in my hands, even without a doofer.

OMG Burgers are AMAZING! As I worked my way through to the middle, all the ingredients joined hands and had a party in my mouth. I tasted the egg, the beetroot, the tomato...all at the same time!!! I was unable to hold any form of conversation as my eyes rolled back in my head and I fell deeper and deeper in love. It became so intense that I serenaded my food:

I think that I shall never see

A food as wonderful as thee

Your shape that fits to curve my hand

So....ummm....so...can't think of something to rhyme with "hand"...

 

Seriously, if it was legal to marry a gluten free hamburger, I'd do it! Not sure if Beloved would approve though.

Why do you never see an old mermaid?

C asked me a question yesterday: "Mum, how come there aren't any granny-mermaids?". She's six years old and has been asking a lot of questions lately. It can make for some confusing conversations but this one got me thinking. She's right you know, there AREN'T any granny-mermaids. There are old-fella-mermen - I think King Neptune is one of them - but the females are all young...and hot. The girls all have long, shiny hair, slim figures, and are scantily clad. Come to think of it, they can't be all that hot living in sea water conditions with nothing but a piece of seaweed to cover their girly bits. And...ummm...speaking of girly bits...

 

Well clearly I'm not the ONLY one who's wondered!

So I've been thinking about this and put in some extensive research. In other words, I googled "mermaids" for about 20seconds, got bored then decided to come up with my own theories on the matter.

Firstly, does anyone else think it's dodgy that there's one old-guy merman (Neptune) surrounded by all those fit young fishy models, both male and female? A little reminiscent of Poppa Smurf if you ask me, but don't get me started on that one.

And what do you suppose is happening to all the girls once they reach...ooh I dunno...25 years old? Actually, it must be a younger age than that because I haven't seen any pictures of mermaids wearing supportive bras so I'd imagine gravity would start taking action even sooner. Or would it? What exactly ARE the laws of gravity underwater? Anyway, if you ask me, those merguys are up to something and it's not looking good for the girls. Maybe it's like that episode of Star Trek TNG I saw once where everyone of a certain age had a big party and then were sent off to the Great Beyond the next day. Or maybe it's something a little more sinister...

Those merguys are SELLING the mermaids to rugged fishermen who, after working out that they can't actually have their wicked way with the poor girls (refer to cartoon above) are selling them to fishmongers! You know what this means? The sequel to Disney's "The Little Mermaid" is a HORROR STORY!
Oh...wait, she fell in love and became human, right? So she got to cook for her prince, clean his underpants (which would have been an entirely foreign concept to her), darn his socks...then one day she woke up and found that she had cellulite on her thighs...I stand my ground. It's still a horror story. I haven't the heart to break it to C.
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Just had another thought: As I came out of the shower tonight and slathered myself in anti-wrinkling lotions and potions I decided that soaking in salt water 24/7 would wreak havoc on the skin. Think about it...

When is Smiley going to turn up and make the tea?

We are working so hard at school. It's becoming quickly apparent to Smiley and me that our days of faffing - not that we ever actually did faff (just in case any official school-type people happen to be reading this) - are well and truly in the past. I work just 20 hours a week at the moment. Some extra hours would be nice but with talk flying around the school about hours being reduced, it's not looking too promising. So for now I just work 4 days a week and finish at lunch time. As everyone knows, the real reason I turn up for work is to eat my lunch. Don't say anything to her, but I suspect the same might be said for Smiley. So on Friday when she hadn't turned up for lunch on time, I thought to myself:
Hmmm....this isn't like Smiley
Then I stuffed another piece of gluten free chocolate cake into my face.

Smiley and I had spent the morning testing some Year Tens individually on their Maths. We were finally making progress in getting some data together for the head honchos. I checked the time on my cell phone and noticed that we were more than ten minutes into our lunch break and Smiley still hadn't arrived to make our tea. Totally out of character. So I flicked her a text: "Where r u?"

Smiley didn't reply. So we all kind of sat there staring at the tea pot with confused expressions on our faces. When one member of the team is down - we ALL feel it.

Eventually, about 5 minutes before the end of lunch, she surfaced with quite a lot to say for herself:
"Where did everybody go? I've been locked in that little office with a Year Ten child. Everyone just left me locked in there. No lunch, no cup of tea. I could have wasted away!"
I wondered if Smiley might have been tempted by cannibalism if she'd been locked in there any longer, but realised that with the impending cuts to staff hours, she might not want to take the risk. "I DID text you."
"How can I read your text if I don't have my phone on me during work time?"  It was a fair comment.
"Ummm...cup of tea? The pot's ready for you to make it..."

I ducked and she missed me :-)

Curiosity can leave a nasty taste in the mouth

The whole world knows what a dreadful week it's been in Christchurch. My own daughter was there and has thankfully escaped to a safer area. Frightened people have been evacuating the area and catching a plane to anywhere - except there. People all over the country are offering their homes as billets to complete strangers who are wanting to escape the trauma inflicted by Mother Nature rattling her children. I know friends who are about to have a family of 7 added to their household in the next day or so. I'd been worried sick about a former student of mine, K. She's a stroppy teenager at times but I love her to bits and it was a relief to get a call asking if I could pick her up from the airport and have her for the night.

We detoured to some friends' for dinner and it quickly became apparent that the stuffing had pretty much been knocked out of this kid. She had no belongings, she was separated from her family, she was scared, she hadn't seen fresh water for days...and she needed a cigarette. My attitude to smoking has always been pretty negative, especially in kids but if ever I saw someone who needed a smoke, it was K. My friend S and I exchanged glances and, unspoken, we made a decision to go to the local shop and get a nicotine fix for our young friend. The concept of roll your owns, filters and papers flew right over my head so we asked her what she'd smoke if we got her something ready made (is that the right terminology?).
K: "B & H"
Me: "Huh?"
S: "I think that's Benson and Hedges"
Me: (thinking inside my head) Sounds like a gardening and landscaping business.

Knowing what to ask the man at the shop for, I felt pretty confident when I stepped up to the counter. Since I haven't bought a pack of smokes since I was 14 and tried it out in the ladies' loos at Devonport Beach, I was feeling a little naughty so I figured the best approach would be to swagger up and casually ask for a pack of Benson and Hedges. Maintain a nonchalant demeanor - as if I pop into the shops and by fags on a regular basis. It would be easy.
Man at counter: "Sure, what kind would you like?"
Me: "Wha??!?"
S: "Ummm...what have you got?"
Me: "They come in different flavours??"
The man proceeded to prattle off a list of information that had my head spinning. It was just like going into a Subway store and being asked what kind of mayo I'd like on my salad. It was all too much. I panicked. S interrupted my hyperventilating and pointed randomly. We both attempted to look innocent and vehemently claimed that they weren't for US! We were buying them for someone else. We weren't going to touch a single smoke, no siree. We're not smokers...nasty, filthy things!

As we left the shop with our contraband I jammed the pack down my bra. It was instinct. S insisted that I didn't have to hide them so I took them out and had a look at the pack. That's when a cunning plan ticked over in my head.
Me: "Let's SMOKE ONE!!!!" S wasn't too keen.

Once we got back to K I hovered...then - and I'm not proud of this - I asked this 16 year old seasoned smoker to show me what to do. Meanwhile, Beloved is an avid anti smoker. I knew he wouldn't be best pleased so naturally I hid under S's patio table with my vice. My vice was not nice. I choked, I swallowed, I persevered. It's just a pity that I hadn't counted on the smoke billowing up from K's knees where I was crouched down on the pavers, torturing my virgin lungs. My Beloved and S's Beloved heard stifled giggles. They could smell smoke. They looked out the kitchen window. My Beloved quickly understood that smoke coming from a girl's knees and an obscured wife was not a good sign.

I asked K to teach me how to do this. I "sucked" at it.

Incidentally, I never did smoke those cigarettes I bought when I was 14. I got as far as opening the packet of Pall Mall (my dad's brand), heard someone coming, dropped the lot in the stainless steal handbasin and ran. A complete waste of two weeks' pocket money! However, I have exaggerated slightly in saying that my lungs were virgin. Sometime in 2006 I found a shiny new cigarette lying on the ground. Curiosity got the better of me and...'nuf said.

I blame my childhood hero for leading me "ashtray"

So I've decided, smoking is icky. Tic Tacs don't take the taste away and carbonated pink grapefruit drink only added insult to the injury.

Looks classy, eh?

We're DOING it!

Me and Smiley...we're doing it. We're making it happen! Instead of just floating around the school grounds looking cute, we're strutting about the place with black compendiums, looking efficient! Oh, and still cute of course.

We're making it all look so easy - on the surface. The reality is that once we get to our little office, there's a lot of arm flapping, rummaging through drawers and even the occasional naughty word (that would be Smiley because I would never dream of using a naughty word out loud)

I think it's the black compendiums giving us a sense of confidence.  They're left overs from a work conference Beloved went to in 2004 (although I'm not sure why he felt the need to come home with a box load). They look quite classy and have a pad, a pen and a calculator inside. I'm not sure what we're going to need to calculate on our way to the ladies' loos but if ever something crops up, we'll be ready.

So the boss asked me to get some "Overviews" ready. Errrmmm....not that I have the faintest idea what an Overview is, but I followed Marie's lead when she hissed at me to just nod my head while she dug her elbow into my ribs. Ahh, so that's what we're meant to do: Fake it.  It all looked so convincing until we got back to the little office where further arm flapping became necessary in completing the set task. Or...actually starting it.

I've learned how to make a table in Excel and fill it with pretty colours - just like Ant used to do. Smiley has learned how to bat her eyelids at the young computer technician when we can't get our program to do what it's meant to do (thereby making the computer technician do whatever she wants him to do) and that blue file mentioned here has actually come in useful. Heck, we've even interacted with students on the odd occasion! Individual Diagnostic Maths and Vocab Testing is even becoming fun. Smiley has the joyous role of "Probing" the little Year 9s. I love the look of terror on their faces when we mention latex gloves. I get to do the one on one Maths, which would be more fun if I knew all the answers. I'm just hoping I don't get a kid who knows more than me or I'll be in over my head. 

Yup, we're quite a team Smiley and me. We're on FIRE at the moment. We're blonde. We're cute. And we're still just a little confused.

Footnote: For anyone concerned about how close I am to the devastating Canterbury earthquake, Auckland is some distance away and we're safe here. However, everyone knows somebody in Christchurch. My daughter was there and has managed to get somewhere safe. Our prayers and thoughts are with those who are still waiting to hear what has happened to family and friends they haven't been able to locate.

Another of my little tantrums

I hate shopping with Beloved. And I hate Sylvia Park Shopping Centre. As much as I love Beloved, there are valid reasons why I find shopping with him so detestable - some of them mentioned here in an earlier post. No man should take a woman shopping and then vanish into all the blokey-type shops before melting into the crowd, leaving her waiting outside some random electronic store. The same courtesy doesn't extend to him waiting outside Bras 'n' things for me!  What I hate about Sylvia Park is that it is a long passage of shops that extends under a motorway bridge with bright lights making me feel like I'm in an over sized interrogation unit.


As you can imagine, the combination of shopping with Beloved at Sylvia Park Shopping centre is nothing short of a nightmare. Most of the outing is wasted with me texting to find out where he is and if he still has C with him. Trouble is, Beloved likes popping into shops and he likes Sylvia Park. Zeeb works in a the children's clothing store there and Beloved is under some delusion that she might like it if we pop into her shop to surprise her. Ummm...yeah...that sounds like quite the family outing. We'll just hide behind the clothing racks and then jump out and say..."SURPRISE!!!"

Only we're not quite as good-looking as these people

Then Zeeb will jump right out from behind her cash register and go like this:

OH MY GOSH! I am so SURPRISED!!!

We did it one day. Zeeb was totally underwhelmed by the entire experience.


I don't know how he talked me into it but last weekend Beloved conned me into shopping with him at this Hell Hole once again. It didn't go well. We hadn't had lunch. I was hungry. C was bored. It was hot. I was carrying new pillows wrapped in plastic and my arms were sticky. And he'd disappeared again. When he finally surfaced he had armloads of junk food and lollies. I was unamused (the man is recovering from a near fatal blood clot, has high cholesterol and is overweight). My limits had been reached.
"That's it! I'm catching the train home. You can feed C and bring her home when you're finally ready!" and with that I dramatically stalked off towards the nearest exit. Yeah, that really showed HIM!


There was a flaw in my plan. Sylvia Park is so flippin' big that I have no idea where the train station is. So I switched to Plan B:


I would find where our van was parked, drop my sticky pillows in the front and then hide in the back seat until Beloved came and took Charlie home. Then I would wait until they got into the house before slipping out and sneaking in the back door, and pretending that I'd been home for an hour or so before they arrived. I know, I can tell you're impressed. Sometimes my thought processes are nothing short of stunning!

Dramatization: Not actually me hiding in our actual van.

There was a flaw in my plan.


Without my knowledge, Beloved and C had followed me to the van. Without my knowledge, and certainly without my consent, they had been stalking me! 


It's very difficult to look cool and in control when you're caught sneaking into your own van. "Ummm...I was just...errrm....putting my shopping in the van so I don't have to carry it home. Ummm...RIGHT then...I'll just be heading off to the train station now and you can carry on with what you're doing...What's that? Oh, you're heading home now? Oh...errr...well...I might as well come with you now then. But I WAS only dropping my shopping off..." it's not like I was going to hide in the back seat or anything.


Still, I think I made my point!