Hey Ike, stop bogarting
January 22, 2006Ruby Bay, New Zealand
9:50am.
So much for writing everyday. So much for completed my novel by the time we leave here, and while we are at it, after last night’s peanut butter festival, so much for sneaking under my lowest adult weight ever barrier. Although I have yet to confirm the latter, my fear of actually stepping on the cold scale is keeping me from actually seeing that I have somehow gained five pounds in 24 hours. Irrational I know, but I use weight gain fear as a motivator so it’s all good.
Talked to Andy yesterday. He finally picked up the phone after the 18th time calling him in the last six months. My dog Alice is fine, fatter he said, but that’s maybe because of having the munchies all the time. I hope she remembers me, although they say short-term memory is the first to go. Andy also filled me in on some of the goings on in his life in the last eight months or so, including some highlights from his wedding. I am sorry I missed that event. Although if the one-sided phone call is any indication, I am sure I will hear about it in detail upon my return. Having a friend with a penchant for the herb, but an unbelievable and rare ability to remember every little thing is sometimes a bonus. We both said we missed each other before we hung up. Both of us were telling the truth.
The last days here are being spent doing things for the last time. Two days ago we went to a picnic organized for Steph and Hud by one of the PlayCentre moms. We were the only people that showed up. Nice. We may have got the location wrong, but I do not think so. I think it was organized too late, and the moms and kids were already booked doing other hippie organic things. Maybe they were picking lavender or plucking their mother’s arm pit hair. Who knows. Steph was not too upset, leaving me to believe the connection with other mothers was not as strong as it was with the group from the North Island. We had a nice picnic by ourselves, watching the tide recede and Hud befriending a group of older girls who were walking a dog up the coast.
They got out of eyesight so I followed, rounding the corner to see the three girls fighting to see who could hold Hud’s hand on the way back. All three girls were very cute, including a seven year old with dark curly hair and crystal clear pale blue eyes. She looked like a painting. I swear Hud winked at me as he looked back over his shoulder running with the girls back to where Steph was waiting. Attaboy.
Yesterday was the last day spent at the Nelson Market. The only thing I will really miss is the Bratwurst on a baguette slathered with brown mustard served up by one of the many German immigrants living in the Nelson/Takaka/Golden Bay area. She was just starting to recognize me as I ordered one every time we see her, which is often because she moves from market to market. I think she may think I am a stalker. The sausage stalker. Yeah. Dig the moniker.
We got home and had lunch, Steph and Hud eating the spinach, feta, red onion and pepper pizza I made the night before and I ate a spinach salad with Tuna and yellow pepper with a lime mint dressing, not yet plummeting into the land of gorge until the evening.
In the afternoon, after the sun hit its highest point, and as the tide began to move back out to sea, we all went for probably our last walk to the beach closest to our little barn.
I brought a couple of beers in a bucket, and we lazily walked down the path, Steph and I holding hands and Hud racing up and down the dirt bike trail beside us.
The sky was blue, Hud’s hair is blonde and all was right in the world at that moment. Sigh.
We sat on the rocks while Hud played with Toshke and gabbed about nothing. Steph and I get along so well lately, her accusing me of finally relaxing, which is ironic due to the trip winding down factor. Whatever it is, it’s been great. She was always my best friend, sometimes scarily just that. Now she is my wife, my lover, my partner, and a really great mother to our boy.
Luck is my lady tonight.
Love to all,
J.
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