Finding Jason
March 6, 2006Waiheke Island, New Zealand
6:23am
As you can plainly see my ability to sleep has drifted away like a Viking funeral. My thoughts range from our new rental house back in North Toronto to my lack of employment to my unedited novel, to my poo that I had to hand in to the lab for analyzing. Actually Steph handed it in for me. What a wife.
So the anxiety has returned. Welcome back old friend. No offense, but you were not missed at all.
Yes, we have a place back home. Through the diligence of e-mail and my father and stepmother, we were able to secure a detached home in a nice part of the city for a price we can barely afford. We knew it was going to be pricey no matter where we got a place. In the city the places are expensive, out of the city transportation costs becomes an issue. What we did sacrifice by living in the city is space, but we can deal with that for now, and if we don’t like it? It’s only a year. And years can go by very quickly as I can attest.
My favourite part about this new place is we can get Alice back as soon as we are settled. It has a large fenced in backyard and the owners were cool with us having a small, mature dog as my father sold it. Woo hoo! Alice. I can’t wait to take you on my morning walks. When it gets warmer of course.
The last four days here on the island were spent reacquainting ourselves with all the little nuances that make this one of our favourite places in New Zealand. It has the perfect blend of hippie bohemia and yuppie amenities. Meaning you can drizzle your backyard grown organic mixed greens with $25 garlic and red pepper infused olive oil if you want. A perfect example of this blend was the Saturday market we attended. Good old fashioned alternative lifestyle dread locked people selling their old clothes right beside the bakery booth selling pain de chocolat. Other highlights included the very obvious transsexual with hands bigger than mine and a dress prettier than Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. They also had a small gathering exulting the benefits of bike riding instead of ugly cars. This was mostly for kids as there was a helmet decorating competition and a story, which we all watched intently, Hud occasionally growling at the other kids as he is prone to do.
Two hours at the market was enough so we went home, got our gear and made our way to Palm Beach as the sun was making an appearance that day. Being the general perv that I am, I suggested this beach because I read in one of the many brochures that the western end of Palm Beach is reserved for nude sunbathing. Very hippie, very bohemia. I was firmly denied my suggestion at the three of us going over there by my sometimes shy wife, so we settled on a spot too far away to see if anyone was actually nudie.
Hey Hud, do you want to go for a walk down the beach? Snicker snicker. Sure dad.
We were off, rounding the rocky corner and lo and behold there were all the naked people, about fifty of them, totally intertwined with the clothed people, all very relaxed and down to earth with their nakedness. Of course I have been on a nude beach before, both Steph and I braved our respective modesty and shunned our clothes for a full week on our honeymoon in Jamaica. It is quite liberating to dangle down the beach and jump into the ocean buck. I was up for doing it again, but Hud wanted to build a sandcastle and all his sand toys were back with his mother. Another time perhaps.
So. My poo. Here goes. On Thursday I finally broke down and with Steph’s help we entered the medical clinic to book a doctor’s appointment for me regarding my sour tummy. Since Northland, and my spastic weight loss, I still have some pain in my stomach and a lot more activity than normal. And normal for me was never normal. We were both surprised the doctor could take me right away and five minutes after making the appointment I was sitting on a cold chair talking to a warm doctor. He made numerous suggestions about what my gut rot could be, none of which seemed that bad, and explained to me that before he could accurately diagnose my sickness, they had to test my sample. This is when he passed me the small plastic container.
I will spare you the details of the actual “catching” of the sample, just know that I firmly believe that it should be more funnel-like than the prescription size bottle they gave me.
Now I want you to imagine the discomfort of having this sample in the house prior to drop off. Thankfully we did not let Hud in on the gag, or he would have been juggling it like a clown. Steph, on the other hand, was rightly disgusted by the little bottle. She was going to yoga that morning and I asked her if she could drop it off as the lab was on the way. Reluctantly, she agreed and I made the mistake of leaving it next to her purse, on the table where she was about to eat her breakfast. Well shiver me timbers did she tear a strip of this pirate, and made me place it in a plastic bag so she did not have to look at it while she ate thank you very much. Fair enough. She still dropped it off without further incident. Poo is poo is poo. I get the results back on Wednesday.
So we are literally counting the days until our return. It is difficult to enjoy the Island as much as we would like, the weather has been iffy as well, leaving us housebound a couple of days. With eight days left before departure you almost want to pack now, getting ready for the 24 hour journey back to Canada.
Got to get to the nude beach though. Got to let it dangle like shark bait.
Shark bait ooo ooo ah.
Love to all,
J.
posted by Jason @ 12:54 PM
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