guess who thinks thirty is awesome? me

i love thirty because at thirty you can wear your slippers in to town. you can get a deluxe massage and drink coffee with the ex internet dater like you are a lady of leisure. at thirty you can demand the women at the mac counter give you a make over. and at thirty you can buy yourself treats like stationery and manicures. and you can eat chocolate cake in the sun at the dowse. so basically what i'm saying is thirty is THE age to be.

apart from how i have some kind of romantic love for all of my friends right now, i'm so madly in love with my family that i might actually explode. in fact that is why i have a headache right now. thinking about their choiceness is making my head hurt. they threw me a surprise party. sure, there were awkward moments. but mostly not. mostly there were gifts and gossip. and family jokes being shared left right and centre. and handmade gifts from ryles (it was a volcano. apparently). and it was all topped off with a sound of music birthday cake. ie perfection.

tomorrow i will come crashing down to earth. well, perhaps i will. i also think there is a chance i will hook up with one of the kings of leon at their concert on friday night, thus beginning my thirties as a shameless groupie. the next robin reynolds if you will. new zealand will have cause to be proud.

good lord, me turning thirty will probably be not just good for me but for all of new zealand. this is a truly magical day.

i'm looking for a catholic to marry. because i want to get married here.


today i had cause to go to st mary of the angels on boulcott st. my thoughts of a wedding venue were unfortunate. because today was maureen's funeral. maureen was a contemporary of my grandparents. they all grew up together in aro valley. holloway road really. back in the late 20s. and early 30s. when my grandmother would walk to the basin reserve and back after dinner because hello: they didn't have gossip girls to watch. and my grandfather was probably an awkward young man. tall and, if the dimentia years are anything to go by, inappropriate. it was a different age.

maureen outlived my grandparents by many years. and would tell me which traits i'd picked up from my ancestors. curly hair mostly. although i'd beg to differ. my grandmother's hair was wavy. not curly. and my grandfather was all about the brylcreem so who'd know. she also used to give me a crisp dollar to buy icecreams for my brother and sister after visits. and hers was the only house i'd accept a glass of milk instead of raro. because it went so well with her date scones. which were quite possibly the best date scones of all time. they probably had lard in them. or crack.

plus she had the best dolls of all time in her bedroom and as a child i would be allowed to look (but not touch) as they lay in their immaculate outfits in their cots ]. and she decorated her home, which she shared with her brother, and before that her father, in photos, cards and crocheted rugs. a powerful design aesthetic.

maureen cared about us because of her dedication to my grandparents. which is how she felt about nearly every family who ever lived nearby. patel's superette got special mention at her funeral. which kind of summed it up for me.

she was heading for ninety. and she had a happy life with her family. so, unlike recent other funerals, it didn't feel tragic. it seemed sad but natural to say goodbye.

so i said goodbye. observed the communion and mouthed the lord's prayer. and went back to work sombre. and a bit cloudy headed. but with a new top (there is a sale at stable if you're feeling like a millonaire or if you're just feeling sad) and thinking of how my high school principal was (shockingly) right. friendships of your adolescence can last a lifetime.

from third to sixth form i was like this economics genius. but i pretended i didn't care. at fifteen, people who care a lot are vile. now too, i guess. unless it is me being a care bear.

in 7th form i dropped economics for calculus and a low grade.

anyway, thanks to my economics pedigree, i know all about demand and supply charts and opportunity cost. which is how i figure i could have watched a whole disc of who's the boss series one instead of going to work today.


who's the boss is my new obsession obviously. it makes me feel the way i felt when i watched four seasons of cheers in like three weeks. in short, wonderful. so how work won the battle for my time today beats me.

if we pretend my sunday afternoon at work didn't happen, this weekend has been all about family. the bower/micelli blended family obviously. but also my own. i took my ryles to the zoo. where he banged his head and knee and ate pebbles (the delicious chocolate treat rather than the small rock) off the ground. and made me laugh until i cried. and my mother made me the best ham sandwich ever. and i think it was just ham and white bread. and dad made fish for lunch, which reminded me of sundays of my childhood (even if i don't think my dad actually cooked a single meal throughout the 80s). i also made cupcakes despite my no baking rule. but on the flip side i fought all temptation and did not buy myself a new dress even though i DESPERATELY need it because i am going to a ball. the opportunity cost though is i go to the ball looking like a hobo. but i'm still a bit proud of my will power.

anyway, the opportunity cost of me telling you any more is that i wont get to find out what happens in episode 9 "samantha growing up". and given the scarcity of my time, samantha wins. i hope this episode has a lot of mona. she's the real star if you ask me. and this dude.

basically, if i ever want to have a conversation with any of my extended family i need to have babies or wicked tales of the city. i realised this when i was in christchurch this week. because i managed to say very little and i am pretty certain noone really noticed.

i went to christchurch with my mother, my sister and my nephews. because that is the kind of girl i am. and we visited relatives. who asked me about work. barely waited for the answer then switched to talking to my sister about the minutiae of her life. i drank my tea.

i don't really blame them, but hello i'd give them conversation prompts: like telling them how much i adore travel in the hopes that would create a good three minutes worth of conversation. but no. i wonder if my family have created a myth about me. that i'm carrie from sex and the city the early episodes (they ask me what kind of cocktails i like, but not because i demonstrate any interest in cocktails when i am with them, but just because they need something to say). maybe they thought the whole travel thing was a cover for how i'm following my version of BIG all over the world. i am finding it hard to articulate but basically if i'm as old as i am and unwed and barren, i have to be hitting the booze and partying all night. when hello, i'm MULTIDIMENSIONAL. of course, my sister lapped it up but in a few years will be resentful that they see her as a baby machine.***ps i friggen hope the myth is along the sex and the city lines by the way. the worse option would be the lonely old spinster with a million cats. which is why i don't tell them about the crochet.

my family are nice of course. and can make great cups of tea. but i was pleased when i could break away and sightsee. like the day i took my ryles to the antarctic centre to see the penguins and play in the snow. which also meant a break from my sister and my mother. much needed because they do not make hotel suites big enough to contain my mother's passive aggression basically.


these penguins aren't real, but he took some convincing. and i wanted to stay in the snow forever because he kept slipping and it was hilarious. but i think the guides thought i was the meanest aunt in history when actually the truth is i would win awards if they gave them out for best aunt. as ryles gets older i will keep my best aunt title too. i can't wait to talk to him about stuff like crappy television and the best waterslides in the world. or whatever tickles his fancy.