Four Thousand and Seventeen

Two days from now my Darling Husband and I run smack bang into a milestone.
Two days from now we will have been an US, a we, a pair for eleven years. ELEVEN YEARS. That is ... longer than a decade.
Two days from now I will be batting my eyelids at a lovely man who will, in all likelihood, remember. But to whom eleven years is nothing. At all. Of course we have been together eleven years, OF COURSE, this is meant to be baby. All that nonsense.

I think it deserves noting. I think it deserves celebration.
I think it deserves presents.

But I will settle for his giant hand on mine, my forehead against his cheek, his certainty that this is a given.

365 in 2011

Sunday
I spent most of Sunday afternoon in the kitchen - making a carrot cake for my mama's birthday.


Monday
It was beautiful in Wellington - perfect for walking the waterfront. I had an appointment with my tattoo artist.


Tuesday
At Petone station, very late and rather drunk. On a Tuesday.


Wednesday
Vintage fur stole, deco jewellery, and my meadowlark bone ring. A usual Wednesday.


Thursday
Craig was late. Two minutes after I took this photo the storm started. One minute after that, he arrived.


Friday
It stormed all night and most of the morning. These clouds were all that remained at 11:30am.


Saturday
My lovely husband in the bed store. We are finally replacing the bed that was second hand when Craig got it in 2002.


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1 Face, 30 Days, 3 Seconds

Oh, Universe, I have another Photo Project on the go.
Not satisfied with taking a photo every day and a self-portrait every week; I have started using the Everyday App which prompts you, every day, to take a self portrait.
The app shows you the ghost of your previous photo and grid lines so you can match the positioning of your features.

So far I've only managed it for a month but ... we will see how it continues.

I like noticing when I have my fringe swept out of the way - they tend to be weekends as the alert is at 10am, and yes, I am usually not looking my best that early in the morning.

365 in 2011

Sunday
The new Mrs Thompson Darling, my husband, and I visited our cousins. Their house was warm, the coffee good, the people lovely, and the puppy was sleepy.


Monday
I was taken by the light. It was beautiful. Such an everyday scene but the light? the light!


Tuesday
This was in a bouquet. It looks like a cabbage to me. Is it? So strange. But beautiful.


Wednesday
My flowers from my director were gorgeous - even as they died.
I just happened to like the tableau with the Mr & Mrs bunnyhead.


Thursday
In PNG, a kiwi dude was shot by arrows while saving his girlfriend from a vicious attack. Hardcore.


Friday
A terrible day. I was exhausted.
The show must go on.


Saturday
Craig and I braved Craft 2.0, I met the mega-cute Dear Colleen and Devon Smith. I spent my hardearned cash at their shared stall - a lemony tea towel and the above print. SO pleased.


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365 in 2011

Saturday
Charlotte became a Mrs.


Sunday
Craig and I went out for post-wedding brunch and I almost missed rehearsal.


Monday
I bought a new camera strap! It is blue and beautiful.


Tuesday
There's one bit of the play that I was REALLY struggling with. So it became my phone screensaver until I learnt it.


Wednesday
Pretty flowers in the window boxes outside The Wellesley.


Thursday
Taking the bus in the late afternoon - heading for the final rehearsal before opening night.


Friday
Craig cleared out his office. WHERE did he get this tie? Ew.


Saturday
A lovely card from my director.


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Oh, Oleanna - reviews

CoStar was at the show last night. It was ... a relief. And weird. He brings a whole different energy to the role than the lovely Director. He's much more pompous - despite the lack of a British accent. Hilarious.

In the mean time? we have been reviewed. Twice. One with the CoStar and one without. Incidentally, each one has mentioned the Alasdair Thompson debacle. It's an odd coincidence that Alasdair digs himself into this damn hole in the same week that we open a play about feminism, political correctness, and devastating misunderstandings.

Excerpts.

1. Maggie Rainey-Smith
David Mamet’s play is not so funny, more compelling, and thought-provoking. The acting is outstanding and all the more impressive because one of the actors, Damian Reid, was stranded in Melbourne due to the ash-cloud from the Chilean volcano, and John Marwick, Director of the play, stepped in and read the lines (to perfection) of the Professor. The student, Carol, is mesmerizingly played by Sarah-Rose Burke who has to develop the character of Carol over eighty minutes in a stunning yet subtly splendid performance. It is the first time I have seen the play and cannot compare this production with any other, but it was brilliantly rendered so that your sympathies are constantly moving (well mine, anyway) from one character to another. The wardrobe too, played a fascinating role in the development of the character of Carol, the student, who starts the play as a confused almost hapless student in her ankle-length little black socks and slipper-style shoes, and in the next act she is wearing fabulously hot shiny red shoes and the final act wearing lace-up boots, in the powerful position of being able to threaten the Professor’s tenure, and finally, much worse, for both of them.

Oh, the ending is superb, and having looked up the play, I see that the ending is often changed sometimes, depending on the Director...

“The danger with the play is that it can easily seem a partial, loaded, one-sided attack on the student and on female solidarity in general .But Pinter’s production scrupulously avoids that trap by giving equal weight to both sides of the argument.”

And so too, does John Marwick’s production.

2. Tanya Piejus
Mamet’s controversial script is based on the real-life case in the US of Anita Hill who alleged her supervisor Clarence Thomas had made provocative and harassing sexual statements while she was a student.

It can be read in two ways: as a teacher who misuses his power and seriously damages a vulnerable student, or as extreme political correctness that ruins the life of someone who only had good intentions. By the end of this production, audience opinion was divided between the two with one commenting that it was a parallel statement of both.

This is testament to director John Marwick’s skill in delivering a startling two-hander to a modern audience. Mamet wrote the play in the early 1990s and Marwick has avoided the easy option of making it a period piece, instead blurring the lines even more between who is right and who is wrong.

Two-handers are a challenge for any actor and this one is particularly so with its staccato, cut-off dialogue and unrelenting theme. Both Damian Reid as university professor John and Sarah-Rose Burke as his deceptively naïve student Carol carry their roles with assurance and skill, steadily weaving two solidly opposed characters who draw the audience’s sympathies back and forth between them.

Reid imbues John with an insufferable academic pomposity that is nevertheless well-meaning. His systematic ruin at the hands of Carol is painful to watch, but you can’t help feeling by the end of the piece that he should have known better.

Burke’s Carol is on the one hand vulnerable and helpless, and on the other sly and domineering. Her deft portrayal raises as many questions as it answers, as she twists and manipulates John’s intentions to her own agenda and that of the sinister ‘group’ she claims to represent.

The actors work on an intimate 60-seat traverse stage tucked away behind the blacks at Butterfly Creek’s usual performance venue, Muritai School Hall. It’s a brave and wise choice of staging, bringing the audience uncomfortably close to the one-room setting where all the action takes place. In fact, the final violent act of the play was so close to the front row that it freaked out the audience member closest to it.

All you need is love - a very Darling wedding

One week ago today my lovely sister and her lovely man got married.

Here are some photos I took.
































(CUTEST!!!)



Then I stopped taking photos to watch the ceremony.

Gareth's sister Bethan read from Plato's symposium and baby Jayne read Wild Daisies by Bub Bridger

If you love me
Bring me flowers
Wild daisies
Clutched in your fist
Like a torch
No orchids or roses
Or carnations
No florist's bow
Just daisies
Steal them
Risk your life for them
Up the sharp hills
In the teeth of the wind
If you love me
Bring me daisies
That I will cram
In a bright vase
And marvel at

Then they vowed to fight beside each other in the event of the zombie apocalypse and they were married.
They signed the register and got on skype to talk to the members of Gareth's family who couldn't make it to New Zealand for the ceremony.







After photos in the rain (taken by the amazing Kathryn Wilson) we headed to the venue where we had speeches and food and wine and danced the night away. Gareth's band played and from time to time he joined them to show off his skills on the trombone. It was impressive to say the least.

Oh and their first dance? was to Shimmy Shimmy Ya by ODB.
I love my sister.











For the rest of the photos click here.

And, for posterity, the speech I gave:

Charlotte is a copycat. She always has been and it's time I called her on it.
I have brown hair and brown eyes, she has brown hair and brown eyes. I stopped growing shortly after 5 foot 1, she stopped growing slightly less than that. She got a tattoo, I got a tattoo - okay, okay, she can have that one.
I got a beardy husband, now she has one too.

I'm kidding of course. Anyone who knows or has even just met Charlotte knows that she's an individual. I love that. I love that she has found someone as unique and as devoted to facial hair as she is.
Without G, I think I would have gone my entire life without knowing what Klezmer music is.
I've never liked any of Charlotte's boyfriends. I always gave them horrible nicknames. They were ratface or the gangly one or ... you get the point. I don't have a nickname for G. I think, I think I actually like him!
Our whole family does. We've even played Trivial Pursuits with him. I think it took years before Craig and Jack were allowed to play. Trivial Pursuits is our initiation ritual.

So yes. We like G. Despite his disappointing lack of a Welsh accent. Welcome to the family. You're stuck with us now.

I asked a coworker what I should say in this toast. He said I should tell embarrassing stories about Charlotte. But I know that any story I have on her will be countered by one of my own. So I shall refrain.
Then he suggested advice. Because I'm so old and wise and all.

So, Charlotte, here is some advice from your old, married sister.

1. It won't feel any different tomorrow but people will ask you if it does and will look disappointed when you say "nah, not really". So lie.
2. Marriage is about compromise. They are not lying about that one. It's really really annoying.
3. People will ask when you're going to start having babies or buying a house. Give it 5 and a half years and ... yep, they'll still be asking.
4. The first time a complete stranger calls you, completely seriously, as MRS Thompson Darling? you will feel a little faint. Old and young at the same time. It's creepy and took me about 4 years to get used to.
5. The first time you are talking to a stranger and call G your husband? That's one of the moments you'll remember.
6. I liked a bit with number 1. It does feel different. Not tomorrow or next week or next month, but soon, eventually, when you realise that yea, this probably will stick. And that's the best feeling. But that's not marriage, that's not a piece of paper, not a dress or a suit, not rings or a cake. That's you two. And that's the best.