2011 started with a bang in Canterbury. And a shake, rattle and roll. In the form of a 6.3 earthquake on February 22nd which, sadly, took lives and destroyed much of my city, and people’s lives. I was one of the very lucky ones. None of my family or friends were hurt, or too badly affected. My workplace was operational, my home was safe and in good working order with no loss of water or power.

A few days later, our family was blessed with the birth of a healthy baby boy, to my sister, Kase James Bailey. I adore him in ways I never thought possible. Who could resist this face?

Kase James Bailey

In March, I moved out of my home, and into “Woodglen Retreat”, the fond name I have given my rental home in Woodend. Things were a struggle financially for a while until I sold my house in Hornby, and still are to be honest, but the peace I have found here is worth any price.

Our earthquake was bad enough, but to put things in perspective, Japan was hit by a powerful 8.9 quake on March 11th, triggering a huge tsunami, and causing well over 15,000 deaths with many more injured or missing.

Around May I found myself struggling to cope with health issues. Not to the point of actual depression, but I certainly wasn’t brimming with happiness, and my usual optimism was definitely missing. Blood tests and bone scans followed, rheumatoid arthritis was ruled out, and I now have a tentative diagnosis of fibromyalgia.  Though it’s good to have a name for it, there is no cure, only symptom relief, usually with a drug regime which is not an idea I’m sold on.  Since I started regularly exercising again and have dropped a few kilos, I’m finding it easier to manage without the help of painkillers, though there are still mornings when I wake up feeling as though I’ve been run over by a bus. My good cheer has returned though!

In June, Christchurch was hit again by earthquakes, a 5.6 and a 6.3 in quick succession. More damage, more soul-destroying liquefaction in eastern suburbs, but luckily no more lives lost.

On July 17th my brother Matt got married to Yuka in Japan, I watched the beautiful ceremony live on streaming internet. Ain’t technology grand?

July and August saw two heavy snow falls which effectively closed Christchurch down, or what was left of it. Just what our businesses needed in a quake ridden recession, but oh well, a couple of days off work ;) August also saw me purchase a treadmill and kick off a get fit/lose weight program. To date, it’s going very well!

September 1st gave me my first niece, Charlotte, born to my little brother Chris and his wife Kallie. September also brought the Rugby World Cup to our shores. The most nerve-wracking 6 weeks of my year, culminating in a courageous win by our team, the All Blacks. Many tears were shed.

On Wednesday 5th October, the container ship Rena ran aground on the Astrolabe Reef off the coast of Tauranga, causing an enormous oil spill, classed as New Zealand’s worst maritime environmental disaster. The same day, the Chairman of the Board of Apple, Steve Jobs, died.

Which brings us to December and a short holiday in Auckland for the Foo Fighters concert, which rocked Western Springs, and caused a few earth shakes of a different kind :)  Then two more additions to my family, nephew Taila born to Matt and Yuka in Japan, and Connor, born to Amber & Rob.

For me, 2011 brought all kinds of good into my life. The good definitely outweighed the bad. My New Year’s Resolutions for 2012? To carry on the good work I’ve started with changes to my diet & exercise and reach my weight loss goal. And to start seriously looking to change my career path – though there are still a lot of times that I love my job, I’m not sure my body is up to the physicality of it anymore, and I need a change.

To all my family and friends, I love you all – I wish you all a Happy New Year, and that 2012 brings you everything you wish for.

“Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow.” - Albert Einstein

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE
enough money within her control to move out and rent a place of her own, even if she never wants to or needs to…
something perfect to wear if the employer, or date of her dreams wants to see her in an hour…

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE
a youth she’s content to leave behind…. a past juicy enough that she’s looking forward to retelling it in her old age….
a set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra…
one friend who always makes her laugh…
and one who lets her cry…

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE
a good piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in her family…
eight matching plates, wine glasses with stems, and a recipe for a meal, that will make her guests feel honored…

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE
a feeling of control over her destiny…
how to fall in love without losing herself..

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW
how to quit a job, break up with a lover, and confront a friend without; ruining the friendship….

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW
when to try harder…
and WHEN TO WALK AWAY…

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW
that she can’t change the length of her calves, the width of her hips, or the nature of her parents..
that her childhood may not have been perfect…
but it’s over…

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW
what she would and wouldn’t do for love or more…
how to live alone…
even if she doesn’t like it…

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW
whom she can trust, whom she can’t, and why she shouldn’t take it personally…

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW
where to go…
be it to her best friend’s kitchen table…
or a charming Inn in the woods…
when her soul needs soothing…

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW
What she can and can’t accomplish in a day…
a month…
and a year…

Yet, every year at this time, thousands of us protest verbally at the ongoing sale of fireworks to the public. The Fire Service have to attend dozens, if not hundreds of callouts. And the government does nothing.

I have nothing against public fireworks displays, I enjoy them myself. As long as they are not smack bang within a residential area. You know the time they are due to start, and finish, and can prepare accordingly. There’s no risk of a neighbour “accidentally” hitting your window with one, setting your roof on fire, or giving you and your furkids a fright by letting one off unexpectedly right by your fence line, at any given time of day or night, for a week before, and weeks after the designated Guy Fawkes night. Because let’s face it, no-one sticks to the laws surrounding when you are allowed to light these sticks of death. And no-one enforces said laws either. I heard tonight on Twitter that Noise Control refused to even respond to complaints if they were firework related, regardless of the time of night, and if the noise is keeping neighbours awake. Not that it surprises me, I had to sell my home because Noise Control are completely ineffectual.

I could care less about the injuries stupid people do to themselves doing stupid things with fireworks. I DO care about the damage stupid people cause to other people’s property with them, and the cruelty to animals. Not just the physical cruelty assholes impose on animals, but the mental stress caused by the noise. Simply keeping your animals inside, is NOT a good enough solution, and anyone who thinks so, is an idiot. I can have my doors, windows and curtains closed and be hosting a raging punk rock concert in my lounge via DVD, and my dog can still hear them and freak out. I’ve tried everything for my boy, from trying to carry on with my evening and pretend everything is normal, to distractions, to rescue remedies, nothing works for him. Once he has heard the first firework go off, he goes into panic mode, nothing calms him down, and he will be jumpy for weeks afterwards.  Is that at all fair?

If you’d ever seen my 30 kilo black labrador try to squeeze himself shaking and panting into a space the size of a shoebox to try to protect himself from a terrifying noise he couldn’t possibly understand, you might feel the same. Unless you have rocks where your heart should be.

It’s about time the government realised the stupid people will always be stupid people (has the drink driving message got through yet, do you think?), and remove the source of the problem. The fireworks, I mean, not the stupid people (although….there’s an idea too).   It’s not like they’d be missing much, the store bought fireworks, by all accounts, are fairly pathetic, made for bang rather than visual effect.

And as I write this, the cat just projectile vomited all over the dog. Another highly successful Guy Fawkes evening draws to a close.

Through the mists of time, a figure stands tall.
An All Black legend above them all.
He played with power, poise and pace,
an Iron man, with an honest face.

Smart as a fox, he soon rose to fame,
a soldier’s instinct in a magnificent game.
Hard as nails, proud and true,
the superhuman from Oamaru.

The name of McCaw still rings aloud,
the pride of every kiwi crowd.
Richie was a hero, a leader of men,
his men would follow him to the very end.

A humble man respected by all.
He made sure a rise would follow each fall.
A nation inspired even though he was sprained,
held together by metal, on and on he bravely played.

All these years later his presence still felt,
so many proud victories under his belt.
His gift to our country is very clear,
Oamaru’s gift to New Zealand held so dear.

So why the hell can’t we be allowed to enjoy it without the chorus of “can we stop talking/hearing about the rugby now?” whining from those that don’t share our passion? It’s a special moment, one that we’ve been wishing for and dreaming of, for 24 long years. This victory is going to be a feel good memory most of us will never forget. It’s a BIG deal. So we should stop celebrating the very next day? I’m sorry, but no. Face it, it’s going to be on the news every day for some time. It’s going to be splashed all over your rugby-loving friend’s Facebook timeline, and their Twitter feed and in the papers, for some time yet. We’re going to discuss it, and watch it again, and dissect it, and celebrate it, and generally eat, sleep and breathe rugby until even we can’t do it any more.

Yes, we realise you’ll probably hate it but it won’t be for ever, have a little patience and show a little understanding, and let us bask in the glory without your constant whinging. You have some passions of your own, don’t you? Do we rudely tell you to stop going on about how much you love mountain biking, or motorsport, or whatever else it is that you love? Here’s an idea, for a few days at least, buy a newspaper for the news instead of watching it on tv, so you can choose what you want to read. Give yourself a break from social media, or hide the feeds from those likely to offend you with their passion. Whatever, just please give us a break, keep your whining to yourselves, and let us have this.

My Twitter stream was full of irate kiwis hating on the ref, as usual, for red-carding the Welsh skipper, Sam Warburton. I’ll be the first to admit that I can be scathing of a ref who consistently makes bad calls and costs a team the game, but this was hardly the case here.

Welsh supporters, including New Zealanders, need to get a grip. Had an Aussie player tip tackled an All Black like that, kiwis would have been baying for his blood, & the ref would be lucky to leave the park alive. Players were apparently warned about zero tolerance for tip tackles, so the Welsh weren’t hard done by, it was a justified call by referee Alain Rolland. And as a fellow tweeter who actually is a rugby referee commented, “The directive on tip tackles makes no distinction between driving and dropping and no mention of “malice”.”

So whether he “meant” to or not, makes no difference, the fact remains it was a stupid and dangerous tackle, and as captain of his team, Warburton perhaps should have been setting a better example. It’s a big game, you need to show a bit of discipline.

There’s a big difference between a referee making bad calls, or no call (eg. missing a really obvious forward pass culminating in a try!) and making calls you just plain don’t like because you support the other team, people!

And face up to it, the red card wasn’t the only thing to lose Wales the game – it certainly hurt them, but let’s see now, how many conversions did they miss?

It made no real difference to me who won this semi, so perhaps I’ve got a little more perspective, not having my judgement clouded by emotion. Yes, a bad night for Wales, disappointing, but not as bad a night as the guy who had a heart attack in a corporate box at Eden Park and died at the scene, all before kick off. Again, perspective.

I may be the only one, but I feel ok that the French won. I’d love to see a repeat of 1987’s final, and if I let a little superstition creep in, the same outcome would be nice too :-)  Sweet sweet revenge for knocking us out of the play-offs two cups in a row. But getting ahead of myself. Somehow I need to summon up the mental fortitude to get myself through tomorrow’s semi. Better get some sleep!

Sorry for your loss. Better luck next time, Wales.  Well done les Bleus!

I share an office floor with a bunch of designers. It was a very sombre afternoon indeed. RIP Steve Jobs. You helped shape my life. You were the man.

1. From 9 Sep to 23 October 2011, you should read the sports section of the newspaper so that you are aware of what is going on regarding the World Cup, and that way you will be able to join in the conversations. If you fail to do this, then you will be looked at in a bad way, or you will be totally ignored. DO NOT complain about not receiving any attention.

2. During the World Cup, the television is mine, the VCR and DVD are all mine, at all times, without any exceptions. If you even take a glimpse of the remote control, you will lose it (your eye).

3. If you have to pass by in front of the TV during a game, I don’t mind, as long as you do it crawling on the floor and without distracting me. If you decide to stand nude in front of the TV to get my attention, make sure you put clothes on right after because if you catch a cold, I won’t have time to take you to the doctor or look after you during the World Cup month.

4. During the games I will be blind, deaf and mute, unless I require a refill of my drink or something to eat. You are out of your mind if you expect me to listen to you, open the door, answer the telephone, or cook you dinner….it just won’t happen.

5. It would be a good idea for you to keep a couple of six packs in the fridge at all times, as well as plenty of things to nibble on, and please do not make any funny faces to my friends when they come over to watch the games. In return, you may be allowed to use the TV between 7am and 1pm, unless they replay a good game that I missed.

6. Please, please, please!! If you see me upset because one of my teams is losing, DO NOT say ‘get over it, it’s only a game’, or ‘don’t worry, they’ll win next time’. If you say these things, you will only make me angrier and I will love you less. Remember, you will never ever know more about rugby than me and your so called ‘words of encouragement’ will only ruin our relationship.

7. You are welcome to sit with me to watch one game and you can talk to me during halftime but only when the commercials are on, and only if the halftime score is pleasing me. In addition, please note I am saying ‘one’ game, hence do not use the World Cup as a nice cheesy excuse to ’spend time together’.

8. The replays of the tries are very important. I don’t care if I have seen them or I haven’t seen them, I want to see them again. Many times, and record them.

9. Do not have any parties or gatherings that require my attendance because:

a) I will not go,
b) I will not go, and
c) I will not go.

10. But, if friends invite us to their house on a Sunday to watch a game, that’s ok.

11. The daily World Cup highlights show on TV every night is just as important as the games themselves. Do not even think about saying ‘but you have already seen this…why don’t you change the channel to something we can all watch??’, the reply will be: ‘Refer to Rule #2 and Rule #8 of this list’.

12. Please save your expressions such as ‘Thank goodness the World Cup is only every 4 years’. I am immune to these words, because after this comes the reruns of the Rugby World Cup, etc etc.

13. And finally, if you are female and your “man” likes rugby less than you, he is not a real man and shall be bound by these rules and additionally be referred to as “the kitchen bitch” for the duration of the World Cup. He’s on snacks duty.

Thank you for your cooperation.

Regards,
Me