Skip to main content

Rugby Night

Rugby Night
Rugby warm-up: Chiefs vs. Crusaders

I attended my first rugby game tonight, at the invitation of my friend, Louise. The Waikato Chiefs played the Canterbury Crusaders (of Christchurch). Crusaders won. It was much like a sporting event in the U.S.: Shout for your team; watch cheerleaders between game periods; drink another beer. Just like in the States, I had no clue about who was doing what with the ball and how many points would result. The point, for me, is the social interaction. Meet people, talk, learn something new.

One of my friend's friends I met for the first time tonight asked if I'd been happy here in New Zealand. "Delirious," I said. That's a natural state of mind, I suppose, when you're not working (although I still have small children to care for and they require, indeed, plenty of work), are still soaking up a new environment, and sun shines nearly every day. Of course I'm happy. Who wouldn't be happy? I've always heard you shouldn't chase happiness - it's fleeting and fickle. If you shouldn't chase, at least you can marinate in happiness if it finds you. Recognize bliss and smile.
Me, Karen, Louise - post-rugby at Imbibe, The Mount

Smile-worthy on this sunny Friday in autumn: a slow slog up a short mountain; conversation heading down; massage; a class field trip to the beach; sand on my feet; sand in my hair; the sound of the ocean; a short walk with a new friend; flatmate who babysits my kids; fans doing the wave at the rugby game; a band performing Billy Idol's "White Wedding" at a bar. Not a bad way to spend a day on Planet Heaven, in non-pursuit of happiness.
Treasure hunt find - fish skeleton

Comments

  1. "marinate in happiness" Reminder to self, do this every chance I get!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Remove Before Flight

Remove Before Flight “The elevator’s trim, rudder’s trim, mixture’s rich, flaps are at ten degrees…” Pete, the PAHT-nah (partner), is talking through a pre-flight checklist as we wait to taxi from the Tauranga airport. In the nearly 12 months we’ve known each other, Pete’s talked about taking me flying. Now, with my departure from New Zealand less than ten days away, the weather, schedules, and aircraft maintenance have obliged so Pete can fulfill his promise. The sky is overcast, but the cloud ceiling will allow us to fly at 2,500 feet; it’s the weekend, so we’re not competing with flight school students for air time; and there’s a new-ish plane (called FCO, or Foxtrot Charlie Oscar) Pete has enough confidence in to haul what he calls “precious cargo,” which is me. Pete checks the Cessna 152 single-engine propeller aircraft as I watch. He walks the plane’s perimeter, inspecting flaps, wheels, the rudder… He gives me a couple wooden door-stopper-looking blocks (called chocks). “Remo...

Murder House

Murder House (MUH-dah House) The deed is done              “I don’t wanna go to the dentist. It’s gonna hurt,” says Fiona. I can hardly deny my eight-year-old the truth, but I can tiptoe around it.             “They’re going to rub medicine on your gums to numb them,” I tell her. “And they can put your tooth to sleep with a needle.”             Fiona gasps, “I don’t want a needle! No!” Oops. I shouldn’t have used the “n” word. Fiona starts her high-pitched screeching if she thinks a needle exists in the next room. When I got the kids immunized in preparation for dragging them round-the-world, Fiona cried as the nurse swabbed her upper arm with iodine. You would’ve thought someone was whacking off her limb with a rusty saw, yet the needle lay feet from Fiona’s body. New Zealand is not the place for dental work for a ...

The Affair

The Affair Ohope Beach, NZ I had an affair last week. I’m not ashamed to tell you, either. It was sweet and sad. It made me laugh, cry, sigh and dance in my chair to James Brown and Rupert Holmes. My Kiwi PAHT-nah, Pete, even facilitated the tryst, though neither of us knew what to expect beforehand. Pete watched the kids while I was gone for five nights. Five whole nights.  No kids. No TV. No partner.  I enjoyed a dalliance with my late husband, Sean (though I should write instead, ‘dead husband,’ because Sean hated being late). It happened in a wood-paneled house across the street from the ocean, in Ohope Beach, New Zealand. I attended a writer’s retreat to work on the memoir. I revised six sections totaling more than 40,000 words. In the course of revising- subtracting old text and adding entries from letters Sean had written me when we first started dating, plus journal entries he wrote around the time Fiona was born - I fell in love again. With Sea...