Channeling Mr. Bean

Today’s morning sky is a cloudless blue canvas, a visual parallel to the early burnished, melodious and clear song of the bellbird. That avian star sings out its solos daily at around 5 AM and relegates all later risers to the role of a chirping chorus, an important chorus of course but paling by comparison. It’s Sept. 3rd, Father’s Day in NZ., and all’s well.

The Kiwikirk’s have now resided in Waikikamukau for three weeks and two days, in their art-deco palazzo for four. Yesterday we ‘did’ acclimatization...watching ‘The World’s Fastest Indian’ for a family movie. This is an inspirational tale--in case you've been out of touch--and warms the very cockles of the heart. Everyone should see it. The Kiwikirk's give it eight thumbs up. (One member of our band observed that Burt’s Kiwi accent was stronger in the beginning of the movie than later on…) Today we will go to the museum and see a display about speed that features the actual bike!

Each day sees a new ‘first’, garaging our new mini-auto overnight for the first time; reading the local paper in our new home for the first time (my favorite saga: Agassi’s swan song); seeing our first mouse in the kitchen (T thought it looked a bit bigger than a mouse) etc. Tomorrow it’s the first garbage collection—the chore of placing our humble offerings curbside to be accomplished before the children are taken off to school we were warned. Today’s first was a pancake breakfast—the most recent prior one being the big family celebratory repast in Henderson! To offset the absence of buckwheat flour ordinarily used in combination with white, the chef substituted ground-up Weet-a-bix to create the healthy grain aspect. Sketchy cooking ware, no measuring paraphernalia, local UK/NZ type ‘bacon’ (good but not traditional), great eggs—but alas, no blueberries—made a distinct flavor bouquet. The touchstone, guarantee of gustatory success, was the Commonwealth Land Title Insurance Company State of Vermont Pure Grade A Medium Amber Maple Syrup! (Thanks S.!!!!)

It is now late in the afternoon…soon we will leave the house and go to Anna’s nearby house for a pot-luck dinner. T is contributing rice made in the much appreciated loan of a rice cooker (or maybe we bought it?) and curried kumeras (a root vegetable that could be likened to what a sweet potato would taste like if it were not so cloyingly sweet and mushy). A Pavlova has been promised for dessert! Time is flying—were you wondering about the topic sentence of today’s blog?

Wednesday seems so far in the past already…the absurd and comedic details of each day are quickly effaced--smoothed away with remarkable efficiency. When we called the lawyer that day (I remembered perfectly well that he had said he would call us when everything was signed and we could be given the key) we were told that his office had tried to call with the news that the key was now ours but that the only contact number they had was in the ‘states’. (We had definitely given them the number where we staying only a few days earlier…argh!)

Anyway, in the first hour of our possession, we looked into rooms, out of windows, explored the yard, etc. It was a sunny warm day and we were also figuring out which windows opened and whither the breezes blew. Light was streaming in the back of the house when I spotted a window in the 2nd floor bathroom. It seemed like a great idea to open that window and hail the explorers audible in the backyard, Lil and T. Checking out the strength and support the toilet boil would provide, I decided everything was good to go for my brainstorm of good cheer. One step up, a gentle reach to steady myself with the small, wall-mounted storage tank and splish…there were a minor couple of splashes as I caught the tank in my two hands and wondered… what now? It turned out that the tank could be returned to its safe harbor if I pushed the two screws back into the very meager wall (masonite?) With not a towel in the house, one of my two undershirts an adequate sponge for mopping up. Whew, disaster averted! Everything looked fine except that the water in the bowel was now a little dirty. One flush to fix it all and…wait, the entire contents of the storage tank spewed onto the floor! When the tank was dislodged, the pipe to the toilet bowel had came out of its little sleeve—apparently not in any way joined to the bowel with adhesive! With a half-inch of water now, another layer of clothing was required for sponging up the wet. Yours truly, stripped like a sailor swabbing the decks was now mopping up to beat the band. Things looked pretty much under control after about twelve minutes when a shriek came from downstairs “What have you done? There’s water coming down the wall of the kitchen!” The kitchen become the new theater of operations. Tess stood on a stool dapping with lav paper (one roll plus) for about an hour to stanch the flow after we dried a small puddle on the floor of the kitchen. Finally leaving the house (to feed the kids and put them to bed at the G'parents) we came back one last time to swab the few remaining drips…it became clear that the new paint was not going to show streaks, that the wall was plaster, not plasterboard and so would not swell and bubble, that the ceiling was not going to go peculiar. It was almost funny…well...it probably will be hilarious, eventually...someday…Rowan Atkinson would have you rolling in on the floor…