Mission 042: Where Susan sets some limits

My book is not progressing as fast as I'd like it to. Not nearly as fast.

Some might be satisfied with 2,000 words a week. But not me. Not now. Not for the finish line I have in sight. It's as painful and laborious as a snail in PVA glue.

So a new deadline. Time to put some of the books away; these other authorial voices that have been tagging along, interjecting while I write. The last one was Marilynne Robinson - Gilead. Wonderful book. Spectacularly realised voice. But not the voice I want drawling over my shoulder putting my own characters off.

So, bye other books. Sayonara. Ciao. I'm taking a little break (that's not a mission by the way, just a declaration of general intent). See you in the spring.

My latest goal: 2,000 words a day (5 days). 10,000 words a week.

Oh, what else. Oooooh, you need a photo (in keeping with the last mission).
Hmm. What to put in?
Er, here, have this one. It's a bit random, but I didn't promise to make the photos relevant, after all.

Mission 041: Where Susan adds some necessary accessories

It is a cold, grey, rainy winter's day here in Auckland. It's one of those days when the most appealing things in life have cushions or pillows. (Hello DVDs and sofa. Hello books in bed.) The sky outside is a cool monochrome London sort of grey - the kind that permeates all other colours, so even a lush green garden looks somehow less alive.

You'd think that in this house, we might not notice the extra grey so much, or bother about it. The Buckwell after all is an architect, with a strong leaning towards minimalism. (Colours are for accents.) Sometimes, I think if he had his way, even the sofa would be made of concrete.

We have a blue-grey dog.
A charcoal-grey sofa.
An elephant-grey throw on the end of the bed.
A teeny tiny hallway painted a deep shade of Dulux Maraetai grey.
Our steel-grey and black Mini Cooper S sits on the grey concrete driveway.
I am wearing a long cowl-neck jumper, striped with shades of grey and white.
The bathroom is bedecked with mouse-grey towels, and a bathmat the same shade as the dog.
Even our black and white cat - who just now came in sodden from the rain, stalked past me and jumped on the bed, putting brown muddy footprints on the white, grey and and green duvet cover - would look grey if you mixed his fur up better.

I am not complaining about the grey. But today's grey is precisely noticeable because until now, we have had weeks of gorgeous winter weather: lots of blue sky days, crisp frosty mornings and clear chilly evenings - perfect for sitting by the fire with a glass of pinot noir.

In fact, even my blog looks kind of grey today. And it's easy to see why - there are no pictures!
So tis born my new mission. More pics for the kids!

Just like the bright pink and orange cushions on the grey sofa, and the white, purple and red Danish light shade in the grey hallway, a few slapdash photos are necessary accessories to brighten my blog.

So here is today's. Our grey dog. And what a handsome chap he is.




Ah, what the hell, while I'm at it, have another one. This is the cat, posing on the grey sofa. Note all the fur he has kindly rubbed all over it because it's just after I vacuumed.

Update: Mission 037

I missed the 20 May deadline to get the Buckwell to get the drawings into council, to keep me on track to get the extension built at number 14. It could still happen, but I'm realistic that one missed mini deadline makes the chances slimmer of making the big deadline.

And now there is one other thing that might cause the mission to fall over.

The Buckwell read the blog.

The Buckwell never reads the blog. But several days ago, he read the newest entry, then decided to go for the back issues. I tried to distract him with a glass of whiskey and a plate of cheese, but he was having none of it. He read back, and back, until he got to Mission 037.

He said nothing while he read. Instead, he just smirked a little, and raised his eyebrows in a sort of a "we'll see, shall we", expression. Then, when he finished, he looked over at me on the sofa, where I was busy pretending to read a book, and trying desperately to make out that I did not care that he was reading the blog, and even if he did, then if I did not acknowledge that he'd read the blog, then he would not comment and forget about the blog, and I could continue my machinations to see it through to its deadline.

He looked at me with a faint smile. "That's funny," he said.
"But is it realistic?" I asked.
"Maybe," he said.

I got my hopes up - perhaps my extension mission was not dead in the water!

But it is now several days later, and the extension drawings are still in a pile gathering dust...

Mission 040: Where Susan saves the planet

It is 5:58pm.
The house is freezing.
We do not have a heater.
Although we do have a fireplace, in which I have set a fire, ready to go.
I want to light it.
Badly.

But the longer the fire is on, the more wood I burn, and the faster the planet burns too.
Bloody carbon.

Therefore, my mission is to hold out until the Buckwell gets home and there are two of us to damn the planet. Then, and only then, will I light the fire.

In the meantime, I will stay at the laptop, moving my frozen fingers rapidly over its warm keyboard, until the euphoria caused by writing causes the rest of my body to emit a toasty literary glow.

What bollocks I am talking. Forget it. This is a f**king stupid pointless mission.
I'm putting on the fire now. And opening a bottle of wine.

Mission 039: Where Susan turns an accident into a piece of literature

I have just had a slight and foolish accident which, hopefully, is not going to result in any outward physical injuries. It was caused, inadvertently, by one of my damn library books (21 at last count). It was not, before you jump to conclusions, caused by the leaning tower of books on the bedside table.
Instead, I was in the study/laundry/library scanning several pages of the Gotham Writers Workshop book, as it is already a few days late, and although I am loathe to give it back, I realise that if I keep it too much longer, that it will be cheaper to buy my own copy. So I have scanned 50 pages to keep me going until I order one from Amazon (I would use Fishpond, but they don't have the most up-to-date version - boo, Fishpond; sort yourself out). As I finished scanning, I picked up the laptop to return to the lounge. As I did so, it slipped and clouted me on the nose. Don't ask what sort of a position you need to be in to cause this sort of an injury; suffice to say it is awkward. (The study/laundry/library/storeroom is very small and requires a highly able person, preferably without snowboarding knee ailment.)

I spent the next five minutes with a packet of frozen edamame clamped against my nose and upper lip, until I could no longer bear it (today is the coldest day of the year so far).

It is now almost half an hour later. It still hurts. I don't think it is broken. But I will not be happy if I get a bruise. (Athough it is likely.)

So I am going to turn this unfortunate incident into a poem. What can I say. I'm a writer. That's what I do. (Unless I am procrastinating.) Deadline 25 May.

Mission 038: Where Susan has a clear-out

10 signs that autumn has officially arrived at our house:

We have used the fire (twice)
We are (mostly) wearing socks inside instead of bare feet (must buy slippers).
The leaves have fallen off the peach tree and the fruit is ripening on the mandarin tree
We are no longer drinking sauvignon blanc, but are preferring hearty reds, such as shiraz voigners and cabernet sauvignons.
Instead of talking about going to Waiheke Island for the weekend, we are talking about buying snowboards and going to Ruapehu.
We had a chorizo sausage casserole thingy last night for dinner.
The barbecue is gathering dust.
My tan has faded.
In last night's shopping we bought two Ponsonby pies and bunged them in the freezer, anticipating that they might become a warming Saturday lunch.
Quinces and pumpkins are really cheap at the moment.

Can't complain. After all, it will officially be winter here in three weeks, and some days it still feels as if it could be summer in London. However, although the coat cupboard has started seeing some action, there are lots of clothes that need to be banished, because in our teeny tiny house, there's only enough room for one season at a time. So I present to you - the autumn spring clean. Deadline: 18 May.

Mission 037: Where Susan pushes for more space

Six months the Buckwell and I have been in our little house, which at 55 m2 consists of:
one lounge
one kitchen
one bathroom
one bedroom
one laundry/study/library/storeroom

It is a very cute house, and just perfect in summer for two people freshly moved back from the UK, from an apartment the same size.

It is not, however, big enough for two people, one cat and a dog. Especially in winter, when the french doors are closed, and the dog has been outside for a wee in the rain and has come back in stinking of wet dog. And the study/laundry/library/storeroom is too cold to write in without gloves and ugg boots on, so the dining table (which is squished into the lounge room) is covered with all manner of folders and books and pens. And three laptops.

Last weekend, some friends rang to see if they could pop in for a visit with their two children, but it was raining, and even though the Buckwell was away, there would have been three adults, two children, one dog and a cat stuffed into one small lounge room. I had to tell them all to go home. I was actually busy writing (that was my legitimate excuse for barring the gate), but really, even if I hadn't been, there's no room at number 14 for rainy day visitors.

In the beginning, we blabbed to plenty of people about how we were building an extension onto our wee house. "It should be done by Christmas," we said to UK-based friends. "You can come and stay."

We meant Christmas 2008, although thankfully, no-one took us up on the offer, or they would've been camping in the back garden. And now Christmas 2009 is looking increasingly less likely, too. The trouble is that our architect (the Buckwell) has too much on his plate to have time to draw up the extension and get it into council. And, ironically, the house is too small to work in without distractions.

So from today, I am going to set some deadlines, clear some space, and motivate the Buckwell into getting it done. He has no idea that I am setting these deadlines, and is unlikely to read this blog and find out. So this mission is more about motivating someone else, rather than me doing.

These are the deadlines:
Drawings into council: 20 May
Obtain quotes on work: 1 June
On site by: 25 June
Extension complete by: 25 August (just in time for me to have a birthday party in the 'new house').

Wish me luck.

Mission Update

I've had mixed success lately. So positive news first.

Mission 036 was a success. (!) I managed to refrain from buying books or borrowing any extra books from the library until after 11 April. Of course, on the 14th, I went absolutely bonkers, taking out library books right up to my limit (22 books). I guess I was binging after my book diet. And oh, it felt goooood. Might need to get a sturdier bedside table though...

However, now for the failure: I have not yet grown an aubergine. (Or an eggplant, for that matter.) The damn flowers keep forming and then falling off, despite me taking to them with a cotton bud, poking each flower in return, and swishing it about inside their purple petals like a primitive IVF specialist. And now the plants have started to die off. Not sure if it is a disease, a pest, or just getting too cold for them, but something tells me that my time for aubergines is over for this season. I'll have to pick up my mission again in spring. On a more positive note, though - I have not had to buy tomatoes for the last two-and-a-half months, despite my father telling me that it was pointless planting them last December: "Too late - it'll be a waste of time." HA! It was not a waste at all. Although I concede that they were (are) a little tasteless - probably would have been better planted earlier and I will do that with the next ones. Definitely not a waste though this time. Oh no. No wasting going on. Not even with all the time spent watering and the feeding and the cost of it all. No waste. (Believe me?). The second crop of beans are also coming away wonderfully - although there is something eating them, which is almost making me consider going non-organic. Why won't the birds eat my garden pests instead of the grass seeds? Zucchini plants are about to die off too, sadly, so I will have to go back to buying zucchinis, after almost five months of picking them straight from the garden.

On a complete aside, I would like to have a rant about something grammatical. However as rants don't usually come under the category of missions, you'll have to read it here. (Please do, as I fear greatly that this grammatical failing is becoming more widespread, and a few short minutes of your time can help stop the degradation of language and thus society - do your bit!)

Mission 036: Where Susan tries to exercise self-restraint.

I admit it. I have a problem.
That's the first step to dealing with it, apparently. Get it out there, acknowledge it. Then you can start dealing with it.
So, my confession: I am a compulsive book collector.

Give me a 'three for the price of two' and chances are, that even though I walked out into any given shop to buy a magazine, or even 'just look' at the new releases, I will leave with three books, and a magazine.

Several weeks ago I joined the library in an effort to counter this tendency, especially as I'm not working at the moment, so I need free books, not three for the price of two, or even one, books (although you must admit that three for one sounds like an especially tempting deal). Besides, while I do my Masters, I need to read as many books as I can. After all, it's research into other types of creative writing. Right? Right.

Anyway, so I joined the Auckland Central Library. First day I got out eight books. Fantastic. I finished one of them a couple of days later, so popped in to return it. And took out five more. Finished one. Took it back, and walked out with another five. I now have 16 books out, teetering by my bed in an unruly stack.

My logical mind tells me that even if I read a book a day, I won't return all those books within the next two weeks. Yet, I also know that next time I go to return one, what will happen is something like this:

1. I walk in calmly, and deposit the book in Returns.
2. I spy the 'New Books' display to my left.
3. I spot 'The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao' on the stand. I think, 'A new Pulitzer prize-winning novel that I haven't read; I must get it now, before someone else snatches it up! Otherwise I might to wait for it.'
4. I grab the book, and walk around to 'Recently Returned Books'. After all, what if a title I've been waiting to read has just been returned? A quick check here could mean I get in before someone else.
5. I find three books by reasonably well-known authors, which I should read at some point in my life. I decide now is as good a time as any, and I add them to 'Oscar Wao'.
6. I decide to visit the Librarian's Choice' stand, just before leaving, just in case there's an interesting book I haven't heard of. I find one, and take it.
7. I take the five books and check them out, stuffing them into various parts of my bag and laptop bag, as I have not brought a carry bag as I only intended to return a book.

So my mission. Next time, I will NOT take out any books, or buy any books, for TWO WEEKS. 11 April is the next time a new book is allowed into the house.
Feasible? I hope so, or the Buckwell is going to declare my book stack a health and safety risk.

Mission 035: Where Susan grows an aubergine

Okay, so I'm still slacking off. Not a lot of bloggage happening. However, thanks to the recession I now have a bit more time (and bit less money) as my two days a week of work has ended. For now, anyway.
Right now though, I have a new and very important mission. It'll take a few weeks to know whether I have had success.
I am trying to grow an aubergine/eggplant. Obviously I would like to grow many, but just growing one is proving challenging. See, the problem is that aubergines need pollination, like all vegies and fruits. They need the boy flower and the girl flower for this to happen. Yet, despite planting several aubergine plants, so far my plants have been stubbornly refusing to produce more than one flower at a time. And not even at the same time. One plant produces a flower, then it falls off. Another plant produces a flower, which then falls off. And so on, and so on and so on.
Until today, my aubergine plants have been sitting in the garden slowly growing larger (they've been there four months), eating their compost goodness, drinking copious amounts of water, with nothing to show for it. Then this morning, I saw two flowers. At the same time! Successful home aubergine growers recommend hand pollination to boost your chances of getting fruit. That is, you get a cotton bud and wave it round in each flower in turn, several times, to share the pollen, and hopefully fertilise the flower. Then boom, out pops an eggplant several weeks later. Well, maybe not quite that instant.
I can't help feeling that all this cotton bud waving is a bit like a group turkey basting. What a hideous thought. But good for plants. And if it gets me an eggplant or two, it'll be worth it.

Mission 034: Where Susan gets her act together

Almost three months since I have written in this blog. What a poor effort.
It's so embarrassing that I've decided that a new post should come before this morning's breakfast and shower. Although not before coffee, of course.
Why such sudden slackness? After all, I've moved to the other side of the earth, away, allegedly, from all the cultural attractions of London, to a place that should have allowed me more time to write.
But I didn't factor in the time that it takes to adjust to a new lifestyle. New job, new house, new garden, new pets.
Not long after I wrote the last post, I started working as a contract writer, part time.
I also planted a garden.
Then we got a dog, a Kerry Blue Terrier called Lein.
Then the dog bit the plumber.
So we had to take the dog to a behavioral specialist.
The behavioural specialist cost $170 a session.
So I had to work more hours to pay for it.
Then the cat got into a fight, got an abscess and needed antibiotics crushed and hand fed to him twice a day for a week.
Then he got fleas, and from the fleas, tapeworms. We treated him for both. And the dog, too.
The dog needs to be walked, fed and trained twice a day.
The vegie garden needs to be watered every day, weeded every few days, and monitored for ripening vegetables.
Aphids must be plucked by hand from the young leaves of the new lancewoods I have planted in our front garden.
There has been no time for TV, going to the movies, eating out or going away. Let alone writing.
The funny thing is, this is all normal stuff for most people here. But after living in London with no pets and no garden, it has been hard to adjust to. I'm only just starting to find a balance. But would I change it? Hell no. Here is the dog:



And from this week, the blogging is back.