The Cat Came Back.... Yeah Right

I've decided I hate that song. Whoever wrote it obviously hadn't done much house moving with not one, but two cats. The last four weeks have marked some of the most stressful days for me (and the cats) that I can remember. Sure, the house moving went smoothly - but since then I have yet to get to a point where I feel as though the three of us have officially settled in.

It started right from day #1 with all-night howling, crying and door scratching to get outside. I didn't sleep. the nights that followed were much of the same until I got to the point that I couldn't take it anymore. Maybe that makes me selfish, but I didn't care at that point. So I let them outside. Indie didn't have a problem - he knew where his food bowl was. Kaeto, on the other hand, tracked down his old territory and ended up back at my old place happily waiting for my return and completely oblivious that a new person had moved in our old place.

Indie checking the happenings of the great outdoors

For the next week and a half I spent nearly every day going back to the old place to call Kaeto who would come running to me from wherever he was hiding so I could carry him back to the new place. I'd keep him inside for a bit where I'd feed him, pet him, play with him and then eventually let him back out. He'd go straight back to the old place. I got sick of it as I still wasn't sleeping as now I was stressing that Kaeto didn't want to come home.

So I bought some fresh kitty litter, locked the cat door and brought them both inside. I toughed it out for another week and a half with the nightly scratching, howling and crying until they both finally started to settle. Kaeto began to get comfortable and truly showed signs of owning the place. Perfect. I tested the waters again with them outside and was happy as pie with the result until it came time to feed them for dinner. Kaeto had gone. Again.

That was a week ago. I played tough love with him in the hopes that if I didn't come to pick him up at the old place, he would eventually find his way back to me. He didn't. So this morning on my morning run I went back there to pick him up. And now he is in my bedroom with a food bowl and litter box as I scrounge the internet for some magical solution to helping him settle in. Who knew there was such a thing as feline pheromone diffusers to help a cat feel settled. Who knew they would cost $100 a piece. And then there's microchips, cat tags, deterrent sprays, cat treats, harnesses, cat toys and keeping him indoors for good.

My life has become one of cats as of late and as much as I love both of them, I hate that fact. The rest of my life has faded into the distance - the fact that I got my Work Visa extended for another year was minimal news to me. The experience of me doing weekly Rollerfit Classes with a friend to train for Roller Derby next year has been exhausting with my lack of sleep. My choice to finally join a gym so that I can kick it up a notch with my fitness pales in comparison to the daily stress I face in trying to ensure that my cats... maybe just this once... might both decide to call home "Home."

And so cats it is - when I wake up in the morning to when I go to sleep. My decision to hang out with friends or come home early in hopes that maybe today Kaeto might be there waiting for me is an ongoing on. At least today he is home. Now I just have to figure out how to get him to stay when Indie is more that comfortable coming and going as he pleases. One thing is for certain - my experience the past month has left me little motivation to ever want to move house again.

Shifting North

To say it's been a while is a bit ridiculous. I wish I could also say that I hardly believe it's been six months, but that would be a lie. I've been avoiding this entry for some time now. I suppose it was an internal need to go underground for a while and be non-existent in the online world. Or maybe it was simply work commitments that left me lacking in the creative writing department. Or maybe I just got tired of sitting at the computer - whatever my excuse, I'm back. For now at least.

The last six months have both flown by and crawled like a snail. Work consumed nearly my ever move as I did the final preparations for the HSFC Art & Film Festival that occurred on January 14-20, 2013. It was maddening to try and sort out so many details all at once, all the while feeling bombarded with people wanting to do things, say things and be a general annoying distraction to my wanting to just get things done. And yet I did get it done. The event happened and was a brilliant success that made me proud. I had managed to do what many people deemed impossible and only gave me confidence to realize what I am capable in doing when it comes to my career.

That being said, amidst my love of Hanmer Springs, my work at the Hanmer Springs Forest Camp and dreams of sticking around for the next few years (or at least until my Residency Application is approved) - it became clear in the last couple of months that it was time to move on. And quickly so.

For all the things that I can not write here, I can say that I find it completely fascinating how a people interact in moments of stress and situations that threaten a complete breakdown of lifestyle. Everyone's true colours come out and it is quickly apparent who is trustworthy, who should be feared and who should be cut out from all aspects of life interaction forever. Through my most recent challenges of life I have learned who my real friends are and that sometimes standing up to do the right thing doesn't always mean that everyone else follows suit. Sometimes doing the right thing means life as it is known is changed forever.

And so my life has changed. For the better - I hope. My relocation to Wellington has been a quick process considering it involved me packing up my belongings and two cats, finding a suitable flat to rent (included a weekend to scout out some dismal possibilities), and get myself (and cats) to the North Island with the vehicle I don't own.

Five days ago I caught the bus to Christchurch to pick up a relocation campervan under my name. Thanks to this brilliant idea from Campbell, a relocation campervan would allow me to skip the hiring fee of a vehicle, skip the ferry charge and allow me to transport all my belongings to the North Island worry free. Seemed good in theory, but little did I know that I was in for a surprise that day.

I arrived at the Christchurch airport and contacted the rental company to get the shuttle to their location so I could pick up the vehicle. They said 15 minutes. I said no problem. I stood at the bus stop with no shelter in the cold wind with my broken hair straightener in hand (I planned to exchange it later on). 15 minutes went by. 30 minutes went by. At 45 minutes I called the company and asked where the shuttle was. They told me that it was coming "soon." And so I waited. After an hour had gone past (my fingers were blue from the cold), I called them again. They said the driver was on route and would be there in a minute. Another 15 minutes went by and I gave up, went and hopped in a cab and drove there. The drive took me 2 minutes. I could have walked there in the amount of time it took to stand and hope for someone to pick me up.

I briskly walked into the reception area of the rental company only to be faced with about 10 people standing there looking rather bleary. No one was talking. No one was smiling. No one was doing much of anything, including the one staff member who was staring at their computer screen. I quietly sat down and tried to calm my fuming nerves as I waited for my turn.

Eventually a staff member asked for my name and I told him. Turned out he was the shuttle driver and he exclaimed that he had had difficulty trying to find me at the airport. I told him that an hour waiting was ridiculous and I took a cab instead. He didn't laugh. Neither did I. He then informed me that there was no relocation vehicle ready to be picked up at this point in time. I asked him what he meant and he stated that there would be one later in the afternoon but he could not confirm when it would arrive. Maybe in 1 hour. Maybe in 4 hours. I was angry. I asked him how this could be when I was informed by the rental company upon booking the vehicle that I could arrive any time after 9 a.m. to pick up the vehicle. It was now noon and I could be waiting another 4 hours for a vehicle? He confirmed this. I then went on to question how this could be when they expected me to relocate the vehicle up to Auckland (they don't do drop offs in Wellington) in three days when I could be wasting my first day simply waiting for the vehicle. He shrugged his shoulders in response.

I managed to contact another rental company who needed a vehicle relocated. They booked me in and I cancelled with the first guys and started walking. The second company was back at the airport where I had started. I had spent $24 on a cab ride that was wasted as no I was circling back. Eventually I got sorted with them and was on my way. It was 3:30 p.m. I had wanted to be packed and leaving Hanmer Springs by that time. I was only just driving back.

Packing the vehicle was a mad rush with friends and then I was off. My brain had hardly enough time to process everything - the fact I was actually leaving Hanmer Springs - I just drove. Me in the front seat with two cats in their carriers. They were not particularly happy with me and Indie continued to try and get out of his box.

Travelling with cats was never something I had considered when I adopted them as my own and yet I was thrown into the situation because of circumstances. I was told to always keep them in a carrier - one each (I could only afford one and so Indie had a cardboard box) and every 1-2 hours to let them out to do their business. This meant that not only did I have the two cat carriers strapped in the front seat next to me, but I also had a litterbox on the floor. Perfect. Each time I stopped to let them out, it took twice as long to get them back in. Being stuck in a box was not their idea of fun and they protested in any way they could.

I made it to a rest stop near Picton by 11 p.m. and tried to sort out the front seat to sleep. It seemed ironic that I had a fully-equipped campervan to use at my disposal and yet I couldn't because it was jammed packed with all my stuff. And so sleeping in the front seat it was. With two cats roaming free.

Sleep was lost on me and I am not sure I really got much. By 4:30 a.m. I was up again to quickly change, brush teeth, pee in the bush and try to put the cats back in their carriers. Then we were off to the ferry. A few hours later I was driving off the ferry and on route to my new flat. And then I was there.

Unpacking the vehicle proved to be slightly more difficult than it was to pack it. Primarily because I was on my own, but also because my flat is only a short walk up a steep hill to get there. That and I couldn't find Kaeto. He had hidden somewhere in the vehicle while we were on the vehicle and I didn't find him in time to put him back in his carrier. This meant that each time I opened the door to grab the next box while unloading, I feared a black cat would come flying out as part of his great escape. But it never happened. As the vehicle slowly got emptied, I never once saw Kaeto. I continued to call his name and listen for a response and there was nothing. I started to think that maybe he had escaped when I had gotten back into the vehicle on the ferry as the ferry was the last time I had seen/heard him. Maybe I had lost him and he was still wondering that ferry - or worse - maybe someone had run him over when all the vehicles drove off it. My mind was rolling through all the possibilities.

It was when I was getting down to the last boxes that I spotted movement in the front seat. Kaeto had decided to appear from his hiding place - squished under the driver's seat. How he fit there, I have no idea. But I was just glad to see him again. He wasn't so happy to see me. The second our eyes locked he scooted his way back into his dark hole where I couldn't reach him.

It took till the very end where I managed to shift the front seat forward and drag Kaeto from his hiding spot. Once inside the flat both him and Indie took their time scouting out every possible nook and cranny. It didn't take very long as my flat is considerably smaller than the 2 bedroom house I lived in in Hanmer Springs, but I was glad to have a home. A home for all of us.

And so here I am - capital city of New Zealand and it's brilliant.

Dirt, Mud and Darkness

As I sit here with my morning cup of green tea in hand, I find my mind reeling with the events of the past 24hrs. The bruised pain emitting from the tips of my fingers as I type is only a slight reminder of the work involved yesterday in my garden.

It all started with a cloudy morning and a great gust of motivation to get my garden beds sorted for my first round of planting in the next few weeks. What started as a simply job of getting access to the camp truck and trailer, turned into a full day montage of dirt, dirt and more dirt. Waking up early, I marched myself over to the woodshed to fill the trailer with what will hopefully be the last lot of wood before the warmth of spring reaches my bones. I then gratefully accepted Duncan's help to back the trailer up to my garage - saving me nearly an hour of trying to move it myself.

After sorting the wood and dumping off a full load of random branches and rubbish that had piled up in my yard, it was time. Time to pull out the massive prickly plants in my front flower beds otherwise known as cabbage trees. I'm told they're native plants. I don't really care - they've been bloody well annoying me since the day I moved in as they have overtaken my flowerbeds and are far to big to have ever been planted there anyway. They had to go.

Assessing the situation, I figured it would take me an hour - 2 max to pull out the 7 monstrous plants. It turned out to be much more than that. I literally had to saw off each of them as close to the soil as possible in order to have access to the roots. And then it was a matter of clawing at the dirt until each one would break free. It sounds simply, but these plants aren't called cabbage trees for nothing. It felt as though I was attempting to dig out a tree.

By the time I finally managed to break the first massive root free, it was nearly lunchtime. Carrie and Campbell were up by that point and keen to do their own gardens and so I lugged my massive root over to their place to show it off. Carrie took pity on me and decided she would come help me out (I only had 6 more to do) and then I could help her and Campbell do theirs later. Linda and Prajot joined in which was awesome as instead of just me slaving away in the dirt, there was now 4 of us. Well - except that Prajot took a bigger interest in entertaining Jess and Kaeto and was a bit distracted from the task at hand.

Eventually we managed to get all 7 cabbage trees out of my garden, leaving it riddled with massive holes that I would later fill. After some much-deserved lunch it was onto Carrie and Campbell's place. By the time we had dinner, food had never tasted so good and all I could think was that I was stoked for some sleep. But the day wasn't over yet.

Carrie, Campbell and I had just finished eating and were getting into a game of Scrabble when we got word that two of our volunteers had gone up the Waterfall Track during the afternoon and still weren't back yet. They weren't answering their phones and it was now after 8PM and completely dark outside. We all piled into the car with headlamps and the hope that maybe we might spot them walking on the road on their way back. We didn't.

We got to the start of the track and seached the bushes for any signs that they might have stashed bikes there, confirming that they were in fact still on the trail. No bikes were found and so it was onto Plan B. Prajot had a heap of gear in his car and so he got ready to head up the trail, but as we didn't want him on his own - I volunteered to go with him. Both of us had done the trail heaps of time and though it was risky to go up during the dark, we were the best bet of finding the volunteers - particularly if one was injured.

Swapping my shoes for some with better grip and borrowing one of Prajot's extra winter coats, we strapped on our headlamps and started huffing it up the trail. Dark, muddy and cold it was and all I could think was that we would be very lucky to find the two girls missing. As the trail winds it way up the mountain, crossing the stream multiple times - there was plenty of opportunity to slip and fall or - worse - take a wrong turn and end up lost in the middle of the bush. From what we'd been told, neither one was particularly dressed for bad weather, much less was prepared for walking in the dark. The worst was that neither had done the trail before and so Prajot and I only hoped that they hadn't taken the wrong fork in the path, leading them to the summit of Mt. Isobel instead of to the Waterfall.

And so we walked. And talked. And gasped for air as we were going quite a good pace. The jacket I was wearing was too warm, my jeans were uncomfortable, I was worried about ruining Linda's boots, plus I really had to pee - but we pressed onwards.

It was about 15 minutes of us walking quickly when I looked up and about 5ft in front of me there they were, slowly making their way down the trail by the light of a cheap keychain flashlight. We asked them if they were okay (they were) and gave them headlamps and some warmer articles of clothing. Then we started to slowly make our way down again.

As it turned out, they had taken the wrong path and went about 15 minutes up it before realizing their mistake and turning around. By that point it was already dusk, but the one girl really wanted to see the waterfall and so she pressed on while the other one waited (wasn't feel well). By the time they turned to head back down, it was well on the way of getting dark and with only one small keychain flashlight between them to light their way, travelling was slow. One volunteer didn't have a jacket, no mitts, nothing warm to speak of and was wearing lightweight running shoes. The other one fared better in the clothing department, but her stomach wasn't feeling great if she tried to go faster.

Prajot and I were just glad to have found them.

Eventually we made our way back to the trailhead, hopped in the car and drove back - phoning Carrie at the camp in the process to let them know we had found the two volunteers. By the time we made it to the camp, we had everyone running to us to make sure the two were okay. They were. In fact - they were so okay, that they were completely oblivious that they had caused such a panic among our staff that the police were on the line ready to be sent out as a search party. They just giggled and wished Campbell a Happy Birthday before skipping their way to their cabins. The rest of us gapped at their unapologetic nature and then proceeded to debrief the situation to sort out what had happened.

Needless to say, by the time I finally got to bed after 11PM, I had no issues falling asleep.

Up the Garden Path

Time has been flying along in its normal fashion these days. I've handed in my Work Visa Application - $270 + $350 Medical + $70 Police Certificate - just so that I might be able to stay in NZ long enough to get my Residency Application approved. And so it goes. The pile of paper on my desk indicating a pressing need to delve into my personal life and show I am who I say I am is haunting me. But I have to do it. Scrounging up a birth certificate and proof of each individual work experiences I've had in my life should be a hoot. Can't wait. Can't wait until it's all over and I can stop having a date of termination virtually stuck on my forehead.

As it stands, I've been preoccupying myself with other tasks - part procrastination - part distraction. Obsessing over the status of my boxes I posted to myself from Canada has become my new hobby. Current status? Still in the hands of some customs officer. Don't they realize that my 6 boxes being sent to the same address with bits and bobs so obscure even I don't remember what's in them are in no way suspicious? Fingers crossed I didn't accidently pack a piece of dirt in one of the boxes -- that's one sure way to never see my things again.

In my time of waiting for my power cord to my laptop and the second shipment of my published book, I have taken up planning my garden for this spring. Turns out to be a little bit more like going back to school than it does in picking up a new hobby. For some reason it seems relatively terrifying to have to learn how to grow something living that I will one day hopefully be able to eat than it does to pick up a crochet needle and design a cozy throw. Even still, I press on with the mere hope that perhaps I will somehow discover I have a green thumb hidden under all this nail polish and that the amount of work put into caring about the acidity level of my homemade raised flower beds will one day pay off.

So far - the plan is there - now it is just implementing it. Who was it that decided that gardening supplies should be so expensive? Who would have thought that a bag of dirt could cost so much. Go figure. Regardless, I am keeping up the hope that come summer time I will be well on my way to a year round veggie patch. Plus a couple of flowers thrown in there too.

I've started things off in the vain hope that I can somehow keep two indoor pots of herbs going. Parsley and Coriander have become my new plant babies, sitting up proud on my kitchen ledge in front of the window. Fingers crossed they manage to catch enough sunlight to continue growing. That and that I don't sporadically water them too much or too little, causing their immediate demise. I've recently been told that Coriander can be quite difficult to keep alive and so given that I have managed to not kill it in its last 9 days of living with me has been reassuring. At least more so than my reputation of somehow managing to kill my cactus plant as a child.

And so it goes - the rain appears to be settling in for the last part of winter here and I only hope this means good things for the garden I have yet to grow. Perhaps I can manage to convince a few people to grow things with me and then weeding won't seem so much a chore in the next few months.

Garden or no garden - Kaeto continues to walk around like the little black ninja that he is - even taking to following me down the main road for a kilometer before waiting 2hrs in the bush to walk me back home. Jess continues to be my running buddy - or at least when I finally get out of bed and am motivated to run in the rain. Again. But above it all, I still have to sort through my Residency Application. Who would have thought that trying to get into a country would be so demanding. Surely there will be points given for walking the length of the country right? Fingers crossed.

Jealousy Works the Opposite Way

Jealousy works the opposite way you want it to.

~ Lululemon

Though I have been in Canada for 2 weeks now, it still feels as though I am Alice in Wonderland. Whether I have just jumped down the rabbit hole or have climbed my way up to the "real world," I haven't a clue. Part of me feels as though I am a foreigner of my own country where as another part feels as though I have never left. Maybe the last 3 years have all just been a dream and I have only now just woken up. Woken up to this concrete city of madness.

Calgary Stampede Parade 2012

Gone are the days when I roll out of bed and feed the cat and then run with the dog. Now it is just me. Gone are the days when I look out the window to see mountains on my back doorstep. Now I look out to face the  neighbouring houses with their rubbish bins lining the back fence. Gone are the days of making all my meals and freezing leftovers. Now I find I am constantly eating out at various chain restaurants - filling my time catching up with those I have only seen in Facebook photos for the past few years.

Don't get me wrong - it's been great to catch up with people, even if half the time I feel as though I am something of a show-&-tell item for others to gawk at and pass around like a novelty toy. Yes, I have been gone for 3 years. Yes, I have a bit of a strange accent now. Yes, I love NZ and will be going back there. And yes, it's absolutely positively fantastic to get to see everyone again. 

Me with the Grandparents in Innisfail

Much has thrown me off about living in Calgary again. Most of it is vaguely familiar, but a lot has been thrown at me, causing a significant amount of culture shock. Here everything is open early morning and late into the night. No more do I have to rush to the store prior to 6pm in order to get what I need for the next day. Here I can get whatever I want when I want - and then some. No more do I have to settle for the next best thing. Here I am constantly bombarded with people. People all around. It's become a game to see if I can get someone to smile at me - bonus points if they actually respond to my "hellos." Everyone is busy - busy coming. Busy going. Busy doing something so incredibly important that there is no time to just be and enjoy. The cars move fast. People honk angrily at each other. The madness of city life surrounds me and every so often I have to take a step back, close my eyes and just breathe. 

My schedule has filled up to the point where it's difficult to find time for myself. To go from living in my own house in the middle of a forest - part of a town with a population of 1000 to a house with my dad in a city of a million. Things have felt a little crazy to say the least. 

Rocky Mountains

Even still, I have been able to get a lot sorted. My book, One Step at a Time, has gone through all the final publication steps and should be showing up at my door any day. I have been stockpiling on mascara as though it's going out of style and I even managed to get an incredible deal on some climbing gear. There has been trips out to the mountains, excursions exploring the downtown shops and even the adventure of watching the Calgary Stampede Parade. Through a massive amount of meals out on the town, my time here in Calgary is finally starting to shape into a brilliant holiday. Between tennis, the Rocky Mountains, Calgary Stampede Rodeo, Ziplining, Bobsledding, Climbing, Crafting and lazing out in the summer sun - there isn't much I won't have done by the time this trip is over. 

2 weeks of craziness done. 2 weeks to go. The adventure is only half done. 

Stress is Related to 99% of all Illness

Stress is related to 99% of all illness.

~ Lululemon

It finally caught up to me. The stress of the last couple months has been slowly building towards a climactic finish – one that I should have seen coming. No, scratch that – I DID see it coming – I just chose to ignore it all. I figured that maybe if I could just hang on one more week. One more day – things would all work out. Things have worked out, just not me. I can officially say I am sick.

It happened this past Tuesday as I was sitting in reception, going over some email enquiries for the camp. As I sat there trying to decipher the newest message of gibber-gabber, I could feel the sickness overtake me. All of a sudden my head started to pound, as a sudden increase in perceived weight made me feel as though I had a bowling ball attached to my shoulders. All my muscles seized up and within an hour I had trouble focusing on the computer screen and my throat felt as though some animal had just come and scratched up the inside. The sickness had come for me and there was nothing I could do but sit there and watch.

And so now, on my days off, I sit here tending to myself with fluids, rest and a roll of toilet paper for my nose as I contemplate the going ons that have brought me to this point today. I can’t say I am particularly surprised to be in this position. The last two months have been a complete 3-ring circus of happenings – some of which have made me want to pinch myself to confirm I haven’t been dreaming it up.

Our new team with our Macpac Sponsored jackets

Kellie and Duncan, the new camp managers, have arrived and are quickly settling in – not so much due to the ease of transition, but more from the fact that they were simply handed the reins and told to jump right in. Their first weeks of being managers at the camp have included nearly every disaster scenario that could possibly happen, short of the entire camp burning down. Between trying to figure out (and then catch up on) the accounts, learning our ridiculous paper-format booking system, dealing with a group booking that decided to turn the camp into their near-rave party, handling a school of mischievous children and just generally trying to run the camp – it’s been a busy few weeks.

The most interesting bit that they (and the rest of us as staff) have had to deal with is a few rogue volunteers. We had welcomed a couple of backpackers with open arms two weeks ago to come and help us out in exchange for accommodation. None of us had any warm fuzzy feelings about these two, but couldn’t put our finger on what it was to feel confident that we should kick them out. And so we all kept our eye on them, the nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right building up throughout the week. By the end of the week, us as staff had a sit-down and discussed our issues with the two newbies. Every issue seemed insignificant on its own, but when we added all our complaints together, we were happy with the decision to get rid of them the following day.

That day came and while we were waiting for them to start their shift, Kellie and I decided to snoop around their cabin to confirm our suspicions that they were smoking there after being told not to. It wasn’t difficult to find the multiple cigarette butts lying all around the cabin, but what peaked our interest was the open window with their cabin key lying on the window ledge. Seeming a bit strange, we peaked our heads in, only to find that there wasn’t a scrap of personal belongings left in the cabin. The two had buggered off.

Originally we had been told they had planned to meet someone in town for breakfast that day before coming to help out the camp. As such, they had used the camp’s bikes – but having seen the empty cabin, we immediately knew that they had not just taken off; they had taken off with our bikes. Kellie and I immediately went on the hunt for them in town, on the off chance that they were still around. With no luck finding them or the bikes, we stopped off at the police station to file a report.

Back at the camp, a few hours later and still fuming about being duped by a couple of volunteers, the cop we had talked to gave us a call. Apparently the two people we had let stay with us were quite well-known with the police and had a few warrants for their arrest. Perfect.

It wasn’t until the next day that we heard news that the police had found our two outlaws holed up in Greymouth. To top it off, one of them admitted the location of where they dumped the bikes and so we were able to get those back as well. Had they not stolen the bikes, they probably would have still been on the run without the cops behind them.

Needless to say, it was a good learning experience for all of us. Up until this point, we had relied on the fact that all international volunteers with a working holiday visa would already have a police check done to be able to get in New Zealand. It was the Kiwis that we hadn’t quite figured out what to do. Since this incident, we have tightened up on our recruiting process by implementing a mandatory Police Vetting check on all local volunteers, just to ensure we don’t have a repeat incident. In this case, we were lucky it was only our bikes that were stolen.

Linda & Prajot

Not all happenings at the camp have been bad though. Linda, another one of our volunteers, and Prajot (Activity Hanmer) have recently gotten married. It was a brilliant wedding and celebration of two people who are made to spend their lives together and we were all excited to be a part of it. Getting married in the forest and then with the celebrations back at the camp – I felt priviledged to be able to be the photographer for their big day.

As well, I have been able to help out with two big races in Hanmer Springs, learning more about event management as I go – which has in turn helped me with planning the big fundraiser for the camp next January. As exhausting as it has been, it has been incredibly fascinating to learn what works and what doesn't in the world of events. With any luck I’ll be able to soak all the info up and use it in my future plans.

I suppose the latest news has been with Lucy. I have finally been able to take Lucy to the vet to get fixed, which will allow her to go outside more without me worrying about the potential of little cat-babies running around. Plus, I can make her an outside cat and no longer need to use a litterbox. All went relatively smooth until I got a call from the vet about to do the surgery who informed me that Lucy was in fact a boy. Shows how much I know. The only comfort I received was that apparently it happens quite frequently because kittens are hard to tell the sex. Go figure.

The rest of the day I spent mulling over new cat names as I figured keeping the name “Lucy” with a pink collar was a bit much. So I came up with Kaeto, naming him after the character in Pink Panther. It works – so aside from my poor cat going from a girl to a boy to an “it” all in one day, he is recovering quite well. I only wish I could say the same.

Everything hurts and my nose is running a marathon today. With any luck it’s all just a sign of everything settling down into a sense of normalcy for a while. Fingers crossed this next week is stress free.