I was driving in New Zealand once, on the way back to the little town of Oxford, where I was staying. I had just been on a week-long tour of the top of the South Island, and was looking forward to returning "home." The drive was long and winding, through lovely fields, woods, and mountains, and I was enjoying myself when suddenly a bird flew in front of me and I hit it.
I couldn't believe it. I didn't think it was possible to hit a bird with a car--they always get out of the way here in the States, at least in California. They are very street savvy. Not so in New Zealand, where there are far less cars on the road.
Well, needless to say, hitting the bird put a major damper on my mood. The worst part about it was the fact that I had just been admiring the flight of a hawk over a field, and thinking how much I love to watch birds in flight. Then I hit one and probably killed it with my car. Talk about irony. Talk about depressing!
I actually saw dead birds fairly frequently on the roads in New Zealand. Another time I was driving with friends on the North Island. Jay was driving, and I was in the passenger seat, while Jay's wife Erin slept in the back seat. It was a gloomy gray day. Suddenly this big bird, some sort of heron-like creature, flies right in front of the car. KaTHUNK! Jay hit it. Hard.
We were both stunned. Erin didn't wake up. Jay and I looked at each other with wide eyes. "Whoa," one of us said. "Yeah," the other said.
Five very quiet minutes later, Jay whispered, "I think it's still stuck to the front of the car."
"What?" said Erin, popping up suddenly in the back seat. "What happened? Did you hit something?"
In spite of my horror at what we had done, I had to laugh. Erin's waking up was so unexpected. She was sad when we told her about the bird though.
Thankfully, when we stopped for gas, we did not find the bird still attached to the car. That would really have been too much. Strangely enough, however, I remember a girl in the first creative writing class I ever took, reading her essay about a trip she took to New Zealand, in which she (surprise) hits a bird, but doesn't find out til she stops somewhere and comes around to the front, and there it is, stuck by the beak right into the grille. Eeeew.
All this talk about New Zealand is making me miss it terribly. I don't miss killing birds, of course. But I miss very much the long, beautiful drives through some of the most amazing landscapes I have ever seen, or ever expect to. I miss Bethels Beach, and the little German cafe in Titirangi. I miss the drive from Kaikoura to Blenheim, along the South Island's east coast. I miss the gorge that I can't remember the name of, between Auckland and Tauranga. I miss the kiwi accent, which I could never quite imitate properly. I miss Thai chicken hot pies from the BP (weird, I know).
I've definitely left my heart in San Francisco in some ways--but I'll tell you what, New Zealand got a pretty big piece of it too.
Thursday, January 06, 2005
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
She Wants A Ticket To Ride!
The cowgirl leaves tomorrow for a snowboarding trip and I'm jealous. I haven't gone once this season! Well, that must soon be remedied. I got money for Christmas to put toward snowboarding, yay!!!
I remember one time going snowboarding with my friends Mark and steveforpresident. At the time, they were both much better than I was at the sport (actually, I'm sure they still are). I was still learning, and I had a crappy board too, which was about a mile too short for me. But I had been gradually improving that season, so on this trip (to Kirkwood, on the south side of Lake Tahoe), I was determined to try and keep up with them instead of just sending them off to enjoy themselves while I practiced falling a lot by myself, which is what I usually had to do.
Somehow they convinced me that I was good enough to tackle a black-diamond run. I wasn't entirely sure, but I was feeling kinda-sorta confident so I said ok. Standing in line for the lift, I noticed the name of the run, which was something comforting like "The Wall" or perhaps it was "Face of Death." I do remember very clearly a sign with a skull and crossbones. I began to feel nervous, but the boys assured me there was nothing to fear.
At the top of the lift, things got off to a bad start when I nearly ran steveforpresident off the side of a cliff. Well, it wasn't actually a cliff, but he reacted as if it were. (Men!) He didn't let me forget about it for the rest of the day. Anyway, after that, we all looked down at the run, which was completely covered in moguls. That may be fun for a skier, but for a snowboarder--at least a novice one like myself at the time--it's a bit less than desirable. I don't remember how I managed to negotiate my way down the face, but it took quite awhile and involved scooting along on my butt at least half of the time. Mark was very patient and waited for me at the bottom of the mogul section, then took off ahead of me down the rest of the run. I don't know where steveforpresident was. I think he was still miffed about his "brush with death", and had left us both behind.
Too bad he didn't stick around, he might have almost seen the payback. Mark was ahead of me and suddenly veered up the side of a hill, turning and waving at me to do the same. I did, just in time to avoid going over a cliff (a real one!) myself.
Ah, good times with the boys. I'm trying to remember if it was that same trip when we all went to a bar&grill for dinner and got accosted by a bunch of drunk women at a bachelorette party. Apparently they were on a scavenger hunt, and one of the things they had to get was a phone number of a Tom, Dick, and Harry. They asked Mark and steveforpresident if they were any of those. They said no. Then they asked me. That is, they asked a GIRL if she was a Tom, Dick, or Harry. (Please note that this is not a good way of making a woman feel good about herself, asking her if she is, in name at least, a man.) I stared at the girl who asked, but she was either too drunk or too carried away by the fun of the game to notice my look of stunned amazement. I said "no." She looked disappointed.
Anyway I hope to get up to the slopes sometime next week. I'm sure I'll have more fun snowboarding stories to tell when I do!
I remember one time going snowboarding with my friends Mark and steveforpresident. At the time, they were both much better than I was at the sport (actually, I'm sure they still are). I was still learning, and I had a crappy board too, which was about a mile too short for me. But I had been gradually improving that season, so on this trip (to Kirkwood, on the south side of Lake Tahoe), I was determined to try and keep up with them instead of just sending them off to enjoy themselves while I practiced falling a lot by myself, which is what I usually had to do.
Somehow they convinced me that I was good enough to tackle a black-diamond run. I wasn't entirely sure, but I was feeling kinda-sorta confident so I said ok. Standing in line for the lift, I noticed the name of the run, which was something comforting like "The Wall" or perhaps it was "Face of Death." I do remember very clearly a sign with a skull and crossbones. I began to feel nervous, but the boys assured me there was nothing to fear.
At the top of the lift, things got off to a bad start when I nearly ran steveforpresident off the side of a cliff. Well, it wasn't actually a cliff, but he reacted as if it were. (Men!) He didn't let me forget about it for the rest of the day. Anyway, after that, we all looked down at the run, which was completely covered in moguls. That may be fun for a skier, but for a snowboarder--at least a novice one like myself at the time--it's a bit less than desirable. I don't remember how I managed to negotiate my way down the face, but it took quite awhile and involved scooting along on my butt at least half of the time. Mark was very patient and waited for me at the bottom of the mogul section, then took off ahead of me down the rest of the run. I don't know where steveforpresident was. I think he was still miffed about his "brush with death", and had left us both behind.
Too bad he didn't stick around, he might have almost seen the payback. Mark was ahead of me and suddenly veered up the side of a hill, turning and waving at me to do the same. I did, just in time to avoid going over a cliff (a real one!) myself.
Ah, good times with the boys. I'm trying to remember if it was that same trip when we all went to a bar&grill for dinner and got accosted by a bunch of drunk women at a bachelorette party. Apparently they were on a scavenger hunt, and one of the things they had to get was a phone number of a Tom, Dick, and Harry. They asked Mark and steveforpresident if they were any of those. They said no. Then they asked me. That is, they asked a GIRL if she was a Tom, Dick, or Harry. (Please note that this is not a good way of making a woman feel good about herself, asking her if she is, in name at least, a man.) I stared at the girl who asked, but she was either too drunk or too carried away by the fun of the game to notice my look of stunned amazement. I said "no." She looked disappointed.
Anyway I hope to get up to the slopes sometime next week. I'm sure I'll have more fun snowboarding stories to tell when I do!
Sunday, January 02, 2005
Welcome to Frogg Files 2005
Well, the new year is here, and I want to say welcome to the 2005 edition of the frogg files! I hope you all had some good times over the holidays. I know I did.
And whatever you did for New Year's Eve, I don't know if it can compare to my own surreal experience, of travelling through three states by car (Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois), then hopping on a plane in Chicago, stopping in Vegas (which wins the frogg's award for most awkwardly laid-out airport EVER), and finally landing in Los Angeles at 8pm, where I discovered that my luggage had been lost. After putting in my claim, I was whisked away to a little New Year's get-together at the house of a friend of my brother's, where I didn't really know anyone but I didn't care because at least I wasn't being a hermit at home. The fun didn't stop there: after about an hour of sitting around and playing Catch-phrase, we all got restless and walked up the street a few blocks to a little bar/pub which was ringing in the New Year karaoke-style. Of course my brothers both got in on the act, singing "Oh What A Night" to the delight of oh-so-many drunk people, including this random woman who seemed totally enamored of the handsome young studs and took more pictures of them than I did, even though I am their sister and she doesn't know them from Adam. At least, not that I am aware of. Hmmm. In general, though, our group was louder and more obnoxious than anyone else in the bar, even though we were sober.
But the good times were all sort of tempered for me by the remembrance of the tragedy in Asia, which I still can't get my head around. It seems to unreal, so far away, so...impossible. As a Christian, I am troubled knowing that many people out there are asking the big "why" questions, and I can't answer them. I don't know why God lets these things happen. All I know is that when people asked Jesus about a tragedy that happened in their time, his answer was another question:, "If it happened to you, would you be ready? Are you prepared to stand in front of God?" I guess in the end that's the only question that really matters, because death is the one inevitable "given" in this crazy little thing called life (and taxes, of course).
You know, I would never pretend that God's ways make sense, because often they don't. At least not to me. I just know I love Him, and since when do you have to understand everything about someone to love them? He's shown Himself faithful to me in far more ways than I have shown myself faithful to Him. I know tragedies wait for me in my own life--there is no way around it; not if I live on this earth, not if I'm human. I'd be lying if I said this didn't scare me, but that's why I'd rather face those days with God at my side than without Him, because I know that He is "close to the broken-hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." (Psalm 34:18)
I saw a video clip in church today, which showed a guy saying unequivocally, "There is no question: there is no God." I can understand how people would feel like that, especially after the events of the past week. But it's a dangerously presumptive statement to make. Just as there is no way to prove the existence of God, there is surely no way to prove His non-existence. The question remains, and it's up to each one of us to seek for the answer.
So welcome to 2005, kids. My prayer: that God grant you the desires of your heart--even the unspoken ones. But above all, may you come to know Him if you haven't already, or know Him more if you have.
Seek and you shall find.--Matthew 7:7
And whatever you did for New Year's Eve, I don't know if it can compare to my own surreal experience, of travelling through three states by car (Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois), then hopping on a plane in Chicago, stopping in Vegas (which wins the frogg's award for most awkwardly laid-out airport EVER), and finally landing in Los Angeles at 8pm, where I discovered that my luggage had been lost. After putting in my claim, I was whisked away to a little New Year's get-together at the house of a friend of my brother's, where I didn't really know anyone but I didn't care because at least I wasn't being a hermit at home. The fun didn't stop there: after about an hour of sitting around and playing Catch-phrase, we all got restless and walked up the street a few blocks to a little bar/pub which was ringing in the New Year karaoke-style. Of course my brothers both got in on the act, singing "Oh What A Night" to the delight of oh-so-many drunk people, including this random woman who seemed totally enamored of the handsome young studs and took more pictures of them than I did, even though I am their sister and she doesn't know them from Adam. At least, not that I am aware of. Hmmm. In general, though, our group was louder and more obnoxious than anyone else in the bar, even though we were sober.
But the good times were all sort of tempered for me by the remembrance of the tragedy in Asia, which I still can't get my head around. It seems to unreal, so far away, so...impossible. As a Christian, I am troubled knowing that many people out there are asking the big "why" questions, and I can't answer them. I don't know why God lets these things happen. All I know is that when people asked Jesus about a tragedy that happened in their time, his answer was another question:, "If it happened to you, would you be ready? Are you prepared to stand in front of God?" I guess in the end that's the only question that really matters, because death is the one inevitable "given" in this crazy little thing called life (and taxes, of course).
You know, I would never pretend that God's ways make sense, because often they don't. At least not to me. I just know I love Him, and since when do you have to understand everything about someone to love them? He's shown Himself faithful to me in far more ways than I have shown myself faithful to Him. I know tragedies wait for me in my own life--there is no way around it; not if I live on this earth, not if I'm human. I'd be lying if I said this didn't scare me, but that's why I'd rather face those days with God at my side than without Him, because I know that He is "close to the broken-hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." (Psalm 34:18)
I saw a video clip in church today, which showed a guy saying unequivocally, "There is no question: there is no God." I can understand how people would feel like that, especially after the events of the past week. But it's a dangerously presumptive statement to make. Just as there is no way to prove the existence of God, there is surely no way to prove His non-existence. The question remains, and it's up to each one of us to seek for the answer.
So welcome to 2005, kids. My prayer: that God grant you the desires of your heart--even the unspoken ones. But above all, may you come to know Him if you haven't already, or know Him more if you have.
Seek and you shall find.--Matthew 7:7
Saturday, December 25, 2004
MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!
I am an utter failure when it comes to wrapping presents. I have never been good at it, and now that I'm 29 years old, I think I have to face the fact that gift-wrapping is something I will probably never master. I remember back when I was in college, when I worked for a stationery store, and this woman came in and asked for help picking out a present for her child's schoolteacher. When we got up to the register, she said the dreaded words, "Would you be able to giftwrap that for me?"
As I finished it up, I apologized to her for the fact that it was not done in anything remotely approaching an expert fashion, although in my defense I really did try. Her response was something like this: "Oh that's alright. It'll be fine, because it'll look like my 8-year-old wrapped it."
Hmmm.
So I'm awful at wrapping, but I am absolutely phenomenal at UNwrapping. And I simply love getting presents. To this day, I am like an impatient child on Christmas morning, begging everyone to hurry up with breakfast and whatever else they are doing so we can OPEN THE PRESENTS. I have become a bit of a joke in my family over the years, because of this tendency. They all think I am terribly amusing when I start whining at them, "Come on, you guys! I want to open my presents!" On my side, I don't understand why they aren't more excited to open theirs!
But last night I got a pretty awesome present, and a total surprise too. I came home from work, and everyone was in the dining room, when my youngest brother walked in on the phone with the woundedbug in morocco (another brother). Woundedbug was the only one not with us this year. So Timer put me on the phone with him, and we were chatting away, when suddenly into the room walks...woundedbug!!!!! I screamed and squealed like a twelve-year-old, and my sister the world traveller got it all on the video camera. It was great! Apparently my dad got him a ticket home at the last minute.
So for the first time in two years, my whole family is together at Christmas time. And that, my friends, is a Christmas present in itself.
Note: this will be the last frogg files of 2004. The frogg is off to the "toasty-warm" (yeah right, kenny) midwest til the end of the year, and will recommence with the daily posts after January 1. Merry Christmas and happy New Year to all of you! See you in 2005...
As I finished it up, I apologized to her for the fact that it was not done in anything remotely approaching an expert fashion, although in my defense I really did try. Her response was something like this: "Oh that's alright. It'll be fine, because it'll look like my 8-year-old wrapped it."
Hmmm.
So I'm awful at wrapping, but I am absolutely phenomenal at UNwrapping. And I simply love getting presents. To this day, I am like an impatient child on Christmas morning, begging everyone to hurry up with breakfast and whatever else they are doing so we can OPEN THE PRESENTS. I have become a bit of a joke in my family over the years, because of this tendency. They all think I am terribly amusing when I start whining at them, "Come on, you guys! I want to open my presents!" On my side, I don't understand why they aren't more excited to open theirs!
But last night I got a pretty awesome present, and a total surprise too. I came home from work, and everyone was in the dining room, when my youngest brother walked in on the phone with the woundedbug in morocco (another brother). Woundedbug was the only one not with us this year. So Timer put me on the phone with him, and we were chatting away, when suddenly into the room walks...woundedbug!!!!! I screamed and squealed like a twelve-year-old, and my sister the world traveller got it all on the video camera. It was great! Apparently my dad got him a ticket home at the last minute.
So for the first time in two years, my whole family is together at Christmas time. And that, my friends, is a Christmas present in itself.
Note: this will be the last frogg files of 2004. The frogg is off to the "toasty-warm" (yeah right, kenny) midwest til the end of the year, and will recommence with the daily posts after January 1. Merry Christmas and happy New Year to all of you! See you in 2005...
Thursday, December 23, 2004
Wonderful and Strange
I saw a man in my town the other day, biking down the street with a cat on his back. Not a stuffed cat; it was a real live one, perched on his shoulders and balancing perfectly as they rode along together. The sight made me very happy, kind of like the time when I saw a horse standing in the back of a pickup truck on the very busy streets of Amman, Jordan. You don't see these sorts of things every day, and when you do, you really have to take a moment to enjoy them.
Here's wishing you a glimpse of the wonderful and strange today, something that will enrich your life, not because of what you will gain from it, but simply because of what it is.
Here's wishing you a glimpse of the wonderful and strange today, something that will enrich your life, not because of what you will gain from it, but simply because of what it is.
Memory of Christmas Past
Strange to think how, at this time last year, I was just finishing up a short backpacking trip on the acclaimed Abel Tasman Coastal Track in New Zealand, before heading down to the tiny little town of Loburn to celebrate Christmas with a friend's family.
That was a great trip, in spite of incredibly blistered feet, sore muscles, and a tent that had obviously once been put away still wet and then never opened again for a hundred years. I remember the first night we pitched the tent, my friend Sabine and I...we could smell it before we even got in it. We looked at each other, and I knew we were both thinking the same thing: how cold can it really get outside?
Well, the answer was "pretty cold" so we stayed in the tent, but let me just offer this little tip for campers: ALWAYS dry out your tent before putting it away in storage. Mold is not anything close to an attractive smell.
On our last day on the trail, it rained. Naturally. You can't have a true camping experience without getting rained on, according to all the humor articles, sitcoms, and movies on the subject. We awoke at about 6am, so that we could make the necessary low-tide crossing to the coastal point where we would be picked up by a water taxi and taken back to the beginning of the trail. Unfortunately it was not quite low-tide enough. I stood at the water's edge, and knew it was going to come up at least to my knees, possibly higher. Then I wondered what I was worried about--I was already soaked from the rain, since I didn't have any waterproof clothes (I might add that, between me and Sabine, we managed to illustrate every possible scenario of what NOT to do on a backpacking trip).
I really wish I had pictures of that day, me and Sabine looking like nothing more than a pair of nearly-drowned cats. As it is, you'll just have to imagine it.
Good times in the land down under. But it was hard being away from my family at Christmas time--my riotous, loud, overbearing, overwhelming family. Have you ever seen "My Big Fat Greek Wedding"? That's not a totally inaccurate portrayal of my Egyptian family get-togethers (I don't know about weddings, because there haven't been any yet, but any holiday gathering looks pretty much the same). We drive each other nuts sometimes, but I really don't think I'd have it any other way.
(By the way, danthefrog, since you asked...yes I will be at Christmas dinner!)
I hope you are all having a great week, and that your Christmases this year will give you all sorts of good memories to last throughout the coming year.
That was a great trip, in spite of incredibly blistered feet, sore muscles, and a tent that had obviously once been put away still wet and then never opened again for a hundred years. I remember the first night we pitched the tent, my friend Sabine and I...we could smell it before we even got in it. We looked at each other, and I knew we were both thinking the same thing: how cold can it really get outside?
Well, the answer was "pretty cold" so we stayed in the tent, but let me just offer this little tip for campers: ALWAYS dry out your tent before putting it away in storage. Mold is not anything close to an attractive smell.
On our last day on the trail, it rained. Naturally. You can't have a true camping experience without getting rained on, according to all the humor articles, sitcoms, and movies on the subject. We awoke at about 6am, so that we could make the necessary low-tide crossing to the coastal point where we would be picked up by a water taxi and taken back to the beginning of the trail. Unfortunately it was not quite low-tide enough. I stood at the water's edge, and knew it was going to come up at least to my knees, possibly higher. Then I wondered what I was worried about--I was already soaked from the rain, since I didn't have any waterproof clothes (I might add that, between me and Sabine, we managed to illustrate every possible scenario of what NOT to do on a backpacking trip).
I really wish I had pictures of that day, me and Sabine looking like nothing more than a pair of nearly-drowned cats. As it is, you'll just have to imagine it.
Good times in the land down under. But it was hard being away from my family at Christmas time--my riotous, loud, overbearing, overwhelming family. Have you ever seen "My Big Fat Greek Wedding"? That's not a totally inaccurate portrayal of my Egyptian family get-togethers (I don't know about weddings, because there haven't been any yet, but any holiday gathering looks pretty much the same). We drive each other nuts sometimes, but I really don't think I'd have it any other way.
(By the way, danthefrog, since you asked...yes I will be at Christmas dinner!)
I hope you are all having a great week, and that your Christmases this year will give you all sorts of good memories to last throughout the coming year.
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
Ode to Indy...and Christmas!
I just watched my dog catch and eat flies in my room. Gross.
Actually he is the cowgirl's dog. He's a bit of a freak, but an adorable freak. You can't help but love him, because he so obviously loves to be loved. He wriggles with joy when you call him over, and he can't seem to get close enough to you. It's really cute.
What's a bit more annoying is his complete fixation--addiction, really--to playing fetch. As soon as you set foot out of the door, he is off running to find something for you to throw for him. Sometimes it is no more than a twig. Sometimes it's a pebble. My favorite is when he drops at my feet one of those weird prickly little balls that grows on some kinds of trees. How the heck am I supposed to throw one of those? Sheesh.
He will play fetch til he collapses. This actually happened once, when I took him to the park on a hot day and forgot to bring water. I threw the stick for him until finally one time he ran to get it, lay down, and couldn't get up again! I was in a total panic, thinking that he was going to die and the cowgirl would have to challenge me to a duel which I would be bound to lose because I am NOT a cowgirl. No seriously, but she would have been devastated, and for that matter so would I, so I went running around to see if I could find something to put water in for him. I finally found a paper cup next to a trash can, so I filled it up with water, and helped him drink it. He ended up being ok, but I decided we were done playing fetch that day. Even though he still wanted to!
Oddly enough, I did not start out my blog today with the intention of talking all about Indiana Bones (yes, that's his name, but we just call him Indy). I was going to talk about something else, but now I don't remember. Oh well.
Anyway...Christmas is almost here! In spite of the holiday stress, I am happy about it. The last two Christmases I have spent in New Zealand. Which was ok, but weird, because there Christmas is in summer time, and everyone is going on summer vacations, and the whole tenor of the season is off. I mean, granted, weather-wise it was a pretty comparable experience to being in Southern California for Christmas, but it's the overall atmosphere that's different. Summer and winter are different, even if the weather doesn't change all that much. It's something in the air.
Ah, I do miss New Zealand sometimes. A shout out to all my kiwi mates...I love you guys and miss you all HEAPS! Have a great Christmas, and eat some pavlova for me!! Mmmmm, pavlova....
Actually he is the cowgirl's dog. He's a bit of a freak, but an adorable freak. You can't help but love him, because he so obviously loves to be loved. He wriggles with joy when you call him over, and he can't seem to get close enough to you. It's really cute.
What's a bit more annoying is his complete fixation--addiction, really--to playing fetch. As soon as you set foot out of the door, he is off running to find something for you to throw for him. Sometimes it is no more than a twig. Sometimes it's a pebble. My favorite is when he drops at my feet one of those weird prickly little balls that grows on some kinds of trees. How the heck am I supposed to throw one of those? Sheesh.
He will play fetch til he collapses. This actually happened once, when I took him to the park on a hot day and forgot to bring water. I threw the stick for him until finally one time he ran to get it, lay down, and couldn't get up again! I was in a total panic, thinking that he was going to die and the cowgirl would have to challenge me to a duel which I would be bound to lose because I am NOT a cowgirl. No seriously, but she would have been devastated, and for that matter so would I, so I went running around to see if I could find something to put water in for him. I finally found a paper cup next to a trash can, so I filled it up with water, and helped him drink it. He ended up being ok, but I decided we were done playing fetch that day. Even though he still wanted to!
Oddly enough, I did not start out my blog today with the intention of talking all about Indiana Bones (yes, that's his name, but we just call him Indy). I was going to talk about something else, but now I don't remember. Oh well.
Anyway...Christmas is almost here! In spite of the holiday stress, I am happy about it. The last two Christmases I have spent in New Zealand. Which was ok, but weird, because there Christmas is in summer time, and everyone is going on summer vacations, and the whole tenor of the season is off. I mean, granted, weather-wise it was a pretty comparable experience to being in Southern California for Christmas, but it's the overall atmosphere that's different. Summer and winter are different, even if the weather doesn't change all that much. It's something in the air.
Ah, I do miss New Zealand sometimes. A shout out to all my kiwi mates...I love you guys and miss you all HEAPS! Have a great Christmas, and eat some pavlova for me!! Mmmmm, pavlova....
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