A little bit of rebellion

“When we remember we are all mad, 

the mysteries disappear and life stands explained.” 

~ The wisdom and wit of Mark Twain - Notebook 1898

It’s only taken 4 months for the oldest lemming and the significant other to notice 

that I wear the label the Correction Service officials give me when we visit, upside down.

All the better for me to read it, I told them.

They just shake their heads in bemusement.

I think they’re used to my weird and wonderful ways.

An Indy namesake on the beach .... such a cutie!

With all the rules and regulations that have to be adhered to when visiting the significant other, 

it’s my little way of rebelling.

Bessie posing beautifully for her portrait

Silly I know, but satisfying.

A little bit of rebellion in a world that’s gone wonky.

This evening's sunset was magnificent.

Seeing the significant other like this is NOT easy ... not for him, nor for me.

Despite the best of efforts, tears are NEVER very far from the surface.

For the first time EVER in my life, I’m wishing time would pass quickly.

Lost Rangitoto on Friday ... disappeared completely from view.

A futile wish but wished nevertheless.

Lambing seasons started early

The wonky world I find myself in needs straightening after a visit.  

Would that I could take him with me for the restorative sweetness and coffee that I’ve found in Huntly. 

It’s taken a while but I’ve found this little place in Huntly that makes 

Carrot Cake to die for AND a reasonable fix of caffeine.  

All it takes after that is a visit to the cemetery to calm the soul before I begin the trek home.

What is it about cemeteries that’s so incredibly peaceful? 

Maybe it’s because conversing with the dear and long ago departed is a one-way conversation.  

I get to talk.

A lot.

There’s NO-ONE to disagree.  No-one that can talk, that is. 

And it's not just lambing season ... the Llamas are doing it too!

Yes, another idiosyncrasy.  

A necessary one at the moment.

We seldom see a dog wearing clothes in my little village
and a Bulldog is the LAST dog I would ever expect to see dressed like this!

“Don’t worry if you’re making waves by being yourself.

The moon does it all the time.”

~ anon

The toenails are painted too!

This was NEVER on my bucket list.

Most appropriate - on a rock on Kakamatua Beach

There are moments in life that you just HAVE to work through.

They’re NOT going to disappear

They’re NOT going to go away even if you act like an ostrich.

The sun trying to rise at Kakamatua Beach ... gorgeous red glow on the cliffs

NO-ONE knows what they’re capable of until placed in a situation
 where every fibre of their being rises up in protest.

Visiting the Correction Service facilities does that to me.

It was NEVER on my Bucket List.

I don’t think it’s on ANYone’s.

I don’t LIKE being there.  

It feels SURREAL and it just feels wrong.

It’s NOT your more USUAL Sunday morning jaunt.

The facility where the significant other is housed is in the country, 

an hour’s drive out of Auckland.

I’m a child of nature.

I love the country.

I love being out in the wild.

And yet, when we visit the significant other, I feel trapped.

Like a bird in a cage.

My early morning fellow explorers ... Saturday morning that is

The walls confine and restrict me.

I feel suffocated and ill-at-ease.

So when the Correction Service Officer tells me to remove my gloves and take them back to the external visitors centre before he’ll let me through the second security check-point, I lose it.

Anger bubbles to the surface.

It covers a multitude of emotions, not all of them pleasant.

I know they have a job to do

but this is hard enough already, 

WITHOUT petty bureaucracy.

Fortunately the walk up to the External Visitors Centre is a good 600m 
there and another 600m back.

Fortunately it’s NOT raining.

That would have pissed me off even more as umbrella’s aren’t allowed either.

The oldest lemming is far more understanding than I am.  

He just takes it all in his stride, smiles and thanks them.  

I wish I had his patience.

“Hold the hand of the child that lives in your soul.  

For this child, NOTHING is IMPOSSIBLE.” 
~ Paulo Coelho