but when she's on her back, she had the knowledge, to get her where she wanted | november reflections

Last time I wrote, I was in the midst of a strange period of waiting for my thesis to be marked. It was a challenging time, life continuing on while I waited, and waited. I'm happy to be on the other side of that agonising waiting now, and I'm happy to report that the wait was worth it. I successfully defended my PhD thesis, even managed to make a couple of (incredibly nerdy pun) jokes with my examiners! I'm now planning my graduation in December this year, and looking forward to celebrating with my wonderful and wide network of whānau and friends; because as anyone who's completed a doctorate knows, no thesis was completed without support. 

I had friends who sent me baking, postcards while they were travelling, who were a sympathetic ear at various points. I have a partner who took a couple of weeks off work when I needed the extra support. I have a family who have listened to me even when I've been mad, grumpy, annoyed, frustrated, and I am so lucky to have people who have given, and continue to give, this kind of support. I only hope that I return the favour to people in my networks. 

If you ever read back through the Maitland St Meals archives, you'll see quiet allusions to the all-consuming lab work that occupied my every thought for 7 years. Maybe that sounds dramatic, but scientists will know what I mean. Even when I was too sick with undiagnosed typhoid to find the energy to get out of bed every day to get down to the lab, I was thinking about sigma factors. On the holidays I took to Waihi Beach with my family, flying up to Auckland and being driven to the beach for some salty swims and sand between my toes, I always took my computer with papers to read. Even while making some of the early time-indulgent meals written in the early blog posts, while I chopped onions or boiled beans, I was thinking about new things I could try to optimise some of my experiments that weren't working as they should. 

It's been nice to have the brain-break this year of not having to think about scientific puzzles with quite the same intensity - but now that it's been a good 18 months since I have done any wet lab work, I find myself missing it. I think this is a good sign that I'm in the right profession! And it's been nice to slowly realise that, despite the many challenges of being a young woman scientist, my innate curiosity continues to lead me down the scientific path.

However, I'm simultaneously creative. I've mentioned before my old poetry blog, which now resides offline and I'm its only reader. In June last year, after 2 years of collecting handmade mugs made by mainly New Zealand and Australian potters, I signed up for a ceramics night class at the art school at Otago Polytech. 

I remember saying to my old flatmates once I had been accepted that maybe I'd hate making things out of clay, but I just wanted to make one mug. I ended up making many more than one mug, and I didn't hate clay at all, in fact, I loved it. Going to night classes last year for two terms was such a creative treat for my brain, particularly leading up to thesis submission in December last year. Each week I knew I'd have 3 hours on a Thursday night just for making whatever the hell I wanted (and whatever my skills would allow..!). Making ceramics is partly scientific, partly creative, partly muscle technique, and with a little bit of luck. It was the creative outlet I needed. 

The other night I said to my partner R after making dinner that I felt like Maitland St Meals had come full circle. I'd just made a simple spring salad of blanched asparagus, tomatoes and red onion with a simple vinaigrette dressing to accompany dinner, then arranged it in bowls and plates I've made myself.

While it was a simple dinner, and while my hand-pinched bowls have some way to go especially on the consistency front, I was particularly proud to have dinner in "things I have made", and dear R dutifully stood over my arrangement to take the above picture (thank you). 

This year I've been minimally employed, partly by necessity as I needed to devote time to amending and publishing my final thesis; and partly because when your skill set is as specific as mine is, finding a job can take a while. I've currently got several jobs, and I'm thankful for all of them, however none are regular enough to ensure I can always afford to pay my bills. This "freelance" lifestyle has its perks which I am trying to enjoy, but I hope I don't forget what it's like to have a constant worry about money and where it will come from and whether I should be saving more, and what large purchases do I need to make between now and Christmas, or now and March... 

However, the flexibility in my schedule is also nice to make the most of. It's nice to have time to write more poems, to attend the newly-formed Ōtepoti Writer's Lab, to pinch a few bowls now and then. It's nice to have time to hang out with musicians, to develop my piano skills, to play a few gigs around town. I've been so thankful that I'm able to play the piano for people, and get paid for it - while it is work in a sense, it's also something that brings me a lot of joy. I'm thankful for these hands of mine with fingers that play, and shape bowls, and polish glassware at a bar..

I'm thankful too, for Ōtepoti / Dunedin, where I currently live. This year I have slowly discovered the music community partly due to my current living situation, partly due to my partner, and mostly due to having to find any way I could to make a bit of extra money. I've played regular gigs most of this year, and it's made me a much better pianist. Not so much in the sense of what I play, but more in the sense of where I play. I've practised performing so much I find I get less and less nervous before each gig now - instead I look forward to the delight of playing a piano / synthesiser; and the endorphin rush afterwards.

Playing the piano frequently has opened doors I didn't know existed - I've met some interesting and talented local musicians and learned so much from their generous insights into performing and playing; I've played the piano in a recording studio for a very talented friend completing her music honours album (it will be released sometime in 2020, exciting!). I feel very grateful for the small and generous community of musicians and creatives in this tiny Southern city I call home.

This year has not been without its challenges - but I'm learning that no good year ever is without challenge! As the year, and the decade, comes to a close, I find myself purposefully reflecting on this year with gratitude for the opportunities, for the people, and for the aroha given and received. I'm especially grateful to my parents, L & R, whose endless and unquestioning support and love gives me strength; and to my partner R, who allows me the space I need to be myself, all while loving me. He showed up to my PhD seminar even though we'd had a minor argument the night before; he's dropped my raincoat around to my old flat because the forecast was for showers; and he'll stay up cooking dinner when I am too weary to be anything but horizontal when I get home from a long day at work.

I'm planning on a tattoo to mark 2019 and its milestones..

Hopefully I will write a bit more frequently here - I have much to say, and much to share, but it isn't always simple finding the time.. See you soon.

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title from Belle & Sebastian - The Stars of Track and Field

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1. Light through leaves on George St, 3/11/19
2. Outside | inside, Otago uni central library, 12/11/19
3. Dinner in my pots, 7/11/19
4. My hand and a blue candle R gave me in a ceramic vessel I made in 2018, 8/11/19
5. The Northern motorway overbridge in Ōtepoti, 3/11/19
6. Early morning sunrise from the lounge, 4/11/19
7. Closeup of my hardbound thesis after I picked it up, a rather surreal moment for me. 6/11/19
8. Me outside the graduate office before I went and rang the University bell (made in 1863), photo taken by fellow graduating Dr P. 6/11/19

the sun is shining on | this is my winter story

I didn't think it would take me this long to write this post. I have been avoiding it for several reasons - not knowing the words, not knowing how, not even knowing whether writing it was necessary. And yet I can't begin to write again here without acknowledging what's been going on. 

In 2009 I had an accident up a mountain in Wanaka. I was learning to ski that season, and my boyfriend at the time (a proficient skier) was racing a friend, on a snowboard, who was staying with us. I happened to be in the blind spot that both of them jumped into. My ex-boyfriend zipped past me, the snowboarder was not so lucky, and crashed directly into me from behind. My only memories of it are my ex zipping past, and then looking at sky hearing someone going nuts at my snowboarder friend. I landed on my back, on my bindings, which made for some interesting bruising, and didn't have a helmet on. 

A few hospital visits later and quite a bit of imaging, I was given a Philadelphia collar to wear for the next two months. It was determined after a ct scan that I had probably fractured my c1 vertebra - this is the first vertebra of your spine. Thankfully, there was no displacement; but to be on the safe side I was required to wear the neck brace for two months, at all times. 

In retrospect, the most difficult part of rehabilitating this injury was recovering my neck muscles after two months of immobility, but thanks to the support of my family, my ex-boyfriend, and my wonderful flatmates at the time, and probably my own bloody-mindedness when it comes to rock climbing, I gradually got better. 

Since then, I have always been more aware of my neck, but it's a fine line sometimes between being too aware and too cautious, or too stubbornly zealous. In the past five years, I've been learning to accept and acknowledge my limitations, not just neck-related, without letting them define me; and this is something I imagine I'll continue learning for the rest of my life.

In early April, I well and truly re-exacerbated my neck injury, mainly from exercising too much and getting slightly addicted to the endorphin rush of cycling to the salt water pool, doing an hour of my old swimming exercises, and following that up with a run along the beach before cycling home. Admitting that I am in pain is something I struggle to do, and on the day I finally did and went to the doctor for some effective pain relief, I also "actively witnessed" a near-miss incident between a pedestrian and a car by uni, and treated my seized muscles to some sideways whiplash. 

Recovering this time has been much more active, and involved physiotherapy with a physio I trust from the acute stage, and the endless patience from family members and friends around me has been truly invaluable. Pain can change your persona, and it takes really special people to understand that. I'm lucky for all the people who've given support, and who continue to give it.

I've never written here about emotional pain, and that's been a purposeful choice. I'm a writer, and for a long time I've written poetry as a means to express myself. Sometime in 2009, emboldened by encouragement by my Dad and sister, and from friends who already blogged like N, I started a blog where I share poems, called a pastiche. I called it "pastiche", because that was what it started as, but "pastiche" was taken, so it became "a" pastiche. 

At the beginning of 2011, two significant things happened. My best friend's mum Mary passed away on 4.01.11 after a long and brave battle with cancer. Two weeks later, my then-boyfriend of two years moved to Switzerland, and on the same day he left I started my first ever graduate job as a research assistant in a lab in Dunedin. Two months of strange, frustrating long distance communication later, we broke up.

In hindsight, it was impossible for me to separate my feelings of grief for Mary and my sadness on a relationship ending. Every time I felt the latter, I'd feel guilty because he was still alive, and Mary wasn't, and that was the tragedy. Mary was my other mother in so many ways. I don't think I'll ever not miss her, it's just that time changes how you miss a person. I'm not convinced it gets easier, either, perhaps more that you get used to bearing sadness with grace.

This blog, Maitland St Meals, started after someone I once cherished - the ex-boyfriend who supported me through my ski accident - took offence to a poem I wrote, and wasn't shy about telling me exactly how it offended him and what it made him think of me. I'm sure he had legitimate reasons I cannot possibly know for his reaction; but it made me question everything I had ever chosen to share, to read my words in a different light. It stopped me from sharing my poems online for a while, and soon after I changed lots of the settings on my poetry blog so now it appears more as a personal folio rather than a forum. I still go through cycles of self-doubt - and sometimes these cycles can be good to keep your feet on the ground. 

I've been so thankful for this blog and the comments people leave - it's served in equal parts me and you, I'm sure. That's because reading this blog (and I do read my old posts) reminds me how much I love food and eating and cooking and sharing food; and that's a comfort in times when it's hard to find the motivation to cook. 

Recently, that motivation to cook has been notoriously difficult. In November 2013, I found out, randomly, from Facebook that a good old friend of mine, AT, or Truesy as I knew him, passed away in July 2013, after a fighting brain cancer, just like Mary had. He was a great friend to me during my final years of high school, and I've got fond memories of taking him to my leaver's ball, and though we grew apart when I moved to Dunedin, we stayed in touch sporadically, as people often do. He grew up to be a paramedic, and while looking after the young pedestrian suffering from shock who I actively witnessed almost get hit by a car, they said through tears whilst walking to student health, "oh how do you know what to do..you should be a paramedic or something," and later I thought, with a smile, about the great big cycles of the universe we cannot possibly hope to know. 

On the 4.05.14, another friend from our close-knit group of high school friends, Grace Yuki Kinsella, unexpectedly and tragically died in Japan. That's all the information we have. She was quirky and deadpan funny, and I miss her in ways I don't yet have the ability to describe. There were plenty of good times we shared. It's been somewhat of a comfort to imagine Grace and Truesy getting on like a house on fire somewhere beyond the sun, as they did at that (extremely over the top) leaver's ball. 

Throughout this past six months, I've been so lucky and grateful for other ways in which the universe has watched out for me - or at least, that's what its felt like. I'm still not sure what I believe in a spiritual sense and in many ways, I hope I never do because part of the privilege of being human is to wonder. There's two yellow tulips in a milk bottle vase by my bed, I've got a desk at an awesome underground studio in Dunedin, my lab work has progressed throughout this time, and I'm blessed with a great network of Dunedinites - the sort of people who, when their oven breaks, will bring over homekill venison steaks to cook at Maitland St and fill the house with cooking smells while J's away.

So life's been a bit hard recently, but that's okay. That's okay because I can still make haloumi from scratch, and two chocolate guinness cakes at night for an event the next day, and last minute "vegeree"- brown rice, caramelised onions, havoc chorizo, eggs, nuts, cheese, and something green, shared with friends T and T, and because there will always be more music to listen to. 

I went to Tiny Ruins on Saturday night, accompanied by friend A who took friend J's ticket at the last minute. It was the most unexpectedly delightful gig. The music was expectedly beautiful, and this song in particular made me think of grace yuki, whose middle name means snow in Japanese. It's definitely worth listening to the more recent releases too, where the additional instruments complement so well. The unexpected delight was in the intimacy of the venue, which encouraged and invited conversations that have left me intrigued; and I left that night feeling personally delighted that the ability to be intrigued by one conversation still remains possible. 

See you soon; and thank you, as always, for reading.

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title from little bombs - aimee mann

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images -

1. 9 January 2014, a pavlova by Grandma Jojo, transported to the beach by car, to celebrate my parents' 33rd wedding anniversary - it was a memorable dinner. 

2. Mayor Island, one of the many swims in January 2014, Waihi Beach. Kodak portra 160

3. Arranging onions sometime in February 2014. My trusty red digital took this. 

4. Rain on Bowentown, January 2014; Kodak portra 160. 

5. My Grandad Lawrie watching a sudden shower at the beach house. One of my favourite pictures of summer this year. Kodak portra 160, probably shot at 200. 

6. Kinloch, looking at the sun through a telescope. Ilford FP4 125, probably shot at 200 as well. 

7. Half moon, January 2014, Waihi; kodak portra 160

8. Reflections on a January 2014 evening at Waihi Beach; kodak portra 160

so tomorrow there will be another number | meat and three veg

After this lovely lady's post, I've been thinking about food choices a lot more this week: thinking about my own personal journey to the way I eat now, and how those habits developed over time. My food journey began last year - six months into my first "proper" job since finishing my degree, I found myself with a little extra money each week and the ability to be a little more flexible in what I ate. After four years as a student surviving off a very minimal weekly income it was a luxury to be able to afford to experiment a little more in what I cooked and what I ate. 

Prior to this, my food choices had been based around affordability: sometimes this meant two baked potatoes or two minute noodles for dinner in those weeks where there were bills to pay and shampoo to buy. At the end of my fourth year, busy with writing a dissertation, this changed a little to include time as a factor. Could I cook and eat in less than 20 minutes? If not, I didn't buy it. In those last two weeks of 18 hour writing days, I survived off plain pasta, canned tuna, apples, and a whole lot of caffeine. On the last night before my dissertation was due, I was writing all night in my office at university. A friend called me at 7pm: "I'm outside," he said, "come down, I've got dinner for you." And he handed me a warm plastic container full of pesto pasta, before skating back off into the night. I've never forgotten that gesture. 

Most of my friends and family know me to be a vegetarian. And that's mainly true - I only rarely eat meat, and when I do, it's important to me that it is local, free range, and organic; and that I feel like my body needs it for nutrients. This year, I've eaten meat on two occasions. The first was when there was no other option for dinner, out in the wilderness with family. The second was last night.

J returned from four days tramping (hiking for US readers) with plenty of stories of interesting people they'd shared a hut with. They had met some hunters who cooked freshly caught chamois (also known as "shammy" to locals), and also gave them some to bring back home to us. It ticked all my personal "boxes" when it comes to meat-eating and when J told me she planned to cook it for dinner on Tuesday night, I told her I'd love to try some. I'd never eaten chamois before. I made this sauce to go with it - I think it would make a great accompaniment to lamb or beef as well.

mushroom & black pepper meat sauce

This meat sauce would also be great served with pasta for a vegetarian dish. The quantities used here make enough for four people.

Slice two red onions into half rings, and soften them over a medium heat with a little olive oil. Turn the heat up a little and add some apple cider vinegar and honey or balsamic vinegar. Cook for around 30 minutes until caramelised. Add about 1 glass of red cooking wine to the pan - it should bubble a lot, if it doesn't turn the heat up. Chop 8 flat mushrooms (I used portobello) into quarters and add to the pan, letting them cook in the wine. Stir in as much freshly cracked black pepper as you'd like. Turn the heat down to medium-low. Add 1 tbsp flour - either white or wholemeal and stir. This will thicken the sauce up - add milk to thin it back and keep warm until ready to serve.

Last night I cheated a little - we had some french onion soup to use up, so I used that instead of caramelising onions. 

So it came to be - a traditional "meat and three veg" meal was served at Maitland St. The cooking was very much a team effort, with much discussion and consulting the internet as to how to cook the meat. The piece we were given looked like a beef fillet would, so we sliced it into medallions and cooked it, as T would describe "pshhhh....pshhhh..." - translates to one minute each side in a very hot pan. We ate it with the mushroom sauce, potato and kumara (known outside of Aotearoa as sweet potato), mashed together, and lightly fried cabbage and red onion. It was delicious.

I think the biggest mistake we can make is to be inflexible in our diets. I realised that it's important to me to eat mainly vegetarian, but that it's also okay for me to eat free-range, organic, local meat now and then too. After all, isn't it all about moderation?

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I've decided that each day I write a post I'm going to include a word or two about something I'm grateful for that day. I used to reflect once a week and take the time to be grateful, and I think that it's helpful for me to look back over my day with gratitude now and then.

day 1/365 
Today I'm grateful for clear and cloudless skies, and that I work in a place where I can take twenty minutes in the afternoon and sit underneath a weeping willow tree, looking at water and the old fashioned clock tower buildings of the university I work at, enjoying the fresh air in my lungs and sun on my skin.

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title from stars - celebration guns

sleep a little more if you want to | peonies and peppermint

There's something special about flowers and tea and extra special when your weekend combines them both. I cut short my Saturday morning sleep in to get to the farmers market early enough, I hoped, to purchase some peonies. When I got there, the woman had just sold her last bunch of closed up tight ones, and had run out of wrapping for them. "You're too late! They've gone!" she said, looking down at the bucket that was still full with already opened ones. "How much for this one...and this one?" I asked, pointing out a couple that were still closed and would probably last out the week in a vase. "They're just so beautiful," I said. She reached down, scooping up the entire bucket of greenery and petals, and said "Take the lot! They're my gift to you." And that was how my empty canvas bag to be filled with vegetables was instead filled with flowers, a huge bunch of peonies hanging out in all directions. 

Weekend lunches are such a flexible meal. They can be brunch things, like pancakes or toast, to more substantial things. I had a craving for mushrooms, so I sliced up bread from the farmers market, cooked some mushrooms in a little butter, added some feta on top and at the last minute, wanting something green, chopped up a little mint. I don't think I've had feta and mint together before - it was delicious.

Continuing with the mint theme, I've been having a quiet day today, putting on loads of washing, sorting, writing, and sipping cups of fresh mint tea. On a whim, I added some chopped fresh ginger - minty, spicy, delicious.

The weekend also involved a delicious vietnamese dinner out, at a place special to me, with friends, where discussions ranged from diving and lung capacities to an intense debate about the inner anatomy of a centaur; and a ride in a refurbished red mini. It's dark and a bit windy here, so I think this evening will involve clean sheets and an early night. Hope your weekend has been lovely too.

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title from belle & sebastian - asleep on a sunbeam

every day seems a little longer | october 12 playlist

Music is a big part of our kitchen. We plug our iPods into the speakers and listen to music that makes menial tasks like washing two sinks worth of dishes bearable - even pleasant. When I have the kitchen to myself I sometimes risk putting my whole iPod on shuffle - it can be very hit and miss! Here are some of our favourites over October.

1. kings of convenience - homesick

2. billy bragg & wilco - listening to the wind that blows

3. modest mouse - the world at large

4. bright eyes - lua

5. belle & sebastian - this is just a modern rock song

6. the mountain goats - broom people

7. buddy holly - every day

8. the falls - home

9. london symphony orchestra - ombra mai fu

10. feist - i feel it all

11. studio ghibli soundtrack - merry-go-round of life (howl's moving castle)

12. grizzly bear - all we ask

13. the white buffalo - love song #1

14. sarah humphreys - happiness is on this hill

15. paleo - world's smallest violin

16. hope sandoval & the warm inventions - around my smile

17. iron & wine - flightless bird, american mouth

18. wilco - she's a jar

19. xavier rudd - paper thin

20. hirini melbourne - te kopere (the rainbow)

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title from buddy holly - every day. photograph taken in varanasi, january 2012