una bella giornata

Another at the "put it away so you don't mess it up" stage! A few minor adjustments are still to be made, but only after I have taken some time away from it.

The colours don't reproduce as well as I would like on the computer screen, but as each computer will be at slightly different settings, and so much else is beyond my control, why worry about a little difference here?

If I don't get back to more exhibition work before July I am happy that these six, along with two oils I have here, will be adequate.

yesterday

Yesterday the rascal took me to mass. I suspect he preferred to go with someone who might buy him treats rather than march along in the procession with his classmates.

The first church dedicated to St Tommaso (Thomas Aquinas, the scholar who combined faith and reason and then pulled the Catholic church into order), was far too small for the mass (photo below) - as was the closest one to it.Why is it that the women are all inside the church while the men stand outside in the sun and chat?

We overflowed into the two piazzas, much to the rascal's delight. He played with a friend and swaggered in front of the very attentive girls. The mating game begins very early here. I searched my memory banks for the vocabulary I needed to keep him in line. A bag of unshelled roasted peanuts was the key to control...

The children carried baskets lined with flowers, beautifully arranged and proudly displayed. As the statue passed along the road below them they threw flowers down onto the procession. This was one of the largest religious processions I have seen in my time here. But for a flat camera battery there would have been more photos...

natural highs

It is the festival for women today. It is huge... weeks of advertising, "happenings" everywhere, televised concerts, mimosa (wattle) and gardenia flowers... tanti auguri a tutti! I am spending it alone, not expecting any messages or phone calls. Zacchi and I will probably share leftovers, rather than a special dinner. Or should we indulge in fresh pasta? I have plenty of options to entertain myself, but they would all be external, added extras. Do I need them? Not today.

It is only 11am and already I have enjoyed my day. I am "pottering". I have painted a little, sat in the sunshine a little, cleaned and cleared a little, and generally reflected on what makes this woman happy.

The birds are singing loudly, proclaiming that spring is here. The sky is a clear, light cobalt blue, the gentle breeze moves the new growth on the rose bush, and the laughter from last night still warms me.

After the dinner I accompanied a young friend down the narrow cobblestone streets to her car. It was late, and she was driving home. Her car was at the opposite end of the village piazza from my house. She insisted on "driving me home"... about 75 metres, I estimate. It is little acts like this, chatting happily "all" the way, that make this place home.

And this post was interrupted by my hostess from last night, bringing me some mimosa as she was going past.

Happiness is internal, not external. I have always suspected that the secret to a long and happy life is finding joy in everything you do. My kitchen sink confounds any non-kiwi friends, particularly the Italians; it juts out into the room so I can look over the valley as I work. After two years they accept it, albeit reluctantly; there is no "head into the wall under the draining cupboard" for this kiwi, even washing the dishes is to be a pleasure!

not the post

This is not the post that I was going to write tonight... I intended making serious and erudite comments about Thomas Aquinas who was born in this town. Instead, after a dinner with friends marking the saints day of friend Tommaso, it is enough to say that

laughter is the best medicine...

and I should stay well for a long long time! I can't remember laughing as much as I did tonight.

Thankyou, St Tommaso, and all your friends!

not a couch potato

There is something contagious about the big events, the Rotorua marathon, the half marathons, the fun-runs with the hoards of competitors, the international masters events... yet three or four fun walks and being a regular support crew are my only proud athletic achievements!

But give me the angst of pre-race nerves, the smell of liniment and sweaty athletes, show me the line-up of runners bouncing on the spot to stay warmed up - or even the line-up of grimy port-a-loos - and you will transport me back to wonderful occasions of being excited yet anxious, waiting for runners to come in.

Ironman competition pushes the athletes and the watchers and waiters a lot further. As if the erratic live feed wasn't frustrating enough, last night my internet teased and taunted until 2am, coming and going at will. And then it disappeared. No, I wont say it! But thank goodness for daughters and text messages, keeping me in the picture for 10 hours and 28 minutes of competition - and then a little bit more.

Well done, CJ and Stevie, I was (kind-of) with you every stroke, pedal and step of the way! Today my pixellated eyes wont stay open either!

arty things

Tonight I received an emailed response to the blog about the exhibition "Voids".

I have attached it under the post and you can see it here.

The reply is from another artist; you might like to check out her work on her website, or take a break and holiday in Drift Cottage, where you can see the work and discuss it with Sheryl.

no sleep tonight

... because it is "Ironman time". In a few hours I will be glued to the cellphone, computer and the heater, so now instead of working I will rest. I really hope the internet doesn't let let me down!

Maybe I'll post a painting update later, but now my heart and mind is at Lake Taupo, New Zealand and work has to wait. It is the 25th anniversary of the oldest international Ironman competition. By my calculations the athletes are about an hour from breakfast, having to eat early before the swim. Check-in and numbering is in three and a half hours although the website count-down clock has added 12 hours to that. The start is at 7am, Saturday morning, New Zealand time. The bikes will all have been checked, and locked in position under guard overnight. The camping grounds, hotels and motels will be full... and I'm not there!

I am very, very proud of my athletic family. The girls run half marathons just for fun, they all work out because they enjoy it, and my son is about to start his third Ironman competition. It's all a bit scary for a mother on the other side of the world!

Oh, and this weekend my 88 year-old father is competing on the track as well, at the NZ Masters Athletics Championships...

Zacchi, where's the leash? Perhaps we should walk a little faster. And then home to ironmanlive.

PS Do make the time to read the inspiring stories "Against the Odds" and "Ironmanlife: The Amazing Tony Jackson" on the Ironman website.
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