Follow by Email

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Vicki Anderson: Fight or flight?

Vicki Anderson: Fight or flight?

A wedding for Freaky McBighands amid the rubble

VICKI ANDERSON Last updated 09:59 04/03/2011
 
It's 6.51am and we just had an aftershock that made three-year-old Finn say "Mr Shakey is back, we've got to go home now."

I said that naughty Mr Shakey sat on our roof so we need somewhere else to stay. The only thing that can stop Mr Shakey is getting under a table. Soon Finn was giggling and pretending to be a turtle. Take that Mr Shakey.

My to do list for today is possibly the oddest one I've ever made.

It includes the following: 1. Find somewhere else for us to live before Sunday when the owners of this house return.

2. Interview Gary Numan (Are Friends Electric? You bet, Ninj!)

3. Organise wedding.

On the house hunting front a nice woman rang me in response to my TradeMe ad yesterday. She is going back home to South Africa and is looking to rent it out. If it works out we just need to find somewhere to stay for the next two weeks. Fingers, eyes and toes crossed.

Another woman rang me to say her three bedroom home in St Albans was available for $750 a week.

"There's nothing around you know, I'm starting at $750 per week but I'll take the highest bidder."

Disgusting. She sounded so pleased with herself, I could almost hear her eyeballs changing to dollar signs like they do in cartoons.

Human beings are opportunistic creatures.

That basic human instinct of flight or fight is so true for Cantabrians right now.

Largely I'm going with fight but sometimes there's a bit of an internal wrestle with flight.

Matt, my partner, keeps asking me what we're going to do. I don't know. I just have to hope that somethingworks out.

But of my to do list the one that frightens me the most is number three.

My children have decreed that there shall be a wedding today, it's going to be a nice garden affair, weather permitting.

Humphrey, the largest teddy bear I have ever met is to marry a clown doll that my kids have named Smiley but which I have secretly called Freaky McBighands. I slept on my bed on the floor with two eyes open last night - one open for aftershocks, the other watching Freaky.

My children were rather ruthless when selecting a bride for Humphrey last night. Dolls were trotted out and given the once over by Humphrey. Those that didn't make the cut were tossed over shoulders until there was a broken heap of dolls. Hollie, 2, would wipe the rejected doll's eyes and make crying noises "no, no, no" she said.

I don't understand what Humphrey sees in Freaky. My eldest daughter, Lily, suspects it is because she was the tallest doll - Humphrey is a rather large bear.

I'm not quite sure how the wedding is going to go down. They've had me making bow-ties for Humphrey and his best man, Buzz Lightyear. Freaky doesn't have a bridesmaid but I saw Hollie rifling through the dress up box so I think she might have this covered.

Finn is quite taken with the play kitchen at this house so he is on catering. Travis just drove a toy truck over Humphrey so he is their chauffeur.

Apparently I have to write the vows on their behalf. I might see if Gary Numan has any ideas. So far all I have is "do you, Humphrey, take this freaky clown".

Actually Freaky looks a little bit like Charlie Sheen. Winning? She also has a piece of string sewn into her forehead which suggests she has had her own hang ups at some stage.

I love the quote from Sheen: "I'm tired of pretending I'm not a total bitchin' rock star from Mars."

Totally applies to Freaky, or maybe it is just that I am more sleep deprived than I think.

Still it is nice to be in a headspace where other news besides the war zone where we are living makes it through.

While we were planning Humphrey's and Freaky's honeymoon last night - a trip to a honeyjar - I got a text from a friend saying that the rescue mission in the inner city had become a recovery mission.

I thought of my five friends missing in the CTV building. I think about one's fiancé and what she must be going through.

"No, no, no, no, no," Hollie said again, throwing a beautiful doll over her shoulder.

I cried a lot at Freaky's wedding.

No comments:

Post a Comment