Thank God for Air New Zealand.
No, not another airline rant. I was just really happy to finish a massively long journey of 36 hours on a carrier that treats its passengers like humans. And gives them a little more than the six inches of space I had for the 15-hour flight to Sydney. (Deep breaths, deep breaths.)
Oh, yes, and with a bit of humor too. Check this out for the best airline safety instructional video of all time, featuring a host of All Black stars, and a streaking grandmother.
Amy picked me up at the airport and then we went to the boys' school to bring them home. That and the clear blue skies of Wellington made for a perfect return to New Zealand.
I came home to witness the true randomness of the packing process, our HHE
(Household effects) having arrived. The one coat I was looking forward to wearing here didn't arrive, all the clothes I was hoping never to see again did. Quacker the stuffed duck, shot near Webster, South Dakota, and a permanent embarrassment to my wife, is back on our kitchen table taunting her. Still, having hated the wretched thing for years, she protected him from the bio-squad of customs who tried to take him away and burn him. There is a kind of beauty to that madness.
Still, the house is coming together and the boys are magnificently oblivious to it. Ewan, despite boxes piled ceiling-high around him, found comfort in a "new" set of Lego arrived from across the ocean. So what if wasn't meant to be here and they smashed our 42-inch flat screen? Happiness is in the little things.
And with that, I will succumb to the two weeks of jet lag that have been keeping me functioning about as well as Joaquin Phoenix on David Letterman.