I had mentioned that I needed a watch when moderating a weekly workshop, and they supplied just the thing:

From the front, there's a little window where you can see the time (if you're too lazy to open it)

Both the front and the back open up

The front is all fancy and stuff...

...and the back lets you see all the clicketyclackety things.

(I apologize that everything is out of focus. I still haven’t quite figured out how to use the camera on my iPhone (which Steve & Dana also gave me as a radtastic gift. I see a pattern!))

Thanks again, guys. You’re the bestest.

Cue the rimshot.

But seriously folks, I’m here to talk about nude pictures of my wife.

(Note that in the joke, it’s naked pictures. When I’m talking about Cece, it’s nude pictures. The difference? Confidence!)

Every year at Massey University, the 3rd year vet students sell a fund-raising calendar. Way back in the dawn of time it became a saucy, cheeky nude calendar, and sales have gone up ever since.

This year is Cece’s year. And she’s trying to figure out what kind of saucy, cheeky scenarios she wants to do.

Y’see, this isn’t Playboy with its soft-focus Photoshopped Barbie dolls. This is saucy and cheeky and fun, and so you need a scenario.

Something to do with animals. Or veterinary science. Or academia.

Now for your part. If you’re friends of ours, chances are you’re kind of awesome. And creative. And saucy, and cheeky.  And possibly nude.

So we want your help. We’d love your ideas on scenarios, locations, poses. The funnier and cleverer the betterer.

If Cece picks your idea, we’ll send you some possum-fur nipple warmers. Or maybe a possum-fur willy warmer.  Trust me, they’re awesomerer than they sound.

Let the suggestions begin!

[Added by Cece later: My name is Cecilia Barr, this message has been edited and edited and edited again for content. I now approve this message.]

I don’t think we use the same terminology in the States, but I haven’t been at a university except to get drunk at Homecoming for 15 years. A ‘contact course’ is where you learn from home for most of the semester, and then you come in to school for one week at the end.

And in the case of Creative Processes, that one week was full of 14-hour days. There were two days of seminars and exercises, then three days in which the students had to choose a creative medium (writing, theater, dance, music, or film), break into teams, and create a collaborative piece of art.

For those student who chose film, it was like doing a 48-hour film competition. For the four of us who tutored film, it was like doing a 48-hour film competition and being on 5 different teams.

It was awesome.

I didn’t take many pictures because I was busy not dying, but here are a few I snapped here and there…

Auckland filmmaker Jon Waters (cool name for a filmmaker, huh?) giving a primer on how a camera works.

On location

The students did everything - write, produce, direct, act, edit, etc. ... with a little bit of help from us tutors

When shooting in New Zealand, there's an important piece of safety equipment called an umbrella

Not only did they have to learn the basics of Final Cut, they had to learn the basics of editing in the first place

Then came the final performance. There were 15 teams all told, with the film scattered throughout. They were all surprisingly good for first-time filmmakers, and the students ended the week exhausted but happy. Some of them had never dared to think of themselves as being creative people, and we proved them wrong.

Angie Farrow at Massey does this course every year, and I hope she invites me back for the next one. It’s a great way for cynical and jaded professionals like me to recharge our creative batteries by being around people who haven’t yet learned what’s impossible.

(I’m so smart, I learned all these lessons in only one day!)

0. Trust that your wounds have healed enough to not re-open
1. Run out of bandaids
2. Fold the clean laundry
3. Do the dishes
4. Use your iPhone or other touchscreen device
5. Put your hands on your hips.
6. Put your hands in your pockets.
7. Put your hands anywhere.
8. Handle raw chicken
9. Put salt on the chicken
10. Try to stifle the screams induced by getting salt and salmonella in your cuts
11. Type a post about having cuts on your typing fingers.

This has been a public service announcement from your local neighborhood klutz.

Today was sunny and clear, a beautiful summer day. Until, about 20 minutes later, it was this:

And 20 minutes after that, it was beautiful again.

I’ve come to savor my time riding on the back of the tractor as we travel around the farm.

And I’m not the only one either.  I took the tractor back to the farm house only to turn around and see three hitchhikers I never knew were there.

I’m just too tired to give it.  So while I rest up, I’ll let you fill in the blanks.

Oh yes, it’s every bit as awesome as you’re imagining.

If you want to start from the top, here’s her first post.

DAY 6:  Missed my bus to take me to Rotorua.  The lesson: if you’re close to missing your bus plunk down the cash and take a cab rather than wait for the bus, hoping that it gets you there on time.

I wound up having to pay for an additional bus ticket.

This actually turned out to be a good thing because my bus driver was the NICEST man and told me about all the things I needed to do while in Rotorua, and turned the bus trip into a mini tour.  He also let me know which cultural experience was superior to the others, and gave me a brief history lesson about the Pink and White Terraces (aka Buried Village).  Never heard of them?  Neither had I, and they’re considered one of the lost WONDERS OF THE WORLD.

So once I had arrived at my hostel, the worst hostel of my entire trip, I asked about the cultural experience along with taking a trip out to the Buried Village.  The front desk guy was actually able to get me with a group for that night, so I hurried off to learn as much as I could.  (Rotorua is like the cultural mecca of New Zealand and their cultural experiences are supposed to be the most authentic.)

Upon arrival we were placed at long tables, and our guide, John, welcomed us.  We learned that we were to be a tribe of 13 nations (yes, there were people visiting from 13 different countries in our group of about 40 or so people.  And the pretty cool bit was that John, our guide, could welcome each group in their own native language.)  Our leader wound up being a guy named Steve, and I think he was either from the UK or Australia.  So John led us down the chilly dark path, and we saw a war party approach from the opposite direction in their waka (war canoe).  Even in the winter weather these guys were dressed in the traditional shirtless attire, and it was freezing.  They danced, and told us about their traditions, customs, and ways of life.  It was very educational and acted out in an authentic manner.  They chatted the Haka chant that is preformed each time the All Blacks rugby team plays.  For those of you who don’t know what I’m talking about check out the link below-it’s pretty impressive:

Finally, we got to go back to our tables and have the full meal.  By this time I was starving since I’d been on a bus for most of the day, and had only been able to grab a snack at our one stop.  The food was decent, and the coffee warming.  After dinner we were offered blankets and flashlights to follow John back behind their village, and were shown where and how the meal was prepared.  Further back we were shown the glowworms caves that light up.  It reminded me a bit of AVATAR, and if Cameron had been to NZ I can see where he might’ve gotten some inspiration.

Eventually, we returned back to the main area and were escorted back to our respective buses.  I believe this is the tribe I saw:    http://www.mitai.co.nz/

Upon arriving back at my freezing hostel, I immediately turned on the heat, only to find that it didn’t work.  (I learned the next morning that they turn off the heat after 10PM-inded-WORST HOSTEL EVER.  For those of you possibly going to Rotorua-if it has the word Spa in the title-DON’T GO THERE.)

I also was told by my ever helpful from desk guy that there wasn’t a way to get to the Buried Village that day, and I informed him that instead of staying the week I would only be staying an additional day.  He gave me a map and showed me the places I could walk to, and the weather was nice enough that I followed the path he’d drawn for me.  (However, while at breakfast I called up the Buried Village people myself and was able to get a driver to pick me up to take me the next day.  So lesson learned, never take no for an answer when you might miss something you really want to see.  This being the anniversary of the eruption I knew that I wanted to go there if I could.)

Along my walk I smelled several of the native flora and fauna along with the pungent sulfur smell that comes from living in a place that has natural heated pools all over.  During my walk I also found my way to their main locals village/part of town.  I say village because of how small it was.  I found a shop where the owner’s husband had carved everything in the store and was an elder and teaching others his trade.  (This was also the best place to buy remarkable pieces at a decent price.)

Later in the day I walked by a lifesized waka caged so that it wouldn’t be damaged, and I also walked through an English garden…which seemed so out of place but very beautiful in its own way.  I slowly made my way back to the hostel and had a nice chat and dinner with some of the other travelers.  Warning newbees about the loss of heat at nice, and armed with a small portable heater I eventually made it to bed-a little warmer than the night before.