I know, I know, three months since my last blog entry...ridiculous...unforgivable...lazy..useless....yes yes yes and no!!!!!! Honestly, I have had a hell of a lot to write about but facebook...youtube...and, oh yeah, work, got in the way.  
More facebook and youtube than work actually, if I'm going to be honest .  
I mean, I call it researching when I watch documentaries about the history of the British royal family, when its actually just nosiness and Doctor Phil helps me feel better about myself....I mean there are some real loonies out there who are even more crazy than me.  

I started 2015 on the top note of taking my son, Tamati "PLUNDAH" Thornton o his first huge gig in Wanganui...


Then I had a night at home with my husband watching movies, snuggling and seeing in the new year....but I doubt anyone is interested in that...but what everyone will be interested in is that I have finally FINISHED the second part of the 'Heart of the Tapu Stone' Trilogy..."Feather from the Kakahu" and here is a bit of the book to give you a hint at what is going on....

Three years ago

The Urupa crowned a small hill behind the Pa.  It rose in the middle of acres of flat field.  
Most Kaumatua rode to the gate in their moko’s 4x4’s; apart from the brave ones who trudged along the rough, muddy, cow pat strewn path with everyone else.  The climb was a hard trek for old legs.  
Conversation and laughter waxed and waned.  Icy winds stung uncovered faces and more than a few worried glances darted up to a ponderous black sky.  A few stray drops of rain hurtled towards them.
Mauki swayed on her feet.  Piripi, never further than a breath away, pulled her into his coat and clamped his arms around her waist.  Her feet barely touched the ground as he half carried her up the hill.  Grateful she slumped against him pressing her face into his chest.  Every cell in her body was exhausted; four days of sitting next to the casket forcing herself to cry.  Four days of trying to feel something, anything to crack open the glut of grief trapped inside her. 

There was no priest at the graveside but a tiny spherical old Māori woman dressed in layers of black, her Kaue Moko stood out in strong contrast on her dark lined face.  Mauki wanted Nanny T to send her mother on and she’d told the church to fuck off.  She didn’t want any ‘E Te Ariki’ crap and no ‘Lord’s bloody prayer.’  
She didn’t care what anyone considered right or wrong.  It made her sick the way they went on and on about oppression of the Pakeha, then insist a Pakeha God carry her mother up to Heaven.  A Pakeha God who’d let her down again and again and again.  She wasn’t giving him room at her mother’s funeral.  
Laurel began to sing.  It was a Moteatea to help Mina find her way to Hine Nui te Po.  Mauki’s heart suddenly twisted in on itself fracturing its calcified shell.  Her grief burst open but instead of pain, there was an explosion of joy.  She looked up as it ripped a hole in the sky and pure golden light surrounded them. 
Her throat tightened, her mother was happy, her mother was free. 
She pulled away from Piripi but held his hand in a firm solid grip.  Opening her mouth she let her voice rush out to meet Laurel’s.  As they harmonized, the pureness of their tone built into a force, which exploded across the valley, and the Atua rushed toward them.  

Hope u like it....