Alien in a Foreign Field

Never trust a skinny cook*

2009-07-08T18:52:00.000-07:00

Just before four in the afternoon, I put away the last clean, dry plate and pause for a cup of coffee, black. A couple of hours ago everyone was full of barbeque, salads, bread and cake, which took the edge off the hunger pangs after breakfast of pancakes, in-between morning snacks and afternoon snacks.

Because I am so badly organized, I haven’t managed to squeeze in a trip to the supermarket as the prospect of dinner looms. Some time between now and 6 in the evening, I am doomed to hear those fateful words “what’s for supper?” Right on cue, my husband appears, “so how can I help with dinner?”
“Give me suggestions about what to cook?”
“Don’t we usually have left-overs on Sunday?”
“Yes……..but they’re aren’t any, left overs that is to say. In fact, come to think of it, I’m sick of the sight of food. My brain has died. I have no imagination. I can’t think of anything.”
“Ah…….so you’re in need of a little inspiration?”
“That or a cheap slave.”
“To eat or to help?”
“Quite frankly, I beginning to wonder how I’m ever going to keep up with all these permanently hungry people? It’s a complete nightmare. Either I’m shopping for food, cooking the food or cleaning up after the food.”
“Hmm….so ‘and Nonna makes 8’ is proving too much?”
“Not exactly. It’s just the sheer quantity. Everyone seems to have hollow legs. Just think of something……anything……..an idea?”
“Do you know I heard an interesting discussion on the radio about why women were such abject failures …….under-represented in public life.”
“!”
“I mean……too busy with domestic duties.”
“!”
“Sounds like a take out is in order.”
“Ooo you do have the very best ideas.”
“I do try. I expect Mileva Maric would have been a public figure if they had take out back in those days.”
“Who?”
“Oh……Mrs. Einstein.”

p.s. I actually have quite a few adults around here that help a great deal but I do martyrdom so well.

* "Nonna's" favourite phrase.

Wool Gathering

2009-07-04T03:28:00.000-07:00

I sit down for the first time at one in the morning on the small patch of dry carpet with my knitting and a glass of white wine when my bleary eyed husband walks in. He shouts over the din of the washer and drier playing catch up.
“Blimey. Am I married to a secret drinker?”
“Well that's certainly a plan.”
"Why are you wearing that old sun-dress?"
"It was the only thing I could find in the dark after my shower."
“Why are you sitting on the floor?”
“Because the rest of the carpet is still wet even though I’ve steamed cleaned it twice.”
“Ah. Do you want me to help you move the furniture back? It looks a bit odd piled in the corner.”
“Tomorrow when or if the carpet ever dries.”
“What’s that terrible stink?”
“Bleach in the bathroom, swiffer liquid throughout the kitchen and hall floors of his flight path and essence of vomit here and generally around the bazaars.”
“Ah. Why didn’t I hear any of this?”
“Probably because you passed out after you changed the last bed again upstairs.”
"Well they're fast asleep now. I'm sure they'll be fine by tomorrow, batteries fully re-charged again."
"Now there's a fact guaranteed to aid sleep."
"Happy 4th?”
“Cheers!”

Ivory Wedding Anniversay

2009-06-30T13:36:00.000-07:00

"Let me make this quite clear. I don't care how tired you all are I want everybody there, bright and early at breakfast for our gift exchange."
"Sure. Are you expecting a surprise?"
"I am expecting something duty free from the airport shop."
"Oh."
"However, he will be receiving a minor heart attack in a box."
"Really? What did you have in mind?"
"Something age appropriate for an old codger."
"Such as?"
"Meet Fred. I look positively youthful by comparison."
"Are you sure about that?"
"!"

Ware were you when I needed you?

2009-06-29T05:53:00.000-07:00

I talk to my pal on the phone as I am in need of a therapeutic moan.

“It’s just impossible. Rarer than hens teeth. I knew I should have bought them in England. Even after all these years, this country is completely infuriating. The most basic items are totally unavailable. How do people cope?”
“So……..what exactly is it that you’re lookin for now?”
“Sheets. Proper flat floral twin sheets. See! I even know to use the word ‘flat’ and the word ‘twin’ even though it’s really a single because I’m so completely acclimated now.”
“I recognize that catch in your voice, so you won’t get the sarcasm past me this time.”
“Hmm.”
“Stop sulkin why dontcha. We’ll figure this out. I’m sure just about all the high street stores will have them.”
“No. I don’t want to physically go anywhere. I need to do it on line.”
“Of course, wouldn’t like you to have to rub shoulders with the natives would you?”
“Don’t tease. I’m I a foul mood.”
“Like I didn’t notice? So. What’s the main issue?”
“When you look up floral sheeting the results show loads of sites for some weird stuff to decorate floats!”
“Hmm that makes sense.”
“It does?”
“Yeah. So what happens when you search on floral flat twin sheet?”
“You get ‘sets’ of bedding. I don’t want a set. I just want one single sheet, or maybe two.”
“Single or twin?”
“Two twins. Is that what I mean? Yes, I think it is. It’s all so confusing. I’m toying with Paisley. Do you have Paisley out here or do I have to translate that too?”
“Of course we have Paisley.”
“Anyway. I think I’ll just have to find a source of sheeting and make them up myself but it would be so much easier if I could just by ready made sheets instead.”
“So who’s into Paisley and florals?”
“No-one in particular. I may just have to admit defeat and get plain.”
“Plain?”
“Solid.”
“Ah.”
“But I can’t find anything wide enough. Everything seems to be 90 or 115?”
“What?”
“Oh……36 or 45. No use to man nor beast.”
“So how big is the bed?”
“Bed?”
“Yeah. How big is the…..mattress that want the sheets for?”
“I don’t want it for a bed.”
“But I thought…….what do you want the sheet for?”
“For the table. Now we’re 8 in the family we’ve had to drag out the big table top and I don’t have any table cloths big enough to cover it, so I thought I’d use sheets instead.”
“How big is the table?”
“In metric?”
“No imperial.”
“Er…..that would be about……84 inches or 2 yards and one foot by 5 foot or 60 inches…..ish.”
“!”
“Did you just snort? Did you snort on the phone?”
“Er…..I may have done….so how come yur not lookin in table where?”
“Table where?”
“Ware! Table WARE!”
“Because my table is too big for tableware table cloths.”
“Dya know, it just kills me to tell you this but 84 by 60 is pretty much standard for an American table.”
“!”
“What can I say……everything in America is bigger and……”

Tip of the day

Best way to avoid sun burn = garden in the moonlight and take advantage of your jet lag.

Enterprise allowance – child exploitation

2009-05-21T10:42:00.001-07:00

My daughter moans about lack of funding just as her big sister returns from pulling poison oak in Santa Cruz, dressed like a yetty for protection. I observe the girls in silence as I pot up seedlings which are technically weeds.
“Geez you look disgustin.”
“Disgusting but rich, which suits me just fine.”
“Rich?”
“Yes indeedy.”
“Howmucha got?”
“That’s for me to know.”
“Can I come with you next time?”
“You’ll be at school I’m afraid.”
“How can I get some money too?”
“Work.”
“Can I do some chores for money Mom?”
“You already do your chores to earn your pocket money….er……allowance. There isn’t really anything else that the budget can stretch to right now dear.”
“Maybe you could set up one of those American lemonade stands in the summer?” offers her big sister.
“I need money now. I can’t wait til the summer.”
“I don’t think they have paper rounds out here do they? How do children earn money do you suppose?”
“When she’s a bit older she can do baby sitting.”
“I hate babies.”
“Well that’s another career door slammed shut.”
“Maybe you could make something to sell? Friendship bracelets perhaps?”
“What are you doing mum?”
“I’m just making these little paper pots and plopping weeds in them. Mainly Morning Glories and Tomatoes. They seem to have seeded the entire garden. I really need to conquer the compost heap but I don’t want to just throw them away.”
“Geez I could sell em!”
“Er……I was going to give them away to my friends.”
“Friends suck. I’ll set em up at the end of the driveway. What’ll they cost? $10 bucks each?”
“In your dreams dearie. More like 25 cents if you’re lucky.”
“Really? Still if I sell four that’s a dollar.”
“Now hang on a minute. If you’re really going to do this then we should do it properly.”
“Properly? What’s properly?”
“First of all, you need to be making the pots, finding the seedlings and filling them.”
“I do?”
“Yes……unless you want to pay my wages for making them for you?”
“That sucks. How much do you charge?”
“I believe you said the going rate is ten bucks an hour?”
"Make that ten pounds Mum. Much better exchange "rate!"

Fantasy Fiesta after the siesta

2009-05-14T18:00:00.000-07:00

Or

The Rule of Three

It’s very simple and is as applicable to pottery as it is to cake decorations:- always make three and one might turn out o.k.

It’s stands to reason when you work with sugar, have three children and two diabetics in the house:- obviously one or more will be eaten prior to completion.

The second one will be damaged or broken beyond repair.

This leaves you with one and only one after many, many attempts.

Unless you’re extra lucky of course.

Yes I know! I also need help in the "how to use a camera properly" but that's for another "campaign."

I’d offer to send you the spares but I doubt if they travel well as evidenced by "cake wrecks."

Environmental Whore

2009-05-14T13:35:00.000-07:00

“Mum!”
“Yes dear?”
“Can you explain something to me?”
“I’ll try.”
“Why did I spend all day yesterday rigging up a washing line for you if you still insist on using the bloody tumble drier!”
“Well if you look outside you’ll see that it’s already full.”
“Full?”
“Yes……this is just a little overflow.”
"Ah.....you're so trying!"
"I shall endeavour to try harder."

Gourmands of the world unite – rare bites

2009-05-06T14:56:00.000-07:00

Inspired by her little brother’s recent "cookery" efforts, my daughter decides that she too can be independent, creative and a culinary expert.

“D’ya think I could make a grilled cheese sandwich for myself?”
I look at my pre-teen, scissors poised mid sewing project, “by yourself?”
“Sure.”
“Fair enough, go ahead.”
“D’ya know where his cookery book has gone?”
“Yes he took it to therapy to show his therapist.”
“Ah…….so howamy gonna make a grilled cheese sandwich without the book?”
“How indeed?”
“D’ya know howta make one Mom?”
I think deep down in the repository of my culinary experiences over a period approximating forty plus years. “Actually……..I don’t think I have ever in my entire life made a grilled cheese sandwich. The nearest would probably be…..a rarebit or a cheese toastie……which are probably near enough.”
“A ‘toastie’ sounds nice but wotz rabbits gotta do with anything?
“Nevermind, you carry on dear. Knock your self out.”
“Er…..don’t say that mom……it sounds really weird the way your say it.”
“!”

Predictably I attend every step:- where’s the cheese, where’s the bread, can you cut the bread, where’s the knife………surely every parent does this as some stage or other? Every parent knows that the request for independence comes with a baggage of hands on , one on one, time consuming attention.

“D’ya have a pan?”
“What kind of a pan?”
“Er…..a grilling pan?”
“Don’t you just pop it under the grill?”
“Wotsa grill?”
“Oh…..a broiler……the broiler…..stick it under the broiler and……broil it.”
“Duh….then it would be a broiled cheese sandwich and I don’t like the sound of that one little bit.”
“Neither do I funnily enough….something is clearly lost in translation.”
“Wait til I tell everyone at school.”
“Tell everyone at school what? That you made your own sandwich all by yourself?”
“No…….that my mom can’t even cook a grilled cheese sandwich……that’s cookin 101 y’know.”
“!”

Cake Design for Foreigners

2009-04-27T19:41:00.000-07:00

In a previous life time I used to make cakes. Predominantly Devil's Food Cakes with Chocolate Ganache, decorated with sugarpaste [ rolled fondant], flower paste [that's sugar too] and pastillage. These were a 'few' of my first attempts.

Wheelbarrow and pumpkins

Christening cake

Knapsack for the world traveler

White Ice Church

Halloween pumpkin, fall leaves and scary ghostly skeleton

Rubber duckies and pond life

A peramulator

God Bless Her [not necessarily the Queen]

Three little monsters.

Rose petals and crib

Lacy crib

Lacy bootees for a boy or a girl, hands and feet motifs

Smocking box and bottees

Chocolate box cake topped with real truffles

Carousel

Easter basket, bunny and eggs

Ghosts

Going and away and packing boxes

Yes today I figured out how to use the scanner and scan in a few of my old photographs. I feel like I've finally conquered technology.

No you cannot send me to "Cake Wrecks" because I am not commercial!

But "life" has taken over in more ways than "one," although I wish I were a better "photographer."

Now I make "Pots."

Online grocery shopping – a comparative review

2009-02-19T10:30:00.000-08:00

If you think that shopping on-line is purely for the "slothful" you may probably be right. If on the other hand your family is subject to the occasional domestic disaster, then it may be something worth checking out. Just off the top of my head, I can easily think of half a dozen different scenarios where this service might be of use:-
Freezer death
Fridge death
Sudden illness, oneself or a family member, which results in house bound
Car death
Explosion of oven
Death of any other essential household appliance, such a toilet, whereby the owner occupier must remain in residence for a minimum period of 48 hours on the off chance that the plumber may honour us with a visit for a standard call out charge, 5 minute examination, departure on the promise to return with the month, not to exceed 31 days in any event, many harsh words regarding consumer mis-use, and the promise of further additional charges for parts, installation and tax, not to include clean up or removal and disposal of broken parts, nor the slightly battered and water logged Thomas the Tank Engine.

For many efficient people, any or all of the above would still leave them with a carefully organized store cupboard of ingredients to whip up a wholesome and nutritious meal for a family of "seven," and sometimes more.

Other less efficient people, may need to resort to on-line grocery shopping.

In my vast experience in these matters, it is far better to set up an order on-line prior to the disaster. A basic list of essentials can very quickly be drawn up, especially, if you’re not working on a Mac. If you are working on a Mac it is even more essential to set up the emergency shopping list in advance, to iron out any inevitable and frustrating kinks.

Make sure you save the voucher for free delivery on all orders over the minimum requirement. Orders that are delivered on the same day take the maximum hit in delivery charges, assuming that you can find an open window or convenient slot. If you are doubtful that you can hit the minimum charge ensure that you stock up on staples such as toilet rolls, laundry detergent and other non-perishables, preferably large, heavy ones as you need to exploit someone else’s muscle power to the maximum and reserve your own strength, so as to be better able to run your household efficiently and hand the plumber his tools.

Book mark the site or leave as a permanently open window so that other household members are able to hit the ‘order now’ button should you find that your fingers are inoperable due to a surfeit of wooden splinters from Thomas the Tank Engine. It is a good idea to include finely targeted bribes for each member of the family as an incentive to their co-operation in this endeavour. Most family members will be reluctant to hit the ‘order now’ button in the sure and certain knowledge that the result with be several hundred weight of healthy vegetables winging their way towards your door, but a packet of M&M’s here and there may just make the difference between success and failure to the enterprise.

It is handy to note that the pictures of the shopping items all appear to be the same size and there is no scale available for comparison. This means that a one and a half ounce individual fun size pack of M&Ms appears to be the same as a family pack for a herd of elephants. Most children salivate to such a degree that they are not mindful of the fine print.

A few details.

Our personal experience.

Customer service is great. If the delivery person turns up with half your order or half of someone else’s order, this is easily remedied by telephone where you get to speak to a real live human being who is also capable of making decisions. This works even if you only discover the error an hour later. We had no problem being credited for items that we were charged for but failed to materialize. They also offered to deliver the missing items later in the day for free. Make sure that you check each item off the print out to avoid hic-cups.

All of the different supermarkets are competitively priced but don’t forget to check the ‘specials.’ Since price is crucial in these financially crippling times, take care to double check the price per ounce to avoid expensive mistakes. Also be aware of the difference between buying some by quantity, i.e. one unit, and by weight, i.e. one pound, otherwise you may end up with ten ten pound bags of potatoes.

Take care over the ‘substitutes’ page. This is where you explain whether you are willing to accept alternatives for specific items. This is generally divided into substitute brands and substitute quantities. If you fail to complete this form then you may end up with something entirely unexpected.

The delivery personnel are friendly and personable and on time. I’m not sure on the etiquette but I believe it would be appropriate to tip the delivery guy, afterall they’re providing a service, although I have no idea what sum would be appropriate.

One last hidden benefit is that you're helping to keep your carbon footprint under raps as well as preventing impulse buying, as little pictures are not as tempting as the real thing. It also means, in theory at least, that at the check out, the trolly won't be filled with erroneous purchases by other more surreptitious members of the "family."

It's a dog eat dog world

2009-02-04T10:16:00.000-08:00

In response to the following query search, which brought a newcomer to my blog:-

“my goldfish ate one of my other goldfish on wednesday and still has part of it in his mouth on saturday will he choke?”

I can say with complete confidence, no, he won’t choke, but he is probably carnivorous so your other goldfish may be in danger. Is your tank large enough to accommodate one super sized goldfish? And by the by, how do you know that he’s male?

Other people’s reality

2009-02-04T10:12:00.001-08:00

Just after Christmas I flee to Target where there will be adult people with normal speech patterns for a few moments of respite and some other essential items. Once cats, teeth, chocolate and cleanliness supplies are under control, I also grab a plain black top for myself, on sale, probably not my size but at $5:00 I’ve no complaints.

At the check out, the checker is abuzz and abusy. She is young, fresh and full of bounce, so I feel all the more ancient, numb brained and deflated.
“Did ya have a nice holiday?”
“Oh yes very much so. And yourself?”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“?”
“Do you want your milk in a bag or not?”
“No thanks.”
“Er…….was that yes or no……to the bag?”
“Um……it was a no…..thanks.”
“I got the thanks I just couldn’t work out if it went with a yes or a no?”
“Ah. That constant bleeping must be very distracting for you.”
“Me? I’m right on top of things even after nearly an hour. Just tune it right out.”
“Oh good.” Maybe my diction has deteriorated?
“Do you always buy toothbrushes?”
“Er……sometimes.”
She hurls the sack of cat food into a bag even though it is already fitted with a handle.
“What’s your dog called?”
“Er…….that’s for the cats.”
“Can you just swipe your card?”
“I already have.”
“Can you just sign in the box?”
“But there’s no total, I don’t know how much I’m spending yet?”
She presses another button and the sum appears like magic on the screen.
“Do you like black?”
“Yes I do, it always matches.”
“I never eat black chocolate. Is it good?”
“Black? Er yes, it’s a birthday present.”
“Oh I’m sorry to hear that. Was it someone in your close family or just a friend that died?”
“Um…….a distant acquaintance.” Presumably, I can only guess.
“Always nice to buy new clothes though……even if it’s just for a funeral.”
“?”

Maybe I am already dead? Therapy session over. I can’t wait to get home.

How those digital recorders come in handy. Even as I re-listen, I still have no clue.

ROLF Awards

2009-02-03T10:33:00.000-08:00

"Jessica" explains the rules as follows:-

"To award someone a ROFL Award:

1. Pick a post from the current month that made you laugh.
[Please only choose original material written or developed by a blogger - i.e., not a YouTube video, cartoon, or joke circling the Net.]

2. E-mail me a link to the post that you are nominating AND a link to your blog by the deadline.
[I will send you the award button so you can share it with the blogger you've nominated.]

3. I will send you the award button code a day or so before the awards are to be posted.

4. Send the person you are awarding the award button code and let them know when the ROFL Awards will be posted for the month.

5. On the first Friday of the month, write a post on your blog about the post you nominated.
[Please link back to this blog (Oh, The Joys) and to Tania at Chicky Chicky Baby so that people can see the full list of award winning funny posts.]

6. Read all the funny posts for the month and enjoy!

Feel free to e-mail me with questions.

I look forward to laughing with you!"

Not sure about the 'first Friday' versus the deadline, but here is my offering in any case:-

To "Lime" over at the "House of Lime" for her wonderful post called "Signs of an unwell mind" that's just my kind of mind.
Cheers dears

Escape Artistes

2009-01-27T10:51:00.000-08:00

I don gardening gloves before diving out into the cold. I leave "Nonna" in the house watching Manga Anime and hope that this doesn’t constitute "elder abuse." I commence an hour’s hard labour, as I transfer rocks from the garden to the fence line. Thatcher, our new puppy is determined to dig for freedom. He has already adopted several favourable sites where he burrows. Broadly speaking, my neighbours are more mellow and tolerant than many, but the appearance of a 45 lb puppy in their back yards, might just tip the balance. As I heave, I think about all the other people determined to escape the premises. The deadlocks work for the children, but other "senior members" of the household are every bit as wily.

I can’t quite fathom when "exactly" life became quite so "complicated" but I’m certain that when I first installed the rock garden I had no idea that I would end up where I am now. The heavy, stability of a rock garden seemed the cement on our new American life. I never expected to be dis-assembling it for such a bizarre purpose.

I ordered it on-line as it comes with 3 homing tags.

I’m so glad to be living in the 21st century.

And if anyone mentions wrap around services or Respite Care, I may just crack, or possibly croak, as it's strictly 'do-it-yourself' around here.

January Jaunty Jest

2009-01-25T10:15:00.000-08:00

Have you read something during this month of January that made you laugh out loud? Was it something that might make other people have the same reaction? If so you may wish to leave a link to that post in the comments section here, or e-mail me or write a little note to "Jessica" over at "Oh the Joys" and her jolly good pal "Tania" at "Chicky Chicky Baby" for their "ROLF" award for January.

Maybe I could invite you to play along too?

As they say:-

'If you are willing, we'd love help spreading the word. Feel free to share the deadlines with your followers and friends on Twitter and / or Facebook .

Thanks so much!

Jessica & Tania'

I'd attempt the Twitter / Facebook option but sadly, technically challenged persons, such as myself are incapable of such feats.

What I'd really like to know is whether I can submit four suggestions or recommendations? I maintain four blogs, I read lots of other blogs. Some are quite hilarious, others draw me for different reasons. Surely I could provide four nominations, although I suspect that would constitute cheating?

Cheers dears

All men are beasts

2009-01-17T08:49:00.000-08:00

I lie in bed at night, alone. It’s the same every year, once a year. Once a year, on the first Friday after his birthday, my spouse leaves for his annual pub crawl with his friends, who used to be young men but are now all old cronies. It’s a tight schedule, on foot, to twenty different venues at 15 minute intervals. I remain home with the children for several different reasons. The primary reason is that someone must remain fully functioning during the rest of the weekend’s hangover, and oh what a mother of all hangovers it is.

I wouldn’t mind so much if he were a regularly drinker, I think, but for the rest of the year he is dry. Nothing more dangerous than a fizzy coke. How does a body cope with that kind of onslaught?

Hence, once a year, I go to bed early, or at least relatively early, after a glass of wine to speed me on my way. I know that the last call, at ‘The Last Call,’ is at 1 in the morning. I know that approximately two in the morning I shall wake up. I shall wake up and be extremely grumpy. I shall be grumpy and alone. I shall remain alone until any time after three but by that time my grumpiness will have vanished. Instead I shall troll through my regular nightmare scenarios. Has he been squished by a bus? Has he died of alcohol poisoning, as well he should? Has he been arrested for miscellaneous misdeamours, as I’m sure that no-one understands the fun of playing ‘dead rats,’ least of all the local constabulary, or cops, as we now call them. I should quite like to be present as he lies in the middle of the road on his back, squealing ‘dead rats,’ whilst his legs and arms bicycle through the empty air and explains his purpose to a cop. By about four I give up and peek out the window. My ears are on heightened alert to pick up pin pricks, although it will probably be crashes and bangs.

Between 4 and 5 I will hear him, I’m almost sure I will? I hope I shall? I’ll check the LED on the clock as the numbers flip over slowly, oh so slowly.

When I hear the noise I’m up in a flash to spy. I look outside into the yard as the sun begins to rise, where he sits on the concrete with an arm around the silent dog as he howls to the non-existent moon.

Mothers

2009-01-12T08:42:00.000-08:00

We notice each other moments after our dogs notice each other. She is a large woman of generous proportions on the other side of the road. She crosses over. The marshmallow and the stick insect exchange pleasantries. She suggests that although her puppy is a nervous type that maybe our "dogs" could meet each other. Two quivering Labradoodles attempt contact. Her’s is shaggy, like a poodle. Chocolate brown with a stumpy thumpy tail. Mine is short coated, like a Labrador. Fizzy Champagne with a teasle tail. Two shivering puppies attempt appropriate puppy behaviour. Her owner is perfectly made-up, exquisitely coiffed and co-ordinated in couture. I am in yesterday’s clothes, bare faced and hope to brush my hair tomorrow. I explain our choice, unnecessarily:- eczema, asthma and allergies. She explains hers :- children and family time. We exchange glances. Mine are at home during electronics time. Hers are at home watching the telly. I see her hopes and the bead of sweat on her temple. It’s reflected in her over glistening eyes. She dabs a finger to the corner, gently, as she bends to untangle herself from her dog and the lead. I am a novice. Like all novices I have read the "book," the theory. I’m crouched on the grass embracing Thatcher as puppy jumping is to be discouraged but "proper practice" is tougher than the theory. I don’t mention our morning walk, together, all of us, for an hour and a half. I try to practice smiling. She smiles back, tired, weary, but still hopeful. We remain in Tableau, several moments longer than might be expected. Broadly speaking, I follow the rule that unsolicited advice is unwise, to anyone, let alone strangers. Foreigners should always try to keep their own counsel but because I am a novice, I decide to be bold and share, because I have read the book. “You know……” I start as I concentrate on the woven fibres covering her knees.
“Hmm?”
“I read that it’s very important to be a confident owner……..it’s something…….. I’m working on.” Her eyes find my eyes as I stand up, straight, almost as tall as her shoulder. Her shoulders straighten too. “Mebee I could try that too?” We beam and go on our way, dragging our dogs behind us. Women, our connections make us strong.

Slippery Siren

2008-12-31T14:12:00.000-08:00

I lean on the door jam and slap serum on my face. I have no hope of rejuvenation but I need to demonstrate my appreciation of a gift. I look across at him, deflated and defeated on the tumble drier, surrounded with a plethora of tools.
“No luck then?”
“Nope…….they deliberately design these things to make them inaccessible.”
“Forced to use the call out guy then?”
“No……..I’m going to get in there somehow or other.”
“I have my new tin opener if you’re desperate?”
“Permanently removing the back of the tumbler is not a solution.”
“Ooo I don’t know. We need the front …..and the sides……..but I don’t really think we need the back. If we leave it off it will be easier to fix next time.”
“The back is an integral part to maintain the structure.”
“Ah….”
“What’s that pong?”
“The new face cream…….see…….I’m using it…….it’s quite lovely.”
“Doesn’t half honk though.”
“Don’t you like it?”
“Fruity yet.........smells like something’s died.”
“?”
“Here……give me a hand…….pull on that corner and we’ll see if anything fallen behind.”
“I can’t get a grip, my hands are all slimy now.”
“Stand back then, I don’t want to knock you.”
We peer at the back wall behind the tumbler.
“What do you think that is?”
“I have no idea. Looks like a tongs and rubber glove jobby to me.”
“It looks like a petrified banana.”
“But that wouldn’t smell……..would it?”
“There’s a hellava lot of …….food down here. Look! That used to be a grape.”
“What’s the old toilet plunger doing there?”
“I think we can safely say that we’ve found his new hidey hole.”
“For both the precious and the "discards.”

It’s a gift

2008-12-30T07:21:00.000-08:00

Late at night, I am all set to bimble up the hills to Bedfordshire when the telephone rings. Obviously someone has died or some other dire emergency has befallen my loved ones.

“Hello?”
“Can I speak to her,” asks my daughter’s pal.
“I’m sorry she’s already in bed……..........some hours ago.”
“Can you give her the phone?”
“I could……...... but she’s asleep. May I give her a message……tomorrow?”
“Can she come to my party?”
“Ooo how lovely. I’m sure she’d love to come. When is it?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Oh…….what time?”
“4…….it’s a sleepover.”
“Ah……well ……..I think that should be fine,” I reply peering at the calendar.
“Tell her to bring me a present.”
“Well…….yes……indeed…….a birthday present…it is your birthday party afterall……it shall be my first priority tomorrow morning.”

I’m not sure if she heard my reply as the line is dead. I can think of few worse scenarios than taking three children to shop for a gift, unscheduled, unplanned and with no prior notice or warning. Fortunately, these modern times provide other alternative solutions. I am quite certain that the inventors of gift cards had me in mind.

There is none greener

2008-12-29T17:46:00.000-08:00

My daughter heads off to the airport to collect her pal. She takes a spare bike with her for her pal, so that they may both cycled home together. I just hope that she's a light traveler, unburdened by luggage.

I can honestly say that I would be more than a little surprised to be greeted in a similar manner. Luckily I'm confident that there is a taxi rank at the airport for those who are like minded.

If your carbon footprint permits air travel, I don't think it should moan too much about four wheel travel.

A son’s a son til he gets a wife……….

2008-12-29T14:34:00.000-08:00

But that is part of the delight of children, part time rental whilst fledgling and then free fall when they flock off elsewhere to nest.

Oh the joy of having both girls and boys.

Hence, when I return home from a quick emergency food shopping trip, I am immediately accosted by the back gate and it’s freshly screwed in safety catch. I swing the door open a few times to admire it’s magnificence as it clunks gently into position, locked, safe and with just enough spring to avoid finger damage.

Just next to it, I find that the compost heap has been turned over and neatly closed, a job only for the muscle bound and me.

In the garage I find the whole place has been overhauled, tidied, rearranged and labeled. The toilet plunger dries on an old newspaper, an indication that it has been used, for once, for it’s rightful purpose.

Inside I reach for paper towel, so overwhelmed with the diligence during my absence, and what do I find? Some gentle considerate soul has mounted the paper towel dispenser, that’s been hanging around on the ‘to do’ list for the last 5 years.

In the bathroom the toilet is free from blockage and I detect a hint of Clorox bleach, an indication of a thoroughly efficient job, well done.

Some might believe that I pinned a ‘chores’ list in a prominent position when I left, but I can assure you that all these tasks were unprompted, because as we all know……………. a daughter’s a daughter the rest of her life.

Of course it may take another five years for some other people to adjust to such "change."

King of Puddings

2008-12-27T14:10:00.000-08:00

Adapted from "Delia Smith’s Queen of Puddings" new recipe. Following our "pudding" "disaster," we attempt an "alternative." It was the jam jelly mid layer that caused the screams of agony. Since everyone like’s the meringue topping, except me, and everyone likes the eggy bread base, except me, we opt for the lemon option.

Tried, tested and trusted as follows:-

King of Puddings *1

1 pint / 20 fluid ounces (570 ml) milk
1⁄2 oz (10 g) butter
4 oz (110 g) fresh white breadcrumbs
2 x 1oz (50 g) caster sugar, plus 1 teaspoon to dust on top
grated zest of 1 large lemon
Juice from three large lemons
2 large eggs
half a jar of Lemon Curd

Heat the milk and add the knob of butter. Take off the heat and add the lemon juice and rind. Stir in the breadcrumbs and one ounce of sugar. Leave to cool [and swell]. The extra liquid makes the base more fluid and less stodgy. [Sorry Delia!]

Separate the eggs and stir the yolks into the bread mixture when it’s cold. Pour into a buttered casserole dish and bake for half an hour in a medium oven.

Warm the lemon curd gently and spread over the bread mixture when it’s finished baking.

Whisk the egg whites to firm peaks and fold in the other one ounce of sugar. Spread the meringue over the surface of the lemon curd and sprinkle with the last teaspoonful of sugar. Bake for 10 minutes at gas mark 4 or 350C until lightly browned.

Prince of Puddings

As above but omit the lemon juice and rind, and replace with heavy cream.

Instead of lemon curd use Nutella. Only warm the Nutella slightly so that it’s spreadable at you don’t want it to burn.

Enjoy!

*1 a.k.a. Poison Pudding, scored 6 out of ten and he ate it.

Spud U Like

2008-12-27T07:34:00.000-08:00

“What’s up mother?”
“Hmmm.”
“You look perplexed, or rather buried in cookery books.”
“Yes I’m trying to think of something exciting to do with "potatoes?”
“Is there anything exciting about potatoes?”
“I lack inspiration.”
“Well let’s have something else instead?”
“We can’t. We have 30 lbs of potatoes in the garage after the "shopping debacle." I calculate we need to eat about 3 lbs a day for 10 days so that they don’t all go bad.”
“The opposite of the potato famine.”
“Indeed. Mono diets are so dull.”
“Oh I don’t know. I’m happy with a baked potato every day.”
“Not everyone is quite so happy.”
“Just don’t cave in and give them chips every day.”
“Hmmmmm can you give me 10 different recipes for potatoes just off the top of your head?”
“Mashed, fried, baked, plain boiled,……chips……er……?”
“That’s only five and two of them are the same effectively.”
“Just rotate those four then.”
“It’s all about expectations and presentation.”
“You’re kidding. What happened to flavour?”
“Flavour is irrelevant if it never hits the taste buds.”
“Dino shaped potatoes? Star cut outs?”

“Now you’re talking. I was toying with Dauphinoise? Whether that might tempt them?”
“Dopey what?”
“Ooo I know! How about Duchesse!”
“We’re American now mother, we can’t stoop to such ancient monarchical depths.”
“You will never know my maniacal depths when it comes to food deception.”

Santa’s little helpers

2008-12-21T07:22:00.000-08:00

Another busy day dawns for my daughter at mid-day, but that’s the trouble with jet lag. For some unaccountable reason I am the center of her attention.
“I’m just saying that not only would you reduce your carbon footprint on the planet but you would also, simultaneously, save oodles of time.”
“Hmm. It’s not a very user friendly site.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll set it up for you.” She settles herself in front of the lap top to commence battle. “Before you know it all your shopping will be whizzing it’s way to your doorstep once a week. You won’t have to lift a finger, merely stab a few buttons on the keyboard,” she beams. As usual, I have my doubts. I continue with my chores and mop the downstairs floors except the kitchen, where she is perched, intense with concentration and furrowed brow.
“Mum?”
“Yes dear?”
“How many bananas do you buy a week?”
“About 5 lbs.”
“How much do they usually cost? You want the organic ones right?”
“Hmm.” Do I prefer half eaten very expensive organic bananas strewn around my house rather than cheap ones, as you can slip just as easily on either. I chop onions at the far end of the kitchen and then put them on to sauté softly for fifteen minutes.
“Do you want salted butter or unsalted butter or both?”
“Salted please.”
“You don’t want sweet butter right?”
“Actually, confusingly, sweet butter is salted butter here.”
“What? That’s ludicrous.”
“Just buy Kerrygold, it has the best flavour.”
“Right.”
I nip upstairs to make beds and strip a wet one. On return to the utility room via the kitchen she’s waiting for me.
“Mum?”
“Yes dear?”
“I think I accidentally ordered 11 whole chickens instead of one. This is such a crap system.”
“Don’t press the update button twice.”
“Which would you prefer 10 ounces of frozen spinach for $1:19 or 26 ounces for $1:99.”
“The latter.” I punch the linen into the extra large capacity washing machine which seems to have recently shrunk.
“I don’t get it. All these things are on offer this week. If they’re not on offer again next week then we won’t be able to calculate an average bill for you to work with.”
“You do know that the freezer is still frozen shut…..maybe…….we need to curb the frozen food purchases.”
“Right. What was the other thing you wanted?”
“Why not check the list on the fridge?”
“It’s gone, he took it with him when he went to Trader Joe’s, which is odd as I thought he went Christmas shopping.”
“Hmm.”
“Anything else you can remember?”
“Pastry. Can’t find it anywhere.” I nip out to collect the post from the mail box and cuddle into welcome holiday cards.
“Ah there you are. Why do you keep disappearing?”
“Er…..”
“Just stay where you are for a minute. You should have been searching for ‘pie crusts,’ not pastry.”
“Ah.”
“Anything else?”
“Frosties.” I make a dash for Nonna’s room. Whilst she slumbers in her chair I do a quick tidy, primarily to avoid her breaking her neck on debris when she wakes up. Back in the kitchen I load the dish washer which tips off the ‘tree hugger’ gene, “don’t put them in there, I’ll wash them by hand when I’ve finished this. By the way, you should have been looking for ‘frosted flakes’ not ‘frosties.’ What kind of apples do you want?”
“Fuji. Try not to get too much fresh stuff as the fridge is already bursting.” I skulk off with the vacuum to remove enough pine needles to ignite a small bonfire, possibly spontaneously.
“Mum?”
“Yes dear?”
“You need to put your credit card details in, everything else is done.”
“Oh goody.” I oblige before tottering off to remove the tide mark of paint from the bath tub.
“Mum?”
“Yes dear?”
“What time do you want it delivered tomorrow?”
“Morning.”
“That’s ridiculous. The whole point of this was to spend $200 to get free delivery and now they’re charging us $6:95.”
“Indeed.”
“Damn! The screen’s frozen. I hate your mac.” I escape to the family room to pick up Pokemon and gather overdue library books.
“Mum?”
“Yes dear?”
“Didn’t you realize this coupon for free delivery expired over two months ago?”
“I did.”
“Did what?”
“I did realize it expired a while back, that’s just one of the reasons why I haven’t ordered my groceries on line.”
“Well at least that’s one thing sorted. Between 10 and 12 tomorrow morning we shall have enough food delivered to feed the 5000 for a week, quite effortless don’t you think?” We pause to listen to the roar of the garage door and there he is, just like Santa, laden down with 20 bags of groceries, “just wanted to do my bit for the festive season,” he beams.

I’m tempted to hide in the fridge, but of course it’s already full.

The perfect gift for every man in your life

2008-12-16T21:00:00.001-08:00

I don’t know about you, but I find I have the devil’s own job finding just the right thing for the only man in my life. But fear not, help is very close at hand. Blessed am I, for having found the perfect solution, although first you will need to strike up a sterling relationship with the mail man. Once you have charmed your way into his favour, the world is at your feet, as you will have conquered the seemingly impossible.

In these troubling financial times, you may find, like me, that the man in your life is still able to order all those essential little items on line that make his life tolerable. All sorts of widgets and gadgets are winging their way towards your house as we speak. Your mission, is to intercept the parcels without your man’s knowledge. This feat can be achieved in any number of different ways such as bribing the mail man to leave them in a secret, pre-arranged nook in the garden. Then, all you have to do is retrieve the items surreptitiously and hide them in a new, unknown to your man, secret hidey hole of your own choosing. This should preferably be an inside hidey hole as most widgets are subject to rust during inclement weather.

Should your man be bold enough to enquire whether or not the mail man has visited, this will be your opportunity to throw a fit and deny that there is any funny business going on between you and the mail man. If your performance is up to scratch, he will learn to avoid the subject completely, for fear of being drowned in alligator tears.

Pick a quiet moment when he is otherwise occupied and spent a few moments wrapping the box or package in festive paper and attach a card that displays your endearments.

Then when the great day arrives, you can rest assured that your gift will be one that he really, really wants quite badly, even more so, due to the delayed gratification of receipt. If there is any hint of disagreeableness, grab the gift and threaten to return it as unwanted, post haste.

Be sure that when the New Year comes around, your renew and refresh your relationship with the mail man to ensure his continued loyalty and pre-empt the possibility of any retaliation by your own widget wanter.