The Breakfast Club

Actually, they were about to have dinner, but they look naughty enough to all be in detention. We had a very casual, last-minute pre-Xmas barbie on Saturday evening. The kids had a great time, and I think the adults enjoyed themselves too ...

Yesterday I was feeling quite Christmassy. It was sunny much of the day, which always feel like Christmas here. Today, however, it's grey, grey, grey. At least if we were in the northern hemisphere we could hope for snow.


I think we're done. I've wrapped everything. Believe it or not, I actually finished the dresses AND the elephant. I still can't sew. Oh well.

I must turn the gravlax again then try to clean up our house. The problem with having chilli crab on Boxing Day is that there is no time on Xmas day for cleaning and preparing ...

Chocolat

As you do, in the Brave New (not anymore) World of the internet, I spent time this week - when I should have been doing Xmas things - flagellating myself by reading blogs about what OTHER people have been doing.

This, naturally, had the result of making me throw up my hands and say 'Why bother? I can't possible bake and box 13 dozen cookies while designing and completing four quilts and a range of other beautiful handmade things. Instead, I shall do nothing.'

Then on Thursday night I saw the error of my ways. I made chocolate truffle mix, fully intending to supply truffles to all the staff at school. But while the mix was cooling, I suddenly decided that it was NOT too late to make Christmas cards. I hauled out the sewing machine and a selection of supplies, told Andrew to get takeaway for dinner, and made about 30 of these.


And somewhere in the middle of this frenzy I also made peppermint bark.

But the truffle mix sat in the fridge. I (horror) bought special chocolates for special teachers here and apologised to everyone else.


On the upside, truffles (here being rolled by Phoebe in her role as Christmas Elf Supreme) make a great 'hostess gift' (how 50s is that term?). That, and my own shortbread, should see me through.

Next year, truly, I WILL be a good Christmas person. Ha ha ha.

Sans Soleil

I refer, of course, to the weather, as well as that amazing film by Chris Marker. The weather is horrid.

I think I complain every year about not feeling very much in the Christmas spirit. This year is a particularly bad one. I haven't even made Christmas cards. This probably wouldn't be so bad if I had bought some instead, but I haven't done that either.

Perhaps I can whip myself up into a Christmas frenzy by listing what I have done thus far:

1. I did finish the numbers on the kids' advent stockings, so that's something, I suppose. I was very irritated to see similar ones on the cover of a magazine last month.


2. I have started making dresses for Andrew's nieces. Their mother will probably send them (the dresses, not the children) to Vinnies by the New Year, but I don't especially care.


3. I have wrapped the presents that we've organised so far, but not with much enthusiasm or creativity. The sideboard is a temporary holding space. They will go under the tree when we get it on Monday.


4. I have made 24 personalised gingerbread people for Phoebe's class. Phoebe and her friend Sisca made the labels.


5. I have attended the street Christmas drinks. Fortunately there is no photo.

6. I have put up the Christmas lights and a rather lame wreath. They are not worth photographing.

Nup, that hasn't worked. Maybe the list of what I HAVEN'T done will shame me into action:

1. I haven't finished my Christmas shopping, despite dragging the kids into town with me on Wednesday. I thought it might be fun. It wasn't.

2. I haven't made a gingerbread house.

3. I haven't FINISHED the niece dresses. Or started the nephew elephant.

4. I haven't finished the quilts I am making for the kids.

5. And I haven't made, bought or posted ANY Christmas cards.

In my defence, I have been working. A lot. On large and boring jobs. But hey, it's finance and I still HAVE work, so I should be grateful, right?

It is true. I am the bastard lovechild of The Grinch and Scrooge.

Summer and Smoke

Last week was, personally and professionally, crap. I guess we all have weeks like that sometimes.

But today is the first day of summer, and it's appropriately hot. It's also the day we put up our Christmas lights, so I'm going to assume that greater cheer will ensue.

So that's summer. Smoke is because last night we tried out another of my birthday gifts - a food smoker. Andrew had fun with methylated spirits and sawdust, and we ate delicious hot-smoked salmon for dinner (nothing like traditional, cold-smoked salmon, that's an entirely different animal). Phoebe, fussy creature that it is, liked the salmon but only without 'the smoky brown bits on the outside'.

The other Good Thing about this time of year is cherries. They are up there on my list of favourite things to eat, and I never ever eat imported, out-of-season cherries, so it's a very special few weeks in summer when I gorge myself on them. Life may not be a bowl of cherries, but at least there ARE cherries.

Little Women

It was my birthday last week. I should have been teaching that day, but Holden was home with a stomach bug, and I had a mild dose of it myself, so I didn't go in, fearing I might infect the whole school. It wasn't the most exciting of days, but I was well enough by the evening to go out for dinner with spouse (thank goodness for THAT), which is always a Good Thing.

One of my presents was tickets for myself, Phoebe and my mother-in-law to go and see Little Women (the musical). I'm finding it hard to imagine Jo singing. Phoebe is going to LURV it.

I had 'drinks' for my birthday on Sunday afternoon, which was really just an excuse to cook things, mostly inspired by a recipe I found for salt cod empanadillas. Let me say that despite the 24-hour soaking of salt cod ('What is that hideous stuff, mum?') and the uncooperatively stretchy sherry and olive oil dough, they were DELICIOUS. I wish I had photographed them, but obviously I wasn't fast enough. The nibbles also included potato and roast capsicum tortilla, albondigas, tomatoes stuffed with paella and chorizo&prawns with smoked paprika mayonnaise, followed by mini tarts filled with dulche de leche and topped with sherry-spiked whipped cream.

Now I'm hungry again.

High Art

On Friday night I went to the opening of the Balmain Art and Craft Show, a school fundraiser that has somehow assumed a life of its own and become a 'must attend' for those who live in Balmain (and those who wish they did, thus my attendance). It's where I found last year's birthday painting, so I was very keen to get along this year.

Unfortunately, as is often the case when one gets excited about a party, it wasn't really that thrilling. I got stuck with a parent who had quite possibly already had her quota of free beverages and wanted to chew my ear about school, and so while a couple of my friends went off to look at the indigenous art, I stood there looking sympathetic (and wishing I hadn't worn such high heels). Sigh.

But I did get a little something for Andrew. I have a brilliant and highly sophisticated way of buying art, guaranteed to make me rich - if I can imagine looking at it every day and being happy about that, then I think I should buy it. So rich in a metaphysical rather than a financial sense, I guess ...

The Darjeeling Limited

I am a hardened tea drinker, which is slightly odd as both my parents despise(d) tea. Perhaps I am a throwback. Anyway, it appears that my small people are following in my footsteps. Most mornings, as Andrew and I are busily trying to get people breakfasted, bags and lunches packed and lists checked, one or both of them will say 'Can I please have a cup of tea?'. Occasionally I wonder if eight is too young to start drinking tea - is it a slippery slope to caffeine addiction? Or is it just nice to have a warm drink sometimes?

Sometimes I use tea as a work avoidance tactic, as in 'I think I'll just go and get myself a cup of tea' when I'm really just wanting to get away from a particularly horrible job. This is where I am right now. It's Sunday afternoon, and I want to garden/sort laundry/clean my filthy house/talk to my funny children/make lists for Christmas/eat oysters with my spouse. Instead I am trapped in the studio, trying to write a stinking insurance partnership agreement that has to be delivered before 7am tomorrow. Best I grab a cup of tea.

Halloween

I wasn't going to have any sort of halloween party at all this year, since I didn't have much time to spend on it, although naturally I had to decorate and carve pumpkins and send treats in to school.

In the end we had a few of the local kids around after trick or treating, but it wasn't one of our extravaganzas. Hol's friends are getting older, and we've noticed that once they hit high school, they're too cool for it all ...

Holden wasn't even very interested in dressing up, but I won't let him badger people for sweets if he doesn't, so he did the fall-back zombie thing. Phoebe decided to be a scary doll, which she did frighteningly well. Check out the evil stare.



Andrew and I were runnning mates. I was told that my resemblance to the moose-shooter was scary.


Then, because too much dressing up is never enough, Phoebe had to go to a party on Sunday dressed as an animal. No prizes for guessing what she was.

Animal House

I've changed 'seek and ye shall find' to 'buy and ye shall be invited'. On Friday afternoon Andrew told me we had an invitation to a 'toga party' at the home of Lady Mary Fairfax on Sunday. Well, clearly I am too old to wear a toga, but equally clearly my Akira dress was exactly perfect. We had a little more trouble with Andrew, but it was all sorted in the end.

Of course only a few people were wearing togas (including the female but not the male waiting staff). There were some very glamorous people (and lots of expensive plastic surgery on show), the entertainment was good, but the food was dreadful. But it's not every day you get to swan around the lawn of an historic house on the water, so on balance it was worth it.

Travels with my Aunt

I have four aunts, in no particular order.

1. The aunt who I used to argue with about making my bed every morning when I was staying with her (which I did whenever I was sad and lonely, which was quite often). I must tell her next time I speak to her that I would never dream of leaving my house in the morning (even to go to the studio) without making my bed first. Despite my domestic shortcomings, there was always a bed (made) for me.

2. The aunt who encouraged me to knit and showed me that being a parent was actually quite fun and hilarious, if sometimes exasperating. She also had (probably still does) a wonderful pantry shelf full of bottled fruit. I blame her for my obsession with preserving and other old-fashioned domestic pastimes.

3. The aunt who pandered to my teenage desire for vintage shoes by tracking down and posting me the most marvellous pair of suede and patent leather winklepickers. I wish I still had them. A couple of years back she sent me a delicious pink and white chenille bedspread. But best of all, she appeared in the first series of Doctor Who (she was Carol in The Sensorites series of episodes, above).

4. The aunt who can sew better than anyone I know, and who made sure that Phoebe was the most immaculately dressed premmie in the whole intensive care unit. Then she made her a beautiful little quilt with the spare fabric. And she remembers both my children's birthdays and makes them the most amazing cards.

Breaking Glass

Three weeks ago I was complaining about it being hot. Today is has just reached a frigid 14 degrees (and it's wet and windy). This makes it even more unfortunate that during the holidays Holden managed to smash a window in the studio AND I haven't got around to having it replaced. My studio is usually easy to heat and a cosy place to work. Not right now.

Next Friday is Halloween, which I look forward to all year. A few years back (have I mentioned this before?), when I started organising trick or treating on our street, and a party at our house afterwards, you could only get a few Halloween themed things, even in the best party shops. Now they're everywhere, which makes me feel a bit like I don't want to do it anymore. I'll take solace in the fact that I am still the only person in our suburb who carves pumpkins and seriously decorates the house. Of course, it helps that our house is so decrepit that it doesn't take much to make it look haunted.

My usual Halloween partner-in-crime has rather selfishly had a baby recently, so I've now roped another victims, including a neighbour. She has committed to making a pumpkin pinata. Stay tuned.

And in other not-very-exciting-to-anyone-except-me news (which is my life in a nutshell), I am teaching Drama at Phoebe's school this term. I love being at school one day a week, and I'm hoping they'll get something out of it (other than laughing constantly, that is) ...

All Quiet on the Western Front

Harry and Holden on Sunday afternoon.




The sleepover party was chaotic but fun. Thank god some neighbours came over to share the pain. The sleepover/camping theme was translated into sleeping bag lolly bags and a Barbie in a sleeping bag cake. Cake looked more like a bier, quite frankly, but as you can tell from this photo, Phoebe didn't much care (no, I don't know why Phoebe is only wearing a singlet and a sarong around her neck). I also didn't much care, as I only made the damn lolly bags and cake on Saturday morning.

Turned out that I did the right thing cancelling camping - the weather was wet and miserable. We are planning to camp in a few weeks, but I think we might make it a slightly smaller expedition.

Some Like It Hot

Those who do will really be enjoying the weather in Sydney at the moment.

I, for one, am not.

Forecast is for thunderstorms and showers, so we have had to postpone Phoebe's camping extravaganza. She is still having a sleepover party tomorrow night, which means I am now in a total panic about games and prizes and lolly bags and all the rest of it ... Fortunately our lovely neighbours can procure us a projector, so we can have the usual movies on the wall. Now I just have to organise the rest of it!

Dirty Harry

I have no idea why Phoebe called him Harry. Apparently his full name is Harry Button.

Japanese Story

Because my life is a giddy whirl of social engagements, I need a lot of ethereal frocks, right? I thought not. As my friend Jane said when I fessed up 'But I've never seen you in a dress'.

I went into The City today for a couple of client meetings then lunch with people I used to work with. Unfortunately there was a gap between meetings, and I found myself in Akira's shop in the Strand Arcade.


This dress looks quite different with a cream silk slip under it rather than this floral number. (I tend not to wear that sort of makeup or headwear, either, you may be relieved to know.) And because I am SHORT it is longer on me also. The stuff on the top (see, I know all the design words) are these amazing tiny square wooden sequins in red and cream. Maybe I will photograph them close up. After all, chances of me wearing the damn thing anywhere are slim. But I will get hours of joy from examining the incredible construction ...

Someone had better bloody well have a good party this summer and invite me, or my favourite 'pay per wear' justification will not apply.

The Birds

Hitchcock was right.

I just walked up to my studio from the house, and got swooped by a bloody huge magpie (Australian magpies aren't really magpies at all, of course, they are big scary things). I'm assuming this means that there are some baby birds up in one of our trees, which is all very lovely ... but. Once I'd got into the studio, the damn bird still wasn't happy. It flew to the closest branch and shouted at me (honestly, this bird was shouting), then jumped into the doorway of the studio. At this point I started to imagine it pecking at my eyes or something equally hideous, so I shut the studio door on it.

So now I'm trapped in the studio. Maybe this is a message from the universe, telling me to do some work.

The Brother from Another Planet

My little brother does come from another planet - Planet Tall. And he likes to show off. Here he is on the night of Muppet's birthday, a nephling on each shoulder. (Nephling is his gender neutral word for niece/nephew.)


Can you tell that Phoebe was happy? We had pasta and gelato for dinner; in Phoebe's case, mostly gelato. That's what birthdays are for.

The Truth About Cats and Dogs

We still only have one of each. Phoebe got a little overwhelmed and we left the Cat Protection Society sans kitten. Of course, once we got home, she decided she wanted the ginger & white one (that Holden and I had already taken a shine to). We are going back on Wednesday for her to meet some more kittens and decide if she wants one.

Run Fatboy Run

Last Sunday I hauled myself out of bed at 6.30am to watch Andrew run past our street (well, close enough) in the Half Marathon. I almost didn't make it. He saw me before I saw him and all I managed was these happy snaps. Is it just me, or is it unnatural to look this cheerful when you're running 21km before breakfast?

Hol did the 9km Bridge Run the same morning and was 8th in his age category.

Freaks, the pair of them. Phoebe stayed in bed like the sensible girl she is.

Reservoir Dogs

So there's this blog-person who does AMAZING things with baking. I shamelessly stole her idea from here. But because I am not equipped with a) patience, b) time or c) fancy stuff like food writing pens and special candy melts and mini M&Ms, my versions turned out rather more, um, rustic? Or, as Phoebe would say, 'wonkertated'.

So 24 of these Wonky Dogs went up to school this morning.

Phoebe opened her stack of presents (mostly DVDs and CDs) in bed (the marital bed, not her bed) and then had breakfast in same bed.

By a stroke of serendipity it is the last day of term and a mufti day, so she went off to school resplendent in a red dress, new knitted cardie, cowboy boots and baseball cap. Must take photo.

At 1pm we (myself and Holden) are picking Phoebe up from school and taking her (drum roll) to choose her new birthday KITTEN! Expect plenty of cheesy photos of said kitten in due course.

Seven

This is what seven looks like for the last time. Tommorrow she will look like eight.

(She's also modelling a cardie I finished, believe it or not, less than two weeks after finishing Andrew's jumper. Can't say the colours go with her school uniform, but then what DOES goes with that ghastly yellow?)

Cheese

Yeah, try finding a movie title with 'cheese' in it that doesn't involve Tom & Jerry. This one is apparently in production, due for release next year.

After (somewhat over)catering for school's 125-year anniversary cocktail party on Friday night, I came home with, you guessed it, lots of cheese. About 2kg of fresh ricotta, in fact. On Saturday night I made a ricotta and asparagus tart. Then I avoided the ricotta for two days. Today, feeling desperately guilty that I'd have to throw it out if I hadn't used it, and also wishing to create some space in the fridge, I made a sweet baked ricotta. I will be the only person in this house to eat it, of course, but I plan to have it for breakfast every day with raspberry coulis. Because I can. Then I made a few dozen ricotta gnocchi to go in the freezer. And tonight Andrew and I will eat pasta stirred through with ricotta, smoked salmon and peas (I forgot to get broad beans, which was what I really fancied). The smoked salmon was also left over, but it's not exactly difficult to get rid of ...

Ben Hur

As in bigger than. Planning Phoebe's party, I sensibly took into account: 1. That it's on a long weekend; and 2. some of the invitees are children with allergies (whose parents might be expected not to let them out of their sight).

Serves me right for thinking I'm clever, doesn't it? THREE of the invitees are bringing Mum, Dad AND junior sibling. I booked for 15 - we now have 26. As Phoebe herself rightly pointed out 'It's not really MY party anymore, is it?'. Sigh.

So, let's look on the bright side. It means everyone thinks camping is a swell idea. It means I don't have to take any responsbility for the children who've brought their own entourage. It probably also means that the entire birthday cake will get eaten, for once (barring allergic children, OF COURSE).

Truly, I am trying to regain my enthusiasm for the whole concept.

Factory Girl

It's been one of those ridiculously busy weekends. On Friday night an old friend of Andrew's who lives in Europe was in town, so we went down to the Rowers for an early dinner, and then Andrew and Hendrik kicked on, while the kids and I watched telly and got a reasonably early night.

Just as well, because Phoebe's baseball game started at 8am Saturday, so we were down at the Oval at 7.45 ... I am happy to report that Phoebe was first batter up and managed to get home!

Then there was Phoebe's audition for the National Institute of Youth Performing Arts, which was a bizarre experience. On the way back we were sucked in by the warm weather and had to buy some plants, so we spent some time gardening. We wandered up to school to vote, then I made 125 meatballs while supervising Phoebe and a friend making peppermint creams. Later in the afternoon, a neighbour came over for a glass of champagne (as you do) and then I made my favourite Italian seafood soup for dinner. The boys watched the rugby and I fell asleep ...

Sunday began with baking and cooking bol for someone who currently needs a bit of backup, then we shopped, I helped my brother buy a couch and finally we cranked out the other 500 meatballs ...

A productive but not very relaxing weekend.

How to be a Domestic Goddess

This title does double duty, being not only a snide reference to a certain recipe appearing in the school cookbook (which apparently required the person who obtained it to attend 'luncheons'), but also to my upcoming gig as a 'homecook hero' (eeewwwww, what a dreadful phrase) in the glossy mag of a certain shopping centre. Hilariously enough, I have to cook chilli crab and allow my photo to be taken (and published). No, I'm not doing it for the fame, I'm doing it for the free food.

Lord, if only I had the bosom to match.

The Swiss Family Robinson

So I finally managed to do Phoebe's birthday party invitations, in between editing and laying out the school's 125th anniversary cookbook, the usual domestic drudgery and that funny old thing called WORK.

But I can't seem to take a decent photo of them.

We took them up to school this morning, where they had to be carefully handed to parents so that those children who aren't invited (which is most) won't get upset.

The Year of Living Dangerously

As the papers say, it's been a bloodbath in NSW politics over the weekend. And of course it's not just the ministers who lose their jobs, it's their staff as well. Bye bye Andrew's job. Not the best possible Fathers Day ...

Sweet Bird of Youth

A close friend of mine is expecting a baby any day now. Someone else I know is dying. For all our art and technology, that's it, isn't it?

T, who is now in a hospice, is not someone I am close to personally. But she has been like an adoptive mother to one of my best friends. In fact, in the 15 years I've known her, she's taken in anyone who needs a family. I remember having Thanksgiving dinner at her house once and thinking 'yes, where else would we celebrate Thanksgiving'. She has extraordinary generosity of spirit.

And here's the thing. I want to go and see her and say 'Thank you, I have been lucky to know you'. Can you say that to someone who is dying? I think I would want people to come and say that to me, but how can I know? Didn't Elisabeth Kubler-Ross famously have all these (seminal) theories on dying and then turn to bunkum spirituality when it came to her turn?

Trading Places

I've been feeling slightly miffed because my routine has been changed, but not at my instigation. Due to tedious bureaucratic inflexibilities at The Bank, I can no longer go and use a desk in there two days a week. This is miffing (if you can be miffed, surely something can be miffing?) because 1. I quite like grown-up company a couple of days a week. 2. I like buying books at lunchtime. 3. I get to jam a lot of work into my 8am-4.30pm days (more than a 9-3 school day). 4. It's an excuse to buy articles of clothing that aren't jeans. 5. I like to eat Chinese noodle soup at lunch.

So I've been sulking a bit about being stuck in MY office five days a week (or is that seven?), but I've decided to look on the bright side. 1. Spring has really sprung today, and it's nice to be somewhere where I can see the garden and hear the birds. 2. There is a teachers' stop-work tomorrow so Phoebe can't go to school until 11am and it doesn't matter. 3. I will save money on before school care. 4. I don't have to look at myself in the bathroom mirror at 7am to apply makeup.

The Cable Guy

I don't blog about knitting for two reasons. 1. I am so slack that it takes me months to finish anything, not because I am a slow knitter, but because I lose interest and start doing something else. 2. Lots of other people have fascinating knitblogs on which they somehow manage to knit millions of things and take lovely photos. Yup.

Anyway, I've been knitting this jumper (in black, minus zip) for Andrew since early winter, after a number of false starts. Yesterday being - as he so ungratefully pointed out - the last day of winter, I finally finished it. This was a satisfying conclusion to a wet Sunday, I must say. The weather also took the hint and today it is positively spring-ish.

And no, there are no cables. I want to knit an aran for him, but somehow they look so, um, daggy, even though the knitting itself is beautiful.

Chicken Run

On Fridays, I have morning chook duty at the community garden. This means I head down there - with Phoebe in tow if we're sufficiently early - and let out the chickens, make sure they have food and water, and grab any eggs they happen to have laid. The last three weeks have been an egg bonanza. This Friday Phoebe predicted that we would get 10 eggs - and we did! Here we've added them to the remains of last week's haul.

I've been trying to use them up, so last night we made chocolate mousse and today we had eggs and bacon for breakfast. Might even hazard a souffle ...

Delicatessen

Here's the Omnivore's Hundred which I've been referred to by a number of foodie blogs. The ones I haven't eaten are in bold.

1. Venison
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros
4. Steak tartare
5. Crocodile
6. Black pudding
7. Cheese fondue
8. Carp
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari
12. Pho
13. PB&J sandwich
14. Aloo gobi
15. Hot dog from a street cart
16. Epoisses
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes
19. Steamed pork buns
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn, or head cheese
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl - in SF, no less
33. Salted lassi
34. Sauerkraut
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O
39. Gumbo
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat
42. Whole insects - only by accident
43. Phaal - I don't know what this is ...
44. Goat’s milk
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Fugu
47. Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut
50. Sea urchin
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi
53. Abalone
54. Paneer
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini
58. Beer above 8% ABV
59. Poutine - and my mother thinks PB&J is gross
60. Carob chips
61. S’mores
62. Sweetbreads
63. Kaolin
64. Currywurst
65. Durian
66. Frogs’ legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake - in New Orleans, of course
68. Haggis
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette
71. Gazpacho
72. Caviar and blini
73. Louche absinthe
74. Gjetost, or brunost
75. Roadkill
76. Baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie
78. Snail
79. Lapsang souchong
80. Bellini
81. Tom yum
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant. - in my dreams - does Tetsuya's count?
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare
87. Goulash
88. Flowers
89. Horse
90. Criollo chocolate
91. Spam
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake

Babe

Last year I posted pics of Phoebe's Book Week parade outfits for 2005 and 2006. 2007 never made it into cyberspace, but it's that time of year again.

Apart from the fact that they belong to different species, I think Phoebe makes a rather good Olivia ...

The outfit consists of a repurposed $2 scarf (the red and white stripes), a work blouse of mine, a skirt that I found for $8, red ribbon and an abundance of safety pins.

Being There

Too much work. Not enough time. Blah blah blah. If I post regularly, I can somehow find something interesting (to me, if not anyone else) in the minutiae of life. When I haven't posted for ages, it just seems like a long list of boring, boring trivia.

1. Holden ran the City2Surf in 80 minutes.
2. Holden's soccer team lost their second semi-final in a penalty shoot-out but we had a great post-season party at our house anyway. I themed it orange to go with their soccer shirts because I am sad.
3. Phoebe doesn't like her new dance teacher because apparently she treats the junior dance group 'like babies'.
4. Phoebe's birthday party this year is going to be camping at The Basin, which we did for Hol's birthday a couple of years back (when I cleverly dislocated my elbow trying to keep the kids under control while the other grown-ups were playing guitar and singing bloody Fernando).

2001: A Space Odyssey

For an 11-year-old boy, Holden is quite interested in furniture and design. But only if it's mid-20th century modern. And red. Like this chair, which he got as a belated birthday present from his extravagant and over-indulgent mother (yeah, it's a fake).


Last weekend, Hol and Andrew did the Bay Run. They were so fast we missed seeing them finish.

Not to be outdone by the running boys, Phoebe had her school athletics carnival today and entered everything she was allowed to. Apparently she got 3rd place in one of the sprints, but in true Phoebe fashion couldn't remember what distance. This is her after the 800m.



This is her finishing - I think she expends so much energy bouncing UP that she doesn't actually move FORWARD.

Mamma Mia

You know, I am starting to enjoy this school holidays business. Not having to pack lunches and make sure uniforms are ironed and get people to the other side of town is quite lovely. AND I haven't really been doing much work for the last few days either. So if you're someone I owe work to ... you'll just have to wait.

Not much has happened, except for Phoebe losing teeth. She was so excited to get her new iPod shuffle (not quite in the pic) on the eve of Hol's birthday that she rushed to hug me, bumped me and her loose tooth fell out. It's an awfully big gap for not a very big tooth! Then she lost another one yesterday while watching Mamma Mia. As you do.

Instead of working, I'm updating our family photo albums. I may have to take another week off work just to do the Big Trip album (yes, not even started THAT one yet).

This afternoon, a neighbour and I are rather ambitiously going to teach our kids to cook spaghetti and meatballs. I will take my camera ...

Spinal Tap

I'm supposedly on two weeks holiday beginning today. Unfortunately I did tell people I'd finish jobs and perhaps take on one or two small things. So of course I have a lot more work on than I would like. My own fault.

This morning Phoebe went to vacation care (because she wanted to - go figure) and Holden and I went and bought a drum kit. Yes, I will rue the day. I know that. It is currently set up right in the middle of the living room. See.


Andrew decided he wanted to contribute to my blog last night, so he photographed dinner before it went into the oven. It's a beef fillet with an anchovy, onion and breadcrumb stuffing. Those pink things are these cool silicon wraps that don't look as rustic as string but work a treat. Unless you're Andrew and you cut one in half while carving yourself a slice of beef.

The Day After Tomorrow

The day after tomorrow is Holden's 11th birthday. Due to an ill-timed tantrum on his part, there is to be no party this year. This leaves me at something of a loss. Every July since he was a very very small person indeed there have been massive festivities, insane invitations, ridiculous cakes, wild sleepovers and a lot of preparations. We were going to have a sleepover plus 10-pin bowling and laser skirmish but, in a rage about something, he decided that it was stupid and he didn't want a party. Now, of course, he regrets it deeply, but we can't resurrect it.

We will, however, be having a birthday dinner. And there will be gifts, including (I know we will live to regret this) a drumkit.

Wondering why there is a picture of a Moreton Bay Bug on this post? That was dinner last night. They are expensive but delicious, especially with chermoula and couscous and harissa and eggplant.

The Office

You know, most of the people I work with are very nice. Some are not. Some refer to me as a 'resource' or 'the copywriter' (in my hearing).

This evening I received an email that referred to 'resorting issues' (I assume they might 'resort to' someone who can speak English?) when I suggested that being TOLD (at 5.38pm) to deliver something BY tomorrow morning might not suit me. I was then informed that my recalcitrance would be discussed with The Manager. Oh no, not the manager! He might marketing-speak me into submission. I quake.

All I needed was a polite 'if you could get this to me tomorrow, that would be great' ...

I quite like being old and obstreperous. It beats shit out of being sycophantic in the hope of getting your bonus.

Green Eggs and Ham

I've already used Green Eggs and Ham as a post title. So I'm using it again because otherwise I will get stuck and not be able to post anything.

On Saturday I decided to bake a ham for dinner, mostly for the joy of leftovers and ham bones in soup or sauerkraut. So on Sunday morning, naturally, we had to have an omelette (or frittata or whatever you want to call it) with leftover ham, leftover roast spuds and eggs from the Community Garden chooks. The eggs were so searingly yellow the omelette looked dangerous. But I'm still alive.

On Sunday Andrew decided we had to be tourists and check out Newington Armory (not that he works for the Minister for the Arts or anything). There was a great exhibition of Chinese propaganda posters, plus artwork by Chinese artists and artists working to a Chinese theme. Andrew and I bought about $100K worth of art. In our heads. I've worked out that this is why you need a BIG house with lots of white walls - for all that wonderful ART out there.

Mary Poppins

Really, there is nothing much to say. Life is the usual mundane series of chores - work, laundry, cooking - with the occasional episode of Dr Who to give Phoebe nightmares. Holden is now on holidays, interspersed with birthday parties (two in four days). He went to one on Friday after school, up at Bellevue Hill. The front entranceway of the house was probably bigger than the whole block we live on here. The harbour views were pretty spectacular. But you know what? The kid's mother was wearing a suit (no doubt with a serious label) that looked like it was made from Mary Poppins' carpetbag. I have to take consolation where I can.

La Vie en Rose

I am sick. I suspect one of my lovely offspring gave me the virus. I don't have any dramatic or impressive symptoms - no lost voice, or consumptive coughing, for instance - all I have is a permanent headache, dizziness and pain all over my body.

So I've been lying around at home, trying to get a bit of work done, trying to relax and recuperate (ha). In a fit of productivity on Wednesday(lying in bed), I managed to finish this beret for Phoebe, knit from hand-dyed silk yarn. She wants a flower on the front of it now.


Every winter Andrew has an extended sulk about the fact that I never knit him anything. Every winter I start something but either lose interest, or discover I don't have enough wool, or decide I hate the pattern. This year we agreed on a pattern and I ordered wool but I am very unimpressed as it's been EIGHT days and it still hasn't arrived. I should add that it's a place in Victoria - if shoes from the US can arrive in five days, wool from Bendigo should arrive in TWO, I think. By the time the damn stuff gets here, I probably will have lost interest again.

Mrs Doubtfire

On Friday evening, midway through my baking fiesta, I got a phone call telling me about a job — a very good job that would pay quite a lot of money. It would also be a career sort of a job, and possibly quite fun. I thought about it for a while. I thought about the mad dash in the mornings, and never getting home before 7pm. I thought about Phoebe going to before and after school care five days a week, and Holden being a full-time latchkey kid. And I decided not to pursue it. Maybe I just lack ambition.

Andrew and I talked about it too, about how the only way we could do it would be to hire a housekeeper/nanny. I have to say that the thought of someone else doing ALL the house stuff was very attractive …

On the weekend, there was a funny incident involving Andrew making rude comments about a parent from Hol’s school being unable to drive his extremely flashy, extremely ugly Roller. Apparently the person in question is none other than Mr Payout, and his son is in Hol’s year.

No wonder Hol said he wouldn’t mind if we had a nicer car. So I told the kids about the possible job, like this - "We can have a less embarrassing car, maybe a better house, but you will never see me and you will be looked after by a nanny. What do you think?" They voted for me. Maybe they lack ambition too.

Like Water for Chocolate

See, the brownies got made. Phoebe and Finlay very helpfully licked the bowl and the utensils for me. Andrew sulked because he wasn't allowed to eat any of them. I did make the cranberry shortbread and the cheese biscuits too (that's quince paste waiting for them) but by the time that was all done (plus cooking a couple of meals in between) I had lost interest in taking photos.

This morning poor Miss Phoebe is sick, so she miserably trailed up to the cake stall with me but we didn't stay very long. Apparently someone bought all my quince paste after we left. Just as well I had set some aside for all the subscribers ...

It's cold today (for Sydney), so I think tonight I must cook something that takes hours and warms up the house. Andrew has his eye on a twice cooked veal shanks recipe that's in the SMH. I think a good old-fashioned steamed pudding for dessert might do the trick.

Friday the 13th

Yes, it's Friday the 13th. Funnily enough, I feel more cheerful than I have in weeks. Must be the fact that I didn't go to a party last night. Or maybe that it's the weekend again and for once I am NOT going to be doing any work, having just sent a book off to press today.

Tomorrow there's a school cake stall, so Phoebe wants to bake brownies this afternoon. I think I might also do a banana cake, some shortbread and some cheese biscuits ...

First I might have to finish some work, since it's not actually the weekend YET and my inbox is exploding.

The Power and the Glory

Or neither. I realised about an hour ago that an electrical circuit in the house had blown. So I did all the usual things - turned off the power, disconnected everything, pulled out nasty dangerous old ceramic fuses at great risk to life and limb and checked the wire, called my friend Phil for advice, swore a bit, etc. Still nothing. Of course, it's not a circuit with WORK attached to it, just washing machine, dryer, dishwasher, fridge, microwave, oven ...

I rang the landlord, who would rather poke needles in his eye than ever spend a cent on this dump. Naturally he didn't believe that I had tried to isolate the problem, so we went through the WHOLE process again. Still no joy.

Apparently he's going to call an electrician. What's the bets that we end the day with a fridgeful of warm food, wet school uniforms in the dryer (yes, it's raining!) and a dishwasherful of dishes to handwash. Sigh.

Groundhog Day

Turns out Bill Murray is a bit psycho. Imagine that, a comedian who is slightly nuts ...

We made the kids watch Groundhog Day last weekend. And then I woke up yesterday morning and it all unfolded the same way - the weekends are all one indistinguishable routine of cooking, cleaning, soccer games, ironing and children running in and out of the house, plus a bit of work (or in Andrew's case this weekend, a LOT of work). Ho hum.

BUT I finally finished the first quilt I've ever made. It's not very good, but it's DONE. And that's what counts. Tomorrow it will be posted to its new owner, the very cute Abby, who I can't find a recent picture of.


And I did make five dozen choc chip cookies and a batch of quince paste, so I suppose it wasn't a total waste of time.

Chinatown

On Wednesday night, Phoebe had a performance at the Seymour Centre - her school's junior dance group were chosen as part of some Sydney regional thing ... So here is the China Doll, all ready to go. It was surprisingly enjoyable (we only had to stay an hour) and Phoebe was ecstatic because she overcame her stage fright.

La Grande Bouffe

La Grande Bouffe, conveniently enough, is not only a rather amusing film, but also our local French cafe/restaurant. Every year (this is the 11th, I think) we take Andrew's parents out for dinner for their birthdays (both of which fall in May). Over the years, this has included Tetsuya's (twice), Bistro Moncur, Claude's, the now defunct Restaurant Pepper and Three Clicks West, plus Soujourn and various others I obviously can't remember ... On Thursday, it was La Grande Bouffe.

I had an entree - after the complimentary garlic snails - of oysters with ham hock and potato, which sounds hideous and was fantastically good. Then for main I had the confit duck leg, also very, very delicious. And cheese for dessert. It's making me hungry just thinking about it.

I'm in a food mood (can you tell?), just about to cook a veal fillet with parmesan crust and mushroom sauce with soft polenta for dinner.

And I want to try some of the no-knead bread that's been doing the round of blogs here, there and everywhere. Oh, and it is also time for my annual Quince Paste Festival (in which I make lots of quince paste and then try to find people to give it to).