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.