Oranges are not the only fruit

I made marmalade on the weekend. This was slightly silly of me, as no one in my house eats marmalade except me, and I don't even eat it very often. I didn't photograph it as it's not pretty - it's dark and thick but delicious. That was about all the cooking I did for the weekend, but Andrew had a veritable culinary frenzy - osso buco on Saturday night and corned beef last night.

On Friday afternoon, I stopped in at the nearest Vinnies to see if there were any old desks (there weren't). As I was walking out, I spied a rack of clothes in an odd spot, near the cash register. Turns out, it was a rack of brand new stuff from great labels, like Akira, Max Mara, etc. Naturally enough, nothing fitted me, but I immediately spied things for one of my friends. I duly informed her and she rushed up there, leaving her father and son bored in the car, and bought two tops. I was very jealous.


She wore one of her new tops to another friend's farewell party yesterday; I also wore a new top, this one (not a very good picture) that I succumbed to online. It's a Moschino Cheap and Chic. Which got me thinking about definitions of 'cheap'. On sale, at 70% off (truly), I still felt a bit extravagant buying it. For goodness sake, it doesn't even have sleeves! The very lovely Imogen has said you should spend 5-10% of your income on clothes per year. I'd be lucky to fork out 2%. Maybe it's ME who's cheap ...


AND I wore these fabulous shoes which were recommended on another blog and I love love love them.

That's quite enough about clothes, I think. Can you tell that I'm not very interested in my work right now? Back to it ...

Charlie's Angels

Farrah Fawcett (Majors) and Michael Jackson were huge icons when I started high school. We all (the girls, at least) wanted to look like Farrah. This was unfortunate for those, like me, who were pale and freckly, with short dark hair.


As for Michael, well, he didn't even want to look like himself, but we sure loved dancing to his music.

I don't think either of them had the happiest of lives.

Short Cuts

Yesterday, when I had met my most urgent deadlines (but possibly not done ALL the work I could have), I went up the road to get my hair done. I was just going to have the regrowth coloured. Then I said 'and while you're at it, cut it all off again'. I have horrid hair, which has been in a sort of messy bob arrangement for a while. It's not curly enough or straight enough to be much of anything except frumpy. And I haven't the patience for mucking about with straighteners all the time.

And now, hurrah, it's back to my favourite style. Super short (like in my profile photo), dark brown. No fuss. My neck may be a little chilly, but that's what scarves are for, right? It may be boring, but at least I know it works for me ... For a while there I was listening to the advice that says you have to go lighter as you get older. I tried highlights and all the rest of it, and frankly it just made me look like my mother-in-law.

Persepolis

Some time back, my brother lent me a copy of Persepolis, the graphic novel. My timing, for once, is perfect - I have started reading it right at the point when Iran is again in the news, for all the wrong reasons. It makes it even more poignant.

The Blair Witch Project

This year, for Holden's birthday, we are once again going camping at the Basin. This photograph shows what happened LAST TIME I took a bunch of feral 9-year-olds camping. My elbow is dislocated and I'm only smiling because I have had lots of painkillers and am about to eat chocolate. This time they are 12-year-olds, so I assume I will either escape injury or do something more spectacular.


Last time we (my friend Jen and I) constructed the cake there (do you know how HARD that is?!) ... Lord knows what we're going to do this time.

Today's project, once I've finished work, is to figure out an invitation. For birthday number nine, I made miniature sleeping bags with a cutout of Holden's head sticking out the top ... I don't even have photos!


But while I was looking, I found this photo of the terrible twosome, just before the birthday. Holden looks much the same, but Phoebe has now lost all her baby-ness. Sigh.

Little Miss Sunshine

It was a cold, wet weekend. Holden's soccer games were cancelled, and Phoebe and I only just made it up to the markets and back (for prawn dumplings and fresh sourdough) on Saturday morning before it started bucketing down. As usual, I took refuge in the kitchen, while Andrew marked papers and the kids squabbled.

I just happened to have a bowl full of quinces because I just can't help myself - whenever I see them, I buy some. I've already made quince paste for the season, so this time I decided to do pickled quinces. Aren't they pretty? Then I boiled down the spicy, vinegary syrup and it set to this delicious jelly. I plan to serve it with pork chops and buttered cabbage. Yum.

We (myself and occasionally Phoebe) also made 5 dozen chocolate chip cookies, a giant gumbo and chocolate fondant puddings for dessert. Although we tend to eschew commercial television, the kids have been watching MasterChef with some enthusiasm and when they saw the chocolate puddings they insisted that we had to make them. So we did. How you get kudos for cooking anything that easy - even with my ridiculously BAD oven they worked - is beyond me. But they were tasty.

I may have to subsist on lettuce for the rest of the week to make up for the excesses of the weekend's cooking. After the pork chops, that is.

And today, finally, we have sunshine.

Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil

It's been one of those weeks. When I've not been Working for the Man, I've been cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping and ferrying children around. And it's been raining, every day. I've been feeling uninspired, and wondering whether there shouldn't be more to life than the endless cycle of chores. I get to the end of the day, dying to go to sleep, and then think as I drift off 'oh, another bloody day tomorrow'. This is not a good way to wish one's life away, I know.

This morning the sun came out. On Monday it was the first day of winter, so this week also marked the beginning of the jonquils.

And so it was a lovely morning to head down to the community garden and let out the chickens. As always, I fed them, told them off for not laying me any eggs, then went for a wander around the garden. I picked herbs for a roast chicken tonight, admired some cabbages, checked to see if any of the oranges were ripe, and headed for the gate. On my way past a particularly overgrown commmunal plot, I caught a flash of red. The first week of winter, and sitting there, fat, lush and perfectly ripe, were four raspberries. I wish I'd taken my camera with me. Of course, I could have brought them home and photographed them, but we (couch-bound brother and I) ate them too quickly.