Noel

Goodbye little one.
In a few short weeks
you gave me a glimpse of eternity.
It may be considered silly
over-the-top even to grieve like this
in a cave
away from all light
not hearing anyone
but I want to be in the darkness
with you.

Waiting and Worrying

Yes, yes,-I know it's been about 7 bazillion years since I last posted but I've been a little 'preoccupied' one might say.

As of tomorrow I'm 9 weeks pregnant. I have been 8 weeks pregnant for about 3 weeks now, but according to the official scan undertaken on wednesday, that's how it is. For explanation see someone more together than me:-)

I'm not very good at this whole pregnancy thing. For starters, I drank a litre and a half of water for my first scan and hopped about the pathologists and ultransonographers waiting rooms in serious agony ( No wee wee wee all the way home for about 2 hrs at this point)...try it.

This was because I hadn't read the instructions properly (so what else is new?)....2 glasses was all that was needed. The ultrasound tech had a good giggle at my expense and ordered me to void 'about half'...try this too. When you're busting beyond belief and someone tells you to leave some in there...about half you consider serious physical violence.

So, heart thunping I lie back on the seriously uncomfy bed thingy and have goo squeezed on my abdomen. 'Don't worry, it's been warmed' says my blonde and very wholesome-looking male tech. He was, of course, lying. It may have been warm for a penguin, but I had to point out that for regular human beings it was bloody cold. He and Mr just chuckled at me. I resolve to squeeze cold goo on Mr sometime soon and see what he has to say.

Lo and behold, despite serious misgivings (due to spotting and bleeding for a week) there it was, the snot-prawn was alive and had a healthy heart rate of 155bpm. tech-man wasn't entirely happy though, apparently I have a 'small sac' for this week. He raced off to consult with the Doc. Doc came in and said 'Yes, you have a small sac'. Helpful.

I questioned what that could mean,-the answer 'probably nothing but we'll get you in for an extra scan in 2 weeks just to be sure'....okaaaay, way to make me panic all over again.

I was allowed to go the toilet properly and we left $130 poorer.

Then we went to the Plaza so I could buy 'Zoo Tycoon' and 'Simcity4' and a cinnamon pretzel.

So, still spotting, still scared and dying for a cigarette. On New Year's Eve I will find out if the prawn has made it through this couple of weeks. I think I'm supposed to enjoy Xmas in the meantime....

Okaaaay...

Why? Why do tampons need wings? How much room do they think we have up there? wouldn't it just be like an extra wrapping round the tampon?
And why do people insist on having sex when they know they're in a horror movie? And why do I care so much about the American election outcome? And why do I have to go to South penrith to sit on my ass and put up a sign? And what do I cook for my brother on saturday?

Catching my breath

Upon waking I generally sigh. It's not always a happy and sweet exhalation at the wonder of life and love. More often it's a pfft of regret that the dreaming world has receeded and a prelude to drawing reality into my lungs. I look down at the pudding near my feet who blinks at me, yawns with a small meow and curls back up to sleep. I always, always envy her.
Legs swing out from cream sheets onto a red persian rug. This is usually accompanied by the thought 'Wow, -I'm really white'. Ambling to the mirror, a brush is utilised and unruly bed hair twisted and clipped up and behind. I don't really like the look, but it is practical-besides, I don't have time to 'do' my hair so that it looks fabulous hanging free.
A quick skin assessment is undertaken with varying results,-usually not too upset by my own appearance. Face is fine. Not supermodel, but not elephant man. Am grateful for the few piddly breaks the universe throws at me.
Am always tempted to apply deodorant immediately (pathological need to smell nice at all times) but this motivates me to get to the shower (work days) or the bath (days off).
I am a fast washer. There's the initial turning on of cold tap followed by hot. The testing for temperature (still clothed) then the super quick shedding of jammies followed by the equally quick 'get under there immediately' dance. Front first, then back, then hair and face. Soapy fluffy shower thing utilised for fast and fairly aggressive scrubbing, perfunctory attention to hair paid with constant thought 'This will make my hair frizzy,-I should slow down and massage my scalp like the hairdressers do'. I slow down for 20 seconds and get bored.
Water off, jump out and grab towel at lightning speed to avoid seeing naked self in bathroom mirror (some things are just too much first thing in the morning). Regretful guilty glance toward scales, and towel wrapped about promptly. Careful exit of bathroom ensues. You have to slow down for 3 seconds between bathroom and hall or you'll slip on the tiles. Speed increases when you hit carpet.
Back in the bedroom, the kitten looks up sleepily and decides that the show will not be worth waking up for. Kitten head curls under paws and the resting continues for one of us.
Towelling dry is another very fast and somewhat aggressive activity. The thought occurs that all this pumelling must be good for cellulite. Do I have any? The thought will remain as it is, because there is no way I'm looking. Moisturiser applied to face with sunscreen. Lush powder sprinkled liberally (making me even whiter), and on occasion 'Karma' cream body moisturiser applied to decolletage and neck. Clothing comfortingly and hastily applied to very white self. Deodorant always forgotten until clothes are on requiring much pulling and twisting.
Now it is time for breakfast. No wonder I'm bloody exhausted all the time.

Another $100 spent very well

This is what happens when you casually 'drop in' to a garden centre on the way home from grocery shopping...

I have been a busy little bee this morning, planting massey peas, snow peas, cucumber, beetroot, onions and arugula.

Lots of marvellous rain yesterday and tonnes of big clouds looming today,-best time for planting.

I am well on the way to a burgeoning edible garden! Now to find my camera so I can chart its progress...

Mr has popped off to buy me some lucerne mulch and I have another half bed of peas to put in, -ahhh, the perfect afternoon. Dinner tonight will be a roast vegetable pie with lots of balsamic-dressed salad. On days like this I wish I didn't have to work EVER. I am a happy little grommit faffing about with seeds and dirt and mulch.

In other news, we stopped off yesterday at 'Grazings' restaurant in Gundaroo for a brilliant brilliant meal. This little gem is well worth the trip with tasteful cosy decor, excellent staff and 2 hectares of edible garden to wander about in pre or post meal. Mains were about $25 and worth every cent. I had a truly divine beetroot, kumera and onion jam pastry with mesclun salad, Mr had a divine ravioli with capers and slow-roasted tomato, and Lydgate tucked into a hearty puy lentil and bean stew with parnsip mash...divine tastebud indulgence.

I highly recommend all people eat marvellous food and spend lots of time growing food in mountain gardens...very good for the soul:-)

Spring fever

Oh how I wish I had not misplaced my camera! After a leisurely breakfast of Mango, peach, apple, banana, rockmelon and passionfruit I went for a stroll in my beloved garden. Spring is a fever of excitement for gardeners. Walking down the back steps, I feel smug at my newly dug vege patch, then less smug when I feel the healthy but insistent muscle twinges still making themselves known after said digging.

This patch is planted with heirloom tomatoes, grey zucchini and yellow squash. I am considering a couple of capsicums for Mr's sake, but have never had much luck with them. What the hell,-it's as good an excuse as any for a visit to the nursey:-)

Out onto the lawn that depserately needs a mow, I'm pleased with my purple and gold pansies. They were bunged into lawn edging with very little thought, and like most things I neglect in the garden, are sending forth copious large blooms, and matching my purple daisies beautifully. Above them the pear tree is just starting to blossom, and the hazelnut bush to the right is beautifully dressed in new spring leaves. The violets beneath are rampant, and the spinach planted randomly throughout needs picking. Hmmm, maybe spinach and 'fetta' tarts for dinner?

Further down, my cornflowers have large healthy foliage, and next to the wormwood, the grey leaves are cooling. I hope for an impressive display of little blue buttons in a month or so. Next to them an old cottage-garden flower that I bought years ago is finally budding. I have no memory of what it is, and like presents at christmas, am excited by what will unfold.

My 'badlands' garden is a special joy. I am convinced that everything is growing well here now due to some mysterious Ph level change that is entirely due to the amount of sweat I have poured into the soil. This little patch has been cleared, newspapered, composted, manured and planted out time and again and is now bursting with raspberries, shallotts, garlic, gooseberries, apples, broad beans, parsley, oregano, lavender and tansy. To the right is my kiwi-vine just starting to sprout its new spring growth.

Down the back beds (almost invisible in tall grass until Mr does his husbandly duties), I have 4 varieties of potato, peas and cucumber sown and sprouting merrily.

In the gorgeous spring sunshine, there is no better tonic for a tired little soul than a wander around one's garden. Now I must tootle off and clean and bake fast! Lydgate and his mother are coming up for a wee visit and I have a weird 'woman' need to have a shiny, clean house for them and a cake baked. (...we won't eat it,-I'm taking them out to the 'Blue Mist' cafe which, I'm certain, has plaenty of cakes...) Lovely lovely saturday.

Blue Mist

Because I can, I bought 4 new books this week.
'The Tuesday Erotica Club' by L B Kovetz
'Making History' by Stephen Fry
'Here on Earth' by Alice Hoffman
'Playing with Water' by Kate Llewellyn.

I have read the first two, and am eagerly looking forward to the others. When I buy books in bulk, a general rule of thumb applies. If the first two are great, I have a good book-choosing expedition. The first two were great.
Odd the things you find in second-hand books. A train ticket from Ingleburn used as a bookmark and a religious tract used as another.
The religious tract was in 'The Tuesday Erotica Club'....I giggled enough to make the $9 very very worthwhile.
All of these little gems were discovered at the 'Blue Mist cafe' in Wentworth Falls. It is the second-hand bookshop I would have set-up in another life. This is extremely handy as I spend very little time perusing shelves before various excited squeals emanate from me. So anyone who has exactly the same taste in books as I do should most definately visit:-) Mr wandered a little forlornly due to a serious absence of Sci-Fi titles, but I hit the Jackpot time and time again:-)
Even better, on weekends, the 'bookshop' is opened as a cafe, so you can have tea and yummy things and gaze longingly at great books. Word to the non-mountains types, there is no ATM in the falls,-bring cash.
I was particularly pleased to add another Fry and another Llewellyn to my collection. Adore them both to pieces. Kate might as well be me, and Stephen is the me I could have been (if I were a genius gay male). Adorable.

The aftermath

Having spent the weekend violently expelling the contents of my stomach and sleeping between bouts, I have little tolerance and even less sympathy.

Much to-ing and fro-ing on the theatrical grapevine this week re: a certain production in Darlinghurst that cancelled 2 nights before opening.

I have had both sides explaining their point, and am a little bemused by the 'he-said/she-said' side-taking circus, very reminiscent of Grade 3. I am over theatrical egos and lazy people who use disdain and temper as a mask for inefficiency. I am over working for people who can't spell, I am over bolstering permanently damaged egos, I am over alcohol and late nights, I am over enthusing about things I really couldn't care less about.

I am not over Potatoes, Noodles, Gerry or Diet Coke. How could I be?

I am also not over King Parrots, My comfy bed, great movies and the umerow. I may be going off going out to 'Coffee', kissing and brown rice for a while. We'll see. I'm definately over bodily fluids of all varieties for the moment. Especially bile. It tastes awful. If one is going to throw up, I recommend fruit. Yummy in, tolerable out.

The next installment of 'day-off-sans-vomiting' involves watching 'Death Defying Acts'. I doubt this will be a mind-blowing activity, but it won't piss me off as much as continuing to ruminate on general stupidity. Rumination terminated.

Oh, and I'm a bad bad hostess. Lydgate was left to his own devices for a good 2 hrs last night. I went to bed ill, Mr followed 10 minutes after. I have still to impress on him the basic standards of having guests in ones home. They include not leaving said guests to fend for themselves for 2 hrs while one has a nice comfy early night. Esepecially not cool when said guest is also best friend and has to wait for Blue Mountains trains. Grr.

Waiting and waiting and waiting. Endless maybes and what-ifs snuggling together in a great sticky ball of uncertainty. More than anything else, I would like it to be a week from now. I have absolutely no desire to experience the rest of this week, but must due to contractual obligations. I very much wish to retire to the supreme bed of comfiness and stay there indefinately. I may rise for stir-fry and cups of tea. I may not.
I tried to get someone else's baby to sleep today. She took one look at me and screeched for 1/2 an hour. So that was comforting.
The cottage is a right shambles and there are no seeds for the players at Pear-Tree Theatre. I feel unreasonably guilty about this and should pop off shops and remedy immediately. Does that count as my daily act of random kindness? (being that it is neither random, nor particularly 'kind').
I also spent an unusually large amount of time at the piano when I got home desperately figuring out the Ewok theme from 'Return of the Jedi'. It seemed important at the time.
Dinner will be beans on toast. Poor Mr, he should trade me in.

There's a salad in my garden dear liza...

I can't believe I didn't know that sweet violet leaves, when young, are edible in salads. Apparently flowers and leaves are also useful for bronchial and lung complaints. This is very good news indeed as my garden is overrun with 'em:-) A wave of scent hits me every time I go out the back door.

In other news I have many surprise daffodils flowering, tulips in the front garden, shallotts, garlic and broad beans sprouting nicely and the dreaded Yarrow creeping forth from its winter dormancy. No sign of life from the potato bed yet, but will give it another couple of weeks before I give up on it entirely.

A student gave me a bucket of soil last week with a 'surprise' edible garden within. It is packed with vegetable seeds...now I just need somewhere to plant them out....Mr?

Steadily edging towards the end of term and desperately looking forward to it. A whole week at Caloola with no computer, no mobile and no work. Just books and fires, and walks and cards and silly word games and sleep-ins and hearty feasts with local produce brimming at my table. Vineyards will be visited en route and good wine bought liberally. Lydgate and Mr will amuse me and themselves. Before that, end of term open classes and four days of holiday workshops to be endured. I can do it. I have Berocca.

Quitting

Wow, this is really really hard. I didn't take into account the hours after work when one is used to de-stressing with a cigarette and a glass of wine. Stressful day added to the mix makes thinsg quite impossible. Woe the day 11 years ago that I put one of these lovely things into my system. It is very very hard to say goodbye. If I want a future that includes children I must give this up. Logically speaking, I don't think I'll be happy at 50 with my cigarettes and no child. In the meantime I have hell to deal with (as well as a 6 day week and management servers going down which makes me unable to do my job re: timesheets/invoices/cost reports).
Small fact added that I need $$. I need these things to work as they should so I can live. OK. Calm down, Ring various important persons on the morrow and fix it. Destroy the detritus of another months failure. Keep hoping.

Before the Fall...

A little bit of pride in seeing my vegan views published. No idea how big/small the readership is, doesn't matter. I have a small glowing coal of satisfaction. Tomorrow Mr and I give up the nefarious cigarettes. I have two left that I will smoke tonight in order to make Monday 'clean'. Apparently smoking adds 10 years to your fertility,-which means I have the same chances of becoming pregnant as as 43 year old...not good. Mind you, it's an old old habit that probably should be chucked in the name of progress. Will busy myself researching animal rights/smoking-related issues. I haven't done this before because I didn't want to quit. Now I do, and I need ammunition. My health has never been sufficient reason. Global warming, land used as cash-crops, the economics of third-world countries and animal testing may just do the trick.
In other news we finally had Lydgate at the cottage on saturday/sunday and I got to feed him again. I forgot how lovely a thing this can be. He grinned so hard when he and mr picked me up from work that my heart leapt. This boy is a lovely thing. We shall whisk him off to Caloola as fast as humanly possible and walk in the bush together. We will cook and play cards and silly word games and have adventures. This thought will keep me going for the next 4 weeks of teaching.

Lorikeets and Millie's Mix

Woke up at leisure, gorgeous winter sun streaming through the kitchen. Sat down to chilli rice and a cup of tea and Kaz Cooke's "Up the Duff" but should have touched wood. Definately not pregnant again this month. Grrr.

Thought, "Well, that sux, might as well do some sucky admin work just to top it all off" and did.

Have found a gorgeous assistant tutor for Saturdays. Faulconbridge will be awash with Grrrl power henceforth.

Realised that too much time on word puzzles was unhealthy and that Mr hadn't had a great meal in some time, so whipped up an onion and 'parmesan' pilaf with some nutty soy burgers for his dinner. This will be served with a nice big salad that only I will eat. He won't mind at all.

Tomorrow is the start of the evil 4 day stretch that wipes me out. It begins at 8.30am with marketing conference calls and doesn't end until 2pm Saturday.

Oh, need to pop into the doctor too and pick up my mega-painkiller prescriptions too. All so much fun. The good news is that my broad beams, shallots and garlic are sprouting merrily and my daffodils and jonquils look strong and healthy. The feathered beauties that frequent my pear tree destroyed my cabbages but left the spinach alone. The umerrow woke up, loved to a sunny spot, slept, woke up, moved to a heater and is asleep again. She lives a marvellous life. I think I need another word game now....

Katoomba hospital saw my bum

That was fun. Pain kind of hijacked the right hempisphere of my skull for a few hours and 3 mersyndol didn't even touch it. So I was bundled into the grey beetle of salvation and promptly deposited at Casualty. A grumpy triage did my obs and I was deposited into emergency. There I waited with a worried Mr, with pain making speech impossible until a white-haired doctor who sounded like Tom Waits felt my head, took my obs again and finally sent for a male nurse to shoot me up with drugs. Now someone other than Mr has seen my bottom. He didn't even tell me what a lovely shade of white it was. Mr tried to placate him by singing a few bars of the Flower Duet from Lakme, but the station nurses started looking thunderous.
Apparently I had a migraine. Never had one before, but am left with tremendous sympathy for sufferers. Dr Waits did test me for a temporal something-or-other but my very special something or other readings were only 11 and 17...apparently that means mild inflammation consistent with viral infection.
I think they should send ones blood to the micro lab and come back with a picture of your very own virus. "Here, this is what you have..show it around at work in case no one believes you". My virus must be very very large with hook-like tentacles and a bad attitude. I suspect it has poison sacs lined up along its barbs and special headache-toxins that race through neural pathways shorting them out (visuals like on medical shows).
Anyhoo, I'm stoned off my nut now. More drugs in me than I would have thought possible. Early night a definite, and serious bed time on the morrow. Another 6 day week approaches and I would prefer it without the screaming agony this time.
All Scottish holidays hereby accepted,-no cooling-off period required.

It would be, it would be so nice....

I would like to be leaving on a Jet-Plane about now. Zonkingly exhausted and relying on caffeinated substances to get me through the day. Uncharacteristically, I'm dreaming of beaches and fruit and breezy huts. Mind you, if someone said 'sorry, the tropics are full, you'll have to go to Scotland' I probably wouldn't weep.
My hand are covered in unsightly chillblains and I have a lergy I can't seem to shake. Right now, I look forward to bedtime. It gets me quite excited,-the idea of an 8 hour blackout.
I want to eat salad but my house is so cold of an evening it seems like torture to even consider it. It is soooooo time for a holiday, even a working holiday would be OK.
I am summoning the energy to teach music for 4 hours this afternoon. The God of pianoforte is apparently not available, nor is the God of 'all children are special' so I'm going to have to try summoning the God of fiscal necessity.
To add to the fun, I have a nice sticky left eye that is suggesting conjunctivitis.
My appetite disappeared last week and hasn't returned. I am quite annoyed at this. One of my stand-by pleasures, and it's out for the count.
It didn't help that I spent 5 hours last night listening to the most depressing client stories in the universe. 'Then I f*n got an f*n sledgehammer and f*n smashed her phone, little b*tch was askin for it. Dont f*n push me, I'm tellin ya' (me trying to explain why text-based study was important to drama development...she thought I meant 'text' messaging).
I need an energy and motivation injection Doctor,-prescription please?

Committed

I think I have finally reached the conclusion that I have indeed taken on too much. Working 6 days a week and trying to study is just not working out real well to be honest. With the demands of two jobs, I am finding that when I do have time to study, my mind is well and truly elsewhere. The second job in particular requires alot more admin hours than were originally mentioned (that, or I'm as slow as a wet week with paperwork), and my hours at the School of Music seem to be increasing.

I have therefore decided that I will defer my Uni enrolment until 1st semester 09. It feels an awful lot like giving up,-even though I know it isn't. I need to reclaim some time for myself to indulge in things that make life worth living. I need some hours to cook meals for us, to be in my garden, to see my friends and family without feeling that I should be studying. I need a full day off to go for a drive to farmers markets, or to see a view. I need time to clean my house and to do the washing. These seem like small and trivial things, but without them I am eating, sleeping and working.

I haven't discussed this with Mr as yet, but I know he'll be supportive. It is a shame, but my strange personality is well-formed and there are things that make existing worthwhile that need to be taken into account. I haven't seen cybervixen for months and my contact with my brother is sporadic at best. I haven't seen a live show in almost a year, and there is no space for personal creative growth.

It's time to say 'enough'. and mean it.
When you see pieces of yourself unravelling you need a day of mending or holes will soon appear in your carefully constructed pattern. You have the option of deliberately unravelling and starting over with a new pattern, should you wish, but if you are fond of the old garment and have no wish to don a new life, mending is preferred. Mending should be undertaken when necessary and extraneous concerns relegated to their rightful place in your grand scheme.

Mending is best accompanied by lots of tea and strolls in winter sunshine. Hand-feeding a king parrot will help, as will laughing at a kitten, mashed potato and fun novels with little intellectual content. I will go to work today and tomorrow. On Sunday, I will make mending phone calls and emails and get things sorted. Wish me luck.

Lovely lovely Sunday

I adore my day off. The sun outside is warm and gentle, the day is still and cool. I slept in, had a leisurely breakfast whilst reading the paper, did a bit of admin, went for a stroll, cooked seitan for this weeks sammiches, and am just about to assemble some vegan pizzas for dinner. Nearly out of yeast flakes though, and that in itself, is quite a tragic shadow over my otherwise relaxing day:-)
The week that was has fled, and the week yet-to-be is fast approaching. I am patting myself on the head smugly for surviving without any major dramas. Mind you, my every muscle is screaming...that would be the direct result of not having done a full-on actors warm-up in over 12 months and then doing 5 sessions in one day. Speaking of which, I am unduly disturbed by the inability of most children to touch their toes. I will change this:-)
I was intending to do some study today, but am trying to convince myself that it is ok to have an afternoon off once a week. Microbiology is an old friend, but statistics and I have never had a warm relationship...
I have a little Cam in one of my classes. He is horribly bright, cheeky and irrepressible...as a result I adore him to pieces. He is so much like our Lydgate it's almost scary:-) I don't mean to play favourites, but it is very hard to remain aloof with this mischevious little sprite.
I am considering an afternoon nap. This seems unbearably lazy, but the idea just won't be shaken. Don't judge me too harshly,-I think I'm going to give in to the impulse for once.

'Oh, as long as I knoe how to love...'

I got through it. The first day. Mind you, I am now beset with myriad issues that I am not certain how to deal with....
It seems that the mighty Cath may be seriously deficient in management skills after all. I have trouble dealing with 'clients'. I am good at telling the truth and making friends. Is this my deficiency or the company's? Or rather, the economic paradigm...
Right now, it's all a bt 'up in the air'. I haven't got the resources I need, my venue is woefully inadequate (but that is a joy for tomorrow) and my tutors need me on site (note just sometimes). I now have to decide to give free hours to the company or watch my 'area; fall. Yay, And that's the first day.

GULP

It has just hit me. That large tyre-iron of responsibility. My ears are ringing and my vision is cloudy. I am starting to believe that I may actually have taken on far too much this term. 2 jobs and Uni via distance education seemed do-able, in theory.
It may end up working itself out. I certainly hope so, but sheesh,-talk about ridiculously busy. Every hour of every day is spoken for. I am waving a teary goodbye to marvellous days in my cottage with bubble-baths, gardening, walking in the mist, listening to lovely music and nesting. Mr (although he isn't aware of this yet) has just waved goodbye to fabulous meals created on such days. Mr will now have to deal with thrown-together affairs at the end of long days that may or may not be edible.
It has also just occurred to me that I haven't left any room in my schedule for shopping. Maybe I'll have to go high-tech and order online...there's a scary thought.
I've also left myself no room for creative pursuits. There is definately no space left for Wilde in the gardens or my touring Shakespeare.
I had also planned to walk the road of motherhood soon. Can I do all this whilst pregnant? I'm sure I will settle into some kind of routine with it all, but it is rather overwhelming at the moment.
Add to this residential school attendance, sale days and planning school holiday workshops....gah! Would everything be easier if I had a blackberry? Why didn't I just study ONE subject and get a nice sensible 9-5 job?

One-armed paper-hanger...

Busier than. True. Not overstating the case in any way.

Start old job, new job and distance Uni this week. That means 6 days per week working schedule (7 if you count study). I have stocked up on fresh fruit and veg, grains and Berocca.

Also dog-arsed tired after the week-that-was.

The good news is that dear Mr (after the NZ disappointment) got to touch snow. Granted, he wanted to put it on my nose immediately and I ran back to the car (carefully).

He then screwed everything up by checking out another girl with me standing 1m away. Bad form.

I felt the ice acutely from both male companions. it did seem that I was being 'unreasonable', in fact the phrase 'you just enjoy torturing me' was uttered.

Why can people never understand that old wounds may well bleed again with just the slightest scratch? It's only a scab after all. Nice thick scars take years to develop.

Why do men think that saying 'you're perfect' in one breath and 'she's hot' in another should be treated as a jovial non-event?

In other news, I set out with the intention to make Lydgate an official ;green person'. The opportunity never arose. We were in any number of picturesque locales but I was always embarased to ask, or thwarted by an ipod. I really wish my loved ones had given me a second to do this. Maybe I should have spoken up abd 'demanded' but you know what?,-I get very very tired of being the insigator. I get very tired of insisting on beauty. I am especially tired on 2nd day of the red moon. I am literally unable to give more at this point. I am exhausted and want to curl up with a great book and a cup of tea. I hurt, I bleed, I haven't slept..and yet I still feel guilty for not providing the ultimate 'day'.

I am actually annoyed at myself for being too tired to orchestrate a 'day-to-remember'. I am annoyed that I even cared about Mr thinking another woman is 'hot'. I know that 'hot' means "I would bang her in a nanosecond'. ...'oh, if I weren't "attached".

On the other hand, Lydgate bought me an old fave CD. I know neither of them get it, but I am very pleased anyway! Maybe admitiing that you'd like to slaughter rednecks is a bad thing? I don't think either boy understood the power of Leonard Cohen. That was a shame.

Today ends. I have not provided an excellent birthday. I have not taken care of myself. I have not been a good 'wife'. I have not studied my new business role enough. I have reached a point of sheer and absolute exhaution,-and everyone but me thinks I am being unreasonable.

To borrow a parable..walk a mile in my moccasins.

Happy Birthday

Well, that was a great success by all accounts. We served Cauliflower bisque with sourdough rolls, sweet potato and lentil pie and steamed veg, mudcake and soy ice cream, fruit salad and a lovely Merlot. Little brother blew out his candles in the wind and the fire was roaring. The stereo twinkled serenely in the background and family laughed and talked and ate LOTS.

Post-feast, little brother and I popped off to the Garden Centre so he could buy himself some pressies. I had a marvellous time tripping about my native turf suggesting, cautioning and offering sage advice in one of the few areas I outflank him in:-) We bought parsley, shalotts, thyme, marjoram, coriander, chocolate mint and a beautiful ti-tree and erica for his balcony. We also bought potting mix, poo and native plant formula, liquid fertilizer, a dinky purple watering-can and pots! OOooh the pots! Two rainbow-glazed beauties for the shrubs and 2 marvellous stone planters for the herbs. Added was a gnome that mooned and a doggie that begged with a pot in his paws (anyone using this for busking would be sure to earn double!). I get as much pleasure buying things in garden centres for others as I do for myself...hell any excuse really:-) I am especially fond of the Wentworth Falls garden centre as they play ABC FM throughout the premises...calm, relaxed and 'civilised'.

Mum did mention that our family seemed a little incomplete without dear Lydgate...at which I suffered a momentary pang, because of course, he should have been here with us. We shall make it up to him next weekend. Perhaps a trip to see Batman and the mother/chick cooking up a feast? I shall ponder a marvellous menu and spread the birthday cheer:-)

Just silly really...

Venustus trinus ut Megalong valley hodie per Mr. EGO didn't postulo scribo is in Latin , tamen eram sic amused per Dale's mica code ut EGO sententia I'd tribuo alius fun of a reddo excercise. Nos ingredior per a flumen went down plures calx steps ut Mermaid's specus quod bought natalis dictata pro parum frater. Totus in totus , plurimus satisfactory. Off ut kitchen iam facio pie. Dulcis potato , lens lentis quod gelu servo per brussels surculus broccoli , paganus , palpo quod fanaticus beans. Cras , epulum dies pro prosapia per Cauliflower bisque pie salad , panis volvo quod ego saucing chocolate puddings per soy glacies crepito. Merlot quod atrum grape juice bibo quod a aestuo wood incendia. Bonus vicis.

Beans, beans the magical fruit....

OK, not a fruit.

Tonight's menu features the amazing Kidney Bean. I always buy italian canned beans as they have a far richer red colour, and this, for some reason, seems an important thing to me. I am one who eats with her eyes.

Nachos is a very good way to eat Kidney Beans. I make a chilli with kitchen-sink ingredients (i.e. everything but), buy some good organic corn chips and whip up a simple Guaca to top it off. I don't usually bother with vegan cheese or cheese sauce, 'cos frankly, I can't be stuffed.

le humble Kidney Bean (1 cup) provides you with 177% RDI of molybdenum (lovely little molecule that helps to detocify sulfites), 57.3% RDI folate, 56.3% RDI dietary fibre, as well as manganese, iron, protein, phosphorus, copper, magnesium, potassium, thiamin and Vitamin K.

If you're confused by all this nutrirional hoo-hah, I'll break it down for you; Folate makes you green and leafy, iron makes you into an iron-man, protein is very very good for you, phosphorus makes you glow in the dark, copper makes lovely bracelets and pots, magnesium is available at health-food stores in little pills, potassium is also found in bananas, thiamin is in nutri-grain and Vitmain K is the creative-letter vitamin that they created when they got sick of naming them all B-something or other. You can get all these marvellous benefits from eating my nachos. If I'm in a good mood, you may also avoid gaining 300kgs.

Nachos are also a very very fine meal idea for , let's say, General medical interns in towns west of Lithgow. Put in lots of Chilli though. It ain't nachos if you don't sweat.

Easy recipes for Bathurst Interns

I have been to Bathurst Woolies. I am sure the ingredients will all be there and the Yeast Flakes available at Go-Vita.

Creamy Spinach Pasta

Ingredients

Egg-free pasta (enough for four), 2 cups soy milk, 1/2 tub tofutti cream cheese, 1 brown onion, 2 tsps crushed garlic, 1 tsp chilli flakes, 1/2 tsp caraway seeds, 1/2 cup nutritional yeast flakes, 2 tsp Vegeta seasoning, 2 tsp black pepper (coarse), handful toasted pinenuts, 1/3 cup tomato ketchup, as many baby spinach leaves as you can fit into the pot, 1 tbsp olive oil

Method

Brown onions and garlic in oil and add spices til fragrant. Add cream cheese, milk and yeast flakes and whisk over medium heat til smooth. whisk through tomato ketchup and fold through spinach leaves until wilted. Stir through cooked pasta and sprinkle with toasted pine-nuts.

Very very easy and very very yummy. The sauce takes about 5 minutes to prepare and the pasta the same. If you make enough for 4 you'll have some meals left in the fridge:-) You don't even need vegan parmesan for the top, -it's very very cheesy and rich. Good for impressing visitors too. I would serve it with a nice fresh salad to cut through the richness. This is a subtle as I get kiddo:-)

Annoying

You know what annoys me? People who are self-consciously and deliberately 'different'. People that no longer have a sense of humour unless it has a literary reference. People who use knowledge and learning as a weapon. People that you would love to know but cannot due to the immense walls of wank that surround them.

You know what pleases me? Simple things with great friends with no agenda. People that don't eviscerate you for every faux pax. People that are able to be vulnerable and do not believe that I am a velocoraptor in disguise. People that can be 'un-PC' and are OK with it. People that understand that not everything in llfe is a competition, and that all competition is essentially futile. People that let me love them.

By the way, my boys are such people. If you can't see it,-more fool you.

BIG FRIGGIN RASPBERRY.

In the works

The fall of Troy, WWII, principal of western Sydney regions, fulltime uni, maybe baby. Life is full of surprises, and my days need to be far longer than 24 hours to get it all done. Delta and Bryan would be perfect, Steve would be perfect...what about the lighting plots? Will Andrew bite? Will Cate think it's all a bit silly? Ponder and fret.

Fabulous kind of day

This is one of those utterly fabulous days. I have no pressing commitments (due to still-sore coccyx), I have loads of wood for my fire (thankyou to little brother), 'meatloaf' in the oven, and mum and dad coming up for dinner. I have also planted and tilled and fed and fussed over my garden and am looking forward to the results.

Firstly, this is my evening to be;

Log fire, good company, roast veges (chat potatoes, parsnip, pumpkin, red shallotts, cauliflower, sweet potato and carrot in rosemary, sea salt and olive oil). I will put 'Ladies in Lavender' and 'Pride and Prejudice' on the stereo on shuffle and enjoy eating immensely. I shall lighten the load by providing steamed sprouts, broccoli and grey zucchini with a light balsamic and honey glaze.

I will trot my family out into my garden where I have recently planted a bed of potatoes (nicola, sebago and pontiac), broad beans, spring onions, red shalotts, garlic and a gooseberry bush as well as a bed of my beloved blue cornflowers. The cornflowers will have companions in a few weeks in the form of brilliant red flanders poppies. The red and the blue are a stunning combination and their foliage is complimentary,-feathery and light green/grey.

There is a fabulous salad that I do for summer barbecues with fresh blanched broad beans, toasted slivered almonds, roasted kumera cubes, spring onion and a lime and sweet chilli dressing. Gooseberries make lovely jam but are best eaten fresh from the bush (perhaps with a chaser of fresh raspberries from the canes behind) and a kiwi or two from the vine to the right. The food garden is one of the prettiest things you'll ever see. Everyone smiles amongst an abundance of edible growing things!

I should also mention that I'm very very pleased with my soil efforts. A few months ago I cleared out a large bed, dug out tonnes of yarrow and weed matter, added compost, manure, lucerne and wood-ash (dug through until I was shaky), I then covered the bed with newspaper and more lucerne. When we dug it yesterday it was rich, dark, loamy and FULL of worms with a nice 6.5 PH that my veges will adore. Oh yes, give me poo and rotten veges and I shall show you miraculous things=P

My current obsession with rotting things and dirt may be a trifly unbalanced but I am sooooo enjoying myself...and am having a weird dizzy spell.....odd, might sign off then.

Coccyx stuff sucks

I tripped on my floor rug, put my head though the wall and damaged my coccyx on Friday night. I didn't feel much at the time but yesterday the pain kicked in with a vengeance. Trouble walking, sitting, lying down comfortably, and of course alot of trouble doing anything at all useful. Note to everyone; Do not damage your coccyx. There's nothing you can do but dose up on painkillers, stool-softeners (sorry to be gross, but that's yet another joyous complication) and rest. I am notoriously bad at 'resting'. Indolence is one of my greatest fears. I have managed, gingerly to sit at the computer with lots of cushions and the coccyx well out of contact with any hard surface.
I'm supposed to be teaching drama workshops in 2 days too. I will be very very disappointed if I'm not mobile enough to do that. At the moment though I can't walk around the house without pain, let alone lead drama workshops and walk to and from various stations (and negotiate the stairs that will inevitably be involved).
What I can do is share the recipe for the lovely soup I made a few days ago;

CORN & POTATO CHOWDER
1 large brown onion, finely diced
2 cloves garlic, finely diced
1 tbsp olive oil
1 tbsp nuttelex
1 tsp cumin seeds
4 tsp cracked black pepper
4 tsp Vegeta seasoning
4 tbsp massel chicken stock
1 tsp mixed herbs
4 medium white potatoes cubed
4 ears of corn, shucked and kernelled.
1/2 cup savoury yeast flakes
1 tbsp cornflour in 5 tbsp water (paste)
1/3 cup pearl barley

Simple method, just fry off onion, garlic and spices in oil and butter, add the rest with about 10 cups of water and boil and a rolling boil for about 1 hr. Serve with crusty bread and fresh parsley finely chopped and mixed through just before serving. For a creamier chowder add either 3 tbsp Toffutti cream cheese, or 1/2 cup full-fat soy milk (don't boil soy-milk though,-it will curdle).

I also added 2 tsp chilli flakes 'cos I like things to have a little bit of 'bite' but these are optional.

In other news, the wonderful Cybervixen bought me 'The Veganomicon' for my birthday. As soon as I can walk, bend, balance, I will be cooking up a storm! Very taken with the chick-pea cutlets that are a mixture of chick-peas and seitan, and the sweet n' spicy barbecue tofu. There's also a recipe for a vanilla pound cake (one of my all-time favourite cakes) that I'm BUSTING to try (especially as I have vegan custard mix in the cupboard). I crave warm pound cake and custard...and sooky girly movies...and salty things. I would also like to be entirely well by tomorrow so that I can do these workshops.

The times, they are a changin'

Firstly my alarm didn't go off. I made my train, but was a little messy about it all. I walked from Central to the interview, it took 45 minutes and made my nose run and my cough worsen. I interviewed with Titania, which was all very pleasant and relaxed. I was given a t-shirt that wasn't as awful as I had imagined, an outline and a working with children check. I walked to Town Hall to meet my brother, went back to his apartment and cooked us up a chilli-tomato pasta for lunch. This we ate with Freixenet and 'The Commitments' on the stereo. He offered $30 000 for a show I really want to do, and I peered suspiciously at this person that looked like my brother, but sounded like a stranger. I somehow made it back to Central and coughed all the way home in very dramatic fashion. So dramatic that people moved away from me in the train. It isn't ebola but sure felt like it with people glancing with suspicion and impatience at me as I gasped and hacked and generally made a nuisance of myself. 10 minutes freezing walk got me home and pretty quickly to bed.
Today I have to teach (blerch),..but it's the second last day of term so I will down Codral and soldier on. I will also have a lovely ylang ylang bubble bath, copious cups of tea and a bowl of potato and corn chowder that I whipped up this morning. Hey Ho! With tea in hand and smelling like a garden I can take on the world!
I don't find out about this job til Wednesday next week. I am not going to fret about it. I will forget it and carry on as usual. Off to start phase one of survival,-the bubble bath.

Unusually bold

I sent off my resume to a very very important and impressive company. I decided to take the advice of rich people and to move boldly. Apparently (according to my fiscally impressive friends) half the battle is believeing in yourself enough to aim higher. I have always gone for the 'safe' jobs,-you know, the ones you turn up to be interviewed for almost as a courtesy because of course you'll get the job. This time I'm putting myself out there...quite a long leap over my line of safety and security.
I have been cited various and numerous instances of people getting jobs through sheer force of personality, impressive adaptability and just general intelligence and affability. I am also determined to get a pay-rise. If this means changing jobs,-so be it. If the current lot won't give me one, maybe there is an employer out there who will value me a little more highly...and his sister runs quite the successful lingerie line...

Straight through please

I don't want a long conversation and a bout of justifying my remuneration. I just want a simple yes or no. This is a dance I shall sit out if you don't mind very much. I have forwarded my request and reasons. I justify myself every day I walk up those stairs. Further conversation in this matter is futile and insulting. Either I'm worth an extra $5/hr or I'm not. Just decide.

Bridget Jones moment

Well, OK, I'm not listening to Sad-FM, or drinking vodka, but I am 'all by myself' for four days while Mr is at State Drama Camp. A very odd feeling indeed.
I did manage to light a roaring fire 'all by myself' though,-quite chuffed about that.
I had dinner early 'cos I happened to be hungry and didn't have to 'wait' until we both were, vacuumed the house thoroughly, raked the yard, applied liberal cow manure to fruiting trees and raspberry canes, started reading some Ursula le Guin (I have never read the Earthsea books and figured it was high time I gave them a go), got bored and started reading some Naomi Wolf, got bored and started re-reading Kaz Cook's 'Up the Duff', got bored...luckily the phone rang..but it was mum telling me about how beautiful my brother's interior-designed apartment looks. Harrumph.
Time is quite the slow old phenomenon without other humans. I dragged out the sewing machine and was going to do some quilting but lost my motivation before I got started. Oh well, the kitchen table looks like someone's going to be creative at some point in the near future.
I did complete my course-outline for the Nepean Community College yesterday, and am anxiously waiting for my CSU acceptance papers. Mum asked if I was, perhaps, 'depressed'. Perhaps, although I couldn't tell you about what. I don't feel depressed. Tired and persnickety, yes. Everything will be fine after I've watched Mansfield Park tonight though. I may even have a glass of wine...by myself...does that make me an alco? I am drinking alone, but only out of happenstance...That's my defense and I'm sticking to it.

At least 20 thoughts there (look deeper,-it doesn't hurt...much). Please pay.
No Pay-Pal or Credit facilities at present. Drop me off some manure or compot. We'll call it even.

Careful the things you say...

Children will listen.

OK. Fired up, all engines blazing. Annoyed again by economic rationalism and the 'plight' of the poor beef farmer. Boo-friggin' hoo. I have changed jobs constantly for the last 15 years according to necessity. Sometimes this went against our family traditions, sometimes against my pride and ability, sometimes against my own code of morality (BP....), but Jesus H Christ,-don't try and tell me that beef farming is all you have or you'll die. Bored with that argument. I once said the same thing about acting and music. Oh?....not in the same ballpark? really? I have had to change, reinvent and compromise in order to surivive. Try it.
Do not sully my intelligence with half-baked romanticism about land and family. Try training for5 15 years to 'expert' level only to find that society couldn't care less. I can't rope a steer but I can sing an aria, play anything from the BWV and teach the aforementioned to anyone who takes the time to try.
Of course, I am far less tragic than the 'drought-stricken farmer'. They do 'real stuff'.
Our government wets their pants to help the cattle-torturers but is mute for our artists. Obviously, one brings captal, the other brings only joy and questions and despair and elation and fury and apathy etc. I am now charging $1.66 per thought.

Meow

Thankyou Gem for inspiring me to waste a serious amount of time on this website...

Tuppence a bag

Hey little sister, Shotgun

After the storm there is an amazing clarity. Everything has been stripped and washed clean. There is a sense of exhaustion and elation. There is hand-feeding of King Parrots and cooking together. There is the inability to stop staring at the kindest face on the planet. Fears that seemed monstrous have shrunk in the winter sunshine and have been wrapped in warm forgiveness. Memories of the storm prickle and sting. Self-forgiveness is much more difficult than any issue could possibly have been. I discovered that my nest of old is not as comforting as I thought it would be and that my true place of peace was in front of me all along. I howled, I roared, I slashed and snapped, I tore off great chunks of heart and spat them back with a soul sticky as tar and just as black. I boarded the train and wept like a small child. I crawled back to my sanctuary and was held and soothed. The nagging sense remains that I do not deserve this. I should have been lashed, not kissed. There is such enormous strength and kindness in this unassuming man that made me his wife. I am resolved to never underestimate his love again. Why must I always take the difficult path to everything? He is always there, in the sun with hand outstretched. It is time to be ingenuous and trusting and quit expecting and creating disaster. This will not be a simple thing. Or maybe it will and can be. This man of earth is a small miracle. He stands on the blacony with a female king parrot feeding trustingly from his hand and grins with pleasure. My heart breaks all over again. My gentle giant.

Take my love, take me land...

The collage looks something like this; A strange chook in the backyard, men chasing her through the violets, lots of fresh fruit and vegetable, clear mountain views, butterscotch royale and orange and cardamom, Maybe Baby, Oodles of Jonquils, Mr's rhyming card, dim-sims, chilli-salt tofu and vege chow mein, a Bogart hat, new bras and lots of lovely treats from Lush, a sizeable voucher for Garden Centres, sleeping in and getting out of bed languidly, Deciding on what to name my daughter, Figuring out the Italian Coffee percolator, learning about CAH, realising that the log fire will warm the entire house, old paintings of autumn leaves with gilt frames, Chilli-Jam and Star Wars Monopoly, finally winning a game of Euchre, checkers and white wine, candles and dinner service, extreme tiredness, a talkative kitten and inroads on dream-show, three cards from two people, earl grey and the paper, witch-hunts and art, photos in a hat, freezing air and warm sun, happy dreams and pleasing messages from Thailand. Thus passed my 33rd birthday. Most satisfactory,

lentil soup

It is blowing an icy gale. It is Friday. Mr is exhausted, I'm not far behind. Both of us will come home this evening with a great need for comfort food and a good DVD, but neither will have the energy to do anything about it. Solution: knock up a big pot of lentil soup and drop in the Baker's Delight after work (handily located downstairs). I haven't done a lentil soup in ages,-not sure why, it's filling, fabulous, comforting, healthy and cheap cheap cheap. I did look up some recipes but then went with the tried-and-true Cath-method of chuck everything in and taste test regularly until you're happy. The only thing about this one is the golden rule for lentil soup; don't add salt until the very end. It will make the lentils tough.

LENTIL SOUP

Ingredients: 2 cups brown lentils, one brown onion, 2 celery stalks and leaves, 2 tbsp tomato paste, 2 tsp ground cumin, 2 tsp garlic granules, leftover stamed veg (cauliflower, carrot, broccoli, zucchini),1/2 cup roast cashews, 3 tsp black pepper, 1/2 tsp chilli flakes, 1 tsp rosemary (dried), 3 L water, 1tbsp vegeta seasoning.

Chuck it in, boil it up, whizz in blender and serve with hot crusty bread. Voila.

Lentils were one of the earliest known cultivated crops. Usually known as 'poor man's meat' it was then and is still recommended as one of the best alternative protein sources to meat. Not only that, but it is packed with fibre, folate, iron and vitamin C, a good whack of B vitamins (B1, B2, B3, B6), niacin, vitamin K and pantothenic acid. In fact, for pregnant women, Lentils should be a dietary mainstay with 1 cup providing 89.5% of recommended daily Folate needs. (USDA food charts).

More importantly, lentil soup tastes fabulously earthy and wholesome. the lentils merrily take on whatever flavourings you fancy at the time. You can get terribly fancy and go all moroccan, Egyptian, Indian, French (tarragon and bay), or basic and simple like the recipe above. An especially good idea for young vegan doctors away from home who could cook up a big pot, freeze portions and have a tasty and nutritious breakfast or dinner just a microwave away:-)

Of course, doctors like this should always serve the soup with lots of bread slathered with toffutti cream cheese because they're skinny enough already:-)

If you want an even heartier version, add some spuds to the mix. If you do that though, you probably won't have room for any bread. The tummy can only take so much starch at once:-)

Go on, it's winter, cook up a pot of goodness and spend the rest of the day smugly congratulating yourself on your mastery of nutrition and thrift.

Ain't that sweet?

Just 'cos it is and gives me the warm gooeys.

Thai Food and School Staffrooms

Lydgate's off to Bathurst for a few months, so last night (being our last available opportunity to see him before the grand exodus) we had to try and get together. This was made tricky by the fact that Mr had to stay back at school til 9pm to co-ordinate the evening college. Never one to be beaten by circumstance, I ordered my Lydgate Limo for 5.30pm. It arrived very punctually and came equipped with stereo. This was necessary as i had an overwhelming need to sing Voulez vous couchez avec moi loudly for a few minutes. We solved various problems and then hopped out at Ping Kun Thai restaurant Emu Plains for sustenance. The Lydgate Limo also comes with generous Chauffer who immediately procured magical wallet and pressed crisp bills into my hand and left the ordering up to me.

Food procured, we drive through scary scary land to Mr's school. Cold people huddle outside cars and in the courtyard waiting for Thai Cooking, Computing for beginners and Yoga. We find Mr and spread out our meal on the English Staffroom table. I have had dinner in some odd places, but this one was truly memorable. Eating under cold school lights surrounded by educational materials may be the answer dieters have been looking for all along. The food was to its usual high standard but I was suddenly not very hungry. I also had a bizarre fear of swearing. Lydgate did the washing up and I busied myself cleaning up Mr's desk (it looks like his bedroom, but without the piles of dirty clothes...)

Lydgate and I promptly transformed into naughty teenagers and set about exploring the dark school and playing with a confiscated slinky in the stairwells. Mr proudly showed us his Drama room (v. impressive indeed) and the night was at an end.
To top everything off I settled down with Ms Greer and her politics of human fertility...bit of light bed-time reading.
Today I am a bear. I need to hibernate. I am annoyed that I had to wake up at all. I'm even more annoyed that I have 6 hours of straight teaching to get through without a break this afternoon. The old body feels quite odd,-reminiscent of my fun Glandular fever experience a few years back. Just procuring breakfast this morning made me want to crawl back into my nest to recover. However, as one has no choice in such matters, one will ingest serious caffeine and soldier through. Isn't it school holidays yet?
I also have to face my kitchen and clean 2 days detritus and prepare something or other for Mr's dinner. Even peeling spuds seems like a serious undertaking today. Big Sigh. Straighten back (and resolve) and get on with it woman.

Minestrone and cockatoos

So I made a big pot of Minestrone soup last night for the AF girls, and was knocked flat by their reaction. I had to have a bowl this morning to see if it really was as unutterably fabulous as they seemed to think. I've never had anyone enthuse that much about my cooking before. They sounded like a cooking-show, waxing lyrical about the subtle depths of flavour etc. It was very nice soup. I'm not sure that it evidence of true culinary genius, but it was very nice.

For those who are inclined, here's the recipe. It looks complex, but really apart from browning onions and cooking off the tomato paste first thing, you bung everything else in the pot, bring to the boil and then simmer for a couple of hours. That's the true genius of soup:-)

MINESTRONE SOUP

1 large brown onion finely chopped

2 or three celery stalks and leaves finely chopped

1 ear of corn kernels

2 medium carrots, grated

1 red capsicum finely chopped

1 cup soup mix (lentils/beans/barley etc)

1/2 cup small pasta shapes

2 tins No Frills tomato soup

1 tbsp Massel chicken stock

1 Green Gourmet vegan sausage finely diced

2 tsp vegeta seasoning

2 tsp italian mixed herbs

2 tbsp tomato paste

1/3 cup tomato ketchup

1 tsp chilli flakes

2 tsp ground black pepper

1/2 cup Nutritional Yeast Flakes

3-4 L purified water

Heady stuff. Serve with hot bread. Oh, and I brown the onions in Nuttelex.

My bird feeder continues to delight and amuse me, but I had rather a sad visitor today. A very very old and scabby cockie. He wasn't managing very well so I popped some seeds on the back balcony just for him (yeah...that worked!). He obliged me by posing for a photo with a couple of his younger and more handsome buddies. Poor bugger, I will now do everything I can to look after him, but I doubt he's got a great deal of time left on this planet....sniffle.

I am going to name him Bert. Bert is a good name for old male individuals. Mr is reading one of my old childbirth textbooks as I write. I think I'm supposed to get the hint. I'm also ravenous today for some odd reason. Already consumed 2 big bowls of chunky soup and some noodles. Mr suggested that I may be 'eating for two'. Yes, he is obsessed and very very clucky. I think if he could have the baby, he would. Lord, can you imagine if men did have the babies? There'd be well-paid pre and post natal packages, astonishing resources available and women giggling in the waiting rooms. Liquor and tobacco sales would almost disappear and war would become a very strange thing indeed. One can dream:-)

It's only as odd as you feel

Three cheers for me. I made a small (mostly unnoticed) stand. Lydgate and Mr went off to the movies and I went to Blackheath for coffee with my family.

Everything was going fairly well until mum brought up the possibility of a Jazz collaboration between me and my brother. I turned icy and suggested we not talk about that.

The whole table did a double-take, then a triple, and my brother looked hurt...and then I felt guilty.

I shouldn't. I'm sure he was relieved beyond belief, but I still felt awful.

It's a shame he doesn't and won't. But there it is.

The world of Mr Meistersinger is reassuringly intact and I have put myself firmly in the place he has appointed. Yay for everybody I guess.

On a positive note, my feathered beauties are visiting me every day. I stand on the balcony watching them for obscene amounts of time absolutely fascinated by avian antics. That bird feeder was seriously the best present Mr has ever bought me.

Tomorrow I'll go for a drive with Mum and Dad and enjoy the countryside. They will be afflicted (and have been duly forewarned) with the script of the children's show I'm writing for the Acting Factory. It isn't terrible, but as usual, I have no idea how it ends. It will most likely come to me at 3am when I'm desperately trying to sleep. By 8 am most of the inspiration will be gone, but I'm too lazy to sacrifice sleep for (ahem) 'art'.

You say you want...

Sore throat. Oops. That would be my horribly enthusiastic students turning up this week dripping with colds but determined not to miss their music lesson. I must give bonus points for enthusiasm but must gong every single parent for not realising that their darlings are contagious and that I earn my living by being well and able to sing for 5 hours a day.

In other news my brother has (so far) cast off certain manacles that masqueraded as freedom. Although I am pleased, I will wait to see if this little bid for freedom lasts out the week. You wanna kitchi-kitchi ya-ya, Mocha-choca latta...ahhh, the lures of fiscal 'security'. Rich slave or poor free man? Ideaology says one thing, but reality and habit quite another I'm afraid.

I struggle to feel for someone who has dug their own plush-lined ditch. A big part of me has a serious case of the 'told ya so's'...another big part of me is hurting for him. Not that he really deserves my sympathy. This is the man that will help everyone but me. This is the man who asks his family to believe in him but will not believe in us (except when the chips are down, and that's reasonably often). I'm trying not to be cold-hearted here but injustice weghs heavy on my reasoning.

This is the man who can wax lyrical about my talents and abilities but will still always give the job to someone else...anyone else. If I am used at all it is as an administrator (see shit-kicker). I would love this little 'penchant' of his to be real, but I doubt his will-power in the face of easy $$.

He actually said "Now I have this huge grand-piano...what am I going to do with it?"

PLEASE LISTEN TO YOURSELF.

I hope I am wrong. I hope my brother is not a whore. I hope he actually does have the strength to pull away. I miss him.

Washing Up and Ornithology

My kitchen is soooooo clean. This should shock you considerably. My kitchen generally ambles between shabby and shocking. I love cooking but have, until now despised washing up (except occasionally in winter when there seems so nother way to warm up my hands).

Mr has been quite tricksy. On the way back from buying veges last weekend, Mr pulled off the highway at the weird 'Pot Place' in W'Worth Falls; the one you always drive past and wonder 'Who actually goes to a pot-shop?'. Us, it seems.

I trotted along asking questions that were not answered and insiting that we didn't need a pot. I have pots. I have nothing to put in the pots,-why don't we go across the road to the Nursery?

20 minutes later I was the proud owner of a blue ceramic bird-feeder and a marble bird-bath.

We hung the feeder on the pear tree and poured in native bird seed. I waited anxiously all afternoon. A couple of cockatoos and an indian miner. I could have wept.

Then, the next day my bare and wintry pear tree was suddenly a riot of colour and birdy-arguments! I took my tea and sat on the bench beneath for an hour with a huge grin on my face:-)

I had king parrots, rosellas, rainbow lorikeets, satin bower birds and more cockies. I would have taken a photo but A certain Mr has worn out the batteries in my camera playing Lydgate's X-Box.

Now, I can wash up whilst watching my pretty feathered friends squabbling over sunflower seeds.

Just this morning an amusing scene at pear-tree theatre. 2 rainbow lorikeets screaming at a cockatoo while two rosellas pulled at their tail feathers trying to get to the feeder. Mr Cockatoo got quite stroppy, but the colourful little bullies weren't backing down. Meanwhile 2 king parrots sit in the box tree above patiently waiting for everyone else to move along.

It just occurred to me that this post will bore everyone except me...Well, me and Bill Oddie.