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.