During our recent holiday up Australia's east coast (only as far as Sydney, this is a bloody big country!), we had the great pleasure of enjoying a bushwalk as a family. It was the LGBB who insisted on the 5km bush and beach trek. I'm so glad we did it. There were some really amazing treats on the well worn, overgrown track. Tiny birds, big rosellas, little lizards, crazy fungus formations, whole copses of fallen beach shrubs that were stunning in themselves despite being long dead and flattened.
It was a humbling experience, coming from the beachside holiday spot in Lakes Entrance and walking just a short distance to get to the point of the actual Entrance itself. So untouched yet so close to all the modern conveniences. I'm quite impressed, actually, that they have conserved this area. It's only a great pity there are not more of these pockets of nature. It really contrasts with the paved roads, the industry, the devastation of tracts of land to make way for more "progress".
Along the way, there were many stops by me and the trusty Canon DSLR. Too many photos to share here but some of my best captures of what we saw are below.
First though... Any guesses what this is?
I'll show you the whole photo in a post later in the week, give you a chance to have a good guess.
Apologies for the pesky copyright watermarks. I'm just a tad protective.
On the boardwalk
Perfect natural borders!
Mushy
Gnarly, dude
Perfect flowers
The reward at the end - 2.8km in.
The beach was an entirely different kind of photo shoot, altogether.
......And if you're not all saying "it was an entirely different kind of photo shoot" in unison right now, I will be most disappointed.
More later in the week.
I hope your weekend has been kind and restful and given you the chance to stop and notice the significant little things around you.
I was neither hot nor cross making these beauties yesterday.
The LGBB doesn't like them, she's decided, I gather because they're probably not sweet enough even though they look like they ought to be. Poor deprived child.
Had a ball making them (and tweeting the photos during the process... yeah, sorry about that, just installed Instagram on my phone - I have previously used Steve's - so I'm still in that hot, heavy flurry of overdoing it). During the process, the rising of the dough and then the punching back down to size was terribly exciting - for me and for her - and at one point, looking in through the oven door while they were baking, the LGBB exclaimed, "I can't believe my EYES!" And I thought, "These better taste good or I am in deep trouble..."
Last time I attempted to make hot cross buns was in Mrs Stubbs' Home Ec class when I was fifteen. I was so put off by how they turned out that I haven't tried since. Back then, there was no diligent kneading for 10-15 minutes, certainly no embarrassing pounding of the risen dough. You wouldn't be caught dead following the "stupid recipe". Only lots of chatting, keeping our bowls out of harm's way - you had to watch that Dave, and Chris was even worse news - and trying not to get the daggy praise of Mrs Stubbs.
Mrs Stubbs was so gorgeous. She was like a mother hen, a tall stately woman in her 50's with a short, bouffant hair do and tiny spectacles that perched right at the end of her nose, which she would peer over to tell you kindly "this is the last needle I have, dear, so please don't break another" as she fixed a new needle to your sewing machine, or "you'll be thankful you've learned the difference between dicing, chopping and slicing" as if we cared. We did. I'll bet, right now, there are dozens of women (if not men) grateful of her careful nurture - as best you can with teens who think home economics is the "easy/slack-off" class where they didn't even try to pay attention. She's one of those teachers who I wonder what happened to, someone I'd like to bump into somewhere someday (if she's still alive) to just say, "Thanks." Oh, and, "Er..... sorry. For not listening. For rolling my eyes. For... just sorry. For everything."
It. Has. Risen!
Ready for the oven.
Easter is my favourite holiday of the year. There is a very concentrated feeling of stillness and peace about this holiday, I have felt it for a number of years now, probably since I was a child actually, now I think about it. I don't know what it is, but I gather it comes from prayer. Those who know me will be aware that I am not a religious person, which to me means I belong to no one religion. However, I have a faith. I believe in the divine will of the individual. I believe in the power of positive, thoughtful prayer. And peace.
This weekend, with the countless prayer services or quiet reflective spaces all around the world as well as close to home, it's no wonder one can't help but feel some of that. Now, while I believe in no one doctrine, as I said, I do respectfully observe the existence Jesus Christ. The stories about the man... well, about that I'm not so sure (and I'm not wanting convincing!). But it's this Christian holiday we are forced to observe, even more than at Christmas, that I really do appreciate. I was raised CofE, I've been to the services, I learned about it at school and at home. But by the time I was about 10, I learned no more. I got distracted, then I got rebellious, then I found my own way to a place of purposeful existence. But if you have ever been exposed to or learned these teachings, they stay with you for life. Or so I have found, so far. I think there is something quite profound in that.
Can you feel it, wherever you are?
Do you slow to a stop at Easter?
Do you catch the peaceful wave, however small, in your world?
"Why aren't we flying? Because getting there is half the fun! You know thaaaat!"
I'm thoroughly enjoying documenting some home movies for the LGBB... a slightly less boring way than that which we had to endure. Anyone remember Super-8's using a projector and a blank internal wall as a screen and being forced to watch silent movie after silent movie? Nails. Down. A. Blackboard.
We took a camping trip a couple of weekends back. Our fate was unknown.
See, I've been trying to get Steve to go camping for the better part of, oh, about eighteen years and never once (apart from an awful frozen night up in Dargo - high country - where our little 2-man tent and pitiful preparations saw us greeted in the morning by a caved-in tent "roof" and a herd of cows that all but dragged our sorry excuse for a tent off with them.. while we were still inside) have we been camping. Proper, under the ti-trees, next to a beach, in a camping ground camping.
Until now.
We had the tent already - we bought this with a firm plan back in 2002 but as our special brand of luck would have it, that was the year I got pregnant three times and each time, we just postponed our trip (we were going to go through the Flinders Ranges in South Australia). We've never gone. Maybe one day. Now with the LGBB.
So we had the tent but nothing else. In the week before we left (the week after the Aussie Bloggers Conference), we scrambled to buy the necessities. We stuffed everything in to the car (just) and prayed they wouldn't identify us as newbies when we turned up, scraping off price stickers and cutting off tags from all our gear as we pulled in to the camping ground.
Lucky for us and possibly best of all, my Kleenex Mums win arrived in the nick of time and we were able to pack this beaut little camcorder in with us as well.
Listen, I'm honestly not being held to mentioning this again [side note: geez, those guys at Canon Australia - that's... @CanonAustralia if you're on Twitter - are so gentle when they twist your arm behind your back..... JOKES!] but this is a seriously impressive little hand-held camera. The thing even seems to reduce movement - you know when you're trying to film and keep getting bumped? Like in a crowded concert hall watching end of term dance concerts and parents are all jostling with each other for viewing space and trying to wrangle younger siblings who keep knocking the arm you're holding your camera in? Yeah. That happened to me. The video hardly captured the wobble! Amazing.
Of course, just because I have the camera doesn't mean I can use the camera. Mind you, the editing capabilities of iMovie are pretty good so I decided to go all Peter Weir-ish with the footage when we got home. Not sure if I'll ever be giving Scorcese a run for his money, but dang it's fun to try.
So sit back and enjoy this. Let me know what you think. It's okay, you can tell me it bored you until you squeezed out some angst-ridden tears if you need to.
Things you need to know to, you know... prepare you:
• There are copious scenes of my child in this. If this is going to bore or offend you in any way, just don't watch it. 'kay? 'kay, good.
• Windsor is an inner city suburb of Melbourne. She never had a chance of seeing the beach from there but it didn't stop the LGBB looking for it
• "Her building" is Eureka Tower, ever since we took a trip up to Eureka Sykdeck. Two years ago. Kid has a memory like an elephant
• Lolly sometimes laughs hysterically when excited
• I'm the only one in our family who throws their voice. Therefore, everyone else talks like a mouse. That's my excuse for the awful sound quality, anyway, cos that baby is cranked up as loud as she'll go.
• There is no such place as Angle Street. She is such a liar.
Today was a typically lovely home day, the "us time" wind-down after Christmas Day and all the excitement and socialising.
Steve and Lolly were outside making play dough cakes. I was doing some tidying up inside. We were surrounded by great music all day - our deck is central to the house, which is shaped like a U - and I had been enjoying doing some physical work and taking advantage of the mild weather.
And then this song came on as I was moving about the lounge room. I was suddenly overcome and had to sit down, affording myself the time to have a good, long, hard bawl. It's been many months, possibly even a full year, since I cried this much whilst thinking of Ellanor. The next song in the playlist was "How Sweet It Is To Be Loved By You" by James Taylor (another dear favourite artist of mine) and the sunny beat of the tune was in contrast to my heavy tears. It helped to lift me out of wherever I might have been headed in my thoughts for the rest of the day.
Good night my angel time to close your eyes And save these questions for another day I think I know what you've been asking me I think you know what I've been trying to say
I promised I would never leave you And you should always know Wherever you may go No matter where you are I never will be far away
Good night my angel now it's time to sleep And still so many things I want to say Remember all the songs you sang for me When we went sailing on an emerald bay
And like a boat out on the ocean I'm rocking you to sleep The water's dark and deep Inside this ancient heart You'll always be a part of me
(Musical Bridge)
Goodnight my angel now it's time to dream And dream how wonderful your life will be Someday your child may cry and if you sing this lullaby Then in your heart there will always be a part of me
Someday we'll all be gone But lullabies go on and on They never die that's how you and I will be
Billy Joel's 'Lullaby' is one that I have always found just so profoundly beautiful. The tune is all at once strong and supportive, sweet and wistful, a little trepidation thrown in that turns to a sort of bittersweetness again. But it's the lyrics. The lyrics are just masterful. I sing it to the LGBB sometimes. It could be at home being sung to a child for so many different reasons, and Billy Joel himself wrote it for his little girl after his marriage to her mother ended.
But today, I heard the meaning in it for both of my girls. At times I felt like I was wrapping them both within my arms, one girl on either side, drawing them in to me and holding them close. Energetically, I suppose that is exactly what I did, for Lolly was not physically in front of me either - rather, she was as much 'there right beside me' as Ella was.
And this is the funny thing about Ellanor. Sometimes she might as well just be in another room. When the book comes out *cough...must keep momentum on publishing progress in the early New Year* I hope you will gain more of an understanding of our deep connection that she herself showed me was there - before she was conceived.
Yesterday was one of those days where we were surrounded by the most supportive members of the family within easy distance. It was a good, heart warming day. Lovely food, gorgeous company. But even amongst these familiar friends there were fragments of niggling disappointments. I don't think they will ever truly leave me, not regarding Ella and how one is treated when one has to continue to endure celebration after celebration with one child missing from the fun. I felt stymied. Have I not stopped mentioning her on my timeline yet!? Goodness, how can you still not be "over it", it's been almost seven years..... I can practically hear some people think it. And I know it's not intentional of them, that at the forefront of their intention would always be helping me to avoid inflicting pain on myself by "going there" (down that conversation path). In fact, they would be mortified if they knew it hurt me when they changed the subject or otherwise stopped me from talking any more about her.
The thing is, though, it comes down to this: she was our flesh and blood, bones and hair, living, breathing child. She lived. She was here, she laid eyes on me, eyes that would follow the sound of my voice around the NICU bay... I cannot deny her the short month of her full life by not speaking her name! There is no "just stopping" anything and there never will be - it pains me less to mention her. It is normal and doesn't agonise me at all to mention my daughter. But their comfort levels, I mostly try to abide by - it's a tricky thing to gauge, in a crowd, and I've had to keep quite a long mental list of inner-circle loved ones and their various comfort levels, in order not to cause them discomfort or unwittingly hurt myself if this is their inevitable reaction. It was the most subtle mention, too.... I wasn't meaning to fly a flag for bereaved parents on Christmas Day, believe me! It's just simply there sometimes. In the room. Like that good ol' elephant.
Today's cry was good. It was cleansing and releasing. I continued on with my afternoon, a little more bloated and blotchy-red of cheeks and darkened of eyes, but still good to carry on.
I will never completely "enjoy" Christmas. How could I possibly? But I do savour the time and don't rush things because of what we have lost and what we have gained from that loss. There is no denying, we would not have Lolly if we had not lost Ellanor. It boggles my mind quite often.
One huge, rolling, continuing lesson, this life we live. I hope you all slowed the pace and enjoyed your loved ones.
Those were Steve's parting words to me this morning as he headed back to work after two months' long service leave.
You think I have the title of this post mixed up with the content, don't you?
Let me explain.
If you are fairly new to this blog, you will be forgiven for not knowing that many, many things in our household are related back to either a movie line or a Simpsons quote of some sort or other.
So it will come as no surprise to regular readers to learn that as Steve was getting ready to head out the door, I just had to reference his return to work to one of my all-time favourite quotable movies - Flying High - wishing him a good, productive day and hoping he did not feel like he had to "calm down" or "get a hold of" himself.
Steve, of course, was talking about the woman who tries to apply makeup as if nothing is wrong, while the plane is crash landing and there's bedlam all around her, and not actually the woman who loses her composure and begins to freak out - and by the way, NONE of this is going to make the slightest sense and, even if you have seen the movie, it's probably only amusing to one or two of you... or, let's face it, just to me. But it's my blog and I'll write what I want to, so you'll have to just humour me.
Why he would liken himself to an elderly Jewish woman putting on her eyeshadow and lippy is an entirely different kind of post...... "All together". But it was a bloody funny visual when he said it, all the same.
I shall now let the clip speak for itself and back away before I make any bigger turkey of myself. Or my husband.
I haven't got time for a proper catchup (and oh BOY, what a trip we've just had), but wanted to run past, wave and dump these couple of photos of the family homestead. A gorgeous house with 12' ceilings and so rich in family history that my mind has been permanently boggled, I think.
These guys weren't kidding when they said "remote". Every bit of land you see here, they own (save for the very far bluish coloured mountain tip you see in the far right corner of the landscape shot). There were several trippy moments when we'd be driving somewhere with our cousin and after 10 or 20 minutes, she'd confirm my query with a nonchalant wave of her hand and say, "Oh yes, this is all ours we've been driving past."
I guess that happens when you have 33,000 acres.
All I can say is, I was awed, humbled by the beauty of the land there. I caught sunrise on the first morning (when I took a heap of photos) and was mesmerised by the changing colours right before my eyes as the sun rose.
Far too much going on today for a proper post, so shall have to come back another time. There is also a lot going on in the world right now too and, somehow, yet another post about l'il ol' me just feels inappropriate, at least until I can get up to speed with news.
I feel like I've been out of touch with reality since Friday night. It's kind of a big relief, but feels very weighty when you come back to this parallel reality called Society (which I don't think is my reality at all, or at least, not how I want my 'reality' to be, but more on that another time!).
Because I can't help myself and had to show off my creations for today. I give you...
Christmas pud's to rot your teeth on Milk & Dark choc royals (the biscuits with the marshmallow sitting on a smudge of jam and then a biscuit bottom), topped with melted white chocolate, then a little raspberry and a coupla chopped mint leaves.
• 2010 is going to be known in this house as The Year Of Living Frugally. My recent op shop exploits (where I found NEW gorgeous designer label clothes for $1.... like... ohmygodareyouforreal?) were a boost to my confidence, and that it doesn't take spending lots of dosh to have nice "things" - and what's the saying, anyway? "The important things in life aren't things." So true.
• This time last year I was wishing we had the extension all finished. Some things never change.
• It's probably not a good idea to store your wallet with your spare sanitary pad for those "just in case" times. You'll prrrrobably end up pulling out said pad with your wallet to pay for your Christmas drinky-poo's and not notice until you glance down and think, "What's that bright blue packaging?" as you go to slip out your credit card. In front of the nice young boy who's already in the process of being very self-conscious because of that pesky Glee Club tryout-ruining breaking voice ("When it's time to change, you've got to re-A-RANGE").
• I can't be sure, but I've spent the last half hour with "drinky-poo's" on my mind, trying to recall who said it (and got picked on for saying it). And I have concluded, it was Graham Garden from The Goodies. I haven't googled. Some things are better left un-googled and, therefore, apparently in this internet age, unanswered. Unless any of you know? Or have googled the answer?
• This is my last post before Christmas. Sound the bugle.
And have a good one, peeps. Eat! Be merry! Laugh lots!
I have a deadline for the manual (editing) work - 30th December! Oh joy! What a faaabulous time of year for me to bottleneck my procrastination! - and a couple of odds and sods jobs floating around still.
I have a hoard of people coming on the 27th. We have reneged on our offer of Steve's family here for Boxing Day (choice was taken out of my hands and I would've done it but must admit to feeling quite a bit roomier with that extra day I don't have to organise for). I am yet to even think about what to feed said hoard.
I have now resorted to muttering a To Do list to myself, most recently in the carpark at Woolies while I loaded shopping into the car.
The last thing I said: "Five hours. Right. I've got five hours with her there so I can work. Five hours. Should be enough to make a good dint. Five hours..."
So here I go. My start point - 11am - and I have five hours to reach up and out there and bring back down some inspiration to do some magical weaving of this awesome work so I don't feel so utterly useless at it. The work? It's all to do with how we constantly manage to fill up our time with "whatever else" that takes us away from our true selves and how this affects the collective consciousness.
Yeah. I'll just whip that up, create a wordful masterpiece worthy of presentation at their next series of classes in the New Year. Then go pick up the LGBB and do the Mummy thing in the arvo. Sorted!
Mmmmm... should I make the pudding, defrost the chicken, or should I finish reading steps 4 through 9 of the psyche-spirit-soul connection and how this affects our brain function, leading to a mass shift in consciousness?
I turned three again yesterday. Says so by the number of candles on the cake (shuddup!). The LGBB made it with her Nana and Pa, who stayed with her for a couple of days while we weren't here. And she couldn't wait until Saturday to do The Big Reveal of the cake, so I got it on Friday night when we arrived home.
Steve and I went away to a place down the Great Ocean Road called Apollo Bay. We stayed at Chocolate Gannets. I think I want to move there. I'd certainly love to steal their view.
The unit we stayed in was one of four. It had a separate spa room that was flanked by a double-sided fireplace, which we lit up after a relaxing stroll through the town. We brought dinner back, watched a bit of telly while we ate, read in peaceful, luxurious silence, chatted, laughed our asses off. When it got late, we turned off all the lights and then hopped in the spa. And oh my God... all the stars in the sky came out. We could see galaxies inside the Milky Way. Millions of stars. It was phenomenal, least of all because we were sitting in this amazing space that felt so indulgent yet was so simple. You never really realise how many stars are in the sky and how bright they are, if you live anywhere near a city or built-up area. I felt rather intimidated and very small in relation to the sheer expanse of it. Reminded me there's a whole other universe just out there.
I struggled there and back in the car. My back is, even now, still biting. But I had another massage yesterday which eased it even more. I am dealing with a years-long aggravation here that just had too much and finally snapped. It happens. The time away didn't leave me much of a chance to relax my back - the only time I am not in pain is flat on my back on the floor - but I did get some time at dawn, early the next morning before we left, to work through a couple of healing procedures. The main thing I received from it (I won't bore with the details of how and what it involves, but it was on the Green - heart - Ray) was that I "get in the way". Given that my main focus of working to the bottom of this current back issue relates to a father-daughter issue (collective consciousness speaking, not just me and my Dad or Steve and the LGBB, I hasten to clarify), I daresay that one-liner delivered to me was eluding to my "getting in the way" of Steve and his interactions (good or disciplinary) with the LGBB. Something for me to continue to work on and think about and watch.
I sat by myself and enjoyed the sunrise over the ocean. It was, quite simply, breathtaking. And then, while we were relaxing after breakfast, with the TV on to play one of the obligatory crappy holiday getaway place CD's you inevitably always find in these places, Steve was looking at the screen and suddenly exclaimed, "Michael Jackson's dead!"
I can't actually describe why it is that I feel so sad about this. I am not a fan. Although I will hasten to say that I adore The Jackson 5's music. Hell, with all that heartache they apparently went through, I think we owe it to them to keep enjoying it. It is sad, how tortured the guy was. But man, what talent. Genius. He sort of lost me by the time he did Black Or White. But certainly, all his early 80's stuff is so foot-tapping! I think the thing for me is, his songs were always there. There was so much airplay when I was growing up. Music is such a constant. A real "soundtrack of our lives". So when someone who makes popular music dies, I feel saddened - it's going to be different, hearing his songs now and knowing he's gone, which is weird because it's not like I ever think about him (or anyone much) whose music I listen to. It's the same with The Beatles, John Lennon's solo music and even The Mama's and the Papa's. I find myself thinking about the lost members of groups when I listen to their music.
So. Anyway. We had a great time away. Much needed and couldn't have come soon enough. It was a joint 10th wedding anniversary (belated) and birthday present-ish extravagance, the likes of which we don't often give ourselves. But we have vowed to continue to make time, throughout the endless weeks, to spend time alone. Together. It is a must.
Just cannot "do" heat. Especially not this early in the year.
I remember 40º days in Melbourne last March, not so much January. We used to have hot days like this around Christmas and in our school holidays on family camping trips... urrrrrrrgh, the kind of heat that was so hot that you got goosebumps and the chills when you brushed against the tent canvas... but in recent years, I've noticed a distinct pushing back of the 'serious hot' days like we're having this week.
Boo hiss. Because I'll bet that doesn't mean we won't still be getting them in a month or even two months' time.
And, as I am seriously at the end of my rope single-handedly looking after three little munchkins, two of whom don't have English as their first language and are quite... shall we say.... a lot more boisterous than what I'm used to with the LGBB, I'm fresh out of niceties. So all you "Oh I love the heat" people: BITE ME! (but just for today. Thanks ever so.)
...but we're guessing it's pretty obvious who's enjoying having her Japanese cousins come to stay for two weeks with us.
My brother's a dab hand at home movie editing, as I've mentioned before, and so it was quite normal for the LGBB to see her family even though they visit only every other year and live something like 10,000 km's away. She watches them all the time on telly and, well, if it's on the telly then of course it's real! *cough*
We have thoroughly enjoyed observing our little girl lap up the attention and entertainment value of two other pairs of adorable tiny feet in the house this week.
In November, I had the overwhelming urge to create an advent calendar for the coming days of Christmas. It came from only being able to find Barbie, Freddo Frog, Thomas The Tank Engine or very poor versions of "Santa" printed on the ones I found in the shops and which I just refuse to buy. And most of them also had a chocolate inside each day opened. Not a door *heh heh...* I wanted to open with the LGBB expecting a chocky a day. I saw some phenomenal wooden ones, you know the ones with the little boxes to put an activity or treat inside each day. And I also came across some fabric hanging ones, DIY ones, but they're just not my style.
No, I wanted a plain ordinary every-day, non-chocolated version. Like the one we had growing up. So I decided to make my own.
I found a template and decided to make my own changes to it so it wasn't so clinical-looking and boring to a small child. I used Victorian era images for most of them, throwing in the occasional ditzy snowman shot or a squirrel driving a train full of toys (Lolly loved that one!). And over the entire background, I found a village snow scene that just took her breath away. I would come in and find her gazing at it and the little pictures inside and she was soooooo tempted to open that last big door (we took the calendar down to her in her cot on Christmas Morning and she opened it in there and nearly fainted with the privilege, after a month of sodding window opening). I wasn't sure if she'd completely get the whole concept. But by day three.... she was hooked.
We had such a lovely time together, opening another "Santa window because it's the morning of a new day" after we'd wave goodbye to Steve on his way to work.
And I couldn't be more happy with how it turned out. Me. The Perfectionist. Not concerned (much) about the slight misalignment of some of the images in the bottom left corner, or the fact that it sort of bowed *tuneless whistle* I'm getting there with leaving the imperfections, orright?!
I finished the chocolate Christmas trees and the rest of my cooking around midnight. I was listening to a Christmas playlist generated by the awesome Genius feature on our iTunes (ever tried it?) and third vodka down for the day, began to have lusty thoughts about Mel Torme. All because of his voice. I swear, nobody has ever sung What Are You Doing New Years Eve better in the history of the world *wipes bead of sweat off brow*
My only other memorable oddspot to note about my cooking frenzy was that I got to thinking about how, when Steve attempts a fake-manly voice, he always sounds like Dr Hibbard from The Simpsons. Isn't that curious!
Well, without further ado, I bid all of you reading a very merry day. Loaded with loved ones, patience for same and lashings of lovely food. Have a safe one, peeps.
Thanks to Averil's tag, I give you our Christmas Eve menu which we're hosting for just one side of the family here (we've got the day "off" on Christmas Day - a very casual but delectably tasty round-up of foods - and people! - has become the tradition for us on this day, at my brother's inlaws.... hey, they're always more fun when they're once removed/not your own IL's ;)
Finger foods is the way we're going this year. Because I lurrrve them and because they're easy and you can make heaps and it looks like you've done a lot muahahaha.
Mini savoury pikelets topped with marscapone and pesto
Asparagus, cheese and tomato tartlets
Creamed mushroom vol au vents
Individual salmon quiches (because apparently, they don't follow trends??)
Egg tomato, cucumber, avocado and radish salad (which will go great with the roast chicken Steve's mum is bringing)
And for dessert, I'm thinking I'll do the same thing: lots of little treats.
Mini chocolate and nougat mousse.... Or would that be mousses? Hmm. This one's made with Toblerone, eggs and cream. Thassit. Dear God, my fat stores are groaning already.
Chocolate Christmas trees (little mini cones of crushed plain biscuit, cocoa, condensed milk, topped with melted choc and flaked with coconut and almond slivers)
Orange poppyseed cake - an oldy but a less sickly-sweet goody
We've not done the "good old-fashioned" Christmas sit-down dinner thing for a number of years now. That's what a scattered family and the lack of a matriarch does, I guess. Nobody is entirely willing or able to do the whole roast thing. I don't have a gaggle of females eager to cook while they natter in somebody's kitchen to prepare everything. That's why I love my SIL's family home... surrounded by the wonderful people who gather there (some friends and some family). It's a progesterone overdose which lasts me an entire year and I love it. Sort of feels like falling appreciatively into the bosom of caring females.
Or... something like that. I'll leave you with that thought, dear reader *distant cricket chirping*
And I shall tag some of you who are probably going to adore me just that little bit more for doing so (c'mon you know you wanna share... although Mel, you might need a week to recount your menu!!):
On the last night of holiday eating-out, the LGBB decided she'd gotten the hang of this. No sooner were we seated at our table than she pulled a menu towards her authoritatively and started running her finger down it, thus (above).
I'm proud of her observation skills - it was the wine list. I asked her to choose me something with a clean palate. Note Steve's white-fingered grip trying to prise it from under her before she becomes quite the connoisseur.
She made her choice and stuck with her newly found favourite (yes, we caved - she had her first vino...... I mean, milkshake). The strawberry kind.
Horrrighty then, now to the more positive, less disparaging highlights. In photo form (of COURSE!). Day 1: A pro at flying, the LGBB had a few "Whoaaaa" moments as her stomach dropped while the plane was climbing (which were very sweet, even if she was pinching my forearm skin until it came up in little red bruises). It could have been so different - she hates noise and I really really don't like flying - but we both stayed strong and if not genuinely, then definitely feigned enjoyment and settled into our inflight entertainment: colouring. I teared up as I glanced over her little blonde head at Steve. And not just from the pain of the pinching in those little toddler-pincer grips. He was a bit teary too as he smiled at me. We both knew what we were doing here. We were witnessing and assisting in creating new wondrous experiences in somebody. Very humbling.
"Can you see Nana waving at you? Remember she said she was going to when she saw your plane go past?"
That old trick was nevahhh gonna work on the LGBB, who gazed disdainfully at us then nonchalantly looked out the window and said no, so as not to spoil our fun I gather - but Nana tried it, bless her.
Day 2: Something which began early (from the first day) by the LGBB was the use of the word "holiday" - we encouraged it because it allowed us to highlight the point that it was special because we were on holiday, sort of a softened way of saying "don't get used to this, it's only because we're on holiday that you're eating xyz or seeing abc", etc. We had holiday bedrooms in our holiday house, a holiday car, holiday breakfasts, holiday milkshakes. And so forth.
Get me to this beach of which you speak, where I can do my "beaching".... STAT!
One gorgeous little ritual that I was sure might come undone whilst away (because of it's repetitive necessity) was the application of suncream. We do this at home and she seems to love standing at the mirror and copying me. Thank goodness the LGBB still saw the novelty in it day after day, several times a day - I think she is convinced it is part of her beauty routine (and rightly so, for it is something that she will have to continue for the rest of her life if she wants to avoid more freckles - oh and wasn't that a tragic day, when she first discovered a freckle on her wrist that she couldn't shake or rub or scrub off..... we didn't hear the end of it for hours, but they've made friends now apparently).
Day Two Bushed.
Meet Horace. He's a very special new soft-as-silk Plushie beanie bear. Mummy bought him for only $3.99 on Day Two when she spent over $20 on anything instore at Angus & Robertson! How ironic, then, that she only went in to said bookstore to purchase this book (so that it staved off any attempts to throw herself off the holiday balcony). So far, she's so glad she made the purchase (of book and bear). Note how dear Scraps sits dutifully by, in the background. He knows the affair will be short, hard and fast, like it is with any new friend of the LGBB's - she'll be back. She always comes back to him and takes him ev-er-y-where, her scruffy, dirty, stinky, dependable little dog.
Day 3: Currumbin Sanctuary. A mecca for meeting our indigenous animal friends.
Oh. My. Gaaaahd! You didn't say they'd sit on your head! Daddeeeeee!!!! You are too funny.
And here we have it. We've reached the stage in every toddler's photo album where each photo has a total face-scrunched grimace-grin when asked to smile. There are going to be loads in Lolly's album.
Nobody said they'd shit on me so profusely. They're birds, Steve. They do what birds do *shrug*
After feeding the birds, tu'pence a bag, we went and cuddled a koala. And if she wasn't stunned giddy by that one...
Mini Steve comes to terms with meeting Avon the baby koala and then sadly having to say goodbye without bringing her back in our luggage
...then we went and completely blew her mind by letting her loose with the kangaroos.
The most obvious display of affection for anyone meeting the LGBB is her patented stiff-backed shoulder-hunching neck-disappearing compliment. If you receive this, you are SO in. The kangaroos got this accolade from her, big time.
Oh and holy crap, they DO hop!!!
Lolly witnesses for herself that the kangaroo certainly does jump with a jumpity-jump (he never walks when he can jump and people shout to him in the street, 'Goodness, gracious, what big feet!')
By this stage, I was in tears again. How could you not, when you see your kid softly chatting to these animals and slowing movements to a gentle brush here, a ginger touch there? It was one of those moments where I got to witness what I'd wondered (ie. how would she go if we got her a kitten, a hampster, any other small animal requiring delicate handling).
Oh groaaaaan, not another toddler
I mean, hello little girl, will you be my friend?
So what do you make of the global financial crisis, Rooza? The LGBB chews the fat with her newest friend.
Steve and I couldn't pass up the opportunity to get a photo with Mrs McGillicuddy
And so concludes the first three days. Next instalment... Summer Holiday Romances and Other Important Things
