Actually, I prefer to look on this as reaching a realisation.
I've decided to stop the editing work that has insidiously crept into every nook and cranny and spare moment of my waking life.
After finding that I was using up my most productive, precious early morning creative time with just trying to get a little bit more of these reports out of the way before anyone else in the house wakes, then noticing that I was putting the LGBB into occasional care more often than not during the week in order to rush to finish the work each day, I have been pulled up straight.
Last Thursday, very calmly, I made the decision to quit.
I could have gone out in a grand fanfare of "and what's more"s with my superior, but instead, I kept to what was truly important to me - and that was, simply stating the work was not fitting in with the other, frankly more worthwhile, commitments around me.
My book writing hasn't really suffered through this. If anything, the daily grind has given me back my sense of work ethic. Now just to fill some of the space I've made, to allow this editing work, with writing. I feel I've now established my new discipline and I did need to be answerable to a job like this on a permanent basis to find it. I would not have stumbled myself into line even if I tried for the next ten years. Ad hoc work (and working for yourself) is one glorious thing, but it is quite another to be diligent about working consistently, on your own, with nobody really setting any deadlines or checking up on you.
Home life, too, is suffering too much for me not to notice or care. I don't like that my wee one will suggest something we could do together on any given day and, invariably, my response has had to be, "Ohhh, darlin', we can't because you're going to the kids and Mummy has to work." Forget the fact that she adores her friends, The Kids (collectively, apparently, as this is what she calls the centre) - I don't want that sense of other carers and other people's children influencing my child in these important early years more than me on an almost daily basis. Nope. Just doesn't sit well with me.
And let's not even MENTION the state the house is in because I no longer have any free-wheelin' time at all to clean it properly, as I value time with Lolly when she's home more importantly than cleaning - although at some point, a messy or dirty house gets on my nerves and I fall in a heap about it piling up around me. I want my orderly house back too!
So I have until the end of October and then I am free. Free with my abilities again. I've had quite some time to think about all the things I could be doing if it weren't for editing. And I have decided I need to volunteer some of my time to a worthy cause. I have a couple of ideas and know someone in particular who is struggling with her volunteer-run organisation, in a field that is right in line with my life experience.
There's also that other little (big) monkey on my back - the book. The universe unto itself. It is going really well. I'm excited! Currently waiting on a call back from my editor, to discuss the change in title I have made and a few other concepts that have come to me recently. So there's lots of time to be spent there. I just want it finished now. Am itching to say I've finished it, really keen to submit it to publishers. I know that's still a way off yet. Am also toying with the idea of allowing my father, himself a well established editor (he's actually a Doctor of Engineering, the smartbum), a squizz at it but not sure if I'm comfortable enough yet. I think I will be, eventually, and really would appreciate his input.
So there you have it. Just a tiny update from a day in the life of me. Being Me.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Sunny Side Up: Poaching a good idea
I never thought I would get the hang of poaching eggs by dropping them into simmering water. It sounded disgusting and I bet that it looked worse.
However, here I find myself having perfected the art after some months of practice. About twice a week, I make the LGBB and I good, hearty breakfast of poached eggs on toast. I am always reminded by her not to forget the butter (she is not allowed butter on anything at any other time, with avocado being the usual substitue).
If you have ever thought about trying it but have not yet given it a go (or have done it but weren't altogether impressed with the results), here are a few tips of my own that I always try to remember because it seems to make for a better outcome.
More to the point, if you love poached eggs but have never known (or been game to try) how they get them looking so fluffy and natural in the cafés, you've got to give this a go! Be game, even though it looks rather disgusting and messy...
1. To begin with, start with room temperature eggs. This is the key secret to success, I believe! Crack your eggs into separate containers (I use little ramekin dishes because they're easy to hold and - shhhh - I can cheat if I have forgotten or haven't had time to get the eggs to room temperature, by sitting the little dishes right against the side of the stove while I'm heating their waterbed)
2. Bring a large, deep frypan of water to a simmer. Wait until the bubbles are just forming and rising to the surface.
3. Put your toast in before you put in the eggs. The timing of this will depend on how you like your yolks - really runny, through to hard boiled inside - and will also depend on your toaster and how many slices you put in. As a general rule, I know that if I want to do 3 slices of toast, I need to put them in just as the water begins to bubble so that the toast has popped just as I'm putting in the last egg, which leaves time for buttering.
4. Add a dash (about 1Tbs) of white vinegar to the water.
5. Now for the fun part.... Make a whirlpool in the water so that it is spinning.
6. Then, lower the egg container to the water (I like to submerse the bottom of it briefly before tipping the egg in, I think it helps bind the egg white that little bit more once it's in the water).
7. Gently slide the egg into the stirred water. Sometimes you might need to give an extra little whoosh of the water to keep it going.
The sign of a good outcome is usually that you can visibly see the outer edges of the egg as it blobs there on the bottom of the pan - if it breaks apart instantly and goes to trails of whispy whites, then I know something in the process hasn't been quite ideal (and usually, it's been because I have not let the egg get to room temperature - we keep our eggs in the fridge).
7. Repeat the above process until all eggs are in. I wouldn't do more than 4 at a time, depending on the size of your pan.
8. Let the eggs simmer in the water. How long will depend on taste. As a general rule, I've found that 1.5-2 minutes gives quite a runny egg - I don't like them too runny, I prefer to see the yolk cooked around the outside and runny on the inside. For me, I know this takes about 2.5-3 minutes. Experiment with this.
9. Turn the eggs out onto your bread with a slotted spoon, to remove the excess water.
And there you have it! Scrummy!! The biggest letdown of the meal in the case of this photo was the sad, sorry sandwich sliced bread. It's all I had. But the eggs were perfect :)
So go forth, give it a try. If you like poached eggs, you owe it to yourself to give it a go! Tell me how you get on, if you do - I'd love to hear from you!
However, here I find myself having perfected the art after some months of practice. About twice a week, I make the LGBB and I good, hearty breakfast of poached eggs on toast. I am always reminded by her not to forget the butter (she is not allowed butter on anything at any other time, with avocado being the usual substitue).
If you have ever thought about trying it but have not yet given it a go (or have done it but weren't altogether impressed with the results), here are a few tips of my own that I always try to remember because it seems to make for a better outcome.
More to the point, if you love poached eggs but have never known (or been game to try) how they get them looking so fluffy and natural in the cafés, you've got to give this a go! Be game, even though it looks rather disgusting and messy...
1. To begin with, start with room temperature eggs. This is the key secret to success, I believe! Crack your eggs into separate containers (I use little ramekin dishes because they're easy to hold and - shhhh - I can cheat if I have forgotten or haven't had time to get the eggs to room temperature, by sitting the little dishes right against the side of the stove while I'm heating their waterbed)
2. Bring a large, deep frypan of water to a simmer. Wait until the bubbles are just forming and rising to the surface.
3. Put your toast in before you put in the eggs. The timing of this will depend on how you like your yolks - really runny, through to hard boiled inside - and will also depend on your toaster and how many slices you put in. As a general rule, I know that if I want to do 3 slices of toast, I need to put them in just as the water begins to bubble so that the toast has popped just as I'm putting in the last egg, which leaves time for buttering.
4. Add a dash (about 1Tbs) of white vinegar to the water.
5. Now for the fun part.... Make a whirlpool in the water so that it is spinning.
6. Then, lower the egg container to the water (I like to submerse the bottom of it briefly before tipping the egg in, I think it helps bind the egg white that little bit more once it's in the water).
7. Gently slide the egg into the stirred water. Sometimes you might need to give an extra little whoosh of the water to keep it going.
The sign of a good outcome is usually that you can visibly see the outer edges of the egg as it blobs there on the bottom of the pan - if it breaks apart instantly and goes to trails of whispy whites, then I know something in the process hasn't been quite ideal (and usually, it's been because I have not let the egg get to room temperature - we keep our eggs in the fridge).
7. Repeat the above process until all eggs are in. I wouldn't do more than 4 at a time, depending on the size of your pan.
8. Let the eggs simmer in the water. How long will depend on taste. As a general rule, I've found that 1.5-2 minutes gives quite a runny egg - I don't like them too runny, I prefer to see the yolk cooked around the outside and runny on the inside. For me, I know this takes about 2.5-3 minutes. Experiment with this.
9. Turn the eggs out onto your bread with a slotted spoon, to remove the excess water.
And there you have it! Scrummy!! The biggest letdown of the meal in the case of this photo was the sad, sorry sandwich sliced bread. It's all I had. But the eggs were perfect :)
So go forth, give it a try. If you like poached eggs, you owe it to yourself to give it a go! Tell me how you get on, if you do - I'd love to hear from you!
Friday, October 9, 2009
The fortune teller
What we did today blew the LGBB's mind.
It took me back to sitting at my little wooden primary school desk and having the girl in front turn around with one of these and saying "Pick a colour!" or "Pick a boy's name!" and I'd never pick the name of the boy I reeeeally liked. 'Cos, like, that would've been just so, like, obvious.
Remember these?
Lolly helped me number it and write the words, then I stuck little stickers under each flap (instead of writing her "fortune" or prediction, like "Cameron is going to give you a wet willy sometime today").
She is besotted with it and keeps demanding that I "pick a cullah!" And the gasp I heard when I showed her how her fingers could open up the other way to reveal a whole new lot of numbers was just priceless.
It took me back to sitting at my little wooden primary school desk and having the girl in front turn around with one of these and saying "Pick a colour!" or "Pick a boy's name!" and I'd never pick the name of the boy I reeeeally liked. 'Cos, like, that would've been just so, like, obvious.
Remember these?
Lolly helped me number it and write the words, then I stuck little stickers under each flap (instead of writing her "fortune" or prediction, like "Cameron is going to give you a wet willy sometime today").
She is besotted with it and keeps demanding that I "pick a cullah!" And the gasp I heard when I showed her how her fingers could open up the other way to reveal a whole new lot of numbers was just priceless.
Did you ever want to see into the future? Make an origami fortune teller, and you can find out what the future holds for you and your friends! Here's how to do it:
How to Play the Game:
1. Start with an 8 1/2 X 11 piece of paper. To make it perfectly square, fold one short edge up to one long edge and make a crease. Cut off excess and unfold.
2. Fold the opposite corners together to make a second crease and unfold. You will now have a square piece of paper with diagonal creases going from corner to corner.
3. Fold each corner to the center and turn over.
4. Fold the new corners to the center. Do not turn over.
5. Fold the square in half from edge to edge in both directions.
6. Turn square over and put thumbs and forefingers under each flap and bring fingers together toward middle.
7. Now write a color on each outside flap, and a number on each inside triangle. You will have four colors and eight numbers. Finally, write a fortune behind each number on each innermost triangle. Voila! Your origami fortune teller is complete!
- Hold the fortune teller and ask a friend to choose one of the colors shown.
- Spell out the chosen color by opening and closing the fortune teller, and stop.
- Have your friend choose one of the numbers that is shown. Count out that number by opening and closing the fortune teller, and stop.
- Again, have your friend choose a number, and repeat step 3.
- Have your friend choose one last number. Then open the flap beneath that number and read your friend's fortune!
Sunday, October 4, 2009
I think you mean.... WONDERLAND
Quoting what has to be one of the best lines from the best animated movies EVER. Monsters Inc. The scene where the Abominable Snowman greets them and then gets offended when Mike calls it a wasteland - "I think you mean.... Wonderland!" Bloody. Cracks. Me. UP.
Our little baby ditched the "horsies" for the "tampoline" today when we went to the Melbourne Docklands version of the Himalayas - it's called Wonderland and, really, it ain't no Wonder and it's not anywhere big enough to be a Land. So Steve was walking around saying, "I think you mean... Wasteland" for the afternoon.
But Lolly, she loved it. They had a bubble machine and some kids running around squealing. It equals dizzy-heights fun, dontcha know?
We thought it looked poxy but there was a carousel, so Steve bought some coupons for it and we began to head over.
"Nooooo! Not hortheth! I want the tampoline!" our young charge demanded, pointing at the bungee trampoline set up next to the dodgy dodgem car track. Yeah, right, good one, Lolly. There was no way she'd be game. We've been past these things before and she's always shied away as soon as we've taken her up on her claims and begun to walk towards it.
Pah! What did WE know? Today was the day she was ready, apparently.
It appears the LGBB has a certain level of dastardly daredevil in her, one which we're pretty sure comes from moi, seeing as Steve won't even consider going on rides. Not even the spinning teacups.
What a pussy.
She climbed up with the help of her Dad and stood patiently, being strapped in. Her mother was standing with legs like jelly, thinking, "Oh holy crap, she's really gonna do it today. I don't think I'm ready for her to be made into a human slingshot..."
And seriously, she went so bloody high I thought I was going to be sick. My stomach hurt when she was up there! And she looked just the right amount of green a couple of times for me to realise she was feeling it a bit too. But the wide-mouthed grin on her face for the entire time proved to us she had a blast.
Our little baby ditched the "horsies" for the "tampoline" today when we went to the Melbourne Docklands version of the Himalayas - it's called Wonderland and, really, it ain't no Wonder and it's not anywhere big enough to be a Land. So Steve was walking around saying, "I think you mean... Wasteland" for the afternoon.
But Lolly, she loved it. They had a bubble machine and some kids running around squealing. It equals dizzy-heights fun, dontcha know?
We thought it looked poxy but there was a carousel, so Steve bought some coupons for it and we began to head over.
"Nooooo! Not hortheth! I want the tampoline!" our young charge demanded, pointing at the bungee trampoline set up next to the dodgy dodgem car track. Yeah, right, good one, Lolly. There was no way she'd be game. We've been past these things before and she's always shied away as soon as we've taken her up on her claims and begun to walk towards it.
Pah! What did WE know? Today was the day she was ready, apparently.
It appears the LGBB has a certain level of dastardly daredevil in her, one which we're pretty sure comes from moi, seeing as Steve won't even consider going on rides. Not even the spinning teacups.
What a pussy.
She climbed up with the help of her Dad and stood patiently, being strapped in. Her mother was standing with legs like jelly, thinking, "Oh holy crap, she's really gonna do it today. I don't think I'm ready for her to be made into a human slingshot..."
And seriously, she went so bloody high I thought I was going to be sick. My stomach hurt when she was up there! And she looked just the right amount of green a couple of times for me to realise she was feeling it a bit too. But the wide-mouthed grin on her face for the entire time proved to us she had a blast.
Stratospheric from Lolly Lovers on Vimeo.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Seeing the light vs desperation to get out
Every time I am away from my blog, my mind is heavy with things I have to say. Then I get back here and *vooop* they all just vanish.
So. With that in mind, I guess this is going to be one of those dogs' dinners of thoughts all piled in together. The Bubble and Squeak post, if you will.
This past fortnight or so, I have been holding the energy (or rather, assisting my teacher to hold it) of etheric transfusion. In a nutshell, so far it seems to be a very, very positive experience that involves simply placing yourself in a space of 'wait' and trust, in order for transposition of old gnarled thoughts and learned processes to evolve into something more close to your true soul purpose (as opposed to beating the drum that has been how you were raised/taught/"wired" from external influences). It's much more than this, but I am rushing and paraphrasing like a madwoman. I am busier than I've ever been before, am juggling so much right now in my personal, work, family and social lives, and yet I am taking it all on, one bite at a time.
I remember times past when such converging would have sent me under in a hurry. But at the moment, I feel enveloped somewhat by the knowledge of whomever it is Upstairs that arranges these passages is keeping me steady. I often have the image of the sport, curling, in my head to imagine what could be going on.
With my own set of sweepers, then, I'm inching forward in my life at the moment. I'm having clarity about my maternal line, I'm seeing things there quite clearly and also watching with interest how these unlockings are happening in my own brain. My wiring, if you will. It is opening things up like Spring sunshine and air in a dusty, closed up room.
I recall times over the years when I would say to Steve, in sheer desperation, that I had to "get out". This meant different things at different times. Sometimes it meant "out" of our relationship, once we were married it sometimes meant "out" of the marriage. Often it meant "out" of the prison-like walls of our house (because, like so many modern homes, it was a home that filled the block it was on and I felt thoroughly stifled, not being able to see anything on the horizon - literally - and only able to look at neighbours' roofs or up to the sky). I wanted to move, for years. The first opportunity that presented itself was a 1/3 acre block of land on a huge hillside with 180º + views. Change much? Mmm hmm, I thought it was. I was 28 weeks' pregnant with Ella when we began talks with the builder, both Steve and I very excited that we would be moving not long after the long-awaited arrival of our Ella-bubble.
The profit we made on the sale of that block (for neither of us could even contemplate moving there without her after she died) was more than double. We used that money in two parts: the obvious plan to us was to use it to adopt a child. Sooooooo much red tape there that it was then that I succumbed to trying IVF. PGD to be exact. Much of what we earned on the block went into just the first cycle, nearly $20,000 in fact. What a lot to, literally, lose down the drain, huh? But it was a choice we made. And it kept our sanity intact for 2005 through an incredibly trying and gruelling succession of personal grievances and realisations, as a couple and as individuals, until our saving grace came along.
We also decided at this time to renovate our existing kitchen - "it's the heart of any home, you're giving your home a heart transplant!" my dear, sweet SIL said to me before looking at me, horrified, at what she thought was a blunder.... my breath had caught in my throat when she said it, but not because I was offended. It was a realisation. It was something we - Steve and I - needed to do for ourselves, for our ongoing survival, if we were to stay in that same home that had, now, so very many boggy memories of pregnancies lost. The concept of a house's kitchen being the "heart" of the family, and the fact we were facelifting ours, was more poignant to us because of Ella's heart defect.
Where am I going? I don't know.... Ummmm! I feel pressed for time but urged to tell you more.
Might just let this sit and see what happens, eh?
So. With that in mind, I guess this is going to be one of those dogs' dinners of thoughts all piled in together. The Bubble and Squeak post, if you will.
This past fortnight or so, I have been holding the energy (or rather, assisting my teacher to hold it) of etheric transfusion. In a nutshell, so far it seems to be a very, very positive experience that involves simply placing yourself in a space of 'wait' and trust, in order for transposition of old gnarled thoughts and learned processes to evolve into something more close to your true soul purpose (as opposed to beating the drum that has been how you were raised/taught/"wired" from external influences). It's much more than this, but I am rushing and paraphrasing like a madwoman. I am busier than I've ever been before, am juggling so much right now in my personal, work, family and social lives, and yet I am taking it all on, one bite at a time.
I remember times past when such converging would have sent me under in a hurry. But at the moment, I feel enveloped somewhat by the knowledge of whomever it is Upstairs that arranges these passages is keeping me steady. I often have the image of the sport, curling, in my head to imagine what could be going on.
With my own set of sweepers, then, I'm inching forward in my life at the moment. I'm having clarity about my maternal line, I'm seeing things there quite clearly and also watching with interest how these unlockings are happening in my own brain. My wiring, if you will. It is opening things up like Spring sunshine and air in a dusty, closed up room.
I recall times over the years when I would say to Steve, in sheer desperation, that I had to "get out". This meant different things at different times. Sometimes it meant "out" of our relationship, once we were married it sometimes meant "out" of the marriage. Often it meant "out" of the prison-like walls of our house (because, like so many modern homes, it was a home that filled the block it was on and I felt thoroughly stifled, not being able to see anything on the horizon - literally - and only able to look at neighbours' roofs or up to the sky). I wanted to move, for years. The first opportunity that presented itself was a 1/3 acre block of land on a huge hillside with 180º + views. Change much? Mmm hmm, I thought it was. I was 28 weeks' pregnant with Ella when we began talks with the builder, both Steve and I very excited that we would be moving not long after the long-awaited arrival of our Ella-bubble.
The profit we made on the sale of that block (for neither of us could even contemplate moving there without her after she died) was more than double. We used that money in two parts: the obvious plan to us was to use it to adopt a child. Sooooooo much red tape there that it was then that I succumbed to trying IVF. PGD to be exact. Much of what we earned on the block went into just the first cycle, nearly $20,000 in fact. What a lot to, literally, lose down the drain, huh? But it was a choice we made. And it kept our sanity intact for 2005 through an incredibly trying and gruelling succession of personal grievances and realisations, as a couple and as individuals, until our saving grace came along.
We also decided at this time to renovate our existing kitchen - "it's the heart of any home, you're giving your home a heart transplant!" my dear, sweet SIL said to me before looking at me, horrified, at what she thought was a blunder.... my breath had caught in my throat when she said it, but not because I was offended. It was a realisation. It was something we - Steve and I - needed to do for ourselves, for our ongoing survival, if we were to stay in that same home that had, now, so very many boggy memories of pregnancies lost. The concept of a house's kitchen being the "heart" of the family, and the fact we were facelifting ours, was more poignant to us because of Ella's heart defect.
Where am I going? I don't know.... Ummmm! I feel pressed for time but urged to tell you more.
Might just let this sit and see what happens, eh?
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