The other fun available

 There are apparently other things that you can do on holidays besides relax or shop or get beautiful or just let go of all care.

You can fight with a teenager about the school work that should only take about an hour a day to keep on top of.

In fact, if you get a teenager in the right phase, you can argue about 20 minutes of school work for nearly the whole day.

The arguments varied from I have done everything through its all stupid to its all your fault that I will fail everything by taking this holiday now.

To add interest, the first baulk at doing what was required resulted in no phone availability until at least 20 minutes was achieved, and it proved to me that time travel is possible because I saw a modern version of my own teenage strops.

Mum was right then too.

Once we were over that hump, had food in our stomachs and equilibrium reached, we were playing pool and Paris noted how, with the white ball in one hand and cue in the other, she was like Elsa (in Frozen) when she was coronated.

Coronated didn't sound right, so we went to the internet to see what we could find.

Amongst things found was proof in the adage that you should never trust the internet.

Is it Thursday?

 

That is the problem with a holiday, isn't it?

we enter the swimming pool of days, shallow and warm and mesmerisingly relaxing.

Our "real time" is akilter.

And now we have entered that deep water of where in the week are we?

In the month? Which month?

In the spin of earth attuned with Sun?

But every day is Sunday for us here.

Thursday so we went to the foot spa and manicure place today and my nails are now varying shades of orange 🧡 .  Paris chose a very neutral gel, and I discovered that I am ticklish - extremely ticklish - when my feet are scrubbed by someone else.

I could be wrong but I think that this is Elizabeth Rankin and Herbert Arnold Burgess, parents of my father's mother. Grandma was born in 1912.

I wonder if that was a Thursday? And what shape their feet were in.

Although, another of my forbears was a shoemaker and a daughter who is a podiatrist so perhaps better than we could expect today.

San Francisco Love Stories

 I have never been in San Francisco but it is a city where the heroine of one of my stories met the love of her life.

He was an older man, but she was an incredibly successful woman in her own right when they met in an official capacity.

They swept each other off their respective feet and he followed her into her life and, from one perspective, they formed their own perfect reality exclusive of all others until death did them part.

---

Back in the day - over 40 years ago now can you believe - I did a presentation. I must admit my poster art always let me down.

I think that is why I went into public speaking quite assiduously at that juncture.  

Other people think that they are terrified of public speaking. It's definitely not so cool to be scared of an A3 piece of purple cardboard, some maps, photos cut from magazines, markers and clag (don't even mention sticky tape or worse still, stickers).

Words I can play with and you can hardly tell when I colour outside the lines.

My presentation on San Francisco had interesting facts like the Golden Gate bridge and the Chinatown and their zigzaggiest street in the world. 

---

This is not the zigzaggiest street of SF but rather the view towards SD I snapped yesterday. Usual phone disclaimer.

I cannot remember if I mentioned the Giants and, funny thing, I married into a Padres family who are being visited this week by the San Francisco Giants. 

My lucky number is 23 - which happens to be that of one Dominican player called Fernando Tatis Jnr

OMG 😱 I just read his Wikipedia and that of his father and it was meant to be:

• Fernando was a favourite ABBA song;
• Ferdinand was the name of my favourite book about a bull that didn't want to fight (& there was a cork tree in it)
• Wasn't it?
• Snr holds a record for RBI as he hit 2 grand slams in one innings 
• ON MY BIRTHDAY 
• in 1999!
• Which was also the year that not only 'Salina was born -
• But his own son Fernando Tatis Jnr was born in that year 
• On the 2nd of January, which is a date etched in my mind as my great aunt is the first name etched in the family bible as being born over 125 years ago 
• Which is also the day after Fernando Tatis (thereafter known as Snr) turned 24
• Snr was born the year that I started primary school.
• Jnr played an absolute BLINDER today and helped to smash the Giants tonight.

So not every love story has a happy ending for all involved. The Padres fans loved it. Should I get a number 23 Padres shirt, there would definitely be a happy ending.

---

In other non-SF related news - today I got a haircut and we had enchiladas and tomorrow we may get pedicures and manicures and go to a bookstore.

Yours truly sporting the latest style from my MILs salon.

What is not to love about a holiday?

Hands, knees and boompsa-daisy - and big buses, bears and birthday wishes

 Today, we went to the zoo.

Do you know what I did not do at the zoo? I did not take many pictures. You know the reason why. 

(Isn't my MIL beautiful? I won't reveal a lady's age without consent, but goodness you would be surprised)

Instead, I actually stopped looking through the lens (it's screen really, isn't it?)

However, just because I was not screen gazing did not mean that I was not distracted.

Thus on the walk from the car to the entrance to the zoo, I was both searching for the tickets (in exactly the place that I had put them) and navigating the San Diego Zoo car park (where all of the animals of our species goes to look at others) and I failed to assess the height of the gutter accurately. 

Thus the right toe shoe was several centimetres lower than the gutter to the footpath and therefore a chain of events occurred starting with my outstretched hand jarring into the pavement and my right kneecap slamming into the ground. I somehow managed to weave my fall enough that my skull did not follow suit.

I very nearly channelled Roy Kent on the ground, but an eyewitness advised my travelling companions that my head was spared, and can we have a hallelujah for that.

Another miracle is that, apart from the initial impact there was not a lot of pain.

We peaked early with a dream run to the choice seats on the top deck of the bus.

After that, the pandas were sleeping, big cats were up close and personal with one camping on the walkway watching the stupid little humans go up the unsigned dead-end road and then turn around and come back again, the birds of prey casually observing the ordered lines of humans streaming past, the hippos tiptoed right beside us and the canyon we descended and climbed - alas there was no polar bear to be found.

All the elements of 1970s sepia postcard filter my phone now offers - I would also like to lay the crap composition at that alter but really my other main misfortune to blame - I have absolutely no sense of style. A vortex indeed.

By the time we got home the pool was most welcome - and muscles that I didn't know existed - prior to trauma or exertion - or a little of both - shouted their dispute and are talking still.

I should end this post with taking full advantage of the time difference and wish my beautiful mother many happy returns on the anniversary of her spinning around the Sun - she has now seen 87 August 18. Love you Mum. 

(Mum with Jill this winter)

Aunt Jane

 Aunt Jane was wonderful.

It is lore in my family - whenever Aunt Jane was mentioned, the word wonderful was associated.

Aunt Sarah did not get such universal rave reviews. She was respected but definitely not the comforting type.

Jane was probably in her 30s when the children came into her care. She had been nursing her mother most of her life and now she had what spinsters of her era and class could never aspire to - three young minds to mould.

But I think that they gave back joy in tenfold to Aunt Jane.

The children - responsible older sister A already left school at 12 about to kick her traces, brother T the knight in shining armour at 11 and scarrion EM - my grandmother. They had been in care in Far North Queensland until rescued by the Aunts (I have told that story before - I think - here maybe?)

Their were strict rules to adhere to - the Aunts hired war widows to "do" in the house and the garden, and the children were not to interfere as these women were to be able to have pride in providing for themselves and family so it was not to be considered child's play. Or charity.

The children's favourite game was, on hearing the approach of Aunt Jane's footsteps, they would agree on hymn for her to be singing as she came into the room. Sure enough, through the power of ESP she would be warbling along to it as she came into the room.

Saturday Safety Dance

 Evening here, the end of the weekend there.

Do you remember that song? Do you realise that was over forty years ago?

We have been busy doing nothing here. It's really feeling like a holiday. We are visiting and our hostess is perpetually busy but that is her happy place. 

We have some plans made, though, but unless I get this phone fixed you will have to take my word for it.

The view from the evening walk with my hostess 

Don't you agree?

Amongst the unblogged

 Reminiscences of teenage desires 

The heartbreaks of when the world dreamt proves to be 

Soulless and skewiff - unkempt.

Frenzied labour, spinning plates with the snap of AI finger clips.

Watching unravel those who first moulded us into the seedlings of who we came to be.

Sourdough.

Wondering at the faceless forbears who rode across oceans as newlyweds, young families and lone voyagers and the impact that their lives have on mine and many others.

Young love. 

Evolution of a child. Evolution of our elders. Plane travel. AT&T. Ted Lasso. Subway. Jersey Mike's.

But I am on holidays and it's nice to put it down.

Tomato bush with 1970s sepia snapshot filter (aka Jeanie's camera on her phone - I don't know either)

Dinner was a very simple pasta with onions, tomato and basil.

I do get much joy in cooking for others. I miss it.

Genealogical mysteries - James Augustus Edwards

 First thing to know about this man is that there is another in the annals of history that holds this name and there is no chance that my James Augustus is the former mayor or governor or something or other in some city in the US. I mean, that guy may have been more important than mine, but mine is rather fascinating.

Facts that I know.

• That he married an Irish girl from Limerick in western Queensland in the 1860s
• That he was a business associate of my great -grandfather before he suggested that his daughter might be a good wife for him (he was a widow with 4 children) as she was a well trained housekeeper who had no prospects and was 24
• He was right 
• That he was a published author of and therefore recipient of some of the most damning reviews in the last 250 years of colonial literature 
• And from his death certificate, his father was Edwards and his mother was Phoebe 
• All of the below:
• 
  
  
  
  
• Wouldn't he had made a fascinating dinner companion?
• I like to imagine that he and Mary Annie had a bit of a hoot.

The end of the 41 hour day saga

 Last night US time I attempted to edit that post yesterday to give a more thorough reckoning of the day that was 13th October for us.

It was a thorough reckoning - I had almost got us aboard the first flight - but I failed blogging on my phone 101 - save everything regularly. (Guess who just hit save!)

And thus my update - involving things from invoking the lives of 4 ancestors and comparisons to their voyages and views of life, confessions, complications of regional holidays and caffeine - is forever lost in the ether.

Probably just as well - it was about 3 parts whinge so the gods were saving us all.

Today is now Thursday here (Friday at home) and today the pool has been utilised greatly by the less Sun shy, the pool table warmed up, caffeine easily come by and much talk, love and laughter shared with my mother-in-law.

(The phone still has its 1970s sepia tone settings going on)

I think that I can get used to this resort!

A very long Wednesday - and we're not at the end yet...

 So currently I am sitting in the departure lounge at Vancouver airport 3 hours before we left Brisbane today. Go figure!

The Monday after the unblogged weekend

 I had plans.  I took photos.  I wrote lists.

I did some. 

Rainy Saturday Night thoughts

 Can you believe that there was thunder and lightning earlier today?

There was.  And rain.  Good thing that I left the clothes on the line, because we needed rain.

I have also hit upon the most delicious recipe combination today.

The brief was find a solution for:

• Excess sourdough discard to be utilized
• A discovery of a bottle of zucchini pickles given by 'Salina who had received it from one of her clients.  She is often the recipient of gorgeous craft projects by those thankful for her ministrations.  I know - can you believe that 'Salina is a grown up now?

(And Paris is so very close to 16 now.  She reminded me the other day that this year she will be able to get her learners permit.

I am duly concerned...)

Ahem 

• A need to run down supplies ; and
• Book club tomorrow - I always bake something for book club.

That gave me an idea.

Which then gave me the impetus to find many recipes on the internet, two of which I combined and then put my own twist on it.

I used the sourdough discard dough from Homegrown Happiness's "Sourdough Pull Apart Bread"- doesn't that look delicious? - and My Love of Baking's "Sourdough Cheesy Garlic Pull Apart Bread

But I did not make anything cheesy or garlicky (well, not so much)

I trimmed the parsley that we keep as an indoor plant in the front window to Opal's delight and added garlic salt to a 75% wholemeal dough, which smelled so amazing.

Of course I didn't take photos.  But trust me, with my current camera status, your imagination is far better at illustrating than my offerings.

This is a sourdough from several weeks ago to show you what I mean.

Anyhoo - so after a time of faffing around, and limited to the ingredients to hand, I then split it into two (as one lot for book club and one for home) and rolled it out.

I spread the zucchini pickles and then a light layer of grated cheese (or when you run out, some of that Cholula Verde Sauce that was once on special at the local Colesworth - sneaky beggars - have had to pay full price for it forever since, but you have to get your value with it before it is forced to flee the fridge)

Then after doing the My Love of Bakings amazing scroll work and proofing it again it got baked in a fairly hot oven and they smelled ah-maz-ing.

The final result is also all of that. 

Paris, my daughter just walked past and told me to go to bed.  I told her I was just blogging about these and she said to tell you that they were the bestest ever.

Oh no, she said to tell you that she was the bestest ever.

But that was not the sum total of my endeavours in the kitchen today.  Our lemon tree is currently at almost peak season, with about 30% of the tree's fruit becoming ripe this morning.

On the upside, I was actually home to harvest.

And also on the upside, I had time to make something that has unfortunately become a favourite of late.

The battle to remain focused on health when it tastes so good with flour and sugar and eggs is a continuing struggle.

Especially when the gooey lemon squares taste SO. DARNED. GOOD. (Preppy Kitchen's Lemon Bars)

Ahem.

By the way - the above representation of a lemon - yes, that 611g (1.3 lb) lemon above - that one is a hall of famer, being picked about a month ago.  It was used in a previous baking effort.

 This wasn't the post that I came in here to write - it was going to be about rain and childhood and stuff like that - but the food got in first.

Sweet dreams all. 

 

Bank rant part 2

I spent 1.5 hours in a bank yesterday trying to get my access to Dad's accounts sorted (back story below) (with the bank bloke who had set it up in the first place)

First, he said it was because I missed the text to verify - but I hadn't missed the text to verify

Then it was because I must have done something to the previous text to make it think it was spam (but it wasn't that)

Maybe Telstra was considering the texts that the bank sent were spam (I am sure that many of their customers would have similar problems if that were the case - and I receive many verification texts for work all day)

Finally we found the problem - although he had checked MY phone number and MY email address when setting it up, somewhere along the way it had made Dad's phone number the one for verification

I explained that the reason that I HAD to be given access in the first place is so I could download statements for the accountant and my Dad is basically tech illiterate - the only time he ever gets texts is when one of his adult children or grandchildren check his phone and advise him of the 30 or so waiting - as fair as he is concerned, the best thing about these new-fangled phones is you can see people's faces on them.

So hooray - fixed it, but as we had tried too many times we wouldn't be able to see if it worked as I would have to wait a half-hour before trying again.

With trepidation last night, I finally logged in.  Hooray.

I saw the accounts (which haven't been able to be accessed for nearly 9 months).  Hooray.

And I found that the mystery still hasn't been solved, as the credit card top-up that happens monthly must be coming from another mystery account...

Getting Dad and me into a bank takes a LOT of logistics - our next chance is October 22.

 On the upside, its Saturday and I am not driving in to town AT ALL today.

I might even bake something sweet for book club. 

Blatherings and a bank rant

 I awoke again at a god-awful hour - we were preparing to go on our trip to the US but I had to help harvest this bumper crop of capsicums and chillis from a tree first because we were going to give them to someone and then we realised it was a half hour before we had to board the plane and nobody had organised a taxi and THEN I remembered that we still had to put the cat into the cattery...

Thank goodness THAT was a dream.

18 days until my very well organised departure for our trip abroad - and the cat is booked into the cattery and the car is organised to be garaged by a friend and I don't have a chilli bush (any more - cue tears).

That was at 1:45am.

I went back to bed - but I have a rule, and that is if I can't get back to sleep in a half hour I pull the pin on the malarkey and arise.

You will be most pleased to know that my last 3 hours have been very productive, and I have a list for the rest of my day.

One of the things on my list is to go to a bank during my work lunch half-hour.  Given it is at least 10 minutes either way, I am counting on my work being flexible (they will be, I am flexible with them) because I am not holding my breath that the bank will rectify matters in 10 minutes.  I mean, it has taken them - what month are we in?  July 2025 - at least 9 months thus far.

Lets call them Star Bank.  Star Bank no longer have a branch in the little town that my parents come from.  

Mum used to be the best money manager, and my Dad didn't have to do a thing in relation to it except do stuff that got money in and spend it.

When Mum started to develop "memory issues" her team of children and children-in-law put in enough scaffolding to enable another few years of getting through tax time, but there came a time when simplification was required, and simplification means reducing the number of banks that were required to be dealt with.

One bank - the one that has a branch that Dad can go into locally - was to remain - however as we were unsure of what automatic payments were required on a credit card, and because Dad remained fond of his cheque book, a second bank - Star Bank - still had these accounts ticking over.

Star Bank has a part-time branch in a town about an hour away from where they live, and so it requires some logistics and holding your mouth right to get him to the bank with someone who can translate bureaucracy for him and his reactions for the bank.  We had that happen twice - the first time there was no online access offered to him but they cut off the access that Mum had previously used - which meant no statements or monitoring of accounts; and the second time when they gave an access for him to set up.

Unfortunately when it was set up, it only offered one of the two accounts, so he managed to see them while in that town again on a medical trip.   They flicked a few switches and made it whirr and assured him it was fixed. 

It wasn't.

On Wednesday when he was in my town for a medical appointment (I live 2 hours away) I took my lunch break to go to the bank with him.  They saw the problem immediately - he has 2 banking profiles, and the one he knows about wasn't the one with all the accesses.  When pressed, they were unallowed to tell me any details about that profile as only he was to know them.

In order for me to do so, I would have to become a signatory on his account, so we sat down with a johnny and did all the paperwork required for this to happen.  I was handed a card and advised I could set up my online access at home.

I received a text message advising it was set up, telling me I would get an email.

I did not get an email.

I tried to access at home.  Unfortunately I did not receive any verification codes to enable the setup to be completed.

So yesterday (Thursday) my lunch break was spent on the phone with Star Bank.  The first third of this time was going around and around in circles advising me that it would be easier on the app, just log in!  and then asking me for an access code that I did not have because (rinse and repeat).  

I hung up and eventually found my way through to the promise of a real person. So the next 10 minutes was spent on hold.  Finally a young man came on to "help" me.

Turns out - the number on the card that they handed me was wrong, and the only way to fix this is for me to go back into the bank...

Hoo boy.  Wish me luck!

(Picture of Dad holding court with (anti-clockwise) his brother, his sister, her daughter, Mum and my aunt)
 

Wednesday Morning Whirring

 My day started just before 3:15am, because 3:15am is when I finally said "bother" and got up out of bed.

I have the whirs going on in my brain.  Lets hope that there is a bit of whir left for when I get to work, because they pay me to use my brain.

Part of my whir is that this time in four weeks I will no doubt be whirring madly, as we will be about to board a flight to the other side of the world to visit V's family.

Part of my whir is all of the things that need to happen work wise in those four weeks. 

Part of my whir is all the family stuff that has to happen and that I will have and that I will miss.

Part of my whir is my to do list for the day before.

So instead I got up, made a cup of tea (ahhh, bliss), read a few blogs and applied for a quiz show.

 

 

This is not the photo that I ended up using, because all I can see in that photo is the mess of V's hanging above my head because the house that we live in has a storage issue.   

On the upside, there is no mess of all my sewing to do pile in the background because I did sort that after my whir on the weekend realising that it was my second to last "full" weekend at home before we go.

This falls in the "family stuff that I will miss" - and we will see if my phone photos work any better when I get to the "family stuff that has to happen" because it has really decided to do some retro 70s style stuff of late. 

Anyhoo - off to fix that whole "how to organise a Tuesday 27 days away" thing that got me up in the first place.
 

Any travel tips? 

Doctors dumbfounded and specialists stupefied

 "A Hospital failure cured" reads the headline when searching for a forebear "John Burgess"

I do not think that the gentleman cited is my great -great-grandfather, as he was never a greengrocer.

It was read with great mirth.

Enjoy this advertising extravaganza with me.

From The Bundaberg Mail and Burnett Advertiser - Fri 14 Jan 1898 - Page 3 

 A Hospital Failure Cured.

DOCTORS DUMBFOUNDED AND SPECIALISTS STUPEFIED.

It then goes on to introduce you to a gent who "was cured at last by Dr Williams' Pink Pills for Pale People."

I don't think that this ad would pass the pub test these days.

But maybe they were onto something.

Mr John Burgess, in conversation with our reporter, had "been an invalid for over nine years, suffering from hip-joint disease and sciatica."

(My great-great-grandfather  had also never been "thrown out of a cab" or indeed been to Botany)

After six months at the Prince Alfred Hospital he was deemed incurable.

A hopeless case, to the extent that his third and last doctor  stated that "he did not wish to visit me any longer, as it was simply taking money out of my pocket to put into his, without being able to afford me the slightest relief."

I would quote the whole thing but am not sure of the copyright requirements of an ad from an (a?) 129 year old newspaper.

Anyhoo , he eventually (after a litany of woe) is "induced to try Dr Williams' Pink Pills for Pale People." 

This stuff, after only seven boxes had performed miracles, allowing him to hitch up horse and cart again to rebuild his greengrocer enterprise in a competitive market.

He then most graciously allowed the journalist to print his assertions and attach his name to it.

The ad then went on to extol the virtues and how to not be swindled by poor imitations.

They seem to be good for all that ails you.

I wonder what was in them.

I wish they could work it out, because this stuff was "a specific for the troubles peculiar to the female system, and in the case of men they effect a radical cure in all cases arising from mental worry, overwork, and excess of any nature".

Top stuff, hey?

Globe trotting

 In today's genealogical wanderings I discovered a most wonderful saga.

It began when an Irish widow and a Somerset widower had a drink or two together in their middle years in a corner of the world the other side from when they came.

His childhood sweetheart Esther had given birth to at least 10 children in 20 years and the youngest surviving child to 12 before she had considered her duty here on earth done when she left it.

One of those 10 children she gave birth to whilst voyaging to the new land (having left her oldest at home in the earth, with a toddler at her skirts and a curious girl of six).

That brand new creature was my great -great-grandmother.

But two years on from his wife's death, the majority of his daughters had married or were soon to do so, and with only the company of a teenager he found friends with a bottle.

That friend and he decided to cement such a beautiful relationship with vows.

For a time things went along. She too had older children. 

The Irish woman and the Somerset man had at least two more of their own. A boy and a girl.

Alas there are organs that do not do so well. (perhaps to do with the fallout from a love affair with the panacea for disappointment) The poor Irish woman succumbed to such a fate.

So distraught was he that at least one of their children was omitted from the death certificate a decade later. Or maybe his Jnr wasn't easily pinned down. 

There we news reports of behaviours that screamed intervention required for father and both of his surviving sons - one from each marriage.

He indeed hit the skids for a while and authorities deemed he was unable to competently care for the children so to an orphanage they went. (Obviously they were subsequently reunited as the son is mentioned in the obituary a decade later).

The girl who went to the orphanage never married a man named Smith (the Irish Catholic mother may have spun in her grave) but she took on his name and gave him a half dozen children.

One of whom was born on New Year's Eve 1925 with a movie star's name.

She married a Yankee soldier and took him back to Idaho - or Illinois? Maybe Indiana or Iowa - one of those vowel starting places over there.

Because we enter the US realm with this search, we get to see yearbook photos of similar named people from similar named places. And because they have a whole heap of extra people over there to here, there are a lot of yearbook photos.

The daughter of the movie-star-named girl and the dashing GI - or at least A girl with a similar name from a similar town - has one photo that is the poster child for a mousy dork - no offence, I have a few of those photos in the hoard.

I kid you not, the next photo along is definitely the same girl that is the makeover after shot and she is ROCKING the whole 1950s cheerleader vibe.

What do you reckon - put a bit of polish on it and sell it to Netflix?

A spice by any other name

 I spend a fair portion of my weekends at my parents - they are well into their 80s now and Mum has "memory issues" (because we aren't allowed to call it by the D word in Dad's world, because people write people off if they say that word).

This has put Dad into the position of carer, and he does it as well as he is able - but Dad does have some frugality issues that border on him calling his children crazy about expired food etc.

I mean, I have to give him he is still alive, but I think part of that is because Mum did pay attention to such things for a large portion of it.

He recently ran out of pepper for the table.  Rather than buy some more pepper, he figured that Mum had many spices in the cupboard unused since - well, in some instances since the 1970s (because everyone knows that spices don't go out of date *).

He figured Paprika would work, since it added some colour to what was being seasoned and sounded like pepper.

Inevitably, his paprika ran out - I did pull him up and make him buy pepper in preference to his next choice - Nutmeg...

I don't think that his sense of smell or taste are all that crash hot these days. 

Four photos

I am a terrible blogger - its not that I don't have ideas and its really not that I don't have time - although that is my excuse.  It is that I don't have ideas when I do have time all too often.

 

So to kickstart myself today, I thought that I would find four random photos from the last few weeks and just give them. 

 

This is a photo taken at an afternoon tea that my Dad had for "a few friends with cake" for his and Mum's 60th wedding anniversary.  The few friends numbered 25, which lead to a bit of a mad scramble on my part.  In this photo, Dad is seated and his primary school classmate Laurie has the floor.  Laurie was the postmaster and tennis coach from my childhood, but apparently Dad and he had a few adventures when younger, and he told them with a great deal of wit on this occasion.  We were really there with the tiny trailer and the 60" concrete pipe at this point!

One of the blessings of spilling a half a cup of water on a bench when the drawer beneath is slightly ajar is that the 15 years of accumulated "stuff" has to be taken out and organised.  I am not by nature a tidy person - it takes effort EVERY DAY to not be able to be tracked by the detritus left in my wake - but I consider organising therapy at times.

 

I must admit, this really tickled my fancy - but some people just didn't get it.  Do I have a weird sense of humour?

 It is amazing how much this cat has grown, even since this photo.  She can be very "helpful" in the office.

To quote another blogger that I read today, just got rid of a whole lot of blah-blah-blah that really only needed to escape my head, didn't need to go to yours.

Have a lovely day - its now Thursday here and my mother-in-law's 80th birthday.  HB RB (and Uncle B too) 

A Wedding and Three Funerals

 Well, May's been a month for it (so far), hasn't it.

I had the expected - a weekend with Mum so Dad could go to a birthday party, organising a special acknowlegement through the representatives of the elected government to get the crowned head of state to comply and wish them a happy 600th wedding anniversary - you know, just your regular logistical palaver.

But also the unexpected (but expected) of the reality of mortality, and the need to make a connection in our lives.

So yes, some philosophy too.

Oh, and I unexpectedly (totally) binge-watched two-thirds of Ted Lasso too.

So really, the title of this post should be "A party, an email, a complete re-arrangement of a house, a scammer, two blows of death's bell, a drive with my daughters, a baseball game's requirement of an Apple subscription, an impromptu gathering delighting many and manifesting hostessing skills I had here-to-forth eschewed (thank god for Sal), a memory, a discovery of an addictive yet quirky soccer show, the third strike, a phone session to overcome an eighty-five year old's technological difficulties in order to attend an online funeral, a memorial service, a library trip and some great curry" but it wouldn't cover everything.

 

RIP Jack W.  I am so glad that you got to sit with your mates one last time.

Vale Lorraine.  You were a mentor and a saviour to me and to many of this town.  Your friendship and generosity of spirit was a blessing to have known and to have received.

And oh, beautiful Queen Jean. I am so glad to have known you and have had you in our lives for all of those years.  You live on forever in our hearts.

 

Rabbit Holes - or how my grandparents were begat

 I decided that I would "file" a few of the hundreds of lazy research screenshots I have gathered over the years, which means refinding them all in Trove which is a most wonderful research provided by our National Library.

 I maybe did a half dozen, but those rabbit holes keep poppin up!!

I won't go TOO far down the rabbit hole today, but some delightful moments of synchronicity discovered were my great-great-great grandfathers' ads for missing horses in 1862

18 April 1862 - North Australian, Ipswich and General Advertiser -STOLEN or strayed, one IRON GREY MARE,branded M/M on the near shoulder, and AS on the off shoulder. The above reward will be paid, if stolen, or conviction of the thief, or £3 if strayed, upon delivering the said Mare to JOHN RANKIN. Esq., Rose Hill; or to GEO. EVANS, Newtown, Ipswich.  

The fourth son of John Rankin (my "farthest back in time" migrant to Australia) married the second daughter of George Evans nearly 18 years later.

A different great-great-grandfather's in 1865 (the going rate for getting a horse thief was apparently a tenner)

 14 October 1864 - Sydney Morning Herald - Stolen, from the Lachlan Diggings, a Black HORSE branded W near shoulder, T off, star and snip, 5 white spots under saddle, collar marked, shod all round, £10 on conviction 

This relative is very much a man of mystery in research - we know plenty of what happened HERE but the man was a master spinner of tales, and finding a paper trail of what went on BEFORE is elusive 

And I did a big snip because the ads around it?!  Tell me your thoughts on the fourth "lost" article!?  (I am hoping that is about a dog);

His son-in-law landing in Brisbane almost exactly 11 years later:

7 October 1875 - Daily Northern Argus advises of shipping arrivals including The Isles of the South, immigrant ship, arrived with 316 immigrants - one of whom was my great-grandfather, the "nearest" relative of our migration story;

and nearly another 20 years later, their union - through the marriage of one's daughter to the other in a business transaction brokered over brandy (allegedly)

 

27 March 1895 (the wedding took place 4th March) the NQ Register used exactly the same copy that the Mackay Mercury used nearly a fortnight earlier, including the lovely little take-away "Mr Edwards replied.  He said that although he ad lost - no not lost - but given away a daughter, he had gained a son and now in these dull times when sugar was so low and cattle so cheap it was an advantage to gain even a son."

Kodomo no hi, floridaman, cattle-stealing and squirms therapy

 When I was at high school, we had a most awesome (awe and some and aww and aargh being the operative words, depending on how you viewed her) Japanese teacher.  A 6' 1 spinster whose one true love was Japan, a country that she had visited when a Uni student and had a lifelong affair with.  And her instrument of love was teaching Queensland country schoolgirls the rudimentaries of Japanese language and culture.

Masochist is another term that comes to mind.  Poor dear.

But Kodomo no hi does ring a very faint bell 41 years hence (but as I only did Japanese to Year 10, so I cannot perform the traditional dances or ceremonies that Ms P no doubt would have furnished those who went to Senior with).

So yesterday was Children's Festival in Japan - today I typed "May 6 F" thinking to find out what festival IT may be (because that is the date) and offered for my delight was "May 6 Florida Man" and I thought, why not.  I present the Orlando Weekly with "Floridaman punches Jimmy John's employee because his sandwich took too long, wasn't 'Freaky Fast" enough.  I have a few issues:

• If its a weekly but its on the internet, what day of the week is "Publication" - or is Weekly a nod to historical naming convention that we will all too soon regard as "quaint"?  We will be going "remember when our news artefacts were named after days of the week" and our children and children's children will be shaking their heads and going "huh, imaging having lived through that era". 
• Bloggytown?
• roll back is two words but Floridaman is one?
• Hang on - Cannabis is now a tab on a news site?

 I suddenly have the belief that this may not be a certain quality journalism!

 

Boca Raton resident MJVisconti, a man who enjoys an effeciently prepared submarine sandwich after a long night of drinking, was arrested Saturday night after punching a Jimmy John's employee in the facr for not making his sub "Freaky Fast" enough.

• my child has just started a career as a sandwich artist (although not at Jimmy John's) - she may have to contemplate 'Freaky Fast' as a speed to attain. The link is no longer active for us to ascertain exactly what that may mean.
  

Officers observed that Visconti was intoxicated.
The store manager had a cut on the bridge of his nose after being punched by Visconti, the report said.
While police were gathering information, Visconti allegedly began walking away east on Clematis Street. Told that he had to remain while the investigation continued, Visconti said, “[Expletive] that. Why am I going back?”
Visconti, 22, allegedly elbowed and kicked at two officers before being handcuffed, the report said. He also wedged himself between two palm trees and had to be placed in leg hobbles after he continued kicking at the officers.
Before going to jail, Visconti was taken to a local hospital to treat facial abrasions sustained during his struggle with police, the report said.

• Officers observed?
• Nothing like an on the spot on the money reporter!!!
• I can just visualise the palm tree placement there... 
• [Expletive] that!!  
  

 And then I was going to use an example of swearing from my own family history but instead went down this rabbit hole about my great-great-great-grandfather and the cattle-stealing charge he dodged!

To think, only a year earlier he was this angel:

As you may be able to tell, we are child-free for three nights while Paris is at camp.

 V gave me a bowl of squirms when I decided my heady activity was going to be "blogging".  

And who says romance is dead!

Ten Days and a Recipe Hallelujah

 I know, its been 10 days and I didn't come back and tell you about the rest of my 10 days (didn't seem that long) or Easter celebrations (more than enough chocolate and some) or visiting parents or - well, I did do stuff, I just didn't BLOG stuff.

However I do have to tell you that I made my own Birthday Cake because apparently that is the most surprising thing, which it shouldn't be if you know me because (a) I like to cook, (b) I like things the way I like them and there are times when anything else isn't quite right and (c) I have found the BEST CARROT CAKE recipe in the world and I like carrot cake.

I took no photos (well, I took a BEFORE photo)

 

 

 we went out to dinner - the place we went had either 1 star reviews or 5 star reviews and we had never been - the entrees and breads were worthy of the 5 stars but the service was definitely 1 star

 

I drove out to my parents for the first bit of the long weekend (Anzac Day - 25th - is a public holiday here, and Dad was going to be doing to BBQ with Rotary).  The drive out there is so beautiful, but of course driving you don't get to take photos - this is from a lookout I remember always having a cup of tea at when we drove the other way when kids.

 

 Dad unfortunately wasn't well enough to do the BBQ - and for that man to pull the pin on any social event or something he has promised to do, you know he isn't well.

I took Mum to music (their Friday ritual - this man Brian did all of the dances when we were kids and it still banging the piano keys for nearly a solid hour).  Dad has taken over from another gentleman who used to read a poem or two to give him a break - he had given me the poems to read and Brian was VERY pleased to have his 5 minutes when I read them.

I did give the sourdough crusts another run - still forgot the 24 hour step, still didn't matter.

 

I also tidied "that drawer" - we all have one, and this one hadn't been really looked at in quite some time

I came home for Sunday to do a session of Qi Flow (with my Yoga lady - its a mix of Tai Chi and Qi Gong I think) and book club (an interesting book of short stories and a lovely group of people) and this sunset.

I am back to work as of yesterday.

 Oh - and the recipe hallelujah is for the BEST CARROT CAKE recipe is from Food Network.  I do use walnuts instead of pecans and it is pretty delicious.

Saturday's Muse

 It is 5:21am and still dark here - I woke about an hour ago which is pretty much par for the course. I have reached that stage of middle-age where as long as it isn't before 3am, its time to get up and stop arguing.

We made THE MOST AMAZING Sourdough Pizza bases for dinner last night.  My sister gave me a gluten-free sourdough kit for Christmas and, while I have made some bread (both GF and regular) with it, all of the other things that I have discovered to make use of it have been phenomenal.  This recipe has now joined the bao buns and English muffins in the OMG we must do with again repertoire.

Now, I do have a confession to make - I didn't follow the recipe to the letter (surprised?) because this one was chosen due to it not requiring a "start the day before" step because I very rarely google a recipe that far ahead, so when I got a "Important step: Refrigerate for at least 24 hours before using." I was already too invested to turn back.  I relied upon the "relax, its Australia, things move quicker (at least in baking breads) here" mantra and it did work.  That being said, I made a double batch and still have enough for 2 more crusts in the fridge (and the mushrooms that I forgot to have among the toppings we could use) so we will see if there is enough noticeable for me to think ahead about.

While my starter is GF and I have kept it GF so my GF friends can also have both starter and occasional end results, it is versatile enough to work for this so a VERY SUCCESSFUL Christmas gift that keeps on giving.  Sourdough Mate created the kit that I was given - I am not in any way an affiliate, I am just a very happy recipient. (I must admit that the local health food shop is where I get my GF bread flour that I use to feed it now) 

So what are your most recent "hallelujah" recipe finds?

Words for Wednesday prompt

 

I am still waiting for daughter and visitor to awaken so we can organised the next week - so will use the time wisely and do Words for Wednesday (as inspired by River and the words from Elephant's Child)

We were walking down by the river - the gentle calls of birds hunting the muddy banks harmonised against the cicadas incessant beat, the glaring shimmer of the dry heat, the only moisture our sweat - all combined and seemed to defray our nerves after being read the standards and expectations the night before.  

It was the odour that first alerted us - it seemed organic in nature, and it was just around the next corner. A crow cawed our approach.

This long, long, long weekend is started by another Thursday

 I have got 10 days off work for the price of 4!  That is pretty fantastic.

 I have an old flatmate coming to visit, Easter, my birthday, Anzac Day, at least one show and book club all within that time frame.

I am already tired!!

Today, though, my list has bookwork, an accountant's call, shopping for school camp and getting a room from "dump everything and office" status to spare room for a guest.

I didn't even sleep in.  I don't, but today I didn't because I had a dream.

There was some sort of party at a pub - two in fact, one for dogs - but I forgot to pay for them, so had to track down an ex-boss's girlfriend who had organised it.

When I finally tracked her down and was organising payment, I realised one should have come from an account I didn't have details for so I asked her to send it through in an invoice.  I wrote her a note that also had on a recipe that she asked for - and after she left I can't remember if I also put the relevant details on it. 

So I went to the pub but had to park in this car park where there was a lift to street level and the pub was a labyrinth - I eventually worked out it was the wrong one and then couldn't find the car.

Finally I found the entry to the car park but had to walk on the road and there were a lot of corners and I was worried that a car would come around the corner and wipe me out so when I saw a cleaner in a little alley off the side remembered there was a lift near my car.  The cleaner had disappeared by the time I got to the aluminium door so I pressed the button, but when the door slid back I saw that it was a very narrow, very steep, very white staircase and in the distance, the cleaner.  I figured that where my car was must have a door so, after some hesitation, I started to climb.

Very soon afterwards, another man was behind me climbing and the stairs were getting steeper and higher - they had rungs that you could hold onto as you climbed but I seemed to be carting some bags with me making it awkward and scary - my heart was pounding.

That is when I woke up.  I was so relieved that I didn't have to pay for 2 parties I couldn't remember and I didn't have to find my car!

Anyhoo - one step at a time today - get my resources together to work out what I have to talk to the accountant about and work out the camp list.

Another Thursday.

Chilli sauce and movies.

 You see, I had to stay up late tonight as I had to make this chili sauce.

Do excuse the sequence of photos - blogger and I disagree on the way to do things and you can't be bothered arguing with it any more.

When you have a certain amount of chillis and a certain timeframe to do it one, you don't need to wait for a certain moon phase to concoct.

But it doesn't hurt.

Boiled and mouli'd and reduced and bottled to the tune of Moonstruck.

And outside indeed is that moon.