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in the cupboard unused since - well, in some instances since the 1970s (because everyone knows that spices don't go out of date *).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.

Oh it was a Thursday

 The dream I awoke from was a work dream, that merely reflected the frustration that encroaches upon my real life.

I awoke to the alarm. My alarm goes at five on a weekday. I like that bit of me time on the morning to prepare for the day.

Lately my body has woken well before the hour - or is that earliliy? - but as last night I had found a fascinating tale of a family of my husband's forebears who migrated from Germany to the United States in the 1880s - a saga of love and loss and inheritance and tragedy and comedy -the head of the household was listed as a "chicken" in a census - and therefore it was the alarm that woke me.

"It can't be!" I thought as I rose through the fog, then sobbing "It's Saturday, it's Saturday" but alas by the time I had met with the clock to silence it, my switch had flicked, and not only had I worked out that it was Thursday, I had a list ready for me to tackle.

First I had to sort the back-assed* way that an organisation that is wanting to be user friendly but failing. While my comfort zone is generally grids of electronic signals of numeric values,  it just wasn't working for me this morning. 

We got there, but it was from me lowering my expectations and some very thorough analysis. 

Again reflecting the frustration that encroaches upon my real life.

Not enough caffeine.

Then I valiantly attempted something that is such a modern day first world problem. 

You see, I had receipts to scan.

The cheap-assed* scanner-printer that I fled to when the previous cheap-assed* scanner-printer died failed in all key aspects of its purpose - or at the first half of its stated purpose.

It lulled me in to a false sense of security at first, offering a preview of the oh-my-giddy-aunt I didn't know things scanned this blurry!

So i investigated the settings- it always reminds me of lifting the hood of a car engine and peering when I go into settings.

I remember a sci-fi TV sitcom from the BBC in the late 70s or early 80s?;  I think that it had Mrs Slocum in it - where a bloke lost one key piece of evidence that he was who he said he was when he lost his house keys and l wonder if this is the moment I have a lost password issue and my computer will ignore my commands forevermore. 

I tinker and think that I have overcome the blur.

But I will never know.

For then I discovered the other thing that this cheap-assed* scanner-printer failed at.

I have this far been unable to find where -  or even ascertain IF - it was saved. 

It's a modern day philosophical conundrum, isn't it?

If you cannot find where a file has been saved, did it ever exist at all?

This was all before 7am.

* Insert own asswords here.

How was yours?

The Festival - or Folly - of Fancy Mashed Potatoes...

 Or mere tales of squishy potato bake?

Hot Lactose-free Vichyssoise, even?

(Apologies - i fought the technology but the technology won in the below order of photos - imagine them in reverse.)

For visual description in the right order- 

• a very wet end to a very wet week;
• wet-weather organ-warming soul-massaging goodness-in-a-bowl;
• Super-Crunchy Garlic-Flavoured SourDough Croutons from the air fryer: 
• a piece I call "still-life with wine receptacle, fresh ginger and a grey tin of McKenzies coarse-ground black-pepper"; and 
• a white bowl with an artsy-fartsy arrangement of croutons, black pepper and greenish yellow potato-and-leek soup.

***

****

Not deconstructed-reconstructed extrusions in a tin that tastes like someone lied to make money, but good-to-honest from scratch.

Well, I didn't grow the potatoes or get the recipe from a bookseller. But as close to the shore of nature as a modern day working woman intending to solve hunger sails.

I went to the supermarket. A leek I did buy. Also some chips to go with my Friday night glass of wine.

I found a guide to follow for the something whipped up on a very wet end to a very wet week. *

With super-crunchy garlic-flavoured sourdough croutons from the air fryer.

It hit the spot on this child free evening.

Practical wet-weather organ-warming soul-massaging goodness-in-a-bowl. What is not to love?

So - tell me yours.

-----

* If you haven't discovered RecipeTinEats yet, to paraphrase an Aussie icon, do yourself a favour!

No paid content here - just very yummy.

Also I made this one lactose-free by omitting the cream altogether- already rich enough.  Whilst part of me remembers the CONCEPT of cream was curious-ly appealing, too much of my muscle memory is tied up in post warmed lactose hell.

Don't even MENTION melted cheese!

** How did I go? Placeholder for Words for Wednesday by way of River.

1.bookseller 2. solve 3. shore 4. lied 5. buy  

and: 

1. folly 2. tales 3. love 4. curious 5. practical

*** I should point out that the ginger was just for effect.  (I can be a bit pretentious that way) 

**** oh, and the licorice? My kryptonite.

From a creature of habit

 One thing that I have discovered about myself (whenever I find it an interesting enough subject to contemplate) is that I do have a bit of a tendency to form patterns.

Some I have no control over - like the full time rhythms of the work that I do, and the cyclical nature of its demands. The moon and planet alignments *. Or the ordained dates of children's schooling.

Some I am growing into. ** 

And some just happen because.

For example, the Mexican Tuesday that is a ritual in our household was the solution to the need to be fed quickly and easily in order to get to Guides when 'Salina was quite young and we were newly moved to Paradise.

Guides was a short-lived experiment thet neither she nor I derived any joy from, unfortunately - but it did give us reward in food form.

Here we are about 17 years later and still Tuesday night is reserved for our version of Mexican.

It's Sunday tonight.

And it is all out of whack - because

I accidentally thawed mince yesterday thinking it was cubed something for my Saturday curry 

So instead we had Friday Fish and Chips 

as the night before I had poetry ***

As a result I had thawed mince to cook and Tuesday is too far away. I certainly don't want it to age in the fridge (Paris is studying Food and Technology as an elective this year. She keeps threatening my fridge) (which I would be a hypocrite to resist!)

So today I 

• Made sourdough focaccia,
• Went to Qi Flow * (who knows, every new ritual has to have a first time)
• Had my monthly book club meeting,
• And came home to make 3 curries, a taco brew and rice.

Interspersed with that was several loads of washing, building another branch in the family tree, read blogs, edited swathes of waffle ** and blogged.

* I learned this morning that today is a very auspicious day because some planet moving into another astrological zone - I remember the star sign but I don't remember the planet. Which is weird as there are more astrological signs than there are planets in the solar system. Aries.

** Yea it's true. This is the pared down version.

*** The teacher from - * - who was NOT the one who gave the astrological news - was at poetry on Friday and she did an absolutely amazing poem. I did an edited version of the post I did here a few nights ago. I also did a very old poem from my Melbourne days  called "Out of the Woodwork".

As I said in my intro Friday night, from a life before I had children.

Tonight I remembered that Tuesday night was an awesome open mike in Carleton back then!

And a bit about him- part 2

(part 1 yesterday)

When we were kids, we knew that we were a family unlike any other we knew.

Our Mum had a super power and our Dad was the smartest bloke in the world to have pursued her.

The three of us were indeed blessed. There were many mantras we lived by.

• Always hop back on your horse.
• A cold wash cures nearly everything, and is a requirement every morning.
• Shoulders back, chin up, look your own height in front of you.
• Get your hair out of your eyes.
• Don't let them know that you're scared.
• Take a deep breath.
• Nil desperandum carborundum illegitimos.
• If you don't throw the first, make the second count. (Actually, that one might have been from a movie)
• Don't rely on others unless you're in a team.
• To be deemed "good in a team" was highest praise indeed.
• Make sure you have something to fall back on.

We knew how lucky we were to have the parents and life we had.

Dad was enthusiastic about everything, a driven polocrosse number 3 and then a campdrafter of note. Nothing was done at half-pace and 98% of the world's problems can be fixed with a bulldozer. 

The other 2% sometimes kick back. 

We always used to say Dad wasn't accident prone, he just launched himself into accident zones more regularly and with more gusto than most.

Having such a gung ho Dad had its moments of exhilaration, the occasional terror (learning to drive on paddock tracks with him telling you to "use reduction" as you imagine plummeting sideways into a gully sometimes recurs in dreams) and large dose of the sheer frustration of knowing that he wouldn't give up until he got you to do what he wanted. And then get you to agree it was the right thing to do and and to thank him.

Mum was his perfect foil. She was one of the few rare people that had a handle on Bruiser. It was a constant challenge, but while she was generally acquiescent, she shaped his force to her plans and when required, showed an obstinance that he was forced to respect.

This was the forge that we were raised in.

And people wonder why I don't actually know what to do on holidays!

(You never know, it might get continued)

The Mum Files - Part 1

I recall watching the early tides of our mother.

She was not a natural housewife when she married Dad. It was frankly like she had entered a different culture...

His line was of strong widows and strong wives and strong mothers holding together tradition and agricultural labourer bloodlines of deep maroon.

Whereas hers was of half-trained mothers trying to grasp the wind and harness music and woodwork, and of aunts who sang hymns and spun nieces and grand-nieces and great-great-nieces as legacy lace.

Mum built her own little family, holding together her facade whilst dusting off her career threads to become a wife and mother.

It was what every woman was meant to be trained to do, but she waa trained in the college of The Aunts,  where the motto was "Never Rely on a Man. Always Have a Career to fall back on."

Only now doing the family tree do I realise that those words were their mother's regards a father (known more for roaring at the family than for doting and delighting in them)'s abandonment of her and four teenage children; for her earlier abandonment through widowhood when pregnant with an older aunt; for war's abandonment of a great-granddaughter and the farewell gift from a soldier; for the parcels passed to another great-granddaughter; for the unforseen future; and for me.

Dad's Mum showed her the office system in use. There was the clip and - there was the spike.

Mum's career was as a locum Chemist. Throughout the state she would travel and relieve rural chemists and allow them not just the luxury of a holiday, but the delightful service of a job well done, a shop tidied and cleaned and organised with a completed stocktake and accounts all up to date. She was booked years in advance.

I don't really wonder at any diagnoses of new-fangled alphabets  in any related to me.  These people were my example.

Mum converted the clip and spike into triple-journals and general ledgers. She calculated interest rates and diversified investment and streamlined the payments process.

She couldn't cook a thing. Her mother-in-law was a third-generation CWA devotee steeped in full Queensland History of Hospitality. Grandma could cook a roast with the best gravy, her scones were singular and her lemon butter spoken about in show pavilions, 

Dad was one of the originating Brangus studs in Australia. He was very enthusiastic about the potential.

Mum became a studmaster, training herself on husbandry and genetics and the science of fertility and artificial fertility temp-testing techniques and traits and handling and developing systems to best keep these records.

She became adept at marketing and networking and held committee roles with industry and women's groups and early internet exchanges.

So sometimes her house wasn't perfectly tidy and the benches were never quite clear.

It was her humanity showing.

(To Be Continued...)

(Maybe)

Wednesdays Words on Friday (oops - Saturday)

 I am not sure of the rules really, so please put me to rights if I am doing this wrong.

This is for Wednesday's word - I did write it yesterday but held off on posting.

 Here is River's post

 Without further ado:

I junked my first stab - oh my, nobody needs that.  The second attempt is not much more joyous, I am afraid.  Must work on that - perhaps better at night than a morning after lack of sleep.

Let me instead poeticise this prompt:

I was invited to wonder, wander in

And delight myself with words.

I instead plodded, my pessimistic soul not encouraging the curious

The delights of gallivanting.

Instead, it enfolded me in greens dulled by forest shadow 

Phrases shrouded to disappoint.

My unburdened self lies beyond some old gate

I am sure it hides there with the reminders of bacon

Yes, bad for you in so many ways, 

But the delight and crisp wafting through my could have beens.

Alfred is so vain

He probably thinks this post is about him. He'd be right.

If he were a person you would say "Alfred, eff off" and even your mother would have to agree that Alfred deserves such language.

22-2 was the beginning of his time as a cyclone. The other reason that that date is stuck in my mind is that exactly one third of that day was spent in a local establishment akin to a freezer.

Early Alfred shook himself up to huffability, but every day they predicted something different he would test his developing skills and do the opposite.

"Stay a 1 for 24 hours and disappear beyond the horizon"  the boffins said. 

Frankly, Alfred was not the loudest concern in the room here, as we have had an avalanche of appointments and tests - the upshot of which has actually been mostly positive answers, just a winding path getting there. A bit like Alfred.

That has combined with an explosion of fresh requirements at work, part of which was a result of annoying Alfred making more rumble.

He did not do what he was told and had not gone away a week ago - when the winds blew stronger and waves arose - and so the boffins said "Alfred's coming in but he's only a little one, he'll sneak on through and you'll hardly notice him, hope he'll bring the farmers rain."

Well, he's not the sort of scallywag that gets told to do something mature. Something helpful. Something quiet and unnoticeable.

"Eff that" he thought, as he started kicking cans and wandered away further South.

The boffins said "very rarely do they spin back this way once they do that, but if that happens it will be the first time in fifty years. How special. But he's not going to" said the boffins.

On Monday I realised that i was due to have my annual check at HB.

After the unblogged palaver of last year, an organised former version of me had sorted accommodation, booked the cattery and even told my family they were to come with me and we were going to have a holiday in HB and enjoy ourselves, dang it!

That version of me didn't have an Alfred, did she?

On Tuesday the deposit left my bank.

Now, before I go on, let me reiterate that I am not saying that I am some deity that has some secret superpower that I can control natural disasters - but I think that Alfred may have heard this as a taunt and turned around to hear who had thrown this gauntlet. 

Was it Brisbane, egged on by the Broncos and Lions wavering on season opening spectaculars? Or perhaps the Sunny Coast with Surf club meets, or the Goldie just being fabulous? Was it the sight of poor Lismore trying to cower down away from Alfred's gaze? Or was it me?

Perhaps it a combination of all of the above and the disaffected dithering of an adolescent cyclone, dancing and darting and promising Thursday landings.

 "He'll be gone by tomorrow" the boffins said, "but it's a cyclone, you never can tell."

Wednesday.

Dear Jeanie, we regret to inform you that your amazing specialist (who holds clinics at weekends as she covers a whole heap of communities along the east coast of Queensland) cannot attend your appointment this weekend at HB as she is going up against Alfred first hand this weekend.

And I thought "watch out Alfred."

But the money was out of the bank and we were going to have a holiday in HB and enjoy ourselves, dang it!

The Dr will block him.

However the accommodation office closed at 6 and I wouldn't be able to travel down to HB in less than an hour so I messaged the property. No answer. 

I emailed the property. No answer.

Thursday, I rang the property.

When I told the gentleman of my issue, he asked what property as he had several. When I told him, he said "well, you won't be staying there as there is currently no bathroom and no kitchen." and told me his tale of a labyrinth of agencies and platforms and that I was the sixth he had had to give this spiel to and this is their number.

Well,I thought, 6 people have rung this number and nothing has changed. I didn't ring that number. I rang the platform that I had made the booking through. "English speakers" it promised.

Ex-cru-ci-ating hold music was my penance for the perseverance required to get to the English-speaking human. I told him my tale. He needed clarification and asked if they could try to find me an alternative.

"No." I said. "The holiday is ruined already. This is just the last straw. I want a refund." I said. 

I must admit, there was a tiny part of me doing a jig at the prospect of not packing bags, packing the car, logistics of school, work, cattery, travel, expense not to mention the have a holiday and enjoy ourselves concept - but I wasn't going to tell him that. And also, there was an Alfred.

Twelve more minutes of hold and I was free. I shall expect to see my refund in 7-12 days.

Hooray, I thought.

Alfred didn't land Thursday, he just mesmerised the audience with idly contemplating the pretty pictures he was making in memes.

Friday Alfred had stopped thinking and was just zoning out to some sort of wavelength of his own, being a real teenage boy and not doing what he was told.

Pushed out to the Saturday and still he seemed unable to either commit or follow instructions.

It's not that bad, we told ourselves. Bit of wind. Poor northern NSW have copped it yet again, but those poor beggars can't win a trick. We're good. Pity about the grocery situation. Still, it's better to be over prepared. Ready for next time.

We later found Alfred hunkered down near Bribie and we all wondered - what there was to do there for that long, especially with the bowlsie shut?

But who cares, he's an ex-TC.

Now, for those who haven't played here for long, the above was sarcasm. 

Because my history has very  much had some shaping from such beasts as ex-TCs

Alfred did indeed hear someone whisper "either $#!+ or get off the can" because he most certainly did get off the can and moon the spectators.

That was yesterday.

Today, Brisbane is flooded and houses are wrecked.

Parts of the Gold Coast are flooded. Parts of the Sunshine Coast are wrecked.

Northern NSW is flooding. Poor beggars.

This morning, Alfred reached around and smacked HB on the outside ears. Out of the blue, at 3am the heavens opened and delivered a deluge of the equivalent of a foot of water and tree-snapping winds.

To the North of us also there have been storms. To the West - rain.

A heatwave, hot winds whirling, 80% humidity and a skitchy cat here tonight.

My Mum used to have a plaque in the office that said "tact is the art of telling someone to go to hell in such a manner that they anticipate the trip."

Someone needs to apply a little tact and convince Alfred that it's his own idea to just eff off.

My second cousin once removed wouldn't mind seeing you when you are ready to do what you are told, Alfred.

In the meantime. - -

(update - here is the official news version of Alfred's life)

 

March Tides

See what I did there?

I love words with different meanings.

I also love it when nature is entertaining, although I must admit that I err on the side of gentle and kind rather than horror or suspense.

I love it when old friends or relatives gather and there is good food and warm conversation on offer and the hospitality genuine.

I love it when conundrums and road blocks make way for pathways and solutions in my workplace.

I love it when you find the right words coming out of the right mouths when you are looking for answers.

I love it when you find proof of lives lived long ago with characters and imagined decades of life between.

I love finding people to whom I can say (or rather, write) "I did look at that entry - widower on the 1957 voyage aged 29 with teenage children all able to work? Yes, the Cornwall Roman Catholic bits made me think again.

Then again, my carpenter from Enniskillen or Tyrone other vague references came on a voyage from Liverpool, so anything is possible."

(Edit - it was Devonshire and C of E - apologies to my correspondent)

 

 

Today would be the 106th birthday of my numerically challenging relative who is 100% shrouded in mystery from any living person's viewpoint.

Thanks to BDM Qld we discovered that she existed - and then she vanished. Her birth was the last piece of paper ever on her mother - and her father was unknown.

Until the magic of DNA provided not only clues to what happened next but who it happened with.

And then a chance detail in an email made an amateur detective have an aha moment and suddenly a hidden history of 20 years of a whole family, and hopefully the happier last third of my great-grandmother's and great-great-uncle's life.

I love we got a reasonably good drying day today - earlier in the week it had promised foul.

Of course, the flipside still remains. Alfred may indeed keep to forn with some "I'm not going to do what I am told" defiance and dump a load of wind and water where it is not wanted. 

I do wish that I had the power to point weather. Even if you had to use reverse psychology on it.

Anyhow, here's the cat. How's your March going?

Book Club Reading

I always wanted to be in a book club.

There were a lot of reasons "why not".  

The rare clubs I did manage to unearth

• met on Tuesday at 10am and I work full-time
• only read books starting with K and had a murder on page 25
• were already established and didn't want new participants
• involved meeting in members 5 star houses, copious amounts of expensive alcohol and designer clothing for the photo opportunities

The unicorn that I was looking for needed to meet when I was available (so business hours were out) and I could see to drive (evenings were out); didn't have a set playlist on what was acceptable to read; wanted me and would accept a person like me and wouldn't require me to pretend I had a lifestyle that for so many reasons I don't have.

Luckily for me, just as the pandemic kicked off a lady bought a little second-hand book shop in my little town and wanted to support local community by creating a book club - and as soon as things opened up, she did just that.

So since August 2020 I have been involved in the Book Club.  Anyone can be a member, and if you choose to get the book through the book shop you can do a "set and forget" monthly fee, which is what I do.  The book shop itself has moved to a bigger premises and gone through 2 ownership changes, but the book club has kept on throughout.

We meet on the last Sunday of the month (generally) at around 1, people can bring a plate, the book shop now has a cafe although its not open to the public on Sundays, so paying members get a free drink (non-paying members can still  get a drink).

For our January read, we had  this delightful Japanese book, What you are looking for is in the library" by Michiko Aoyama.

At our meeting, it was unanimously endorsed (by all who had read it) and I would recommend to young and old.

Uplifting and enjoyable - what you look for in a start of the year book.

 

I have a disclaimer to make about the February read, as it was my pick and I share great-great-grandparents with the writer - but please don't hold that against her because this, her second "big" novel, is as easy to read yet hard-hitting in the right places as her first (The Last Love Note").  

 

While it does sneak in as romance, it also covers so much more in the main story - and it has a happy ending.  

 

The first night I started reading it, my "I am very tired, I will only read one chapter as I have work in the morning" vow meant that I put the book down after 10.

 

The second night 25 (they are shortish chapters) - but oh, on the third night I had to keep going until I got to the end.  

 

"Pictures of You" by Emma Grey shows how easily romance can become anything but as well as how good it can be - and it is such a fine edge, the distinction between the two at times, isn't it ?

 

I loaned my copy to another member as she cannot get another copy ANYWHERE at the moment, although I see through updates from Emma that there is now a 4th print run.  If you are in the USA, she is currently there on a book tour.

Trough Pilates, Rain Meditation and Low Key Celebration

 I have had a few days off work as I was so good a wife as to be available to celebrate in whichever way was seen fit a 0 number on V's calendar.

Of course, I then immediately turned around and  shattered this romantic gesture by offering him the larger share of my respite, as I am a flag-waving representative of the sandwich generation. And the smaller portion was allocated to a trip over to Mum and Dad.

As I arrived, Dad met me at the car. 

"You packed your working gear?" He asked. "We have a trough to fix while the carer is here."

I dutifully put on my working gear - after all, he has been the same father for well over 50 years now, and we are well trained to anticipate- and hopped into his Land Rover (The Land Rover is genuinely robber-proof and only Dad and the chosen fools who agree to drive it are allowed).

We turned off the electricity for the fence as "last time I came down to fix this I got tangled up and took a tumble". Yes, you read that right, an 85 year old man - alone in his ancient Land Rover - took a tumble while checking out a trough surrounded by lots of thick green grass, growing pools of water - and accentuated with an electric fence wire across the top of it - as he was removing the cover to see what was wrong in the first place.

However, as said, he HAS been my Dad for (well) over 50 years now, and expect the unexpected is a motto we live by.

The alarm from his falls watch goes off as he charges gears in the Land Rover. He is sitting right beside me so I reject the phone call - so of course it immediately rang the rest of the list. 

"Did it go off on the day of the tumble" I ask.

No. And he had been wearing it.

We drive down to the trough and water is pooling around but he is prepared, so we battle with historical stiltzens (I just had a Mandela effect moment when I typed that - you know what I mean don't you?) and the world's largest (& therefore most economically efficient no doubt) shifting spanner to undo the float mechanism from the pipe gushing water, because the trough is fed by the dam which is solar pumped to tanks near the house and then gravity fed back to this trough and so at least 3m drop of several thousand litres of water held only by an inadequate float mechanism. So in this instance not held 

When we removed the mechanism, we found another problem. The kit came with a reducing and an expansion nipple but nothing for through the side of the trough. The old mechanism had it attached somehow but the new one did not. So we had a dilemma (my original discovery of the Mandela effect was due to me being of the number that remembers being taught that was dilemna)

We had to hold this water back while we went into town, got something that would go through the side to join the gushing pipe with the trough mechanism - as there was no tap on the pipe anywhere. Luckily we McGuyvered the new float mechanism and the pipe with some grass and some gravity principles and hared off to town (about 5 km away).

Apparently what we needed was a tank boss. They have been around so long that they assumed that it would have been installed!

So back we went and eventually worked out how to connect the float mechanism WITH FLOAT attached (as the area too short to attach after) so that the off position on one side aligned with the unseen hose attachment requirements on the other of the tank boss - then we realised that the bend we had put in the float arm so it could fit in the area with the float attached at all meant that the cover couldn't be put back on.

When I was a kid and even a visiting adult, my Bull-at-a-Gate father would take the lead role and I would just do what I was told.

Now, I still do what I am told but have to pre-empt a little as, at 85 and with only one good eye, he doesn't bounce as well. My body, however, has had a few decades of air-conditioned office chairs and occasional yoga stretches.

O. M. G.

I was in bed that night at 8.30 because I had found muscle groups that had completely lost my address!

I had spent the afternoon doing a bit of the air-conditioned office chair in hopes of tying up some bureaucracy loose ends but alas thwarted at every turn - including one officious gent who, when being advised we needed to sort something that I had attempted to sort November, was brutal in his demands of authorisation from Dad and then discovered that they had stuffed up in June and never tried to resolve. He promises it will be sorted - next week.

This meant that we had the opportunity, however, to see my beautiful sister.

(I am telling everyone to smile)

It was determined that the short way - The Pinnacle - is far superior in distance but it's detractions are lack of bitumen and low gullies - oh and that whole hills and forest and unfenced road hazards - but it really feels like you are getting there - as opposed to the other way (until the bridge is fixed) - where you go a long way to get back to where you nearly started.

The storms didn't look that bad, we agreed, it doesn't know how to rain properly any more out here. A small discussion on what direction they would come from or go to ensued, and as we were agreeing that they came from the direction where they were and heading in the direction where I was going, it was decided that haste would be my pony and I had best chance it.

The first 20km - until you turn right at Kalpowar - was fine. Brooding sky so sunglasses off but no windscreen wiper activity.

The next 5 - winding on dirt through Lantana and scrub on gravel I heard thunder but luckily no wind.

At the top of the hill, where it opens out into the bald of cleared timber I contemplated stopping to capture the cloud and rainbursts on three sides but time was not on my side.

The rain started in earnest just past the landmark of where Jeanie and the car before the car before this one lost faith with each other- and did not abate until I stopped for fuel 120km later - 80 of those on dirt. I definitely did not speed and luckily was travelling WITH the rain so the creeks were not yet up - and any wind had gone before me.

I had to get home as yesterday was V's 0 number. We did exactly what he wanted for his celebration - a lovely meal at home and no social expectations and bowling and a nice meal tonight with 'Salina. Oh and Paris and I made his requested vanilla cake and buttercream. I found this recipe. I didn't realise that V and Paris had made a special trip for a cheap packet mix until I stumbled upon it in the pantry this morning. Oops.