anyresemblance

Recovery

You know the old saw about waiting for buses and then 7 come along?  I feel like that with old bfs at the moment.  What is it about turning 57 which has suddenly made them turn up again being all inappropriate?  I even checked my archives to see if I had remembered a past encounter differently but nope, unreliable and needy were actually the words I used way back then.  Sidenote, been blogging since 2004.

Anyway, life is too busy for all that.  I had weeding to do, and mulching and planting of some new mint and tarragon, miscellaneous drawers to tidy and a very enjoyable drink with some people I had not seen in way too long.  Those people also invited Charlie and he had the best time raiding their lab's toy box and hanging around hoping to be fed bits of sausage.

The kid is on her last few days in town so there have been several dates with her friends and  tequila.  Sunday morning saw her and Charlie snuggled on the sofa in serious recovery.  Yesterday, I took the day off work and rented a van and we drove the old sofa and other household goods to her new place in Sydney.  It is a great flat and the sofa looks better there than it ever did in our house.  Her brother has some exacting standards so, in fact,  just like her.  We did the obligatory Tempe Ikea visit, assembled yet another Kallax unit and a bed side table.  The latter took me 3 goes (top on back to front, runners for drawer on backwards once I fixed that bit) but it goes fine and now I know what is wrong with the tv unit.

We were both tired and cold at the end of it all though and decided to eat dinner before driving home.  We ate at a nice pub and listened to mediocre podcasts to keep awake on the way home.  That did have me scheming.

Limping to the weekend

Charlie has a sore leg so we've been cutting back on the giant ball leaps and going for sedate walks in the woods.  It was cold this morning but the sky was a clear blue.  I needed the time to clear my head.  I've not been sleeping well and am looking forward to a long weekend even if it's full of tasks including getting the stupid lawnmower working.

I have two social events tomorrow in my continuing quest to become more sociable.

Brain food

I spent a day in Sydney last week (before my concussion set in) having lunch in Pyrmont.  Love that harbour view among the industrial wharves but, you know, just as happy to come home to my quiet city and walk the dog in the twilight among the gum trees and breath clear air.

I'm engrossed in three ambiguous projects but I'm not down hearted.  I'm taking the mantra of turning my job into the one I want to have.  I am also in a pilot group for a new travel and expense system and was in a focus group giving feedback this morning.  Jeez, there are some teething problems but what a bunch of whiners  determined to complain about their lot instead of getting on with it.  Not sure if it's a national sport in Australia (along with whining about how badly we did in the Olympics) but I am getting tired of it.   

Listening to all these people I would never have discovered without Spotify

Miles Glypher, Out of Time (obsessed with this)

Alice Ivy, Almost Here

Jannah Beth, Cut Sick

Mallrat, Suicide Blonde

Jackie Onassis, Let's Stay In

 

 

Violet haze

It is pouring with rain but with a slow roasting pork butt in the oven and the heating on, the house smells lovely and cosy.  I was listening to a web cast (listening because although the speakers were on camera they were peering down at the slides in front of them so could have just been on the phone for all the audience engagement) so I decided to clean out a set of drawers in the kitchen.  I have one of those nifty Ikea trolleys  (the Forhoja, had it 10 years and love it) which currently stores my wine collection  with the key bowl on top.  It sits in the space between the hallway and the entry to the kitchen and becomes a magnet for clutter but the drawers are the worst.  Jammed in there are screwdrivers, 3 torches (none working), old tennis balls, the instructions for the coffee maker, poo bags for the dog walking.  Anyway, I emptied them, replaced the batteries in the torches and chucked away some rubbish.  Ten minutes work and so soothing to the blood pressure.  Now I have to do the drawers in 2 desks, the hallway console, my dressing table, my dad's old bureau and the bachelor's bureau. No pressure.

The oldest is moving to Sydney in two weeks and I am going to have the house to myself.  She's moving to the inner west with her brother.  They did the test of assembling ikea furniture without tears so I think they will manage and, if they drive each other to distraction, well learning to negotiate with your housemates is part of learning to be a grown up.  She still has a few shifts to finish so won't move permanently just yet but our house is currently a staging post.  Their dad repaired my old sofa so we are taking that up next week.  He did such a good job I am already wondering if I should have passed it on so easily.

I am going to miss her a ton but am already scheming some furniture reorganisation.  My love affair with the Pottery Barn outlet continues as they are closing down (boo, hiss) but have even more mega sale on already discounted stuff (hooray).  I bought 100% belgian linen duvet cover for $20 and an enormous mirror for $100.  We have an old Porter desk in a nasty dark brown that was looking worse for wear so we sprayed it a dull gold and it looks great.  The kid reckons she doesn't have room for it in the new place so I will probably make that feature in my new office nook under the stairs (my gigantic study is so cold and this is so much more cosy though I might move come spring.)

I am heading to New York in Sept for a week's training.  I am beyond excited at a) New York b) getting education all for myself and c) it's on writing.  I am already scheming on the pre work.  I've already recruited my house sitter/dog walker/cat wrangler so am very excited.  

Shiner

I am all out of finesse.  A week ago, I stepped out of the shower to grab the soap and then stepped back in but didn't quite and slipped and cracked my head on the edge of the bath.  I saw stars and felt idiotic and knew immediately I had given myself a mighty whack.  Along with that has been a magnificent black eye that is still inviting stares and knowing glances (I may be chronically this for my own interest but I am not posting close ups of my black eye on the net.)

I've done a shocking job of coming up with an alternative story (spy? fighting off aliens?).  I was fine the first couple of days but woke on Friday with a massive headache and nausea.  I did a couple of calls but then my boss said "you don't sound right, I think you should go to the dr as you may have concussion".  Long story short - Emergency, Triage, wonderful pain killers and anti-nausea meds, CT scan, brain pronounced undamaged and still present, home with no reading or close viewing.

The kid spent the day with me in emergency, because she is good that way, and was disgusted at the bloke in the bed opposite moaning on about his post operative pain from knee reconstruction.  I did remind her that people have different pain tolerances but she was having none of that once she worked out from eavesdropping that he'd had the same ACL replacement she'd had at 16 "and I did not carry on like that..."

So, it's been a quiet few days not helped along  by my house guest closing a door on my fingers today.  She is having a very stressful time so I smiled with gritted teeth and told her it was fine and then yelped once she had left the house.  Good thing I was way overdue for a manicure.

Souffle

Bearnaise sauce constantly defeats me - last night's attempt resulted in curdled yuk.  I can rescue a mayonnaise but the only time I rescued hollandaise was when my father was dying.  My siblings and I were staying in a cottage in Somerset close to the care home and we were cooking salmon for dinner.  I insisted on making hollandaise in an unfamiliar kitchen and it kept splitting.  It seemed like the most important thing in the world that I must rescue it.  I had said we would have hollandaise.  I needed to control something.  I stood outside the kitchen door in the cold November night, trying to get the temperature down and whisking vigorously to bring it all together.  It worked.  My father still died the next day but I had had power over something.

When my first child was born, my mother came to stay with me.  She bought me Delia Smith's cookery bible, a souffle dish and made me cheese souffle for lunch.  I still have the dish and the book and I have never failed in making a souffle rise.  

I've been thinking a lot about my parents.  

 

57 varieties

My former husband still makes me laugh.  He sent me this yesterday to mark my birthday.  Another person sent me an email "You look like you're in your early fifties, you've still got it" I'm sure they meant well but that one was vaguely depressing.  I have to say, I actually like all the salutations you get on friend face on your birthday.  I don't care if they're going through the motions.

Despite having a lovely day, I received the sum total of one birthday card.  What happened to the days when your post box was bulging? Most disappointing.  Anyway, I scored well on the gifts: new digital kitchen scales, a le creseut teapot, a contraption for drying pasta, a sugar thermometer, some tiny copper pots... are we sensing a theme here?  All delightful.

I can't even remember what I've been doing in the last week, it is probably so tedious, but I have been listening to a not very good book which was disappointing as I liked the first one.  Some annoying plotting in this one but greatly redeemed by great reading by Gerard Doyle.  I've switched pace a bit and am listening to Elizabeth Gilbert read her book on creativity, Dream Big, which despite its annoyingly self actualising promise, is quite easy to follow and a bit of a kick start for me.