Spring ...

has sprung and it has been a hive of industry around here. About time some might say. In the past few weeks I have planted rocket and zucchini, gotten rid of an old bar fridge that was taking up room in the kitchen, replaced it with a stainless steel bench that looks fab, killed a redback in the back yard, and generally de-cluttered and tidied.

But the thing I am most excited about is my newly thought up method of covering up an extremely ugly light fitting. We have 4 of these in our house and they have been bothering me for years. It is a rental so there isn't much we can do about them and I have been thinking long and hard about what I could do to cover them up. I had considered making some kind of drum shade to cover them up but that all seemed like a lot of work, requiring equipment I didn't have and I thought that perhaps it might be too heavy. The ceiling in the dining room was water damaged a few years ago and I am not confident that it would hold up anything too heavy. Anyway, last night I hit on the idea of fabric, attached with a bulldog clip, to hold up the light fittings. And today, whilst charity shopping with the family in Riverwood I found a lovely little white cot sheet with broderie anglaise lace edging. Very sweet and only $3. I got it home and initially panicked that it was too small but then got up on the dining room table and bunched it up over the light fititng and attached with bulldog clip. Ever so simple and effective. I just had to tweak the fabric here and there and push the bulldog clip down so you couldn't see it from below and 5 minutes later, it was done. Here are some pics:

This is an example of the light fitting, from the lounge room:

Truly hideous, wouldn't you agree?

And the end result:

Now I just need to find appropriate fabric for the other three lightfittings. An excuse to do some more charity shopping I guess, or perhaps a visit to Spotlight is in order. In the meantime I have Chet's 4th birthday party to plan, some sewing to get to and some counselling study to finish. I am hoping that spring is going to be much more productive than winter was ...

Vegan banana cake

Towards the end of last year I was diagnosed with a range of food intolerances. Some, like a wheat intolerance, I already knew I had but others were quite a surprise. Kidney beans, egg white, almonds and corn also showed up as well as cow's milk, cashews, pear and melon. This has been quite difficult, especially as I often used to use almond meal in place of flour, not to mention eating polenta practically on a weekly basis. So I have been working on my diet and also trying to change the way I bake in order to fit in with my new food regime.

One thing I often made was Stephanie Alexander's simple banana cake. Very easy and very yummy but containing things like eggs, flour and butter. The other day I had some very soft bananas and thought I would give the recipe a go, but swapping the ingredients I couldn't have for those I could. Besides, I need to start doing something with the 5 kg of spelt flour I bought recently. Here is my interpretation of Stephanie's recipe.

Ingredients:
100 g coconut oil (approx)
1 and a half cups of sugar
Natural egg replacer to the equivalent of 2 eggs
1 cup ripe mashed banana - I used 5 bananas
Few drops of pure vanilla
250 g spelt flour
1 teaspoon bicarb
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon allspice
1/2 cup goats milk mixed with 1 teaspoon of lemon juice

Putting it together:
Line base of a loaf tin with baking paper.
Preheat oven to 180 degrees C.
Mix oil and sugar with barmix until light and fluffy.
Beat in egg replacer, banana and vanilla.
Add dry ingredients and goats milk and lemon juice.
Spoon into tin and bake for 1 hour.

Enjoy!

Needed and wanted

We are working on the difference between needs and wants right now. An important life lesson for sure, and one I don't always have a handle on. Yesterday Chet was building a garage out of a Wiggles domino set and some duplo and was looking for a space to put one his cars. He turned to me and asked: "is it needed or wanted?" Excellent question I thought, and explained that it was wanted - cars don't 'need' garages but it would be nice sometimes for them to have them. I then went on to say that he needs food and water and air and sleep and cuggles and he grinned at me and said 'yes, and kisses too'. I think he has got the idea mostly, although not sure the conversation will stop the daily plaintive demand that he 'needs ice-cream'!

Wordle

Been playing around with Wordle tongiht using this blog's URL. This is what I get:



It's kinda fun - combining geekiness and words, what's not to like? A new header for the blog might be in order.

On a side note, a lot has been happening since I last posted - Chet is now toilet trained, I got a new computer (Macbook Air, fantastic, just need to work out how to do a few things), we went on holiday, it was my first Christmas since my Dad died and Minx went missing - we did find her after 5 days, thankfully. Summer has been pretty dire so hardly any beach time but we did manage many trips to charity shops over the Christmas break. The K-man decided to start buying 70s plates (and believe me, we do not need any more places, 70s or otherwise). As quickly as I could get rid of stuff he was busily acquiring more. So much for de-cluttering, an endless process it seems. Now that the year has well and truly begun I should have a bit more time to spend here. We shall see!

Happy things ...

Life for the past few months has been a bit blah, one way or another, so I have been grasping with both hands anything that makes me happy. Here are some of the things that have taken me to a happy place recently.

A beautiful figgjo teapot I found on the street on morning on my way to work. I immediatley scooped it up and hurried home with it. It was a bit dusty but otherwise in good condition. It makes me smile every time I see it.



A blue own from Vinnies, on a hand-knitted (by me) placement made with wool also sourced from Vinnies, on knitting needles from eBay. Sustainable creativity at its best! Be warned friends, you may be the recipients of hand-knitted place-mats or coasters in the near future.



It is spring and my lavender is flowering for the first time. I have also planted some cherry tomatoes and am hoping for a bumper crop.



And finally my boys on Fathers Day. They make me smile every day.

Compliments ...

Chet is becoming quite the complimenter. Yesterday, he saw our neighbour's sister and thought it was our neighbour, Liz, and said "I like Liz's hair", because the sister's hair was quite different to Liz's and he had noticed the difference. This morning he saw me getting into the shower and said "Mummy, I like your belly button". That is where he should have stopped. I (foolishly) asked him why and his response: "because it is funny!" I wonder if he will be a charmer when he grows up?

African reading ...

I've been reading a lot lately, mainly about Africa, Zimbabwe to be precise, in an effort to understand a bit more about where I come from and where my father came from. I guess it is partly to understand my father a little better, seeing as he is no longer around for me to ask questions. Also because some of the people described in these books remind of some of the people who came to my Dad's funeral - they all seem to have a certain look about them. In a review I read of one of these books, the reviewer intimated that the last thing the reading public needed was another white man's view of the situation in Zimbabwe but they did go on to say that the book in question did add something to the oeuvre. From my perspective these books did add something to my knowledge and understanding of my past and of the recent past of Zimbabwe. All three books resonate with a love of country and a bewilderment regarding the current state of affairs in Zimbabwe. The absurdity of day to day life in a corrupt third world country is highlighted as well.

The three main books I have read are:

The Last Resort: A Memoir of Zimbabwe
by Douglas Rogers
It was funny and sad and absurd all at once and the tenacity of the author's parents is to be admired. Rogers now lives in New York, but was born and grew up in what is now Zimbabwe. From goodreads: "The Last Resort is an inspiring, coming-of-age tale about home, love, hope, responsibility, and redemption. An edgy, roller-coaster adventure, it is also a deeply moving story about how to survive a corrupt Third World dictatorship with a little innovation, humor, bribery, and brothel management."


Cocktail Hour under the Tree of Forgetfulness
by Alexandra Fuller
The author's brother was born in the same hospital I was born in, the Lady Chancellor Maternity Home in what was then Salisbury. Fuller now lives in Wyoming with her family. She tells a moving tale of her family's long engagement with Africa, from Kenya, to Zimbabwe to Zambia. She clearly loves her mother, despite her mother's complaints that she is going to put her in 'another awful book'. "A story of survival and madness, love and war, loyalty and forgiveness, Cocktail Hour Under the Tree of Forgetfulness is an intimate exploration of the author's family. In the end we find Nicola and Tim at a coffee table under their Tree of Forgetfulness on the banana and fish farm where they plan to spend their final days." - goodreads.

When a Crocodile Eats the Sun: A Memoir of Africa
by Peter Godwin
Written by another Zimbabwean who lives in the US, Godwin is a bit older than the other two writers and actually served time in the Rhodesian army. The book starts with his father's heart attack which really resonated with me given my father's heart condition and his recent death from heart failure. Like the other two books this concentrates on the recent collapse of Zimbabwe following the start of the farm invasions and land grabs that ultimately resulted in the destruction of the economy and looks at how the author's friends and family cope in the aftermath of this. His sister ends up having to leave the country and his parents remain in Harare sinking slowly into a poverty stricken old age.

Leaps and bounds ...

"We are born naked and stay naked for only a few moments until we are wrapped in our first clothes. In our small shoes, our little trousers and tops and shorts, until we grow out of them in leaps and bounds, and begin to develop our own ideas about what to wear - we have always got something or other on."

The Thoughtful Dresser
Linda Grant

Where ...

It has been a while between updates and I am slowly coming to terms with a whole lot of stuff that is happening at the moment. But, Chet continues to delight. He has lately become the boy who cried 'where?' - at every opportunity. I ask him if he wants some toast, and his response is 'where?' I ask him if he wants to put on his boots and he shouts 'where?', pretty much any question I might ask him could be guaranteed a response of 'where?' He still loves The Beatles and has a Beatles towel that we have to fix round his neck with a peg so he can run around and be 'super Chet'. Here is a photo of him enjoying dry wheatbix that he helped himself to while I was in the shower.

I have been reading a lot - my usual way to make sense of life. The other day I came across the following, which neatly sums up the way I am feeling.

"Whatever a family's tragedy, children demand to be cared for, fed, and played with. This is, I think, one of the great blessings they bring to our lives. Mourning must be filtered through the lens of their all-consuming needs, and their infinite capacity for joy." Death gets a time-out by Ayelet Waldman.

And so everything changes ...

I have been meaning to update for a while. A few things have happened since I last wrote - I turned 40, Chet said and did some funny stuff and was very cute, the K-man was sick, there was an earthquake in Japan and the Minx was the Minx. But, my world tipped off it's axis yesterday. My father died. He collapsed while trying to start the lawnmower and the ambos were not able to revive him. He had had a heart condition for a long time but even so it was relatively unexpected.

In the wake of that everything else seems insignificant. Chet and I are going up to Queensland tomorrow to be with my mother and help organise the things that need organising. My brother is flying in from Japan. We are all in a state of shock. I keep expecting to see something about it on the news and then I remember that it is only newsworthy to me and my family and my friends. He was my Dad and I loved him. It could be a while before I write again ...

Nothing peoples

Life and conversations with a two year old continue to delight and frustrate in equal measures - I am sure most parents would agree with this. But the strange and funny conversations continue. Chet is currently talking a lot about various people who haven't bitten his toe. As in "Grandpa not bite my toe" - he told me this last night, just before bed, apropos nothing. I asked him who did bite his toe and his response was that the "nothing peoples" bit his toe which I took to mean that no one actually did bite his toe at all. But, on reflection, perhaps it was the nothing peoples, whoever they may be. They may be related to the Beatles song, Nowhere Man which he knows well and refers to simply as "Man".

Big boys

We are currently visiting my parents in Toowoomba. Their cat, Snouty is a rather large and beautiful chocolate brown (part) Burmese. He is also terrified of most things, including a chicken that used to visit a while back.

Overheard a conversation (well more of a monologue really) between Chet and Snouty.

Chet: Hello Snouty, you're a big boy.

Snouty: Quizzical, slightly scared interest.

Chet: I'm a big boy too.

Snouty: Hmm, goes to run away.

Chet (in a hopeful voice): I'm two.

At this point Snouty takes off with Chet in hot pursuit.

Also overheard between Chet and slightly older boy in K-mart.

Chet: I'm a big boy.

Boy: No you're not!

Chet: I'm a big boy.

Boy: Shrug

And then they both started playing with bangles.

Fabric ...

I don't think I need to buy any more fabric or vintage sheets until I start actually using it for something. I now have two vintage suitcases full of fabric (some of which was my mother's incidentally), not to mention half of a cabinet in the dining room full of fabric, mending, knitting and other crafty things.

I also have piles of books I have read and want to write something about sitting on my desk and sewing basket. Not to mention the pile of books I haven't yet read.

January has been about trying to get organised and getting rid of a few things and to that end I have gotten rid of quite a few books and most of the remaining baby clothes. But, I still have a way to go. But, I haven't been to a charity shop this year and have managed to get rid of more than I have acquired. The beginning of an experiment in downsizing ... wish me luck.

Baking ... mini passover cakes

I have also been baking a lot lately as well - I think to make up for the fact that I don't cook dinner much as that is usually the time I am putting Chet to bed. Luckily for me the K-man has stepped up to the plate in that regard and has become a dab hand and putting together an evening meal.

I seem to often have a few oranges kicking about the fruit-bowl so was very pleased to come across a version of this recipe in Marion Halligan's wonderful rumination on cooking and gardening The Taste of Memory. I was also pleased to be able to take these mini passover cakes to a 1st birthday party recently - the mother of the birthday boy (who is Jewish) was very pleased to have something there reflecting his heritage.

Ingredients
2 oranges
4 eggs
100 grams almond meal
125 grams castor sugar
half heaped teaspoon baking powder

Process
Wash oranges and boil for 2 hours - make sure that they don't boil dry. This can be done the night before. Sometimes I might add a lime or lemon but the end result is a little more bitter.

Pre-set oven to 180 degrees
Line muffin tin with baking paper or patty cake cases. I find this makes around 12 muffin size mini-passover cakes. You could of course use a normal cake tin if you felt like it.

Purée the boiled oranges, skin and all. I use a stick blender but you could use a food processor.

Beat the eggs, rain the sugar in slowly, beat for quite a while, then rain in the almond flour and baking powder. Add puréed oranges and stir with spatula until just mixed.

Spoon mixture into prepared muffin tin.

Cook for 40 minutes or until browned and cooked through. Everything in my oven seems to take a lot longer so I sometimes end up cooking them for nearly an hour.

They are quite sticky so I usually serve them in their baking paper cases - I like to think it adds a rustic look to the cakes.

Reading ...

I have been on a massive reading bender which has been nice but feels as though my brain is a bit scrambled. I read the Millenium Trilogy very quickly on my Kobo and decided that Scandinavian crime really has got something going for it. I even bought the DVD of The girl with the dragon tattoo, that's how into it I got.

I also just read Sex and Stravinsky by Barbara Trapido which initially struck a lot of chords with me - the opening sentence "The time is the late 1970s so everyone in the house looks hideous" makes it clear that the book deals the 70s (one of my favourite decades), and is also concerned with the way things look. Tellingly, one of the main characters ends up with an architect. The book is set in the UK but there is an Australian character as well as several South African characters and part of the book is set in Durban, where my grandmother grew up and my great aunt lived for most of her life. I am a sucker for a book that references places and things I know about and the more the merrier. One of the main characters writes stories about a girl called Lola who becomes a ballet dancer - something I and a million other pre-pubescent girls have dreamed about. I liked the mirroring of Josh's academic world with the world of the characters where nothing is as it seems, everyone is wearing a mask and life becomes a funny tragic comic opera. But, I didn't like how it all tied up so neatly at the end. Two of the male protagonists effectively swap wives, and their wives in turn swap lives and daughters. I am sure that this does happen in real life but it didn't feel quite real in the book, and all happened too smoothly and easily with no real ramifications for the people involved - or so it seemed to me.

But, on the subject of husbands swapping wives, I recently read a beautifully written memoir by Jane Alison, Sisters Antipodes. Jane Alison's family became inextricably linked with another family when the two families meet in Canberra in the 1960s. Jane's father was an Australian diplomat and her family consisted of two parents and two daughters, as did this other family, who's father was an American diplomat. The daughters from the other family were of a similar age to Jane and her sister, with one of whom even sharing a birthday with Jane. Jane tells the story of the meeting of the two families from a child's perspective - somehow, she isn't quite sure how and no-one ever really says, the decision is made that she and her mother and sister will go to the US and then South American with the American diplomat while her father will stay behind with the mother and daughters of the other family. And so it set up a lifetime of wondering why and how and of searching for identity as well as the meaning of family and in turn of fathers.

Oh

and I know that October is sorely lacking in posts. This is mostly because we were away, it was Chet's birthday and we have all been sick. Am in the process of catching up ... it will happen at some point.

Thank you ...

to the man who told me I was lovely today as I was rushing to the train station at lunch time. You made my day. Had you told me this ten years ago I would have wanted to punch you in the face but I am older and fatter and more haggard and tired so these days I have more appreciation for the random compliment. I also think that perhaps you need glasses or were drunk which is fine too - nothing wrong with being drunk!

These days my compliments mostly come from Chet. He sometimes tells me that either I am pretty, my eyes are pretty or my glasses are pretty. However, he also said that some dinosaur bones in the museum were pretty so I am not 100% sure he has a grasp on the meaning of the word. Still ... better than nothing I suppose as I head inexorably towards 40.

Push me pull you

Chet has becoming very pushy lately. And I don't mean that he has become a stage parent ... He has developed a habit of pushing other kids, generally girls, and generally children that are smaller than him. We went to a third birthday party the other day and he pushed over a little girl and made her cry and hit the birthday boy over the head with a plastic plate. Admittedly the plate was purple, which is the favourite colour of both boys but still. Almost every time I take him to the park he goes to push a child and would do it unless I intervene. The other day he pushed over a girl from my mother's group, who he has known since he was about 6 weeks old.

I have to say that I am finding this new development quite confronting. I don't want him to hurt other children, and I also don't want to upset other parents. I don't feel that making him apologise to the other children is really going to change anything - I don't think he quite understands what that means and as a child I always hated being forced to apologise. So, I am left sheepishly apologising myself to the parent of the child concerned and trying to distract Chet by suggesting we go and look at the work going on at the train tracks. Fortunately the extension of the light rail that is happening at the train tracks at the bottom of the park is endlessly interesting to a small boy and there is almost always a digger or some men in flurou vests wandering about. I hope that the pushing stage ends before the track work does.

Mama gave me a new haircut ...

I cut Chet's hair last week, not for the first time and certainly not for the last time but I really didn't do a very good job. Fortunately, at just under two he is unconcerned. It is the classic Mama hatchet job. I accidentally took too much off one side so had to try and even it out on the other side. It looks like a bowl cut at the front and a bit of a bob at the back. Poor boy - luckily he doesn't seem to mind. The K-man, on the other hand, seemed to be quite upset.

I shouldn't be surprised - the K-man was apparently legendary for his blond bob, beautifully blow-dried and never a hair out of place. He often talks about how lovely his hair was in the past (the blond bob was before my time) and indeed it was. Here is the very special K-man, in his long lost youth. Perhaps Chet will look like this in the not too distant future?

Kobo

I just acquired a Kobo and am unreasonably excited about what really amounts to a small piece of plastic. But, a small piece of plastic that can contain 1000 books - how good is that? It comes preloaded with 100 books - all out of copyright, mostly Gutenberg Press titles - which is also very exciting. Finally, my chance to come to grips with Dickens and others. It doesn't work with Amazon but any e-book or magazine in the ePUB format will work with it which is one reason why I got it. And, it is relatively cheap, very simple and looks pretty good to me - although I would not say I was an expert on e-readers. We are preparing for a family trip to Japan in a few weeks and I am hoping to take most of my reading material (and Chet's) on the Kobo. This should lighten our luggage load considerably - I usually travel with at least three books and get edgy if I don't know where my next reading fix is going to come from. I have spent hours in cities in non-English speaking countries looking for bookshops with books in English, much to the frustration of my travelling companions. Now, I just have to download interesting reading material before I go and need panic no longer. It won't stop me from going to bookshops though - I just can't help it.

And, it looks as though Chet is also in danger of becoming a bookshop fanatic. When I pick him up from day-care he says to me "book shoff" in the hope that I will take him to Gleebooks around the corner from his day-care. He loves running in there, shrieking and searching for all the Thomas books. He often grabs a book, and lies down on the floor of the shop, in the aisle, and says "reading". How can I resist?