Masterchef Reject

For weeks I have been reading the blogs of women who seem to be able to cook the most amazing food for their families or quickly run up a set of clothes for their children. So feeling pleasantly domestic and hoping to acheive a similar satisfyingly homey outcome I got out the appropriate paraphenalia. I now wish that, for the short period of time I spent at a particular school attending compulsory Home Economics classes (yes, they even set tests), I had paid close attention instead of yawning my head off, wondering how on earth this was relevant to me and dreaming of being just about anywhere else.(I only lasted 6 months at that school - I begged to be sent to a far more sensible school that thought cooking should be an elective, if anything, and where I could indulge in...oh my gosh, real subjects.)

Mr I once told me of the uncanny ability of the cooking staff at his Uni college to take clearly recognisable and palatable ingredients and turn them into the most unappealing meals. One such, he and his fellow collegians chose to call Chicken Trainsmash.

Hence the title I give to the outcome of abovementioned culinary adventure - a dessert I choose to call Apple and Sultana Trainsmash.

Little Tree was excited about helping me cook a new dish. We started out peeling, coring and chopping apples for stewing. This went quite well although Little Tree did get quite frustrated that the peeler would work for me but not for him. And decided after much trial and error that it would be better if Mum did that bit. He liked cracking the egg and mixing all the ingredients for the dough and was very helpful in instructing me how to use the rolling pin.

Having rolled the dough to the correct thickness and having spread a layer of stewed apples and sultanas over the dough - we proceded to the next step in the recipe book which was to roll it all up and slice into 7 or 8 segments. Had this worked we would have ended up baking something like this.....

Fate intervened. The dough started to stretch and stretch, stick to the floured surface and the fruit started oozing everywhere. At which point Little Tree stated quite categorically that "Mummy is eating that " and definitely not himself. Trying unsuccessfully to rescue everything I eventually decided I had two choices - throw the whole lot in the bin and leave it to more experienced bakers or to pick up the lot and dump it into the greased cake tin and cook it anyway. Well, being someone who hates to waste good food, I chose the latter while thinking that maybe it would still taste okay even if it no longer looked anything like the intended dessert. This was the result....

Having tasted it (very chewy) I know why the book calls for caramel sauce. Anyway, I made a quick call to Mr I to pick up some cream and crossed my fingers that I could at least make a decent caramel sauce.

In hindsight what went wrong? The dough was too wet - "add water to make a soft dough". What is a soft dough supposed to look and feel like? Obviously an assumed level of knowledge was required. The stewed apples still too warm ( I did wonder at the time) and next time, if there's a next time, I will roll out the dough on paper to assist in the rolling up. And maybe I'll stick to singing and shop at the bakery - that way we'll both be doing what we've spent years training for.

Evolution, Wise Friends and Nebulae

I can't believe we are halfway through the month already.

Little Tree is home from school at the moment with a nasty cough and cold. So we have train set, colouring pencils, puzzle books, toy cars, blocks and plastic animals from one side of the living room to the other. Making it somewhat of an obstacle course to get to bookcase/TV/stereo/sofa or just about anywhere. Apart from the sniffles and coughs and wanting to go to bed earlier than usual, you wouldn't know there was anything wrong. He maintains his usual happy, playfull, energetic self which is just delightful. I would find it distressing if he turned into a demanding, sulky, miserable child - that would mean he really was seriously ill.

I was recently lent a book called "The Mayan Calendar and the Transformation of Consciousness" by Dr Carl Johan Calleman. I found it fascinating in many ways. Not least of which the idea that my impression of the speeding up of time is not that I'm getting older but rather the increasing frequency of creative events occurring now (and has been increasing since "the big bang"). The idea that we are on the verge of moving away from the dualist mind to unity and co-creation seems to go hand in hand with the move by so many people this year (including me) to find a new path or approach to life as the old one no longer seems relevant.

Isn't it funny how things come to you out of the blue that support your journey.

Wednesday last week was one of those days when a quick walk into the village turned into a three hour sojourn into wisdom. Firstly, I bumped into a friend and her daughter and was invited to join them for chai. Daughter spoke about a dream and Simone, while trying to help daughter interpret it, reminded me that if I find my life not to my liking at the moment, the obstacle/s to finding it otherwise are in my mind. Later I bumped into another couple of friends who were talking about the holographic universe and how we are connected to everything else but our dualist minds cannot see this. Having left them to their shopping, I quickly came face to face with another friend who helped me reconnect with the truth that I am (as we all are) much bigger than the life in which I find myself . All these interactions put everything into a broader, deeper and richer perspective and I walked home feeling more profoundly "true" than when I left. That evening I found, quite by accident (or was it?), a programme on SBS called Cracking the Colour Code. It talked about colour and how we are able to see colour. What really touched me was the images of stars and nebulae and the knowledge that I am made of the same stuff. So there I was sitting on the sofa in profound awe knowing I am materially and energetically connected to those stunningly beautiful nebulae.

On another note. Last night I watched the second half of an interview with Sir Ken Robinson, an expert in creativity and innovation, speak about how we are letting our children and our society down with our current education system. He advocates a radical review of the system in order to nuture creativity in our children. To enable them to find that place in themselves where interest/talent/passion intersect and to support them on their unique educational journey. This does not happen with a standardised curriculum and assessment system and where different modes of learning i.e. visual, auditory or kinesthetic are ignored. Where maths, sciences and languages have more status and quite often more funding over humanities, art, music, dance.

I'm hoping to obtain a copy of his book "The Element: Finding Your Passion Changes Everything". I would love to find an alternative education for Little Tree. Unfornately, independent schools do not get the same level of funding for aides as government run schools and Little Tree needs an aide or I would have liked to see how he managed in the Steiner system. If I thought I was up to it, I may have considered home-schooling - provided he was able to socialise often with other children being home schooled. I just think a lot more lateral thinking and creativity could be used in teaching these special needs children - something further on which to ponder.

Love and blessings to all on your unique and wonder filled journeys.

First Day of Winter

This is what I like about Winter - the skeletal frames of unclothed trees, accessorised only by filigree seed chandeliers yet to be dislodged by the wind.

Winter greeted us with a shower of rain this morning and given the frequency of floods over the last months I started feeling a little paranoid. However, the clouds parted and for a little while - long enough to walk into the village shops and back again - we had lovely sunshine. So, in honour of Winter I have included a poem written by fellow blogger Mark Williams.

Charm for a garden at the end of Summer

This hop-lapped vessel
a green lion
fiercely prowls.

Man-legged, leaf-shanked one,
hear! Stride bone-shards,
smoke-briars,

repent your sway
of moss and fern.
Cast off your herb-pelt

and with your roar, shiver
this sealed alembic:
let outside in utterly.

Call pear and apple,
bid them bare their breasts
to wasp's bite. Call swallows

to stitch up the wounds
with thread of shadow. Call night,
call winnower, eat ashes

and underglow. Set down clay too
for you, death,
bread's sunbrowned echo.

Pigeon and blackbird, hush.
Hold the curved silence
you remember from the egg.

O blood, thicken in the vein
sink down. O root beneath,
sing for the frost lode.

And Now For Something Entirely Different

Not!

Well, so much for my wishful thinking. It is still raining but the creek has receded. I've checked the Council website and we are still cut off in all directions. The river is now at moderate flooding levels rather than major and the radar shows that the rain should be clearing if somewhat reluctantly. We were still trying to wake up at 7.30 this morning when a helicopter (SES or RFS from the markings)landed in a clearing not far from here having made a couple of good sweeps over the area, no doubt assessing damage. The last two floods we were subjected to a barrage of media helicopters landing and taking off for days. But this time they are visiting Grafton, Lismore and Kempsey where flooding is a more infrequent occurrence.

We had planned to visit the local agricultural show so Little Tree could visit the baby animals, watch the wood chopping and the horse events but with all the flooding it has been cancelled. Luckily we had not put this event on his calendar before the flood warnings or we may have had some issues trying to explain the change in plans.

Our cat Shu-shu, or Shuey as Little Tree calls her, has the right idea - she's presently curled up on the bed. And spoilt cat that she is, I'm not going to disturb her by making the bed or trying to photograph her. So here are a couple of photos I took earlier - much earlier (note the sunshine). I never seem to be able to get a shot with her looking at the camera.

So another day of cooking and painting and singing practice - if Little Tree doesn't get too distressed. (The singing isn't bad, it's just loud!!)

Water, Water, Everywhere...

And you wouldn't want to drink it.

Here we go again. We are now experiencing our third major flood in as many months. So yet again Little Tree is home from school and Mr I came home early to avoid being stranded.

Please excuse the quality of the photos - they are from my phone as our camera has packed up.

Above is the small reserve at the bottom of our garden. The creek has clearly broken it's banks.

Right is the path that runs alongside the creek below the reserve.

Much to my surprise, we still have power. Very strong winds have accompanied this lot of rain and at this very moment I can see the weeping bamboo being whipped around and the trees bending and can hear the roar of the wind in the tree tops - I hope that if any trees come down they kindly miss the house.

Little Tree has amused himself with Thomas the Tank Engine and perusing the latest Thomas Yearbook and pointing out which engines, trucks or accessories he wants next. So far in order we have Diesel, Hector, "coaling plant", Oil Derrick and no doubt he will come up with a new request to add to the list before the end of the day. He has also been painting and listening to his favourite CD - Children's Christmas Carols!!!! Well, at least we are closer to the correct season for it.

Hopefully, we will wake up tomorrow and the wind will have dropped, the sky will be clear and sunny and we can start cleaning up the mess.....again.

Journeying

There must be something in the air this year. Everyone I know is journeying. Whether they're taking off to the Kimberleys for six months, or taking a trip around Oz, starting something they've never done before, moving house, dying (!!!) or journeying inwardly - which is where I am.

I started this year thinking that something had to change - that I could not continue to approach the world in the same manner, as it obviously was no longer serving me.


I was even disatisfied with my singing. I pulled out of concerts and exams as I found my heart was no longer in it - at least not to perform in the traditional way. Images of Red Priest and Corvus Corax came to mind and my imagination ran wild as to the type of performance I'd like to be a part of. The importance of all that has been dislodged for the time being by this inner journeying. And I'm really surprised that I'm not feeling distraught. I feel I'm putting things to one side in order to make space for something new.


I've been trying to find that real place in me beneath or behind all the facades and roles I play in order to feel I fit in and am acceptable to the people I'm with. I want to practise stepping into my skin or stepping into life. In the odd moments I can do that - usually when I'm on my own - I've been feeling a peace and contentment that is just.....bliss.


It doesn't seem to matter how much reading or listening I do - without the correct key, it merely remains knowledge rather than understanding. And I feel I'm only just beginning to get a mere glimmer on a subject I thought I understood. Ah well.....just call me Shrek!! (You know, "Ogres are like onions - they have layers.")hehehe.

Birthday

There are only 5 days of school holidays left and I'm feeling guilty taking more time out to blog.

Yesterday, with sun shining brightly, we took down the streamers and balloons from Little Tree's birthday party. We'd left them up for a week which given the dull grey rainy days has given the house a cheery feel. I tied all the balloons together to make a giant colourful grape bunch. He's been having a lovely time running with them trailing behind bumping into the wind chimes on the verandah, needless to say some of the balloons have since burst - much to his amusement.

His favourite presents were, no prizes for guessing, Thomas the Tank Engine track and Bill and Ben engines to add to his already extensive collection. His next favourite present was a book called "My cat likes to hide in boxes" because "The cat from Brazil caught a very bad chill" which apparently is absolutely hilarious which in turn has us laughing which has him laughing and we end up with tears on our faces and aching tummies.

There is no point trying to have the kind of party for him that I once imagined we might. One with friends and fairy bread, party games and singing happy birthday. He would just run away screaming and shut himself in his room. He let us sing happy birthday for the first time on his 8th birthday ( I was so happy I nearly crushed him with a hug) so this year there were no problems and even a big smile.

Grandma and Grandad came as well and Auntie S Uncle A and their 3 girls, exchange student Poy and Mr I's Uncle David and Aunt Maggie. Little Tree coped very well with the influx of people (especially since he knows them all very well) and since everyone was happy to comply with instructions not to touch his track he was very happy.

Being unconcerned with convention, he was loud in stating he was tired and wanted to go to bed (earlier than usual) - before the candles had been lit, song sung and cake cut. Not wanting to risk a quick descent into sensory overload meltdown, I chose to leave my partially eaten dinner to bring out cake with candles lit and coax him into the midst of birthday guests to blow out candles with as much spit as puff - oh well!!! The chocolate birthday cake was enjoyed immensely, evidence of which was smothered all over his face!!!!

Then it was bath, story and sleep...come on, sleep... please, just close your eyes - that's it.....(door slams) bugger! Breathe. Everyone left soon after Little Tree went to bed and the washing up and generally cleaning up had been done - bless them. So with a quiet house he did finally drop off to sleep and I could reheat my meal and enjoy birthday cake, undisturbed. mmmmm lovely.

We might do something quieter next year - a picnic perhaps.