THE SPRAIN (PART 1)

‘Can you come and watch me play netball today Lee? Please?’

This is the question Jade asked a couple of Sundays ago, when her team were playing at their home ground in Heathcote.

Now, I usually don’t go to Jade’s netball, because Charlie get’s a little white line fever (her never yells out anything nasty – just positive stuff and cheering on the Jade’s team mates, but he’s negative toward Jade and it shits me), and a few seasons ago, Jade and I had a blow out one day, and she said some nasty things that resulted in me backing off in a lot of areas of her life.

Needless to say, I gave her what she wanted at the time, and she’s regretted it ever since.

I hadn’t seen Jade play for a while, and certainly not at all this season, so I agreed to go along with her.  It will only be for a couple of hours, right?  I have heaps of things to do this afternoon, but will have plenty of time when I get back.

So, we waltz into the stadium, and I see a few ladies that I haven’t seen for a while.  I have a gasbag to them as Charlie watches the remaining time in the Under 14 match. 

He loves watching nettyball.  Use to think it was a stupid sport, but now he understands just how competitive and challenging the game really is.  See, sometimes boys can learn things.  Yep: a miracle – I know.

After the Under 14’s finished, Charlie declared his hunger, and wandered off to find something to eat.  When he returned (with my most favourite thing ever – a hot dog), we found ourselves a seat in the bleachers, and settled in to watch Jade’s match.

I was so excited to find myself sitting next to a group of supporters for our opposition, three of which were fucken teenagers *rolls eyes*.  This was gonna be fun.

So, predictably, they got a little nasty through the course of the first quarter, slagging off our team and the way they were playing; as ya do when you’re a teenager.

Then Jade did an awesome intercept, and turned the ball over.  This of course led to a couple of nasty comments from the peanut gallery beside me.

‘She’s a fucken bitch, that chick.’ The trollop beside me stupidly said.

‘Yeah.’ Said the girl sitting behind her.  ‘I like remember her from last time.  She was always getting in the way…’

‘Excuse me…’ I said politely, and trollop turned to me.  ‘That ‘fucken bitch’ as you called her, is my daughter. So I would kindly ask you to pull your head in.  Or move.  Your choice.’

‘Oh… sorry…’ she went about fourteen shades of red.

‘Also,’ I said, turning to the girl behind her.  ‘She’s supposed to get in the way.  It’s called defence?’

I figured it was one of their mothers sitting on the other side of them that just turned and gave me a blank look.  Possibly saw the size of me and thought better of mouthing off.  Fuckwit.  What kind of parent are you?  I’d smack Jade up the back o’ the head if I heard her talk like that about an opponent.

So, half time rolls around, and the trollops disappear (no surprise), and Charlie starts chatting about the technicalities of netball as I surf Facebook (yes; Facebook was more interesting than Charlie).

A few minutes into the third, and that’s when it happens. 

A swift change of direction; a slight imbalance.  One moment she’s on her feet; the next, she’s on the boards, holding her ankle and crying out.

Pour darlin wasn’t going anywhere in a hurry.

I’m up on my feet, wanting to run screaming across the court like a hysterical parental, but know I can’t (because we’re not allowed on the court, and the umpires are particularly strict today, and the team could get in trouble, even tho Jade is lying there broken). 

Kate and Greenie, the team coach and manager, hurry onto the court, assess the situation, and help carry Jade off.  Gorgeous little Gabby, Greenie’s five year old daughter, also helps carry Jade off (by holding onto her father’s arm - bless her well intentioned little heart).

‘She may have broken it…’ Charlie mutters.

‘I think she’s rolled it, champ.  Ligaments?  A sprain maybe?’ I suggested.  All I kept thinking was that I didn’t hear a ‘snap’.

‘I dunno…’ he said, hands on hips.  Fucken captain over-reaction.

‘You go around the court and see what’s going on.  I’ll wait here.’ I say to Charlie, and he’s off.  There’s not a lot of room on the sidelines, so less arses over there the better.

The game continues, and through the moving bodies, I can see Jade crying, her leg propped in front of her, and three people (and gorgeous Gabby) discussing the situation.  Charlie turns and looks at me, shakes his head, and waves me over.

I hurry around the court (as fast as my fat arse in high heel boots will hurry anyway), hoping and praying it’s not broken.  When I get there, I’m hit with three people at once.  Poor darlin’s are stressing for Jade.

‘Okay guys.  One at a time.’ I smile calmly. ‘What the fucks going on?’

‘We’re not sure, Lee.’ Kate starts explaining.  ‘Her ankle’s blown up a bit…’ and as I look at it, I can see that it’s doubled in size.  Thankfully, she’s still got her sock and shoe on.  ‘We didn’t take her shoe and sock off, because it could well be supporting it if it’s broken.’

‘Wise move.’ I nod, rubbing Jade’s back and wiping her face.  She’s panicking and I can see her start to hyperventilate.  ‘Dude; look at me.’  She looks up, tears pouring down her face.  ‘Breathe.  Stop panicking, and breathe.  You’re not dead.  You’ll be fine.  Breathe in through your nose; out through your mouth.  Control your breathing, and that will control the pain.’

She calms down instantly.  Not the time for her usual attention seeking drama.

‘Lee,’ Greenie’s calm voice comes from behind me.  ‘I think we might be best to call an ambulance, just in case it’s broken.’

‘They will also be able to give her the Green Whistle for the pain, too.’ Kate added.

Aahhhh…. The Green Whistle.

Kate was right; the ambulance would be able to relieve her pain and get her comfortable.  They would also be able to slip her through the back doors and hopefully, attended to quickly.

‘Good idea.’ I agree, looking at Charlie.  ‘We have ambulance cover, so let’s do it.’  He nods, relieved at my ‘we have ambulance cover’ comment. Hahhaaa.

‘Cool.’ Greenie said.  ‘I’ll go call one now.’ And disappears out of the stadium for better reception.

I turn back to Jade. ‘Champ.  You need to keep that breathing going, just like I taught you, because you’re going to need to manage your pain when the ambo’s get here.’

‘What do you mean?’ she asked in a scared voice.

‘Because honey, they’re going to take your shoe and sock off, and poke around at your ankle.  They’re gonna want to see if it’s broken, love.  And it’s going to hurt.’ I put my hand on her shoulder for comfort.  ‘Plus, they’re going to move you too, and that may not be pleasant either.  So get your breathing under control, and get ready.  When the ambo’s get here, the fun’s gonna start.’

OLYMPICS

Apparently, the Olympics are on.

If it weren’t for the complete saturation of both print and digital media for the last two weeks, I would never have known *rolls eyes*

Am I the only person out there that doesn’t really care? 

Is it un-Australian of me to say that?

I mean, I do enjoy the Olympics, and I get that it’s only once every four years and all, but… I think I’m already over it?

And I think I’m over it because of the media saturation I’ve endured for weeks now. 

I think if I see any more green and gold, I’ll puke.  Why do we have green and gold anyway?  Can someone explain that to me?  Why not blue with the union jack and stars all over it?  That would be purdy.

And what’s with the ‘team uniform’?  I’m confused.  There are so many variations to the uniform that I can’t even concentrate.  Why not just send the athletes out there in acid wash skinny leg jeans, wife beaters, flannel shirts and thongs.  Throw in a stubby for good measure, and there’s your team uniform. 

We could use some condoms for embellishments.

Sure: it’s an honour to represent your country.  Without a doubt.  To be standing on a dais in London, a gold medal slung around your neck as you try to hold back your tears as the anthem plays…. the reality is that you’re not only the best in the country at this shit; you’re now the best in the world. 

Or the luckiest.

So, over the next two weeks, we’ll see some of our champions deliver our expectations, some will fail, and absolutely nobody’s become household names.

Point in case: Stephen Bradbury.  No one had ever heard of this dude until his entire opposition in a skating race fell down in front of him.  All he had to do was stay on his feet, and grab the gold medal as he sailed past the finish line.

Legendary stuff.

Of course, you don’t even have to be fit to compete.  Point in case: Russell Mark, who is now more famous because of his hot wife, and not being able to ‘sleep’ with her in the Olympic village. 

If I had a wife like that, I wouldn’t want to be separated from her either.  Not because I’d end up with blue balls, but because every other horny Olympian that’s finished their events and wants to fuck anything with a pulse, would be after her.

I think I’ll take up shooting shit, and work my way toward the 2016 Olympics. I reckon I’m in with a shot (pardon the pun).

I do feel sorry for some athletes, though.  The weight of an entire country rests upon their backs.  That surely must be weighing them down.

Not if you’re James Magnussen though, who’s be banging on about his own awesomeness for months now.  He appears to be okay with it.  Forget quiet confidence; he’s fucken right out there with it.

Hope he doesn’t fuck up and bring home silver.  Disappointed….

I actually went through the dilemma of whether or not I should get up at 5.30am and watching the opening ceremony.  I like the opening ceremonies.  Except for when the teams coming in.  That’s as boring as bat shit. 

Sleep won.  Though, I did get up about 6.30-6.45am, and watched about fifteen minutes before having to organise my shit and get to water aerobics.

I love the cultural references and acknowledgements that the opening ceremonies contain.  It’s incredible to watch an amazing story unfold; the evolution of an entire country. 

The fifteen minutes I watched contained a group of youths partying their way through nightclubs and included music from the ‘60’s to now, with specific references to the Sex Pistols, The Prodigy and Train Spotting. 

So, the snippet of British culture I was subjected to was about kids that lives were ruled by social media, anarchy, fire starting and drug fucked losers.

Brilliant.

So, the medal tally will start ticking over thick and fast now, and no doubt Great Britain will be at the top of the heap.  When they’re enjoying lovely, air conditioned rooms in the games village, why wouldn’t they?

Apparently, they have mega bucks invested in these games.  They’re desperate to clean up, because not only are they on their home ground, but all the whinging poms want to do is beat Australia.  At something.  Anything.  Other than cricket.

Of course, they do this in the sports that don’t really count.  Which is pretty much everything other than swimming, gymnastics and athletics. 

As far as I’m concerned, swimming, gymnastics and athletics stuff are the only Olympic sports. 

Soccer is not an Olympic sport.  Tennis is not an Olympic sport.  Shooting is not an Olympic sport.  Basketball and Netball are not Olympic sports.  Boxing or martial arts shit is not an Olympic sport.  Diving I’m still unsure about, because it involves water.  In saying that, Water Polo is not an Olympic sport.  Synchronised Swimming is not even a fucken sport.

All these fucken sports are included.  I don’t know why, and quite frankly, I don’t care.  As long as the athletes of Australia have something to strive for, I’m happy.

And, as long as we beat Great Britain.

Fuckers.

Go Straya!  Peace out.

LEMON BLUEBERRY LOAF

So, this will be hitting our lunchboxes this week.  Yummo!!!

Note the elaborate plating (Masterchef style: not).

LEMON BLUEBERRY LOAF

For the Loaf:

1 1/2 cups + 1 tablespoon all-purpose flour, divided

2 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 cup plain whole-milk yogurt

1 cup sugar

3 large eggs

2 teaspoons grated lemon zest (approximately 2 lemons)

1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

1/2 cup vegetable oil

1 1/2 cups blueberries, fresh or frozen, thawed and rinsed

For the Lemon Syrup:

1/3 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice

1/3 cup sugar

For the Lemon Glaze:

1 cups confectioners’ sugar (icing sugar), sifted

2 to 3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

Preheat the oven to 180 C. Grease bottom and sides of one 9 x 5-inch loaf pan; dust with flour, tapping out excess.

In a medium bowl, sift together flour, baking powder and salt; set aside.

In a large bowl, whisk together the yogurt, sugar, eggs, lemon zest, vanilla and oil. Slowly whisk the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients.  In a separate bowl, mix the blueberries with the remaining tablespoon of flour, and fold them very gently into the batter. 

Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake 50 to 55 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the centre of the loaf comes out clean. Let cool in the pans for 10 minutes before removing loaf to a wire rack on top of a baking sheet.

While the loaf is cooling, make the lemon syrup in a small saucepan over medium heat. Stir together the lemon juice and sugar until the sugar is completely dissolved. Once dissolved, continue to cook for 3 more minutes. Remove from the heat; set aside.

Use a toothpick to poke holes in the tops and sides of the warm loaf. Brush the top and sides of the loaf with the lemon syrup. Let the syrup soak into the cake and brush again. Let the cake cool completely.

To make the lemon glaze, in a small bowl, whisk together the confectioners’ sugar and 2-3 tablespoons of the lemon juice. The mixture should be thick but pourable. Add up to another tablespoon of lemon juice if the mixture is too stiff. Pour the lemon glaze over the top of each loaf and let it drip down the sides. Let the lemon glaze harden, about 15 minutes, before serving.

http://www.facebook.com/notes/recipes-between-friends/lemon-blueberry-loaf-lee-buttler/10151143546520628

ZUMBO FOR THE WIN!

The auditorium is full of spectators (all 21 rejects), and a hush falls over the crowd as the gladiators stand before their judges.

In one corner, we have the feisty little Asian, whose specialty is…. Asian.  And that’s pretty much it.  But don’t worry! Her over the top personality, and ability to sound so sincere when accepting the judges cooing compliments, is sure to convince the them that the shit on toast she serves up is worthy of the crown.

In the other corner, we have Princess Prissy, who’s got her game face well and truly plastered on.  Oh wait… she looks like that all the time.  With her hair pulled back so tight that her lips are puffed (possibly from clawing her way into the final), she’s hoping that the rounds ahead of her involve sugar, sugar and more sugar.  Don’t underestimate her.  Her bite is worse than her bark (and she’s a pretty nasty bark).

Then in the other corner (wait… how can we have a three cornered ring?  Of course – it’s a three ringed circus!!!) we have the dude food specialist, Andy.  Although he has taken a recent hit to the heart (being separated from his bro-mance buddy Ben), he’s determined to see it through, although he doesn’t know how the fuck he ended up in the title fight. 

Neither do we, Andy; neither do we.

However, this dark horse can’t be under estimated as he pulls his chef whites on and sharpens his knives; this boy has got game.

So we have our three mighty gladiators, armour gleaming, faces determined, eyes on the prize, as they enter the first battle round. 

After the first round, the gladiator that’s receives the first fatal blow will be carried from the ring, and into a life of obscurity, as no one ever remembers who finishes third in these epic battles.  And no one cares.

The gladiators have to prepare a hot entrée.  I repeat HOT entrée.  Andy delivers the biggest blow by throwing up a dish involving a massive chunk of tuna and squid ink cauliflower puree.  It looks like art on a plate, taste less shit that the others, and see’s him into the next title bout.

Princess Prissy delivers a stunning blow involving beef, turnips and fuck knows what else, but it’s enough to see her sail past the feisty Asian, who clearly doesn’t understand the concept of HOT entrée, and delivers a deliciously flavoursome salad.

With a click of her heels and the delusion that she’s done amazingly well, Audra is evicted to the stalls to watch the remaining two gladiators battle over what should have been her crown.  Shame she couldn’t cook anything other than Asian food.

Their confidence piqued, our two remaining gladiators prepare themselves for heavy, dirty, blood thirsty one on one battles. 

The first, sees favour to Andy (who still doesn’t know how the fuck he got there) by way of creating a main dish that could be Australia’s new national dish. 

This is where he delivers his master stroke.  Understanding that a banger in bread with sauce is clearly not going to get him past the harsh judges, he opts for a classic seafood platter; Masterchef style.

Battling with a lamb in the background, the Princess struggles, and although she plates up a masterpiece compared to her mighty foes dish, (which simply looks like he picked everything up and threw it at the plate from a height), the fact that she can’t cook savoury and he can really cook seafood, is plain to see.

She falters, and he seizes the moment to surge ahead.  Victory is within his grasp.  He can now taste it.

Standing there, catching their breaths after a mighty battle, the gladiators are then confronted by the pocket-sized spicy assassin (Christine Manfield), and a surprising adversary; dessert.

After tasting the tempting treat, the Princess nearly jumps out of her skin with elegant excitement, as Andy simply declares ‘that’s the best thing eva, hey?’

So the final battle begins. 

Confidence is fading for our gladiator Andy, who’s five point lead from a round of savoury awesomeness seems insecure under the strength of Princess Prissy’s confidence in a dessert challenge.

They both hit the ground running, with mixers, ice cream churners, caramel, biscuits, wafers and spatula’s flying in all directions.  Mousse has to be re-made, tweals have to be re-curled and caramel has split.

The battlefield has become a devastating mess.

Meals are presented to the judges, and the final votes are cast.

The leaders and respected citizens mingle with the past, defeated gladiators and wait in anticipation for judges to hand down their final verdict.

As family gathers, mother’s declare their astonishment at being in the presence of such important people, and sisters are excited about meeting Matt Meringue, the Princess falls as the final blow strikes home, and Andy remains standing; victorious.

To the astonished victor, who still cannot understand how he even got there, and declares that no one else would either, go the spoils.  One hundred thousand dollars for him to follow a dream he doesn’t have, a book deal to create a compendium of dude food and seafood, and a chance to cook with artists way above his calibre.  And of course, the rekindling of his bro-mance.  How sweet this victory must be.

To the fallen Princess, a token of fifteen thousand dollars, and the glory of being the first loser, cannot revive her. As she lay there, drawing her final breath, her hand reaches out, grasping for the dream of a cake shop once so close, but now so far away…

And then, from out of nowhere, Prince Zumbo sails in on his white horse (made of marzipan and glitter) and offers the Princess a paid apprenticeship in his kitchen.  The day is saved!

‘Hail to Zumbo!’ is the collective cry, as everyone embraces the wonder that is the Masterchef of 2012; the great and might Andy.

WEEK 26 & 27 SYL CHALLANGE

Hello peeps.  I’m combining these two challenges in one blog, because I feel that I’m rolling with them anyway.

I don’t know if it’s because the 52 week challenge has set me down a more simplified path (whole purpose of it, I guess), or if it was within me anyway.  Either way, I think I’ve got them pretty well covered.

WEEK 26: EVERYTHING HAS A HOME

Challenge this week: Go through your home and clear your clutter hot spots by assigning homes to things.  Be creative as needed and contain the items however best suits your home.  Make it as simple as possible – no need to create and elaborate system to house something if a simple option is available.  Sometimes, simple things like a tray, hook or basket are all that is required.  Do not create junk drawers or catch all baskets though.  Find real homes and group like with like.

I can’t stand living in a mess.  I did for years, and it drove me insane.  Through no fault of anyone elses: it was my responsibility.  However, I vowed never return to that life, and I never have.

This challenge makes sense to me, because I like everything to be neat and tidy, and I like to be able to find shit.  That’s how I read this challenge: it’s about clearing physical clutter.

In our home, everything has a home.  It saves on the physically clutter, which saves on the emotional stresses in my view.

Sure, my house isn’t perfect; far from it.  I’d be kidding myself if I didn’t admit there were things lying around.  It is a home after all, not a display home.  You will walk in the back door and more than likely see Charlie’s gym bag there, dumped in the middle of the walkway.  Drive’s me fucken nuts.  However, that’s just him, and at the end of the day, does it really matter?  It’s just a gym bag, after all.

There is also a pile of about six garbage bags of clothing and linen to go to charity as well, but that means a half-hour drive, and we just haven’t got there yet.

Things like this don’t bother me, but not being able to find stuff does.  I have systems in place for things to eliminate the stress of trying to find stuff.  There’s nothing worse that looking for that particular saucepan, and you can’t find it because someone has put it away in a different space.  Or the stress of not being able to find a specific document, because you have more shit on your desk than the chicken coop has on its floor.

It’s funny, because I look at my desk here in the study, and it’s pretty clean and tidy.  No paperwork out unless I’m working on it.  Everything is in its place.  Gives me the feeling that I’m on top of things, and there’s simply no stress.

Charlie’s desk looks like a bomb’s hit it.  Friggin shit everywhere!  However, he has the most immaculate filing system for all of his business stuff that I’ve ever seen.  It’s really impressive.  Actually, it puts my filing system here to shame! LOL! 

So, when you look at things on the surface, sometimes they are just not quite what they seem.  Charlie and I are both organised, but we just work in different ways.

The Home Audit that I blogged about a few weeks back, as a part of this 52 week challenge, was a real eye opener for me.  It highlighted some areas in my home that I felt needed organisation and improvement, and I’m pleased to say that I’ve actioned a few of those things already.

One of them was organising the playstion/wii games and equipment that were all over the place.  One area of our back room looked like a bomb site with games, controllers and friggin cords everywhere. So, I bought some storage tubs, and within 10 minutes, it was tidied up.  10 friggin minutes.  Why didn’t I do it years ago?

There was another one that had been bothering me for a long time, but I really hadn’t put any energy into working out a solution.  That was my linen press.  It just looks untidy, even though everything is stacked neatly in there.

Then, one day on Facebook, a girlfriend posted a photo off the interwebs somewhere with such a simple idea, I literally smacked myself on the head.  Why didn’t I think of that?

You know how you have a quilt set, with a cover and two pillow cases (or one pillow case in the case of single sets)?  Well, you fold the cover and place it inside one of the pillow cases, and put the other pillow case inside with it.  I’ve attached a copy of the photo that was posted on my wall (no, it’s not my linen press; I wish).

I did this with all of my quilt sets, and the space in my linen press just opened up and it looks so neat!  Now, I just pick up a ‘pillow case’, and I know that the other case and quilt cover are in there too.  Easy!!  Friggin genius whoever came up with that one.

Like the challenge suggests, sometimes some of the simplest ideas are the best solutions. 

It also comes back to routine too, I think.  Like putting your keys and purse in the same place all the time, so you know where to find them.  Dumping your swim gear in the laundry straight away, so they’re ready for the next wash load.

It all comes back to routine; which leads me perfectly into the next challenge.

WEEK 27: HOME ROUTINES & SYSTEMS

Challenge this week: Examine your household’s routines (or lack thereof), and find 1 or 2 systems or ideas that you will work on implementing and tweaking to suit your home.  They need not be major, they just need to be relevant and helpful to your situation.  Look into them further if need be and come up with your own plan or way to tailor this to your home.

When I think of routine, I think of one of my girlfriends.

She has six daughters.  Six!  I think I would kill myself, and she wants more!  She’s mental!  I use to joke with her that it took six babies for her to figure out how she was getting knocked up.  Insane! LOL!

I could not imagine the organisation that a household of eight people would need.  Routine would be essential to their home, because people wouldn’t be getting fed, watered, cleaned or clothed without it.

Then there’s home work and sports.  My girlfriend is running a taxi service on the weekend carting her girls around to various sports and activities, so organisation and logistics would be essential to their life.

When I think of how she manages all of this with such grace and ease, I can’t help but be impressed.  I’ve no doubt that its hard work, and the kids help her, but still; there must be routines and systems in place.

I think most households with families have them.  Some will be major routines, like making all of the lunches and packing school bags in the mornings for this army of children, to simple things like getting the next loaf of bread out of the freezer the night before its needed.

Routines just make a household tick over easily; simply.

Several months ago, I encountered a major problem here at home.  Actually, it wasn’t a problem at all, except for one teenager.

I have set days that I do washing.  There are only three of us here, and I don’t see the need to do washing every day.  If the washing is not there, why waste the water?  If it misses a load, it waits.

I’ve always had Monday’s as my sheets and towel days, because it’s my day off without anyone else at home.  I can strip the beds, get them in the washer, dryer and back on the beds before everyone gets home.  Same as the towels.  Done.

Wednesday and Saturday/ Sunday are clothes washing days.  That’s the way it’s always been in this house.

Then one day, one teenager has a hissy fit because something’s not washed.  Considering she missed the wash run (and had it lying on her floor for the last two weeks), didn’t matter.  She expected it to be washed, and was really nasty about it.

She didn’t appreciate me pointing out that not only do I not have to wash her clothes, and it’s her responsibility to get her clothes into the baskets in time for the loads.  Otherwise, she misses out.

After my refusal to run an entire washing machine and dryer for one single item, and the ensuing ‘shit cracking’ that followed, I knew that I had to reinforce this system a little better.  I needed to make it crystal clear.

On the wall of the laundry, I put up a notice.  I explained what get’s washed and when (just like I’ve explained it above), and that if items are not in the wash baskets in the mornings in which I’m starting the washing, they don’t get washed.  Simple.

Jade understood the little notice, and learnt very quickly to get her items into the wash.  She knew, after her recent performance and me putting up this notice, that there would be no second chances.

Now, when I put the notice up, it didn’t change the system I had in place.  I was still washing the same things on the same days.  However, the notice seemed to drive home everyone’s responsibilities.  I have no problem washing your clothes, but for me to do so; get them into the wash baskets on the days I’ve set to wash them.

The system works very well, and we never fall behind on the washing.  However, the ironing is a different matter… :D

Routines need to move with the changes if life too.  They need to be flexible.

It’s funny, because in the past, I’ve been called a ‘control freak’, because I’m a stickler for routine and organisation.  ‘Control freak’ is too easy for people to spit out when they’re feeling negative, and they often confuse it with ‘being organised’.

There is a major difference between the two, and I find the negative label of ‘control freak’ and insult.  A ‘control freak’ is dominating and inflexible, where ‘being organised’ is someone that just looks at the bigger picture and gets shit done with minimal head fucks.

Big difference.

I like being organised, and I suppose I find freedom through it.  Like now; my towels and sheets are done for the day (and sheets back on the bed), and I’ve also managed to put a morning into tennis and do some internet shit.

Life can be simplified through routine and organisation after all.

Peace out.

WEEK 25 SYL CHALLENGE: CATCH UP WEEK

As I was reading through this weeks challenge, in inwardly groaned at the thought of having to ‘reflect’ upon what I’ve done since starting this challenge nearly six months ago.

Then, as a couple of weeks rolled by (I paused on my challenges for a while), I actually sat back and thought about it.

It’s amazing how some of the simplest things I’ve introduced have made a massive impact. 

For example, as I sit here typing this, I look at my little vision board, and see that I’ve achieved some of the things on it, including the justification of an ipad.  Best thing I’ve bought in a long, long time.

This was quite a massive decision for me, believe it or not.  It’s not like I have a spare $600 lying around, you know.  I had to really think hard and research it before I made the decision to buy one.  I must say; I’ve not regretted it. 

I’ve been working very hard on my Wheel of Life issues. 

I’m kicking goals with my health and fitness at the moment.  I’m doing water aerobics twice a week, and going to the gym four times a week.  I was doing water aerobics and gym and additional day a week, but that has been replaced by something that has been such a long term goal for me, that I had actually lost sight of it.

I’ve returned to my beloved mid-week tennis.  Oh how I’ve missed that so, and I’m proud that through improving my fitness levels, I’ve been able to not only step back on the court again, but carry my load.

I’ve got my budget and the household budget under control (well, as under control as an unpredictable life can be, I suppose!), and that feels good.  Charlie and I have set financial goals for ourselves, and for the first time in a little while, I really feel like we’re moving forward together.

In saying that, one thing that we had to get completely clear, was my future. 

I love cooking and really want to explore that as a career path, but financial commitments inhibit me from doing so at this point in time. However, Charlie now understands the passion that drives me in this area, and we’re working toward a mutual goal that will bring around the opportunity to move into this field eventually.  This brings me great joy and a lot of inner peace.

I just hope I’m not dead before it happens! LOL!

I’m working on my Home Audit list, from a few challenges ago (on of the ‘De-clutter’ challenges). 

I’m astonished at how much I have embraced this, and have already implemented a few things that have tidied the place up (not that it was a mess as such), made me feel a little more organised and on top of things.

The stumbling block for me though, is to ‘not take things personally’.  I really struggle with this goal, as people’s words do cut like a knife.  Particularly when I feel like I’ve failed them.  From family and friends, the simplest things can really knock me, and I struggle so much to not take an emotional hit.

It’s comes back to the old chestnut: I’m not good enough.  My self-confidence takes a knock, and doubt fills me.  Fear of judgement takes over, and I find myself overcompensating by accommodating others at my own sacrifice.

I know I’m not alone with this issue; it’s quite common, for sure.  However, I plod along, one step and a time, one day at a time, and try to do my best, think about things a little more broadmindedly, and allow myself a better understanding of where people are coming from so that I can process things better.

 

A tough one, but hopefully, I’ll be able to push through it in time.

So, the last twenty-five challenges have seen emotional overhauls, future planning, organisation and de-clutter, and basically: trying to let go.

I think I’m on my way, but definitely not 100% there yet.  For sure.

Well, life is a challenge, so I may as well embrace it.

As I’ve said before: feel the fear, and do it anyway.

Peace out.

BANANA CUPPIES WITH NUTELLA FROSTING

So, cooking this morning (after the Black Forest Pancakes) saw me whip up these little puppies for tennis lunch tomorrow.

I’ve adapted the attached recipe, which is for muffins, into cupcakes.  Same thing, jus smaller.  You get about 20-22 cuppies out of it. 

I make the frosting with Nutella and put half a Ferrero Rocher on top.  AWESOME.

Prep: 20 minutes.  Cook: 20 minutes.  Makes: 10.

375g (2 1/2 cups) self-raising flour

1/2 teaspoons baking powder

200g (1 cup, firmly packed) dark brown sugar

2 eggs

400g mashed banana

2 teaspoons finely grated lemon rind

2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

200ml canola oil

125ml (1/2 cup) milk

250 grams spreadable cream cheese

2 tablespoons smooth peanut butter

45g (1/4 cup) pure icing sugar

Dried banana chips, to decorate

Preheat oven to 180°C. Line ten 250ml (1-cup) capacity muffin pans with paper cases.

Sift the flour and baking powder into a large bowl.  Stir in the sugar.  Make a well in the centre.  Add the egg, banana, lemon rind, lemon juice, oil and milk. Stir until just combined.

Divide the mixture among the prepared pans.  Bake for 20 minutes or until golden.  Set aside in the pans for 10 minutes to cool slightly before transferring to a wire rack to cool completely.

Use an electric beater to beat the cream cheese, peanut butter and icing sugar in a bowl for 4 minutes or until pale and creamy.

Spread icing over muffins and top with banana chips.

NOTES:  

You'll need 3-4 bananas for this recipe.

To make choc-banana muffins, replace the peanut butter with chocolate-hazelnut spread.

http://www.facebook.com/notes/recipes-between-friends/banana-muffins-with-peanut-butter-frosting-lee-buttler/10151123387235628

BLACK FOREST PANCAKES

So, I'm taking to lashing out a little for Sunday breakfast now.


I always have, in a way.  


I've always made bacon and eggs and stuff for Charlie on Sunday mornings (he loves his Sunday morning breaky), but because Jade's a vegetarian (yes; I'm a failure as a parent), I've taken to making some fancier stuff for her.


Last week, it was Strawberry & Mascarpone Stuffed French Toast.  This week: Black Forest Pancakes.


Indulging in these things allows me the luxury of experimenting with my cooking; trying new and different things, which I totes love.


I've written the recipe below for you; it's very easy.  The only difference is that I've used Ranier Cherries, as opposed to the traditional red cherries.  Just a different colour and flavour to original cherries.  Jade, a cherry connoisseur, said that the Ranier's don't have as much flavour as the normal cherries, but this dish tasted yummy anyway.  I would imagine it smashing with red's.


I've also attached the link to my Facebook page (Recipes Between Friends) where the original recipe (amongst many others!) is.  This recipe is from the website that I'm totally addicted to now: www.closetcooking.com.  Get on it.

BLACK FOREST PANCAKES

Prep: 10 minutes.  Cook: 10 minutes.  Servings: makes 2.

1 cup flour

1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder

1/4 cup sugar

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 cup milk

1 egg

2 tablespoons butter, melted

2 cups cherries, pitted and halved

2 tablespoons sugar

2 teaspoons corn starch

1/4 cup water

1/2 cup whipping cream

2 tablespoons sugar

Mix the flour, cocoa powder, sugar, baking powder and salt in a large bowl.  Mix the milk, egg and butter in another large bowl.  Mix the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients.

Heat a pan over medium heat and melt a touch of butter in it.  Pour 1/4 cup of the mixture into the pan and cook until the surface starts to bubble and the bottom is golden brown, about 2-3 minutes.  Flip the pancake and cook the other side until the bottom is golden brown, about 1-2 minutes. Repeat for the remaining batter.

Meanwhile simmer the cherries, sugar, corn starch and water over medium heat until the sauce thickens, about 5 minutes.

Whip the cream and sugar until it forms soft peaks.

To assemble, place one pancake on the plate, top with cherries mixture and cream.  Repeat process until you reach your desired number of pancakes, and top with cream and a fresh cherry.  Grate some chocolate over the top to garnish.

http://www.facebook.com/notes/recipes-between-friends/black-forest-pancakes-lee-buttler/10151123388415628


Peace out.