Because you can never have too many photos of lettuce...

Italian lollo (green) and Oak leaf - plus two sneaky garlics Freckles lettuce.

Oak leaf
Freckles (again)
What? Grew 'em myself.

Sticks in the Ground

I know everyone has been losing sleep waiting for pix of my pear hedge... And my new raspberry patch...

Yes. My hilarity knows no boundaries.

When Possums Invade...

You know how I've been moaning about the possum pee smell in my study for forever. Well, yesterday we moved my desk and this is what we found...So you see the black furry bit? That's the possums tail. And the grey furry bit? That's the REST of the Possum.

Hubby is doing man things later tonight to fix it.

God help me.

Spring has sprung

Heirloom Tommy Toe tomatoes. Yesterday there was nothing there and by this afternoon...
Broccoli seedlings...

Burning Off

Lately we've had a bit of a warm patch with the weather. Which, because its August, means burning off.
In Sydney the pristine early spring days are invariably marred by huge plumes of smoke and the smell of burning eucalyptus. Today was no exception.

At one point the smoke became thick and the the sound of helicopters had me starting up my usual bushfire pastime of staring obsessively at the smoke, pacing around the garden and checking the internet to see that all is well. Of course all was well, and within twenty minutes the smoke had died down and the choppers were gone.

As the weather has got warmer, the significance of the forthcoming bushfire season has become more real. When Black Saturday happened down in Victoria, it was the end of the bushfire season around here. We knew that for the next few months the risk of fires was going to be very low.

That, however, was six months ago.

Lately reports have been circulating of the recovery of the bushfire victims and the effected habitat. Many people still have not lost that air of shell-shock as they relate once more how they lost their entire family. I still cry to read stories of bravery, unimaginable loss and breathtaking miracles. The shattering effect that Black Saturday had has not faded for all that its been pushed to the background by cool weather and good rain.

Its got me thinking about what's to come. Last year we had two smallish fires nearby, both started by lightening strikes. Every year we get at least one. There are dire reports of this being 'the worst fire season ever' - but we get that every year around now. I think this bushfire season will be no different to the last in terms of severity. But what will be different is the knowledge that my family is as vulnerable as those people who lost everything in Black Saturday.

So I suppose the question is how is that going to change my attitude. What am I going to do differently. Will I sit here, hanging on the internet and the radio, following the updates and swap phone calls with friends and family. Well that's what I usually do. Take a few photos? Blog about it? Or will I have a plan of action, know what to do, when to leave, whether to stay? At what point to call hubby home from work. At what point to pack the car?

We have a fire plan. I've downloaded the bits from the Rural Fire Services website, discussed it with hubby. But its a daunting thought - the whole bushfire thing. A very daunting thought.

New Website

Hurray, hurray. The new website it up and running and totally un-borked.

http://www.caitlynnicholas.com/

Last Week

So, whilst George the teddy was having an awesome week at our house last week, mine was brimming with ups and downs. Here, I know, I'll make a list... (because I am a capricorn and I love lists).

1. Sent The Bunker to New York - now have fingers, toes and things crossed.
   
2. Lappy died. I KNOW. Can't I just point out that I was teetering on the brink of sending The Bunker off. I mean I was planning to do it two days later. It kind-of went bzzt, and hubby said something like, "I think its 'borked'". I have no idea what that means but I think its IT person for 'totally screwed'.
   
3. Housekeeper left - I am going to have to clean my house myself (WAAAAAAAAAAAAAH). Oh Jocelyn we will miss you SO MUCH - People ask me a lot, "How do you do it?" Meaning how do I write 95,000 word manuscripts, run a house, cope with pre-schoolers, dogs, cats, husband, cook, bake, shower, have conversations etc, etc. Well, here's the secret - I have a lot of help. Esp with the conversations. Jocelyn was a big part of that help and now she has selfishly left me to go and spend a year in Italy. Well thanks.
   
4. Completely screwed up website re-design - hubby had to save me.
   
5. Redesigned website - don't look yet, dotster is dragging its heels in redirecting the dns (I have no idea what that means either but hubby explained all about it for about thirty minutes earlier this morning - thanks hon - I had no idea I was so good at yawning with my mouth shut).
   
6. Planted my pear hedge - okay, so it looks like two sticks in the ground - but one day it'll be marvellous, in ten years or so.
7. Had a night of cackling with the girls on Saturday night - thanks Margo you're awesome (and I am SO SORRY your name was never called out on Romper Room). I think the conversation that will stay with me the longest is the one about which of our husbands have had prostate examinations from Dr Fat-fingers up at the Medical centre.
   
8. Took the kids to the Opera House yesterday. Met up with my sister and her three week old baby. So TINY and cute.

Er, I think that's it. Shall not mention trip to shoe shop with vile tempered children... am still recovering and may need counselling.

oh sigh.

George goes to Nonna's House

Today we took George to visit mumndad. Whilst I developed a migraine working on my latest masterpiece everyone else fed the cows...And discussed life with the horses. Hubby threw off his guise of mild-mannered IT Guy and spent the afternoon chopping wood with My Dad. They threw chains around tree stumps and ripped them out of the ground with the tractor, wielded chainsaws (okay hubby wasn't allowed near the chainsaw for his own safety), and even perspired a little. Hubby also saw quite a few Very Scary Bugs.

Tomorrow George goes back to pre-school, ready to spend a week with someone else. Bye George, I shall miss you.

George goes to Playgroup

George has his own special spot in the car. Here we are off to playgroup. Its freezing cold and raining today, which means I've brought hubby to playgroup to fully experience being locked inside an echoy hall with fifteen or so children. Funnily enough he spent most of the time outside on his phone begging recruitment agents to get him a job, any job.I love being on playgroup morning tea because it means I can do some baking. George, the kids and I made chocolate yoghurt mini snack cakes, Madelines and an apple teacake. Really they were only things that got me through the morning, oh that and three cups of tea, which hit my bladder at the exact time the toilets backed up.

sigh.
Miss Five has given up eating anything that isn't loaded with sugar. That and her mania for computer games has me convinced that I shall be up for Parent of the Year at any moment.

George does some baking

We've got lot's of baking to do before playgroup tomorrow, as its our day on Morning Tea. George has been helping with the Madelines.

George goes to the Woodchop

George has had a very exciting day. But not nearly as exciting as me. WELL, I mean how can you compare hanging out with a five year old who has eaten an entire bag of fairy floss and is going around and around in a teacup, with going to a gym-party and having to RUN and SKIP and DO BUNNY HOPS - all in a very jiggly bra.

I ask you.

But, this is not about me or my breasts being one centimetre closer to my navel. This week is all about George.
So our local Woodchop (which is a village fete with woodchopping involved) was on up at the pub/shopping centre today. Hubby took Miss Five (and apparently 'didn't notice' how much fairy floss she was eating). George accompanied her everywhere, down the big slide and was fascinated by the woodchopping competitions. I'm always terrified they'll take a leg off by accident, but George was pretty laid back about it all.

They got home at around lunchtime (which is when those in the pub are beered up enough to start wandering around and its best for small children to be elsewhere). Miss Five has spent the rest of the day white-faced and vile tempered. Poor thing. I've tried to redress the nutritional balance by offering vast quantities of water, fruit and other high fibre foods (like oats), but all she has done is scream "I want fairy fluff," at me. George has been unperturbed by this behaviour. Actually, I'm beginning to like George more and more. He's a bit like the dog, only he doesn't go around raping teddy bears and chewing off Barbie heads.

sigh.

George Goes To Swimming

George the teddy watching a DBD (he can't say V very well).

Meet George...

George has come from pre-school to stay at our house for the week. We will take lots of photos of George and document his week with us.He only arrived this afternoon, but he's already had some afternoon tea (fingerbuns with sprinkles) and is settling in nicely.

Kitchen Disaster...

I have just sorted out my clean laundry pile. It took me FOUR hours. FOUR. With no distractions and no rest breaks. Yes, yes. The glamorous pace continues here at chez Nicholas.

Here is last night's dinner...
Looks lovely doesn't it?

Well. It wasn't.

Yesterday I was having one of those multiple disaster days. Thus spilling a glass of water led to putting the rescued glass on the corner of the table which led to it being knocked on the floor which (not surprisingly) led to shattered glass everywhere, which led to the dog being outside, which led to the dog eating alpaca poo from the spud patch, which led to the dog being sick... and so on

So when it came to cooking lasagna for dinner, I was unsurprised to find that we had no beef stock left - I substituted Vegemite in hot-water (not exactly gourmet, but I figured it'd do) - and no lasagna sheets left either - which led to a strange assortment of left-over pastas being used and dinner downgraded to a pasta bake.

THEN I got distracted by facebook (hi Wend and Liz, yay we're friends now - please, please do not tell my husband about all the men I slept with at CSU. K? thxbai). This led to the mince being cremated. But, undefeated, I scraped off the un-burntest bits and shoved them in with the pasta.

THEN it came time for the white sauce - no drama's there. Well not until I had a bright idea. You see I have this vile vile fish oil that Jessica the naturopath insists I eat for my omega threes. I went on strike because it is so utterly vile, and we have compromised - I now take the evil stuff in capsule form. At the time Jessica suggested that I use the leftover fish liquid in cooking, to held the kids with their omega threes.

So, as if burnt mince wasn't enough, I add a huge tablespoon of orange flavoured fish oil to the white sauce thinking the cheese/milk/whatever will cover it.

WRONG.

Oh so very wrong.

The best way to describe dinner last night was overcooked pasta with mince that first tasted a bit fake-orangy, then tasted very burnt, with a really really offensive lingering aftertaste of fish.

Yummy.

Hubby ate it.

sigh.

Bubbles

Blowing bubbles in the garden. Yes I am wearing a blanket.

Catch-up

The Bunker is finished. Done and dusted and off being torn to bits by various readers. Its occupied me fairly fully for the last month or so, and now that its off my mind for a while I'm catching up with the other things I love to do. Namely cooking and gardening - oh and my children. OH OKAY. Cooking and gardening.

Actually, I have been doing some reading to improve my parenting...

I'm not sure that its working - not the books fault of course - as every time I try to meditate I either fall asleep or get bored and remember something vital I should be doing. I KNOW I need to practice. But...

Buddhism for Mothers is a good book, and I do seriously recommend it for anyone with young kids. The advice about being 'present' with your children is so relevant and useful, also its worth reading just for the stories of embarrassing things other people's children do to them.

My drive for sustainability continues. We've reduced both our water and electricity bills, though not as much as I'd like. But progress has been made. I've also taken another step in loosening the grip of the supermarket on my life. Bought a yoghurt maker (more later). This has led to me investigating further dairy products I can make at home. So far I've had huge sucess with making ricotta (all you do is boil milk, add lemon juice, strain - too easy). Next experiment is creme fraiche.

I have been doing glorious things to the potato patch, namely spreading alpaca poo (courtesy of Jock and Pepe - Mumndad's alpacas) all over it. Which the dog is helpfully eating. BLESS HIM and my children who keep treading in the vomited up results. I love my life. No really.

See he looks cute. BUT HE IS THE DEVIL.

Sigh.

Here is how I am going with my 'new look'

New Look

Just sortin out a new look. Cannot do it in private, no the world must see the blog in its underpants (which, it must be noted, is a happier sight than me in my underpants).

We're all going on a winter holiday...

Firstly - MANY CONGRATULATIONS to my sister, who had my second nephew on Tuesday. Alex is a teeny weeny 2.5kgs (5.5lbs) but doing well regardless. My sister is having a couple of dramas due to the epidural and is suffering the mother of all headaches. So gigantic hugs to her and best wishes from all of us. WE ARE SO PROUD OF YOU.

Anyway, enough gushing.

Leura. Alluring Leura. Up in the Blue Mountains, just a hop, skip and a jump from Mumndads house.

Oh sigh.

I'd like to say it was huge fun, but I was in the company of two children who were devastated because they did not see a mountain that was blue. Two days of "but I want to see the blue mountain. MUMMY. I. WANT. TO SEE. THE. BLUE MOUNTAAAAAAAIN. Waaah."

sigh. sigh. sigh.

They were excited. SO excited. So excited that they didn't sleep, and forgot how to behave in cafes (or public or private or anywhere). Places my children had tantrums...

1. Car park at Echo point
2. Echo point
3. Car park of holiday flat in Leura
4. Stairs of holiday flat in Leura (one on each flight - yes stereo)
5. Holiday flat in Leura
6. Leura main street
7. Leura Cascades
8. Leura Toy and Train Museum
9. Loaves and Fishes in Leura
10. Leura Bookshop
11. Car on the way to Blackheath
12. Govett's Leap carpark
13. Govett's Leap
14. Govett's Leap information centre
15. Cafe in Blackheath
16. Main street in Blackheath
17. Non-stop screaming until they passed out at 8pm
18. 4.30am Miss Five upset due to hubby snoring (tell me about it sweetie)
19. 5am Passing train deemed to be thunderstorm
20. Leaving Leura holiday flat (stairs and carpark)
21. Most of the way to Norman Lindsey house at Springwood (mostly because the didn't like the sun OR the view was on the wrong side of the car)
22. At Norman Lindsey cafe
23. Norman Lindsey garden
24. Car down to Nonna and Granpa's house

Fun times.

I'm going to go and lie on the couch in a comatose haze now...

Guest Blogging

I'm guest blogging today over at the lovely Selena Illyria's blog as part of her Australian Heat Week. Go, see me babble about The Bunker - which is going to be FINISHED in a couple of hours (ie Saturday night). Woo hoo.

http://selenaillyria.com/2009/07/australian-heat-week-6-caitlyn-nichols/

Fairy Party

Holee Mother of God. I had heard that kids birthday parties were as bad as arranging a wedding (I always want to write weeding? Why is that?) but this week I have experienced this first hand. There were outfits, and cakes, and catering, and bonboniere, and balloons, and decorations...

And the actual birthday itself, several days before the party, led to an influx of barbie dolls dressed as whores and transvestites. Miss Five's take on it was... "I think Barbie needs some knickers on. She can have Snow White's." Yes, in keeping with her reputation the Snow White doll was the only one who arrived wearing suitable underwear (or any underwear at all for that matter).
The party has taken the best part of this week to sort out. But, it was a success - you have never seen so many happy little fairies! The wand decorating which I though would interest them for five minutes kept them all busy for half an hour; and the fairy skirts, which I thought there'd be fights over, were utterly ignored. I now have ten fairy skirts from the Hot Dollar shop that'll fit anyone with a six inch waist or smaller. I'm sure they'll come in useful.

Cooked masses of food. Including sausage rolls, chicken mini-pies, chicken spring rolls...
And of course a pink marshmallows and cupcakes birthday cake.
Hubby, of course, was not to be outdone and made sure it was All-About-Him by 'accidentally' standing on a rusty nail. He is presently at the doctor getting a tetnus shot and may have to have his entire leg amputated due to gangrene - well that is what you'd think if you saw him limping. Oh I KNOW I should be more sympathetic (and I am, no really) but there are leftover cupcakes...

Breakfast at Tiffanys: Only it was after lunch and stinky cheese was involved

So late last week I changed out of my usual food spattered, snot smeared outfit, got all gussied up (including shoes with a 1.5cm heel and even mascara - which I might add, I didn't even rub into panda eyes until I GOT HOME - yes it seems as I get closer to 40 I am finally learning about makeup) caught public transport (hi there small chinese lady eating raw garlic behind me on the train - I've not forgotten you, no doubt you had no idea I even existed - well how could you THROUGH THAT FUG). And, met up with the sublime Jess Dee at the Lindt Cafe in Martin Place in Sydney.We had no good reason for meeting up, except that it was an excuse to eat chocolate. I immediately realised we were both on the same page when Jess persuaded me to eat waffles FOR LUNCH - with... wait for it.... NO savories first - because that would've spoiled it. Yes, it was almost as wild as the time I drank a large part of a keg of beer and then went swimming in the Murrumbidgee River downstream from a very dead cow. (Ah CSU Wagga).

Anyhoo. We ate chocolate, drank chocolate and then I bought more chocolate - although not the usual Lindt bars as I knew it was On Sale at Coles for half the price. Oh how thrifty am I?? Did you know that Lindt Lindor balls came in flavours like peanut butter AND cinnamon. I was amazed, but then, as we all know I am very easily amazed. Or is that amused? Er.

Well, we found ourselves all hyped up, unwilling to return to the suburbs from whence we'd come and at a loose end. So we went shopping. Sensibly our first stop was the Sydney GPO building, where poor Jess found herself dragged to a lovely little cheese shop deep underground. Of course I HAD to buy this incredibly stinky brie that I saw there. Stinky is probably a slight understatement, polite people would say it smelled like old socks, but I am not polite (I am, according to my mother; crass and have a stumpy neck). No, that dear brie smelled like a thousand people had farted in a jar and then they had buried the jar under a chook shed and poured decomposing seaweed liquid over it once a week for a hundred years.

So where do you think we went next... Armani? Prada? Tiffanys? Yes. All three. (OH OKAY, we didn't go to Prada because we were scared of the scowly shop assistant creature at the front door). Really though, the brie showed some restraint in battling its way out of my handbag until we arrived in the rarefied atmosphere of Tiffanys. Suddenly every time I stopped to look at something sparkly I could smell it.Really, its rather difficult to be swanning about pretending that you could actually buy some of the things there, when you smell like a fart in a jar.

Today I finished eating the cheese. Of the last six nights it has made its welcome presence felt every single time I opened the fridge, I have eaten it five. And, coincidentally I have had indigestion five times as well. Yes. A cheese that once I'd have had for breakfast, now defeats me.

sigh.

AAAAAAAAAAGH.

Am having website issues. There has been a fire at my webhosting people's place. One of the servers that burnt down had www.caitlynnicholas.com on it. SIGH. SIGH. SIGH. Therefore I cannot access the site to update it and it dissapears periodically.

Sorry about that.

TA DAAAA...

Secret Intentions

Out today: 7th July 2009

The Book Depository (free international postage): http://www.bookdepository.co.uk/book/9781605043272/Secret-Intentions

Amazon: Click here

Mybookstore and More: I'll update the link the very second it goes live on their website http://www.mybookstoreandmore.com/

Excerpt:

Zani hesitated outside her front door, fumbling with nervous fingers for the right key. She glanced back at Corbin, who smiled genially and made no sign of leaving. Fang, who’d spent the evening alone in her basket, could be heard barking her head off. The moment Zani managed to get the door open, she shot out ready to defend her mistress against all foes.
“Is this your guard dog?” asked Corbin, laughing as Fang’s paroxysms of barking faded into interested sniffing.
“That’s Fang,” she said, grasping at the conversation with relief.
“Fang? An interesting name for such a small, sweet dog.”
“She’s purebred, and her official name is Princess Cherry Wuffles III. The breeder named her, and I couldn’t bear the thought of either Cherry or Wuffles,” babbled Zani.
“Ah, I see,” said Corbin, who didn’t seem inclined to hurry back to the art gallery.
“Coffee?” she asked, her voice catching, even though she was sure he’d refuse.
He nodded. Her heart, which, up to that point had been thudding a little faster than usual, stopped. “Um,” she said after a short pause, during which her heart resumed operations.
“Should we go inside?” he suggested.
“Yes, I think inside would be an excellent idea.” With the air of one who regularly entertained large Frenchmen, she showed him through to the tiny sitting room just inside the front door.
“Very nice.” He examined the room with interest, but didn’t sit down. “Why shorten it to Fang?” he asked, following her up the hall to the kitchen.
“She sensibly bit my brother when she was a puppy. It was more of a firm suck really, but he’s never got over it.”
“So you called her Fang to remind your brother of this?” Perceptively Corbin touched on a can of worms that Zani was not going to discuss. She was keenly aware it may seem mean-spirited to anyone who didn’t know Paul.
“It’s a complicated situation,” she said, and turned away to busy herself with cups and the kettle. Conversation over.
Having the unexpectedly observant Corbin in her home was unsettling on a level beyond the whole mess at Sunberri. The men in her family including Sebastian, the man her father dreamed she’d marry, were all so self-absorbed that they rarely, if ever, asked her about herself, and then it was only to cover social niceties before steering the conversation back onto themselves. She wasn’t used to men who actually listened to her.
One thing was clear.
Her task was to prove Corbin was leaking company secrets in order to take over Sunberri. It was not to have cozy kitchen table chats after art gallery exhibitions.
She tried to think of something that would politely get rid of him, glancing at the phone and willing it to ring. An emergency, nothing too serious, but an emergency nonetheless would be perfect. True to form the phone did precisely the opposite of what she wanted and remained silent. She racked her brain to come up with something that wouldn’t make the next day at work awkward, but decided the best strategy was to get rid of him as quickly as she could, and instead, like Polly, she put the kettle on.
He hadn’t seemed to take her coffee invitation on anything but face value, but perhaps he was just biding his time. She examined him closely for biding. Settled comfortably at the kitchen table, he’d bent to pay more attention to Fang, who gazed up at him adoringly. The tart.
Out of both coffee and milk, Zani put a large mug of peppermint tea in front of Corbin. To his credit he peered into the cup and looked only briefly horrified. Unwilling to get any closer to him than she had to, she retreated to the safety of leaning against the bench top.
“Nice house,” he said, glancing around the kitchen, at its scrubbed wood table, marble bench tops and giant fridge.
She could almost hear him thinking “a bit too nice for an unemployed secretary who lives alone”.
“My mother left it to me when she died.” As most people did when they heard that news, Corbin looked discomforted.
“I’m sorry to hear it.”
“Oh, don’t be, it was years ago. She died of breast cancer.” Zani adopted a breezy tone designed to put Corbin at ease and declare the subject closed. She suppressed the small twist of grief that always accompanied any conversation about her mother.
“You miss her. No?”
Zani felt a flare of irritation. Bloody man, couldn’t he see that she didn’t want to talk about it?
“No. Yes, I mean of course I do. She died when I was fifteen, and Dad never got over it. He didn’t have a clue what to do with me. It was so hard…”
Corbin looked at her with such sympathy that it made her skin prickle uncomfortably. He didn’t need to know these things; they just made her and her family more vulnerable. Grabbing the cloth from the sink, she briskly wiped down the immaculate bench tops, her back to Corbin, her expression hidden.
“It was a long time ago,” she tossed over her shoulder. “Now tell me, which part of France were you born in?” To Zani’s relief Corbin took the hint and began to chat about his idyllic childhood at La Rochelle, in the west of France. She neatly folded the cloth. But he watched her with an air of speculation that made Zani want to fidget. As if he’d figured out something important.
He finished the peppermint tea with a grimace and placed the cup firmly on the table.
“I should go. Thank you for the cup of…of…it was quite interesting.”
“Thank you for walking me home, and thanks again for giving me another chance to work for you.” Zani began a farewell patter that lasted all the way back down the hall to the front door. Her bourgeoning relief faded when she opened the door, looked up to say a final goodbye and caught Corbin’s eye.
There was an almost predatory gleam, and it put Zani’s senses on high alert. Suddenly she became aware of how close he stood in the narrow doorway. She smelled his piquant masculine scent and the peppermint of the tea he’d drunk. He half muttered a curse in French, and bent toward her.
He’s going to kiss me, she thought a moment before his lips met hers.
Startled, she stiffened and tried to pull away, but his arm snaked around her waist, pulling her closer.
He is kissing me. Her mouth opened under his gentle pressure and Zani forgot any thoughts of resistance. Her lashes lowered as she gave herself up to the sensation.
She felt giddy, as if she’d drunk too much champagne. Frigid air drifted around them from outside, but she barely noticed. Only Fang shivered as she sat in the hallway and watched the kissing couple with an air of resignation.
Somewhere in the back of Zani’s mind a small voice was shouting. Telling her to stop, telling her that the last thing in the world she should be doing is kissing. But kissing Corbin was like eating Belgian chocolate. You knew you shouldn’t eat another, that one more would be too much, but you eat another anyway. Despite your noblest intentions you can’t resist the temptation. It’s almost an addiction.
He pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. Zani twined her arms around his neck and, like butter in the sun, melted against him.
Then the kiss was over. Corbin’s embrace relaxed infinitesimally, and Zani drew away from him. Self-loathing overwhelmed her in seconds. Fury uncoiled in the pit of her stomach and she stumbled ungracefully backwards into the safety of the house, slamming the door.
“What the hell am I doing?” she asked Fang, who stood in the hallway watching her with a quizzical expression. “What the bloody hell do I think I’m doing?”

~~~~~~~

AND, if you needed anymore convincing...

Fallen Angel Reviews: http://www.fallenangelreviews.com/2009/January/RachelC-SecretIntentions.htm

Food and Wine Show

So. Last Friday hubby and I pottered off to the bacchanalian feast that is the Sydney Food and Wine show. Pic of booty... I have not attended the F&W show before. Generally I lack the motivation to even know when these things are on - I mean ffs its a miracle my family is cleaned and fed - what more do you people want. However, the knowledge that Kath and Kim's fave beverage is Chardonnay (and no doubt filling up brain cell space that should be occupied remembering what to do when traffic lights turn red) stood me in good stead and the loves at Kampai gave me free tickets for answering the question correctly.

OMG. Well, why did nobody tell me that it was an orgy of drunken middle-aged ladies, porky celebrity chefs and providors flogging everything from microfibre wipes (WTF?) to teabags sewn with gold thread by nubile nymphs living on Mt Olympus (well that's how much they cost anyway - and did I buy them? HELL YES)?

My first celebrity chef spotting was Manu from Ready Steady Cook, he was sitting in one of those vibrating chair thingys and talking on his mobile. I would've skibbled over for a photo, but had a nasty collision with a woman, two wine glasses hung around her neck, one slopping red wine over her left boob and the other slopping white over her right. Mmm. Classy lady. Anyway, she tottered off and fell over a garbage bin, and hubby and I got distracted by the absinthe tasting stand.

Needless to say at 60% proof I was shortly in no state to sneer at anyone falling over garbage bins AND owned my very own bottle of absinthe.

I can go no further without mentioning the chocolate.

So you take that stick, put the chocolate end in hot milk, then you are on a fast trip to warm melty chocolatly bliss.

Final thing that I loved...

Caramelised balsamic vinegar.

Bliss.

To sodding much to do...

Here is a list of what I have to do this week...

1. Finish the rewrites for The (will this book never end) Bunker
2. Update the website for the release of the print version of Secret Intentions - uh, tomorrow
3. Do some blogging (tick :))
4. Organise a fairy party (including godhelpme fairy food, fairy decorations and fairy games)
5. Buy & wrap presents, and generally make a fuss about Miss four turning (holy crap) FIVE
6. Send both children to pre-school in pyjamas (clean) for end of term pyjama party.
7. Go and visit my parents - who are on the cusp of building a house and Not Coping
8. Worry about my sister and her baby due in a couple of weeks. But shhh, don't tell her, she doesn't like it.
9. Get the dog castrated (I'm not making that up, and I'm only mentioning it because I presently only have one pair of knickers left that don't have teethmarks in them).
10. Buy self new knickers - for in case I get hit by a bus and end up in heaven trying to explain teethmarked knickers.

So, its going to be a busy week. Plus I've got a couple of catchup posts about my trip to the Food and Wine show and lunch with the divine Jess Dee at the Lindt Cafe. So stay tuned...

More choclatey goodness and the strawberry patch.

So, in the name of perfectionism I have been furthering my hot chocolate quest. Today was the Best By Far. Slightly more complicated that the recipe before, but not much.

Hot Chocolate the French Way
Makes 2 servings

1 ½ cups milk
2 ½ Tbsp. water
2 ½ Tbsp. granulated sugar
1 oz. dark chocolate (at least 70% cocoa)
2oz. milk chocolate (best you can get)

Put the milk in a saucepan and add water, and sugar.
Place over medium heat and stir occasionally until the sugar is dissolved.
Bring to a boil.
Remove the pan from the heat and whisk in the chocolate.
Then blend the mixture for about a minute.

Serve immediately

This tastes amazing, just like the Chocolat chaud you get in France. Its incredibly rich, I can only make it through one cup at a time (I KNOW). And a more traditional version wouldn't have any milk chocolate in it.

Spectacular path I built so that there is some form of lighting up to the front door.
And this is the strawberry patch. Yes. Also spectacular. I agree.
Postman: What yer doin?

Me: Planting a strawberry patch.

Postman: Great. Your husband is a lucky man. I wish I had a wife like you.

Me: Trust me. You don't.

Vegies, Clafoutis and the Perfect Hot Chocolate

Extremely cold. Two degrees at 6am and its crept up to nine now. Have spent the morning sitting still sorting out paperwork and now I'm so cold I'm having nipple spasms. Which men think is HILARIOUS but in fact it bloody hurts. Am wandering around the house with a heat pack shoved down my bra - note to self: remove heat pack before going to the shops.

Anyway, enough about my nipples. I think we all heard enough about them during the breastfeeding years of this blog.

So first to the garden. The apple trees are all planted and no sign of anyone popping-their-clogs as yet. To get good apples, apple trees need chilling hours (ie hours where the temperature is under 15 degrees). Its a bit iffy if I'll get enough chilling hours for some of the northern European types of apple I've planted, such as Cox's Orange Pippin, so I am presently haunting weatherzone and becoming ecstatic with excitement when the temp drops below 15. I expect I'll get over this fairly soon! Why did I not plant ALL low chill apples in my temperate garden such as Granny Smith? Excellent question. I shall do a post on it one day. A long, long post.

My quest for at least some degree of self-sufficiency by the end of the year continues. We've expanded the two vegie gardens on the left and right, and are getting the area around the pool ready for growing things as well. Total growing area is now 38 square metres, and books I've read reckon you can be pretty productive on 30 square metres, so we're getting there.

Just in the last couple of days the Snow Peas have started producing.
And next time I do a beef casserole I'll be harvesting these little beauties - they're Turnips...
I also have two quests on the go at the moment as well. The first is all about clafoutis and the second is all about Hot Chocolate.

Clafoutis is a dessert that at its simplest is baked cherries in a pancakey batter. Only it is SO MUCH MORE. The combination of fruit/s and flavouring in the batter are limited only by the confidence and imagination of the cook, from figs to white chocolate. Also it is tops with custard.

So, to the delight of my husband and children I am presently on a quest to find my signature clafoutis. Today its simple raspberry with vanilla.

Before...
And after...Hot Chocolate. So its cold. We've established that. And when the kids get home from pre-school/day care I'm giving them some hot chocolate now and then as a treat (and a way of getting something/ANYTHING into Miss Three). Hot-chocolate-at-home is milo and microwaved milk plus child's bodyweight in marshmallows.

Well, yanno, I tasted some the other day and it really isn't that nice. I mean, its just a bit cocoay and whilst the variety I have has Vitamin B in it (to make my kids SMARTER - yeah right), I was just unimpressed.

So I've been fossicking about in search of easy hot chocolate recipes. And guess what. They're even easier than milo and my GOD do they taste good. This morning (for hubby's birthday) all I did was melt Lindt milk chocolate with some hot milk and voila. The best damn hot chocolate you have ever tasted.

It goes like this... Heat milk to simmer (microwave or stovetop). Place 20g chopped up chocolate in bottom of cup. Fill cup up to half way with milk. Stir. Lick spoon. Stir next cup. Add rest of milk. Serve sprinkled with chocolate dust from chopping unless you've already licked it up off the counter top. AHEM.

Now I have the sweetest tooth ever. I can happily eat condensed milk out of the can. But, I did find the above recipe a bit sweet. Am presently experimenting with a combination of milk chocolate and dark chocolate.

Ah Gardening.

So after an excessive amount of hole digging I planted the apple trees in the front lawn. I'd decided that it was going to stop raining at any moment.How wrong I was.

It was also appallingly cold.

SIGH.

Meanwhile work goes on apace with The Bunker. Did I mention a while back that I'd decided to chop 25K out of the finished manuscript? Well that painful job is now complete and I'm trying to tie the rest of the book together in a way that makes some sort of sense, meanwhile wondering how on earth I'm going to find 25,000 more words.

I cannot describe how dreadful it is to rename chapter 11 as chapter 8.