On Eagles' Wings

Home Again

2012-02-12T18:18:00.003+13:00

It's been a busy weekend. In fact, it's been a busy week. And an emotionally draining one. It began, as I've already mentioned, with taking Son#3 back to Uni - a move I wasn't ready for and will probably never be ready for - especially when Son#4 and Son#5 go in the near future.

Thursday DH left early to go to a two-day conference out of town - something else I wasn't exactly thrilled about even though I knew he needed to attend. A short time later I received word that my aunt had passed away. It was, for me at least, unexpected, and I took it hard. Harder too because even though I know she had opportunity to receive Christ, I don't know that she ever did.

That same day, I went to see DH's brother and family off at the airport. They return to China for another year. Already hurting from one loss, I perhaps felt this more than on previous occasions.

Friday, DH returned home and after quickly throwing some more clothes into his bag, we headed off to attend a colleague's wedding. After four hours of travelling without a break (nothing was open and I was starving) we decided to stop and get a motel for the night. Dinner that night was Burger King at some time after ten o'clock - not something I'd recommend (the venue or the time of eating). That night the traffic kept us awake and I could add that the smell of that particular city was not exactly, ahem, pleasant.

Saturday morning we headed off again and arrived at our destination mid-morning. The wedding was lovely and the rain (which never actually amounted to anything much) held off during the outdoor ceremony. In fact, some guests were decidedly sun burnt I noticed later.

Another motel room and bed to sleep in and then today we made the trip home: this time with some stops, even if it was only to take a photo or to get eaten by sand flies.

My house wasn't magically cleaned while I was away, but I don't really care. It's just good to be home again. And perhaps some bodies will clean it for me tomorrow when I'm at work?

The Exodus Begins

2012-02-06T22:01:00.004+13:00

Today Son#3 returned to Uni. I'm trying not to focus on the fact that this is the beginning of The Exodus from our home. Saying goodbye to one was bad enough. What will it be like when the other two go?

I tend to show my concern by fussing. Have you got enough clothes? Do you need a jacket? Have you got money for food? etc, etc.

Since Son#3 was going to be the first returning to his flat (apartment) and since any income he is likely to receive won't start for another two weeks, we spent this morning cooking. My big new stove really came into its own today! In just a few hours it had turned out Roast Apricot Chicken, two Self-Crusting Quiches, and two Plum Pies.

At least I won't have to worry about him starving over the next few days.

I'm going to miss him though. Very muchly.

Promised

2012-02-04T15:26:00.005+13:00

Recently I mentioned a toy that I'd sewn for The Most Adorable Granddaughter in the World#3 but which I didn't post a picture of since I didn't want anyone seeing it before she did. Well ... now I can post a picture and for anyone who was really hanging out to see it, you'll be wondering now what all the fuss was about.

It's simply a cover for a balloon with ribbons that little hands can grasp. I was rather lazy when drafting the pattern and didn't use any mathematical calculations which explains why after several attempts I still haven't managed to produce a perfect example. Perhaps next time, I might get out the ol' brain and pencil and paper and work it out properly.

Still, it doesn't stop The Most Adorable Granddaughter#4 from playing with an older and even less-perfect version.

I also have another promise to fulfil and that is the recipe for this yummy self-crusting quiche. I typed up the recipe this morning for Son#4 who is adding to his repertoire of meals that he can cook so it's an easy matter to transfer the instructions here. I've made a number of these quiches before but this would have to be the best recipe I've come across yet.

SELF CRUSTING QUICHE
5-6 eggs (the recipe calls for 6 but when you make 3 quiches all at once - as I did recently - I decided to not use the full 18 eggs!)
½ cup milk
¼ cup cornmeal flour (sometimes known as polenta)
1 small red onion chopped
2 cups diced vegetables such as spinach, zucchini, celery, green beans, tomato, capsicum (pepper), cauliflower, broccoli, carrot (grated), etc
1 cup peas and/or corn
¼ cup in total of chopped fresh chives and parsley (or halve the amount if using dried)
salt and pepper
2-3 cooked rashers of bacon, or small amount of chopped ham or chicken, or 1 small can of salmon if desired (you could leave this out and I suspect it would still taste great)
approx ½ cup grated cheese (optional but I can't imagine a quiche without cheese)

Line a 20cm spring-from pan with paper or grease a deep pie or quiche dish. Beat together eggs, milk and cornmeal. Stir through remaining ingredients (it will look like vegetables coated with a thin glaze of egg - that's why I love this recipe: all the vegetables in it) and pour into prepared pan. Bake at 200˚C for 30-40 minutes until puffed and golden. Allow to stand for 5 minutes before cutting. Ideal warm or cold.

Serves 6-8 with salad or vegetables.

Celebrations

2012-01-31T20:33:00.007+13:00

This month's celebrations began with our wedding anniversary and was followed by Son#1's birthday ...

and then The Most Adorable Granddaughter in the World#3's birthday ...

and finally Son#5's birthday celebration last night.

Somewhere in there I managed to sneak in a birthday without too much fanfare. I was happy just to make everybody's favourite potato salad ...

and to use up some of the plums from our trees while trying out my birthday present of a granite rolling pin ...

(and this pie was well worth the effort).

However The Most Adorable Granddaughter#1 has obviously had enough of birthdays ... if this pose is anything to go by!

Midnight

2012-01-30T08:32:00.005+13:00

Arriving home at midnight is becoming a bit of a habit. As has visiting gardens in cities far from home.

Friday morning, Son#4 and Son#5 travelled by bus to attend Parachute which is only New Zealand's largest Christian music festival. It was a first for them. Years ago Son#1 was involved in the lighting for Main Stage, but for various reasons (possibly more to do with an overprotective mother and a lack of funds than any lack of desire to attend) his siblings have not attended what is probably the biggest event on the Christian youth calendar downunder.

Until now.

With much excitement and pulling of hair (on my part - particularly when it came to what they needed to take and what they were going to eat especially when they originally had no way of storing perishables or of cooking any food - fortunately for them they were able to take a cooker which probably saved them from starvation) they were packed and ready to go Friday morning.

I saw them off at the bus station and returned to peace and solitude and many updates by text message.

So what has this to do with gardens and midnight?

Well DH had promised to pick the boys up if they didn't want to come home on the bus. Since it was their first time attending this festival and they weren't going with a group, they were a little unsure about how to get to the venue and back to the bus station and all the other little details they needed to consider. There was a problem however. The festival didn't end until Monday lunch time (due to some parts of the country having a holiday that day) but DH had to work Monday so the boys were going to have to leave early.

They seemed happy to do so, despite missing their favourite band, Casting Crowns. Originally DH had planned on making the trip up by himself. I'm not what is known as a 'traveller' and besides, with three grown sons (Son#3 was meeting his brothers at the festival) and all their luggage, there would be more room in the car if I stayed home.

However, by Sunday morning I had had enough of peace and quiet. Friday hadn't been so bad. I'd done some housework and caught up with a friend and DH was home at dinner time. But on Saturday DH stayed in bed nursing a migraine, only emerging to take me out for dinner for my birthday or when The Most Adorable Granddaughter#4 visited. I had had enough of being alone.

The trip up was uneventful and we arrived with plenty of time to spare. This gave us a chance to visit DH's brother, and then later, to walk around the gardens. It was wonderful just to stretch our backs after all that sitting!

And then came the reason for our trip: meeting our boys at Parachute and bringing them home. DH and I had heard so much about Parachute over the years but had never really seen it up close. Well we still didn't get to see it up close - just from the hill - but it gave us a feel for the event. And of course, our sons filled in all the details on the trip home (well, for the first part of the trip anyway).

DH had said that he wanted to be home by midnight, so after meeting our boys, it was quick goodbyes all round, and then in the car for the trip home.

And what time did we arrive home? Midnight exactly.

Happy One Year Old

2012-01-24T22:13:00.001+13:00

She's one year old today!!!

Happy Birthday to The Most Adorable Granddaughter in the World#3!

Take ...

2012-01-23T11:26:00.007+13:00

One self-crusting quiche (remind me to share the recipe later because this was so easy and yummy); one green salad, a handful of fresh sprouts, a loaf of homemade sourdough bread, Anzac biscuits, yummy fruit cake, plums from our tree, bananas, dried apricots, and almonds, a bottle of homemade ginger beer, throw in four adults and bucket-loads of rain, and what do you have? A wonderful picnic in the rain.

It was fine when we left home and even when we set up our picnic, we didn't think we'd get more than a few spots. However, it soon became evident that unless we wanted soggy bread and quiche it might be wiser to move to an area with cover - which we did forthwith.

Spirits undaunted, we had our lunch, packed up, donned jackets, and began to walk. Shortly after arriving at the top, the rain began to bucket down. There was a museum nearby which provided shelter and a lot of interesting history. I was in my element, if not the males in my company. The rain showed no signs of abating, so we decided to do what DH and I were unable to do twenty-two years ago: ride the cable car. Somehow it wasn't as exciting or picturesque as we had imagined, but I loved the history and culture inherent in the trip. After walking around downtown for a short while we made our way back up the cable car and braved the rain to return to the car.

In spite of the rain, it was a picnic I enjoyed very much. But perhaps next time, I'll also pack some towels and dry socks!

And a Use for Old Shirts

2012-01-23T11:15:00.005+13:00

I found this peg bag idea online and decided to try it. My existing peg bag was really a leetle too small for the amount of pegs I like to keep on hand, and Son#5 is going to need one when he leaves home. So ... I'm going to gift him my old one (which isn't really all that old) and I'm going to use this one that I made from an old shirt of Son#2's:

I'm just sorry that I didn't keep more shirts from my sons' younger days or that I don't need more than one peg bag as I think these are rather cute. However I'm already thinking that a larger shirt could make a cute bag for rags or for recycling plastic bags. I can see them now: a whole row of shirt bags strung up in my laundry room. One for pegs, one for rags, one for plastic bags, one for other odds and ends. The family would really think I'd lost my marbles then! (I wonder if you could store marbles in a shirt bag?)

This one is a little boring and a nice print or bright colour would have made wash day a little more enjoyable. This one also has a few 'age spots' from being in storage for so long (it's probably about fifteen years since Son#2 wore this shirt), so to counteract that I'm currently soaking it in hot coffee to give it a lovely aged look.

The Most Adorable Granddaughter#1's only concern when she saw this was that the pegs might fall out of the sleeves! Due to my incredible foresight (lol) I sewed partway up the front to stop the pegs falling out between the buttons (not the whole way though because you need to leave an opening so that you can easily get your hand in and out to grasp hold of the pegs). It's best to do this step before sewing the bottom. Just in case you decide to try it.

A Use for Old Socks

2012-01-21T15:01:00.005+13:00

Believe it or not - given that it's summer here - I've spent part of today making draught stoppers for the doors in our dining and living rooms. Not because those rooms are particularly draughty - yet - but because door handles in our house seem to have a tendency to attack the walls. With walls in the dining room freshly painted - even if we'll have to redo them in the near future due to a less that satisfactory job by the painters - DH is keen to keep them looking nice. And who can blame him?

He did spend a day fixing door stops to prevent holes appearing in our walls from over-enthusiastic door-openers but the bi-fold doors between dining and living presented a particular challenge. It all depends on whether they're fully open or part-way open where the door handle meets the wall. Unless one wants to have door stops lined up along the wall like soldiers about to go into battle - and we didn't - a draught stopper seemed to be the logical solution.

I had my machine out this morning to sew up a cute little toy for The Most Adorable Granddaughter#3's birthday (sorry, you'll have to wait until her birthday to see it - no previews) so decided to do the draught stoppers while I was at it. However, there was a slight problem. I didn't have any sand - or corn - or beans - or rice - to fill the stoppers. (Correction, I had some of each but certainly not enough for one, let alone four. Anyway, apart from sand, I'm not too keen on using any of those ingredients due to the attraction they would present to rats and mice.)

Not to be daunted - and not liking to not be able to finish a project - I decided to think outside the square. I had a bag of leftover batting from quilts - all the long pieces that are trimmed off and are not wide enough for any project but which I can't bear to throw out either - and I used this to fill two of the stoppers. It worked fine.

Then I ran out.

I looked around, and decided to try socks. That's right, socks. Son#5 had cleaned out his wardrobe of all his school uniforms (without even being asked - he was certainly keen to be done with that stage of his life) and there was a whole bag of socks that had too many holes in them to be good for anything and besides, what just-out-of-school-teen wants to wear school socks for everyday? So I used them to fill the stoppers and I actually prefer these as a filling to the batting. Granted the stoppers are lumpier than with other fillings, but the socks are also heavier than the batting and this is definitely an advantage (unless of course offspring decide to use them to swing at each other).

So now I'm the proud owner of four new draught stoppers and, I have one less bag of socks to get rid of, and more room in my sewing drawers for the next round of leftover batting.

(This is not the bi-fold door that created all the problems. This one was able to have a door stopper to prevent the door handle going through the wall but I thought it needed its own draught stopper all the same.)

Success

2012-01-19T13:22:00.004+13:00

After being inspired by my friend Jen I decided to grow sprouts myself. I love sprouts but I'm not sure anyone else in the family does more than just tolerate them so they tend to go all slimy before we get to the last in the container. I also have a sneaking suspicion that the ones we buy from the supermarket are not always the freshest.

I know that sprouts have had some bad press over recent years with scares of E.Coli and other nasties, and certainly something like that is not to be taken lightly, but the truth is, if we had to account for every potential health risk, we'd never eat anything. Even tomatoes and berries are not as safe as we'd like to believe. (Apparently - although I was completely unaware of any health risk in eating any of the above. It seems that either the risk is unknown down here or we're just kept blissfully in the dark. When I started to do some research online I was surprised at the list of foods that one shouldn't eat. However many of these articles seemed to be extremely one-sided, even those that carried government endorsements of one kind or another. What is truth? as Pilate once asked.)

All this aside, I decided to grow some sprouts. After all, even for someone like me, it didn't seem too difficult a process. Soak. Drain. Rinse twice daily until sprouts emerged. Green in light. Refrigerate and enjoy. How hard was that? (I think I said the same thing about growing rhubarb and have come to the conclusion that we must be the only people in our area who cannot grow what essentially is a weed in many gardens. No matter. I don't like rhubarb anyway).

So I promptly got myself some lids to fit my glass jars and ordered seeds (organic seeds from a reputable source) and with loads of enthusiasm and optimism began to sprout seeds. Today I was excited to see small sprouts emerging. See?

It seems that I can grow something after all. I'm not completely skill-less when it comes to gardening. There was a whole list of reasons why seeds don't sprout on the bottom of the information sheet, so there must be some skill involved that I managed to get this far. Right?

Rachel and Leah Quilt

2012-01-18T16:03:00.006+13:00

I've been wanting to make this quilt for a while after I had used the same pattern in a quilt for a friend. Recently DH's sister moved overseas and donated to me her fabric scraps. Unlike many quilters, I don't have a stash of fabrics. I love scrap quilts and I collect left-over fabrics from past projects to use in future projects but I don't collect fabrics just because I love them or they 'speak to me'. If I need more fabric, then I go and buy small amounts of what I need. I do not have floor-to-ceiling shelves stacked with fabric (although the idea is tempting).

So when my SIL gave me a stack of fabric I just had to put it to use. The concept of having it just lying around is totally foreign to me. I made small fabric bags, Christmas stockings, and a few other small items, but when I realised I had enough for a quilt, out came the rotary cutter and the sewing machine.

It's a quick pattern and goes together easily but this is definitely not one of my better quilts. As I was quilting it by machine, the needle kept skipping stitches and the thread kept splitting. I had used a well-known brand of sewing thread rather than a cheap one from the supermarket (I've never had this much problem with those cheap ones - but then I've never had this problem with this brand of thread in the past either) and I'd also put a new needle in the machine before I begun. I can only surmise that my machine is on its last legs (finally!) or that the new needle is to blame.

Keeping with the Biblical theme I probably should have named this quilt The Jonah Quilt or Tribulation Quilt. Either would be appropriate. But I chose the name based on the fabrics. Some are attractive and some are less so. Sometimes they work well together, other times they clash. And there's another reason I chose the name which my friend will know if she ever reads this blog.

I have a feeling that Rachel and Leah's household was not often a happy one. What woman wants to share her husband with her sister? As the older - and less beautiful - sister myself I can just imagine the jealousy, the tensions, the spitefulness, that must have characterised that household. Had they had different husbands, I imagine they could have been friends and confidants ... but the situation they found themselves in must have tested their patience and ability to love on a daily basis. For Leah, she had the comfort of children to ease what I imagine was at many times an unhappy existence. Rachel, what did she have? Well she had a husband who loved her and her beauty that was admired, but it would be years before she would have children to bring her comfort and joy.

Hopefully the Rachel and Leah Quilt - as imperfect as it is - will provide some comfort or joy to some one. Perhaps a granddaughter will curl up under it on a cold winter's night or will take delight in looking at the different fabrics and colours. Perhaps it will be used to make a cubby house or to put all the dolls to bed or to spread Lego out on. Maybe - just maybe - I'll snuggle under it myself when the temperatures drop and I need some cheering up ... and I'll count my blessings for I have much to be thankful for.

Regrets

2012-01-16T21:16:00.003+13:00

Perhaps it's a natural reaction to the fact that after twenty-seven years with at least one child at home, DH and I are about to return to a couple-state. Or perhaps it's something to do with time marching on of which there are so many reminders this month with both my eldest and my youngest sons having birthdays, as well as The Most Adorable Granddaughter#3, and not to forget, yours truly. Maybe it even has something to do with that recent wedding anniversary and the looking back over our courtship and early marriage and seeing how far we've come. Then again, perhaps it's just that this time of year provides ample opportunity for reflection.

I don't know. What I do know is that lately I've been thinking back over my life as a mother and homemaker and wishing that I'd done more.

More time ... more energy expended ... more creativity ... more of me.

It seems that the memories of bathing little bodies, and reading bedtime stories, and praying with them at night, are fading fast. So too, the attempts to prepare wholesome food (even when they complained), the endless hours watching sport, the careful monitoring of their friendships, making them do chores when it would have been easier to do them myself, the teaching and training, and of course the family times. The things I did wrong or didn't do when I should have seem to loom over me larger than life. I find myself wondering if I ever did anything right.

Certainly my reflections have not been softened by something my youngest son told me not so long ago. His earliest memory apparently is of asking me for a drink and being told "in a minute" and, if you believe him, he's still waiting! It beats my first memory (which is of having a lumbar puncture done) but it's not exactly the enduring image I hoped to burn into my children's memories when I undertook this mothering role. (He also remembers having a "ride" on our fence when an earthquake struck. What does that tell you about my performance as a mother?)

I was going to do such a perfect job. None of the mistakes my parents made or that I saw others making. I loved my kids so much and they were never going to be in any doubt of it. I was going to be always understanding, always sensitive, always available, always loving. They would never wish they'd been brought up in another home or adopted out at birth. I was going to do it right.

Yet it seems I didn't even have time to get my child a drink of water!

A Lesson

2012-01-12T21:34:00.007+13:00

DH has often teased me about needing a degree "just" to change nappies (diapers) and wipe noses in my job. I've managed to shrug it off and laugh with him but after today he will have even more reason to tease me.

We were helping Son#2 to look after The Most Adorable Granddaughter in the World#4 since DIL#2 had gone back to her hometown to attend a funeral and Son#2 had worked last night and needed at least a few hours of sleep.

Looking after The Most Adorable Granddaughter#4 is not an entirely new experience - we've done it before with varying degrees of success. If she just needs to sleep then all is fine. It's when she needs a feed that things can get tricky.

Before going off to bed Son#2 had told us that The Most Adorable Granddaughter#4 would most likely wake and need a feed around nine thirty or ten o'clock in the morning. She woke right on schedule but food she was not interested in. I decided not to push it, thinking that she'd come to it when she was ready.

Wrong. By eleven o'clock she was still refusing her bottle. Up until now she had been happy to play with her toys or to have our dog Kielsie lick her hand or to help me water the garden (she watered me more than the plants) but by eleven she was starting to get a little grizzly and I concluded that she was hungry.

Surely she'd take her bottle now?

No.

In desperation, I suggested to Son#5 that he might like to try, adding that she probably wouldn't take it. The next thing I knew, he was plonking an empty bottle down on the bench.

Not fair.

I suspect that The Most Adorable Granddaughter in the World#4 decided that she didn't care about any of my pieces of paper nor the fact that I had managed to raise five sons or even that she is not my first granddaughter but my fourth: she was not going to take a bottle from me but instead from Uncle#5 who, being the youngest in the family, probably has the least experience with babies.

I had the feeling that I'd been put in my place. It was done very nicely, but it was a lesson to me all the same: don't think you know it all when it comes to babies - especially this baby! Hopefully I'll remember that in future. (And will she take her bottle from me tomorrow???)

Strangeness

2012-01-11T18:11:00.003+13:00

It's a strange feeling to go to the funeral of someone you've never met. Stranger still to be seated in the seats reserved for family. How do I explain myself when someone asks, "Who are you?"

It all started on Monday - at least my side of the story did. For others it began at some point in the last ninety-three years.

Son#5 was bored. After suggesting a number of options to relieve his boredom (everything from weeding to going swimming) I hit on a visit to his Grandma, adding, "She'd love to see you for no reason at all." This had appeal and so Son#5 took off on his bike and I settled down to remake curtains for the laundry that I'd quickly whipped up before Christmas only to discover they were crooked. (Not entirely my fault as I had hemmed some curtains I'd picked up second hand not realising how "out" they were.)

By the time the curtains were ready to hang, Son#5 had returned.

"Was Grandma pleased to see you?"

"I think so."

"How was she?"

"Sad."

This is not a word usually used to describe my MIL and I was compelled to ask further questions. It turned out that her cousin - "double cousin" as they called each other because they were related through both sets of parents - had passed away and she didn't know if she'd be able to make it to the funeral in a neighbouring town. I immediately said that I could take her and Son#5 replied, "I thought you'd be able to but I thought I should check with you first."

When I rang her later that night she did indeed sound "sad". My MIL is a very loving person but she is also very strong. It was a shock to me to hear her so down. Arrangements were made and today I took her to the funeral. Because of her relationship they seated us in the family section which, as I've already said, was rather disconcerting.

It turned out that I didn't need to explain myself. Those who didn't know my MIL had heard of her and all seemed anxious to talk with her. I found myself continually being introduced as "My DIL" and I couldn't fail to notice how pleased she was to have at least one family member she could introduce (even if I was only related by marriage). I met cousins of DH's that he has probably never met or would never recognise if he ran into them in the street. I heard family secrets aired and a few family tragedies - most that I'd heard before but this time I could put a face to the story. And by the end of it, I no longer felt like an impostor.

For a brief moment in time we shared something ... regrets ... grief ... a realisation of our own mortality ... the knowledge that life is fragile ... family ties ... something so fragile that it defies explanation or description but something real all the same.

I doubt I'll ever meet any of these people again ... which is probably the strangest thing of all.

Gingerbread Men

2012-01-10T10:55:00.005+13:00

When Three of The Most Adorable Granddaughters in the World visited last week I decided to make gingerbread men. Before I could get the ingredients out, The Most Adorable Granddaughter#2 decided to go grocery shopping with her Mummy, and The Most Adorable Granddaughter#1 decided she was going to help Grandpa and The Uncles butcher the deer they'd gotten the previous day.

That left The Most Adorable Granddaughter#3 to be my helper ... and she was more than willing.

However, it was a different story when it came time to decorate the gingerbread men. I was able to sit back and watch (after making my pitiful contribution in the decorating department) and let everyone else do the hard work. And hard work it must have been if the looks of concentration were anything to go by.

I suggested that next time I just make hearts instead of gingerbread men but was told that apparently that would be no fun. A shame because the hearts were by far the easier to make - and therefore more fun for me!

Twenty Eight

2012-01-09T08:20:00.007+13:00

Saturday was our wedding anniversary: twenty eight years since I married my best friend.

Of course, when we got married we knew that marriage was hard work - and we expected it to be - occasionally - but we were so much in love and had made such a wise choice of spouse that we didn't expect to have any problems.

Oh, the innocence of youth! Or is it, there are none so blind as those that refuse to see?

I'm not sure when I discovered just how much hard work is required to make a marriage work, but it was fairly early in the piece. I could say that no one warned me that it would be hard work all the time, but the truth is, I wouldn't have listened anyway. I thought I knew better.

Now I know that despite all the hard work, it is definitely worth it. To have someone who loves you no matter what ... who remains committed to you throughout all the years and through all the valleys and mountains ... who, despite the passing years and all claim to beauty long since past, still thinks you're beautiful ... to have years of treasured memories to share together and reflect back on ... to take pride in your growing family ... to know that there is someone who will always be there, always be on your side, always cares, who you can always trust ... again I say it's worth it.

As I look back on twenty eight years I have a picture of two horses harnessed together to pull this cart called marriage. When they're going in the same direction, everything is going fine ... it's when one wants to go off and do things its own way (and we're generally talking about me here) that troubles start. One day I'll learn to pull in harness.

To celebrate our anniversary we began with breakfast in a cafe followed by a walk along the river to look at the local growers and craft markets. Then we picked up some picnic fare and went for a drive upriver until we found the perfect spot for a picnic lunch. Later we watched the sun set on the beach. Despite taking approximately seventy photos (mostly of the sunset), we didn't get a single one of the two of us together. Oh well. Perhaps these ones will suffice:

And for other posts about past anniversaries go here and here.

I Am Resolved ...

2012-01-04T14:19:00.003+13:00

not to make any resolutions this year. Well that's not quite true. I thought it was until just a short while ago when printing out my new cleaning plan for the year ahead I remembered that just before Christmas I had resolved never to do a huge clean in the week before Christmas ever again. Instead, I would spread it out over an entire year.

Now, this is scary stuff. You see, a few years ago I made the same resolution and didn't even get January's cleaning done. To attempt it again means that I'm either insane or extremely determined or have a memory like a sieve! However, I've already made a good start. Without even realising that I was fulfilling one of the tasks for January, I got in and cleaned out my sewing desk this morning BEFORE BREAKFAST. Okay, breakfast was later than usual this morning, but not that late!

Of course, there's still several other items on that list to do before the end of the month, but hey, there's still almost four weeks still to go. Besides, I'm on holidays.

Interestingly, when I typed in my title into Google, I found the following lyrics:

I am resolved no longer to linger,
Charmed by the world's delight;
Things that are higher, things that are nobler,
These have allured my sight.

I am resolved to go to the Saviour,
Leaving my sin and strife;
He is the true One, He is the just One,
He hath the words of life.

I am resolved to follow the Saviour,
Faithful and true each day;
Heed what He sayeth, do what He willeth, He is the living way.

I am resolved to enter the Kingdom,
Leaving the paths of sin;
Friends may oppose me, foes may beset me,
Still will I enter in.

Chorus:
I will hasten to Him,
Hasten so glad and free;
Jesus, Greatest, Highest,
I will come to Thee.

That seems to be a good way to end this post and start this year!

(Lyrics: Palmer Hartsough)

Can Opener

2012-01-02T10:06:00.003+13:00

DH bought a $25 can opener for me and it doesn't work! He was tired of the cheap ones breaking all the time so decided to spend more ... Now he has to take it back and we still can't open our cans. (Well, I can't. DH has what he calls a 'multi-tool' and it does the trick but there's no way I'm going to be using that. Just the thought of learning how to open it scares me.)

I'm tired of appliances that break a few days after the warranty has expired ... and kitchen tools that don't do the job. My pet hate at the moment is those ridiculous plastic things that are called vegetable peelers and you're lucky if they peel anything - except your skin.

DH is always complaining that he can't get decent tools ... well I'm complaining now too. Come on, designers, engineers, manufacturers, retailers, and whoever else is involved in this business. I want a vegetable peeler and a can opener that works. How hard is that?

A Dam Picnic

2011-12-30T10:14:00.007+13:00

I love the scene in the movie Emma where the footmen bring out the tables and linen for the picnic to Box Hill. In movies and books picnic fare is always exotic and fresh. In real life - at least in our real life - it's anything but.

Our picnic consisted of bread (not fresh but at least a day old), freshly made griddle scones (which the recipe said to cook on a hot girdle and until two seconds ago when I turned to my dictionary and discovered that girdle is the Scottish equivalent of griddle I was wondering how to get a girdle hot enough that it cooked anything other than its wearer), oaty chocolate chip biscuits that Son#3 had made the previous evening, jam (for the scones which were even better than ones made in the oven with their crisp outside and soft fluffy centre), Vegemite, tomato, cheese, fruit cake (for DH and which he didn't eat), crackers, homemade hummus (which nobody touched), fruit, prunes, almonds (of the latter three I was the only person who had a piece of fruit), juice, a bottle of homemade ginger beer (the boys get excited about making it every summer but by the time they go back to Uni, the novelty has worn off), and of course, tea and coffee and milk.

There were rain warnings for parts of the country but when we set out it looked as if it was going to be another glorious day. We did encounter some rain on our picnic but just a few spots and certainly not enough to dampen our spirits. Besides, I love walking in the rain.

Our destination was a series of small dams in nearby ranges that DH thought might make a good place to go hunting. He suggested I come along and we have a picnic and go for a walk. It sounded like fun. What he didn't tell me was that half of the trip would be on unsealed winding roads. In Australia I only suffered with car sickness when I was a child or with child. Here, I just suffer to varying degrees most of the time that I get in the car.

Thankfully the first dam was at the point where I felt that I couldn't take another minute in the car. The high bridge over the dam made me feel dizzy but at least we were out in the fresh air. The remaining distance then went by in a blur until finally we arrived at our destination. There was a significant lack of picnic facilities (despite being led to believe otherwise) but there was a flushing toilet (luxury!) even if nowhere to wash afterwards. Still, after almost twenty-eight years of marriage to one who loves the bush, I've learnt to be prepared. It was more than I was expecting and Wet Wipes are always in the car.

I don't think anyone minded sitting on the edge of the walkway across the dam and it certainly afforded a decent view. Later, we went for a walk in the bush. DH and sons were excited to spot prints, and even though they kept throwing around such comments as "It's the wrong time of day to see deer", "They could smell us a mile off with the direction of this wind", etc, etc, I have a sneaking suspicion that they were hoping to see a deer step out of the bush while we were there. I couldn't have cared less except that all that remains in our freezer at present is a frozen chicken and one packet of minced beef.

Parts of the track made me feel as if I was on the set for Lord of the Rings or Prince Caspian. I guess there's a reason this country was chosen for such films. What do you think?

We journeyed home in the rain - well at least I think we did. By this time I was too miserable to care and slept most of the way. It was pouring when we got home and a hot bath felt luxurious. DH and sons had plans to go hunting today ... but it would seem the weather deems otherwise. Still, I don't mind a rainy day at home and there's still some of those biscuits and scones to finish up. Anyone want to come around for a cuppa?

Random Thoughts

2011-12-29T20:50:00.003+13:00

1. I can't get onto two of my favourite sites. Apparently it's a problem not with our server but with the NZ server. When I spoke to the technical help they mentioned that it was an international problem. That sounds important. All I want to do is get onto my prayer board so that I can read the requests and pray. :(

2. After reading a lot online about T-Tapp I decided to give it a go. Just fifteen minutes a day to see a difference. It sounds too good to be true. What they don't tell you is that if you're naturally uncoordinated like I am, it takes fifteen hours to sort out the exercises. A day. Still, practice makes perfect and I've got a colleague's wedding coming up and I'd really like to look half-decent for that without having to resort to baggy clothes and innovative camera angles.

3. I've felt flat since Christmas. I guess it's the natural anti-climax after all the rushing around and getting ready and now suddenly it's all over. I may not have felt so bad had someone managed to take one decent photo of me but in all the photos from Christmas day I look old. Really old.

4. Which brings me to the next point. Lately I've been having this reoccurring nightmare - except that it happens when I'm awake and coherent - that I sound just like my mother. On Christmas day and again at my granddaughter's birthday I opened my mouth to speak and out came my mother's words and voice. How did that happen?

5. DH left the following message on our voicemail: "What's the point of leaving a message if you don't have voicemail." Huh? If we don't have it, how did we hear your message?

6. I haven't heard from the publisher since I sent off my MS in September. I guess that's a 'No'. But it would be nice to hear one way or the other so that I can make plans. DH thinks it's funny how the communication business (publishers, editors, etc) are so bad at communicating. I just think it's frustrating.

7. I'm trying to decide what plan I'm going to adopt for the next year or two for reading through the Bible. Will I do what I've done these past two years and read right through the whole Bible plus repeat the New Testament and Psalms? And if so, do I want to read it in chronological order again or some other order? And what version? The choices are endless it seems but I only have a few days to decide.

8. I played the flute in church on Christmas day. Scary. But I think it went okay. Somehow it's easier to play in public when I don't know anyone than it is in a [small] churchful of people that I do know. I wonder if I'll ever be game enough to play in front of DIL#2? (She plays so beautifully.)

9. I was given a mortar and pestle for Christmas - in granite to go with my new bench tops. The Most Adorable Granddaughter#2 loved it. Of course DH had to try it out and since the closest thing on hand was whole almonds, he threw them in. As he ground them down to make almond butter, The Most Adorable Granddaughter#2 would add more ... and more ... and more. Sadly, the mortar and pestle were dusty (having not yet been washed) so we didn't get to enjoy that almond butter. I was also given a lovely cake stand by DIL#1's mother. She said that she didn't have a nice kitchen to enjoy it in ... but doesn't every woman enjoy lovely things whether their kitchen is lovely or not? I felt sad when she said that but it hasn't stopped me from admiring the cake stand with its full blown roses and cornflowers. (See, even managed to sneak some blue in there.)

10. Can anyone tell me what paeonies/peonies are? I started a quilt block that's been given the name of that flower and I had to go online to see what they actually looked like. I don't think I've ever seen them in real life. Or if I have, I had no idea what they were. I wonder if our local nurseries stock them? I might have to get some for the garden especially since I'm really liking how these blocks are turning out.

11. I'm still enjoying my new kitchen. It doesn't seem like a chore to do dishes or cook meals but fun. Apart from the novelty of having my first new kitchen ever, I think I really enjoy being closer to the family rather than closeted away as I was before. Okay, perhaps not closeted because the old kitchen was definitely ten times bigger than any closet, and it couldn't be closed off either, but it did feel as if you were away from the family and what was going on when you were way out there. Now, whether the family's in the dining or living, or out enjoying the veranda, they're still close. Plus, it is so much easier having everything closer to hand rather than forever walking back and forth between the pantry or refrigerator and the hotplates and oven. And of course I'm enjoying that wonderful stove even if I can't claim that my cooking has improved greatly since acquiring it.

12. I finally seem to have come to terms with the colour of my hair. I always liked my hair colour until it started getting silver strands. For a while I used herbal henna to try and camouflage the silver, but after a while I felt it looked fake. I could turn to permanent colour but I've always been reluctant to go down that route. Sitting for any length of time with a toxic cocktail of chemicals on my scalp has never appealed. Let alone the cost, the upkeep, the damage to the hair, etc, etc. So the other option was to accept the colour I now have but it's taken me a few years to get to this point. I think now that the henna has all faded out has helped me like it better. Although, when I go to work and see all the gorgeous women around - or even just when my beautiful DILs come over to visit (you would think my sons would be more sensitive and choose less gorgeous brides), it's hard not to get depressed and think that I really should do something about my hair. But past experiences have taught me that whenever I try to do something with my hair - whether it's cut or perm or whatever - I end up regretting it. Seems that I'm missing some vital genes here. However, since my shedding has increased again, it's possible that my long hair days are almost over. Who knows? Perhaps I'll be the next person sporting a bob with a cunning mixture of highlights and lowlights?

No Longer 'Almost'

2011-12-28T16:03:00.004+13:00

Today The Most Adorable Granddaughter#1 turns five. I still remember the phone call that came just before eight in the morning five years ago and which altered our plans for that day. Not that DH or I minded!

And the agonising wait in the hospital as we waited for news. Not that it took that long for a first baby. Right from the start DIL#1 decided to make a habit of short labours - something most women would probably be envious of (not that I personally can complain on that score.) With no news and the time ticking away, DH made the decision to go to work and get some tests out of the way. Shortly after he left, Son#1 came in and asked if I wanted to see my brand new granddaughter. As if he needed to ask!

Now, it's five years on and we celebrate and thank God for giving us this precious child and for all the wonderful memories we have. May there be many more!

The Party ...

It was another beautiful day for a celebration ... although The Most Adorable Granddaughter#3 was not keen on the water. It was a leetle cold!

This guest looks just like one of those beautiful porcelain dolls. Isn't she gorgeous?

The Most Adorable Granddaughter#2, who on Christmas day on noticing that everyone else seemed to be getting presents asked me with a voice that sounded close to tears "Where's mine?", was not at all bothered that it was her big sister getting the presents and attention this time. Perhaps that's because DH had given her a lollipop? Like others in the family she has discovered that sugar will soothe most of life's ills! (But ssh, don't tell anyone.)

Ah, the moment when The Most Adorable Granddaughter#2 got upset. Apparently The Most Adorable Granddaughter#1 blew the candles out without waiting for her! Never mind. Perhaps next month she can help The Most Adorable Granddaughter#3 blow out her candles.

The Most Adorable Granddaughter#3 was not allowed any of the sugary treats that the other guests got to enjoy but she was determined to have a closer look at the cake all the same.

A quiet moment with Dad ... and the end of a big day.

A New Zealand Christmas

2011-12-25T17:56:00.009+13:00

(Or "Take Two" of Our Family Christmas 2011.)

Some things are more important than opening presents (such as texting a special young lady.)

Opening presents.

Showing off favourite presents.

Christmas Pavlova.

Christmas Cassata. (It began to melt as soon as I removed it from the freezer and ended up sliding across the plate. Still tasted yummy.)

Enjoying the gorgeous weather (and winning some hearts at the same time.)

Hanging out with family.

(As usual when I'm wanting to show off my gorgeous family - :) - all photos are clickable.)

Folly

2011-12-23T10:26:00.005+13:00

Early this morning I threw on one of DH's hunting jerseys so that we could sit outside on the veranda and enjoy breakfast together before he went to work. After all, I could hardly sit out there in a two-piece swimsuit, could I? Although, given what happened shortly afterwards, a two-piece swimsuit may have been a wiser choice.

After DH had gone to work and I'd made the first layer of our Christmas cassata I decided to head out into the garden to do some weeding before I had my bath. It made more sense to get into the garden while it was still cool and to get dirty before getting all cleaned up. And it's not as if I didn't already have a million other things to do anyway. [Insert sarcasm icon.]

In Spring I had a mass of Forget-Me-Nots that were pretty but now they're dying and not so hot looking. So time to pull them out. Plus I thought it would give some other less vigorous plants some space to grow. They came out easily ... but so did their seed heads.

Forget-Me-Nots. There's a very good reason they've been given this name.

After crawling around on the garden on my hands and knees and breaking my last remaining long fingernails and jabbing myself with rose thorns thus increasing my chances of septicaemia and ending up with who-knows-what in my hair (there was something hanging over my right eye but whether a seed pod, the remains of some long-forgotten flower, or just a dead leaf, I never got to find out), I was done. But I was also covered with seeds (this is where a two-piece swimsuit would've come in handy - perhaps I could wear one at midnight and crawl around the garden so that I don't shock the neighbours?). I even had them in my hair.

Did I mention that this was before my bath? Don't judge me too harshly.

I had visions of hand-picking those seeds off one by one but it turned out to be an easier task than feared. A stiff scrubbing brush removed the majority of those little darlings so that I can now see myself confessing my crime to DH without too much fear and trembling on my part. But if I suddenly discover Forget-Me-Nots growing in the cracks in my bathroom floor, I'll know why.

Why?

2011-12-22T21:51:00.004+13:00

Why is it that despite a near-perfect driving record (I've only ever backed into a tree once and I only mention that in case one of my sons happens to read this post and remind me of it - and I could remind them of some things that they've managed to hit while driving my car - and while we're on the subject, why does no one ever bring up what DH has managed to hit?) when I took DH to work this morning he sat on the edge of his seat with his hands clasped as if praying, and then jumped out at the traffic lights rather than wait for me to drive around the corner and drop him at the gate?

Why did we have a dead sparrow in our front room earlier in the week?

And why-oh-why do we put ourselves under all this extra pressure at Christmas time? I seem to be getting nowhere fast. Make that super-fast. Today after dropping DH at the traffic lights (which came minutes after saying goodbye to The Most Adorable Granddaughter#4 and her family who are heading up to DIL#2's family this Christmas), I went and did the grocery shopping and put fuel in the car. Then I came home and between doing dishes and a load of washing sewed up a small table runner in colours to match my kitchen.

After that I started making ice cream (vanilla ice cream and chocolate hazelnut ice cream) so that I can make Cassata for Christmas. I also made three small pavlovas that I will join together with cream to make a yummy pavlova cake (or torte or whatever you like to call it). Meanwhile, DIL#1 had arrived and I had two little helpers both who it turned out had fevers and were rather cuddly. The Most Adorable Granddaughter#2 wrapped her arms around my neck for dear life and at the faintest hint that I might try and disengage her little arms told me, "Need my Nana." What's a Nana to do?

After clearing the kitchen of mountains of dishes, and pinning and sewing sections of the quilt that DIL#1 is making for The Most Adorable Granddaughter#3 for Christmas, I left Son#3 in charge of The Most Adorable Granddaughters#2 & #3 and went into town where I was playing in an open-air Christmas concert. Along with others from our flute choir we played a selection of Christmas carols (fourteen to be exact and two of those we did again when asked for an encore). After that I met DH and we went Christmas shopping. The burning question is: What does Son#4 want for Christmas? Seems no one knows - least of all Son#4.

I then came home to a houseful of people and discovered that I'd done the quilt cover upside down. I'd put the opening at the top instead of at the bottom. Out came the seam ripper and I started on that while Son#3 began cooking dinner. Somehow I managed to eat my food while cuddling The Most Adorable Granddaughter#2. Then it was more pinning, and DIL#1 sewed up the seams while The Most Adorable Granddaughters#1, #2, & #3 had baths. After that, we all admired the completed quilt, before Son#1 took his adorable family home.

A quick rush around cleaned up the house to an almost-respectable stage, I folded up what looked like a year's worth of towels and tea towels (no wonder there were none left in the drawer) and now I'm sitting here catching my breath and thinking about bed.

Tomorrow is another day and I have a feeling it's going to be just as busy. Or worse. So why do we do it? And is it too late to stop this crazy cycle?

Slower

2011-12-19T17:22:00.006+13:00

Only our internet. Not life. Sadly. Having been offline for almost a week due to changing providers you would think I would have accomplished far more than usual. Not so.

Well, perhaps it is so. I have after all managed to cook and clean for one early Christmas dinner AND spend a whole day and a half sewing quilt covers with DIL#1. Not to mention, having a houseful of young adults again (including Son#3's lovely girlfriend), going to watch The Most Adorable Granddaughters#1 & #2 in their Nativity Play, and beginning our 'Spring' clean to have the house all spic and span by Christmas Day (the real one - not the early one although we tried to have it nice by then too).

Now that I've finished work for the year I'm wondering how I ever managed to fit it in. The idea of being a full-time stay-at-home-Mum is very tempting even if all my chicks will be off out of the nest come the beginning of next year.

Anyway, some photo highlights of the previous week.

First in ... first served.

One week on: the finished Christmas Pudding. (It looks rather boring like this but heated up and served with cream it was delicious.)

Time for presents.

All else takes a back seat when the sewing machines are out especially when both sewing machines are thirty years old and temperamental (hence the messy house and sons looking lost in the kitchen).

One down, two to go.

Little angels.

So ...

2011-12-12T21:20:00.006+13:00

I haven't forgotten my Advent posts but life seems to have gotten in the way: teachers off sick, last week at work, increased commitments, tummy bug, adult sons home ... you get the idea. However if recent comments are any indication, my readers are more interested in seeing pictures of my incredibly gorgeous and outstanding family rather than reading my deeply considered views on doctrine and theology.

So ... the readers have it.

Just to prove that I could have gone all the way to Z, here are some of the posts I had planned. If there are any that you'd like me to particularly write on, just let me know. Otherwise, I'll just satisfy myself with making this list so that I don't feel like a total failure. (Can you tell that I hate unfinished business?)

J ...Joseph, Jerusalem, Joy, Jewish leaders (read Matthew 2:3-6 to see how the Jewish leaders were unwittingly involved in the first attempt on Jesus' life).

K ... King, Kingdom

L ... Light

M ... Manger, Mary

N ... Nazareth, Noel

O ... Obed (He's in the genealogy. Matthew 1:5 to be exact.)

P ... Peace

Q ... Quickened (Actually I can't find this in the Nativity story. Elizabeth spoke of the babe leaping for joy in her womb and the shepherds hastened to Bethlehem to see the baby Jesus ... so quickened is implied in both its old sense and the more common use of the word in these two examples. Well that's my argument anyway.)

R ... Redeemer

S ... Saviour, Shepherds, Star

T ... Tidings

U ... Uriah (Oh I love these genealogies. Matthew 1:6 supplied this one.)

V ... Virgin

W ... Wise Men

X ... Xmas (Okay, you won't find this in any Bible verse and it's a word many object to because they say it takes the 'Christ' out of 'Christmas'. On the other hand, some say it puts the Cross - 'X' - back into Christmas - right where it belongs.)

Y ... You (as in "For unto You is born".)

Z ... Zerubbabel, Zadok (Also found in the genealogy. Read Matthew 1:12-13 if you don't believe me.), Zacharias (father of John the Baptist).

So ... to keep everyone happy, here's another pic of my absolutely gorgeous family (well some of them anyway) ... and in particular, DIL#2 who missed out on all the noise and mess of making Christmas puddings and decorating a tree because she was sick.

Apparently We've Outdone Ourselves This Time

2011-12-11T15:52:00.006+13:00

At least according to Son#3. When we brought in the tree that Son#5 and The Most Adorable Granddaughters#1 & #2 had helped me buy, he sung out, "Dad, come see the tree they got. They're really outdone themselves this time."

I don't think it was meant as a compliment.

It was good to hear him laugh though.

Over the years we have had trees that have been too tall for our ceiling, trees that have been lopsided, skinny trees, short trees, and anything in between trees. Never have we had a picture-perfect tree as in the movies or those gracing the front of Christmas cards.

And despite killing our living tree last year, we decided to try another living tree again this year. Besides, they were the same price as a real tree that has been cut down. The only difference apparently - apart from height - is that they need water. Lots of it.

Must remember that this year.

On to the photos ...

Someone has to go first. In this case, The Most Adorable Granddaughter#2 was the brave one.

Obviously an electrician's daughter.

Another electrician's daughter. Is she trying to untangle the mess perhaps?

No, she's found something better to concentrate her energies on. (Yes it's soap.)

The tree needs an angel. (It also needs a star to take away from the flat-top look but I'm waiting for a kind angel to fix my star so that it doesn't topple over and take the top branches with it. Before Christmas would be nice. Hint, hint.)

Helpers come out of the woodwork.

The Most Adorable Granddaughter#3 has found something interesting to play with.

As has The Most Adorable Granddaughter#4. But whether it's Daddy or the tinsel that is most interesting is not obvious.

Four little angels.

Time to hang the candy canes.

Suddenly we have more helpers than we need.

The Most Adorable Granddaughter#4 has a far better use for the candy canes.

And it's done. Whew!

Family Christmas Pudding

2011-12-10T19:49:00.009+13:00

Fail-proof Family Christmas Pudding Recipe.

(All photos are clickable.)

Make breadcrumbs. It's okay to cover your ears if the noise is too much but don't stop making breadcrumbs. (The Most Adorable Granddaughter#3 makes the most of every one's inattention to help herself to a shortbread biscuit.)

Measure dried fruit and nuts and add breadcrumbs to fruit.

Cream together butter and brown sugar. It isn't necessary to do a taste test but if you must ...

Crack eggs and add to butter mixture one at a time. It's okay if everyone has a turn even though The Most Adorable Granddaughter#2 isn't too sure if Adorable Granddaughters#3 & #4 should be let loose with eggs!

Another taste test ... in spite of The Most Adorable Granddaughter#1's verbally expressed disgust that the mixture contains raw eggs!

Measure flour and spices and add butter mixture to flour mixture. Mix well. We seem to be missing a few family members. (Excuse me but only The Most Adorable Granddaughter#4 and her Daddy had a valid excuse.)

Start preparing lunch. (Actually I think only one had anything to do with helping to prepare lunch but who cares?)

Every family member must stir the mixture. Um, where's the family gone?

Make two puddings and tie with string. We seem to be short on helpers here. Again.

Help clean up. (Sorry, so few photos of this happening: perhaps another family member can shed some light on this?)

Fresh scones hot from the oven for all!

She's Turning Five

2011-12-09T11:47:00.004+13:00

Yesterday The Most Adorable Granddaughter#1 had her birthday party at Kindy. It's not her birthday yet but it was her last day at Kindy. She's now old enough for school and her courageous mother plans to take on the daunting task of homeschooling.

Some pictures from the party ...

... waiting for it to start. The Most Adorable Granddaughter#2 had been woken from sleep especially to attend. She had a fixed glazed look until the food came out at the end!

Where would a party be without a cake? even if it is a play dough cake!

Reviewing her learning ...

"Look how much I've grown!"

Receiving her Bible. Naturally the story she wanted to turn to first was about Jonah and the whale!

Even a Princess for a Day enjoys party food.

The Most Adorable Granddaughter#2 enjoyed the chance to play on the swings outside. And she had children lining up to push her!

Advent ... Inn

2011-12-07T21:19:00.005+13:00

And she brought forth her firstborn Son, and wrapped Him in swaddling cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn. Luke 2:7, NKJV

Did someone mess up somewhere down the line? Where was the specially furnished room in the palace? Or, failing that, the best room in a nobleman's house? Surely at the least there should have been a reserved room in the local five-star inn?

But there was no room any place for the King of Kings. Instead, He was born in a stable and probably not one resembling the sterilised pictures that adorn our Christmas cards. It was most likely draughty and dirty and littered with food and animal droppings. It probably stunk. It may have leaked in wet weather. It most likely was uncomfortable and itchy.

The kind of place where you'd hope to leave and go home to a nice hot bath. And clean cloths. And a comfortable bed.

Instead, it's where our Lord and Saviour was born.

Because. There. Was. No. Room. For. Him.

Anywhere.

Has anything changed? How much room is there for Him today?

Advent ... Herod

2011-12-05T20:59:00.005+13:00

A nasty fellow. A very nasty fellow.

It was Herod that ordered the death of many innocent children in order to eliminate the threat of another King. What he didn't realise was that this Baby King would have a heavenly kingdom rather than an earthly one. According to history, Augustus, on hearing that Herod's son was to be killed along with all the other male boys two years and younger, said, "It was better to be Herod's sow, than his son."

The ancient historian James Ussher tells us that Herod imprisoned noble Jews that were to be executed on his death so that the people would have reason for sorrow, rather than rejoicing at his death.

As I said, a nasty fellow.

Then Herod, when he saw that he was deceived by the wise men, was exceedingly angry; and he sent forth and put to death all the male children who were in Bethlehem and in all its districts, from two years old and under, according to the time which he had determined from the wise men. Then was fulfilled what was spoken by Jeremiah the prophet, saying:

“ A voice was heard in Ramah,
Lamentation, weeping, and great mourning,
Rachel weeping for her children,
Refusing to be comforted,
Because they are no more.”

Now when Herod was dead, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt, saying, “Arise, take the young Child and His mother, and go to the land of Israel, for those who sought the young Child’s life are dead.” Then he arose, took the young Child and His mother, and came into the land of Israel. But when he heard that Archelaus was reigning over Judea instead of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there. And being warned by God in a dream, he turned aside into the region of Galilee. Matthew 2:16-22, NKJV

Advent ... Gifts

2011-12-04T19:14:00.002+13:00

Gold. Frankincense. Myrrh.

According to various sources, these gifts had significance, if only because they were commonly given as gifts to a king. Others believe they had spiritual significance: gold as a symbol of kingship, frankincense as a symbol of priestship, and myrrh as a symbol of death.

Whatever the reason, they seem unusual gifts to give to a Child - and particularly to One born in a stable. King? He was lying in a manger - who would believe it? Priest? His father was a carpenter. Death? Sure, we'll all die one day.

Where were the hand-made rattles, the garments lovingly stitched, a year's supply of disposable nappies, something that could make a young mother's life easier?

What was Mary going to do with such gifts? In fact, what did she do?

Perhaps such gifts - apart from causing amusement for doting parents at Nativity plays in the English-speaking world when one child slips up and says Frankenstein instead of frankincense - remind us that this Child was different ... this Child was special ... and He was born so that He would one day die for us all ... He was born to be a priest in the order of Melchizedek ... He was born to one day be King over all the earth.

And inasmuch as He was not made priest without an oath (for they have become priests without an oath, but He with an oath by Him who said to Him:
“ The LORD has sworn
And will not relent,
‘ You are a priest forever
According to the order of Melchizedek’”),
by so much more Jesus has become a surety of a better covenant. Hebrews 7:20-22, NKJV

Advent ... Firstborn

2011-12-03T18:31:00.001+13:00

And [Mary] brought forth her firstborn Son, and wrapped Him in swaddling cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn. Luke 2:7, NKJV

Now when the days of her purification according to the law of Moses were completed, they brought Him to Jerusalem to present Him to the Lord (as it is written in the law of the Lord, "Every male who opens the womb shall be called holy to the Lord"), and to offer a sacrifice according to what is said in the law of the Lord ... Luke 2: 22-24a, NKJV

It's significant that Mary and Joseph fulfilled the requirements of the law with regard to their firstborn Son. It's doubtful though that they understood at this point (and perhaps not until after His resurrection) that their Son would do away with the law. Because the law could not make men holy - it could only show them their sin - and because sacrifices had to be ongoing - a better way was needed to forgive men of their sin and bring them into a right relationship with God.

That better way was through the death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ. But I suspect Mary and Joseph had not even the faintest inkling of what this would mean for their firstborn when they gazed upon Him lying in the manger.

I wonder, as other children were added to their family if they recognised that this Child was different ... or, in the busyness of family life, did they forget the miracle of His birth and not until later, looking back, did they realise just how special He was?

Advent ... Egypt

2011-12-02T20:43:00.006+13:00

It's interesting that the last few posts have been about how Jesus' birth fulfilled prophecies given hundreds of years before His birth. Interesting in that I had no intention of delving into the various prophecies when I decided to blog on Advent. Still, it's good to remind ourselves that the birth of Jesus fulfilled all the prophecies about His birth - and there were several hundred! What are the chances of that unless Jesus' birth was orchestrated by God Himself?

Egypt. Joseph fled there with Mary and the Baby Jesus after being warned in a dream and remained there until the death of Herod. It was a matter of safety. Flee and save the Baby's life or stay and risk Him being slaughtered along with all the other infant boys.

I know what I'd do as a parent if I had prior warning. Egypt, here we come!

When Israel was a child, I loved him,
And out of Egypt I called My son. Hosea 11:1, NKJV

When he arose, he took the young Child and His mother by night and departed for Egypt, and was there until the death of Herod, that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the Lord through the prophet, saying, “Out of Egypt I called My Son.” Matthew 2:14-15, NKJV

Advent ... David

2011-12-01T20:13:00.005+13:00

Hundreds of years before Jesus' birth the prophet Isaiah prophesied that one from the house of David would sit again on the throne. I don't know about you but I tend to skip over the long genealogies in the Bible. Most make great bed-time reading - if you can't get to sleep and want to. Only occasionally do I recognise a name or three. However several commentators would have us believe that both of Jesus' earthly parents were of the line of David, in which case, Jesus' birth well and truly fulfilled this prophecy.

In mercy the throne will be established;
And One will sit on it in truth, in the tabernacle of David,
Judging and seeking justice and hastening righteousness. Isaiah 16:5, NKJV

Advent ... Caesar's Census

2011-11-30T20:15:00.004+13:00

Caesar Augustus. He's overlooked in Nativity plays: he hardly appears to be a key figure, and there are so many other important characters that it's easy to forget his role. After all, what did he do except to issue a decree that all those in the known world should be registered?

But it was that very decree that forced Mary and Joseph to travel to Bethlehem where Mary gave birth to Jesus, thus fulfilling one of the prophecies about his birth:

But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah,
Though you are little among the thousands of Judah,
Yet out of you shall come forth to Me
The One to be Ruler in Israel,
Whose goings forth are from of old,
From everlasting. Micah 5:2, NKJV.

And it came to pass in those days that a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered. Luke 2:1, NKJV

Despite this, I somehow don't think he's going to feature in any future plays.

Advent ... Birth

2011-11-29T20:08:00.001+13:00

B is for Babe born in Bethlehem.

Born of a virgin.

God in the manger.

Love so amazing, so inconceivable.

The wonder of Christmas.

So all this was done that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the Lord through the prophet, saying: “Behold, the virgin shall be with child, and bear a Son, and they shall call His name Immanuel,” which is translated, “God with us.” Matthew 1:22-23, NKJV

Advent ... Angels

2011-11-27T17:07:00.001+13:00

Today marks the beginning of Advent: the season when we remember Christ's coming. As someone who has not been a huge fan of Christmas and its trappings I've decided to spend the time from now until Christmas exploring the meaning of the season. Not the spirit of the season or the commercialism of the season but the true meaning of Christmas.

And what better way to do it than in a series of alphabet posts? (And you thought I'd done with ABCs! Actually there are probably better ways to do it but this is how I'm doing it).

So A is for Advent but it's also for Angels. And angels play a huge part in the Christmas story. It was the angel Gabriel who visited Zacharias and told him that his wife Elizabeth was to have a child - a child who would become known as John the Baptist; Gabriel also visited Mary and told her what must have seemed inconceivable - that a virgin was to be with child - and that she had been chosen above all women; Joseph, betrothed to Mary, was told by an angel in a dream that he need not fear taking Mary as his wife; and on the night of Jesus' birth the shepherds were visited by a whole host of angels.

Now there were in the same country shepherds living out in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. And behold, an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were greatly afraid. Then the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people. For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be the sign to you: You will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger.”

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying:

“ Glory to God in the highest,
And on earth peace, goodwill toward men!”

So it was, when the angels had gone away from them into heaven, that the shepherds said to one another, “Let us now go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has come to pass, which the Lord has made known to us.” And they came with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the Babe lying in a manger. Now when they had seen Him, they made widely known the saying which was told them concerning this Child. And all those who heard it marvelled at those things which were told them by the shepherds. But Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart. Then the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told them. (Luke 2:8-20, NKJV)

I'm not surprised the shepherds were afraid. I suspect I would have been also. But what wondrous news they heard! And what a wondrous response!

I wonder how we will respond this Christmas? Will it be with praise and wonder and a desire to share the wonderful news, or will we not even care or acknowledge who He is and what He has done? Will we hasten to spend time with Him and to worship at His feet or will we be too busy to even pause and reflect that God came down to redeem mankind to Himself? Will we give Him all that we have ... or will we ignore Him?

Privilege

2011-11-26T14:08:00.003+13:00

"Nana, when are you going to go vote?" The Most Adorable Granddaughter in the World#1 asked me a short while ago.

"Are your uncles ready to go vote?" I asked in reply. (DH - wise man - had voted earlier in the week and so could continue with his tiling of the laundry floor.)

"I'll go see," she said.

They were. So we went. And The Most Adorable Granddaughters#1 & #2 came home with stickers claiming they had voted!

I'll admit that I'm not sure why The Most Adorable Granddaughter#1 was keen for us to go vote (surely nothing to do with the playground at the school?) but I certainly didn't want her to get the idea that voting was irksome - even if I had to put aside my sewing so that we could go.

At the voting booth she seemed a little in awe of all that was happening. I remember as a child waiting outside in the car while my parents voted and conjuring up various scenarios of what 'voting' looked like (all of which turned out to be far more exciting than the reality which I later discovered when I turned eighteen).

To vote for one's government is a privilege and something denied many people in this world. It may not be top of my list of things I like to do but it is a privilege all the same. New Zealand was the first nation to grant women the right to vote in 1893 although other nations did permit professional women or land-owning women to vote in local elections. Women in Australia in 1865 were also able to vote due to an error in Victoria's laws - which were quickly amended!

I will admit that as a woman I understand zilch about politics ... but that won't stop me watching with interest the outcome of today's elections.

Thanksgiving

2011-11-20T19:18:00.003+13:00

Years ago when we had an American boarder in our house she and her American boyfriend introduced us to Thanksgiving. For a number of years we kept the tradition going but it has become harder and harder with the family getting older and moving away. Perhaps if Thanksgiving was a holiday here it would be easier but it's not.

Son#5 will still be in the middle of exams this coming Thanksgiving, Son#1 will have classes, I haven't even checked to see if Son#2 is working or not but I will be (until 6.30 that night anyway), and Son#3 may or may not be home.

So it's not looking as if it's going to happen this year. However, I still think it's a good idea to pause and think of all the things we are thankful for. So here begins my list (I may add to it as the week goes on):

I'm thankful for this country's national anthem which is really a prayer. It's made me wonder about the original writer/s of the anthem and what they believed. I'll be certainly searching that out in the near future.

I'm thankful for a husband who thinks I'm beautiful even when I turn up to church with barely any makeup on (running late because I tried on three different skirts before settling on the one I'd had on first).

I'm thankful for four beautiful granddaughters who bring so much joy into my life.

I'm thankful for my family and that they come home even if Son#2 says we're all crazy and Son#3 only comes when he can tear himself away from a certain young lady.

I'm thankful that God's grace is sufficient. Whether it's dealing with chronic pain ... disappointment ... uncertainty about the future ... His grace is always sufficient.

I'm thankful for work in these days of unemployment and economic recession.

I'm thankful for my wonderful brand new kitchen which is almost - almost! - completed. I like it even if the taste of some members of the family varies greatly from my own.

I'm thankful that Son#4 starts a job tomorrow and that even though it may not be paying - or may not pay much - it will help him fulfil the requirements of his engineering degree.

I'm thankful that we've had a glimpse of sunshine this past week and can only hope that we will see more of it soon. (Considering it will officially be summer in just over ten days' time, it's about time we saw some sunshine and I stopped thinking about lighting the fire at night).

I'm thankful for the great team I have at work. We're still trying to find our feet after all the recent changes but each teacher has such incredible gifts that they bring to the job.

I'm thankful that I can write and that God has given me this desire. For a child whom doctors predicted would never be able to function outside institutionalised care, I'm so thankful that God in His mercy and grace healed me and blessed me with such a wonderful desire and gift.

I'm thankful for my readers and especially all those who ask when the next book will be out. (Hopefully I'll have something to report soon.)

I'm thankful for my vegetable garden in pots. It's a lot less back-breaking than my old vegetable plot and a lot less work. I don't know if it will be as productive but at the moment it's fulfilling my need to grow vegetables.

I'm thankful for my roses which are looking amazing at the moment - thanks I'm sure to all the tea leaves I've been feeding them in recent months. (DH says it's due to his expert pruning but I'm sure it's the tea leaves.)

I'm thankful for the wonderful ladies on the prayer board online who pray with and for me. I will probably never meet any of these ladies in this life, but they are truly my sisters in Christ and I will always be grateful for them.

I'm thankful that DH and I have until next winter before we have to make a decision on curtains for our dining and kitchen since we can't decide/agree on ordinary drapes, Roman blinds, venetian blinds, or shutters. Actually shutters aren't even a consideration given the expense but they would certainly look amazing.

I'm thankful for a DH who works hard and who likes to do a good job and while sometimes I think he's too fussy, I do really appreciate the time and effort and patience that he puts into making things right.

I'm thankful that DH made me buy that blue silk blouse that I'd fallen in love with and which I love wearing. The first time I put it on Son#5 told me it was a nice top: I almost had to be peeled off the floor! It makes me feel good every time I put it on.

I'm thankful that I now have batteries in my scales and they no long tell me I'm a "bat" every time I climb on them. And even better, even though they haven't been working for several weeks, I've not put any weight on!

I'm thankful for God's many blessings - some which I have listed - but there are more not listed. I'm especially thankful for His goodness to me and for the gift of salvation.

I'm thankful for the studies we've been doing on Christmas with our teens and preteens. Even though our numbers in the class are dwindling, I've learnt so much just from preparing the lessons and have looked at a familiar story from a new perspective.

I'm thankful ... that I have so much to be thankful for.

Laugh ... Don't Cry

2011-11-14T16:23:00.003+13:00

Today was one of those days: a day when you don't know whether to laugh or cry. Crying would definitely be easier, but laughing usually yields better results.
So what was there to laugh about?

Five minutes into session time and a teacher had to be sent home sick. No problem. Get a reliever. It's standard practice and usually someone is willing to work. Except that today no one seemed to be answering their phones. Thankfully a teacher arrived to do something else and was willing to fill in.

About an hour later, a child dropped a glass jar and a teacher, not realising that it had broken, picked it up and slashed her finger open. At the time I was in the bathroom assisting children to wash their hands. I herded them out to the table and got them sitting down and we started singing songs - anything to keep them away from the broken glass that was now being cleaned up. At this stage I didn't realise a teacher had been injured.

After the children had been fed and watered, I had a look at the teacher's finger and suggested that she just might like to go and get some stitches put in it. She wasn't too keen, so I grabbed some steri-strips and did the best I could to hold the gash together. When the blood continued to seep through the bandage around it, I decided it was time she went off to the doctor. [My family will be pleased to know that no, I did not faint. Not even a hint of it - despite all the blood.]

Another reliever had to be found. Easier this time than the last. But I do feel for the poor lady in the office who is going to have to sort out all the comings and goings of teachers throughout the day and make sense of it. [We couldn't even make sense of it and we were there.]

The teacher returned after the doctor had added more steri-strips and bandaged it. Things began to return to normal apart from a child turning the shower on in the bathroom and wetting our chairs and aprons, and several children being upset and wanting extra cuddles.

Lunch time came around and a new parent came in to check us out. We pasted smiles on our faces and pretended that everything was under control.

But it wasn't. Eventually I commented to the parent that it wasn't always like this. She replied, "It's just what I expected." [I wanted to ask her if she was crazy. If we were always that noisy and chaotic - and thankfully we aren't - she would still consider leaving her precious child in such a centre?]

If I'd had the time I would have liked to explain that we work hard at providing a peaceful curriculum, one where things are done at an unhurried pace and children's care routines are done according to their schedules not teachers. But I was too busy. Besides, she probably wouldn't have believed me. Perhaps we can show her by example the next time she comes in.

I was just about to go off for a well-deserved lunch break when DH texted and asked what time I was going to be home. Apparently the tilers who had assured me on Friday that they would definitely not be back on Monday had turned up and needed someone to lock up after them when they were finished. By now I was beginning to think that I wouldn't be home before Christmas but I didn't tell him that.

The afternoon went pretty much according to plan except that I was needed to work with the children rather than doing office duties (which would have been a welcome relief at that point) and two children decided to remove their nappies/diapers which is never good. Never. Another child had the greatest fun on earth pulling all the used paper towels out of the bin and strewing them all over the floor - just as parents were arriving. [At least he didn't stuff them down the drain and block that - others have tried before.]

The end of session was drawing to a close when another teacher dropped a glass - [What was it with glasses today?] and we were almost back to where we'd been this morning except that there were no injuries - something that caused me to be extremely relieved and thankful. I herded the children outside (I should have been a shepherd) and we waited there until all the glass had been cleaned up inside. [That floor is going to be super clean after all the times it's been vacuumed today.]

Tomorrow is another day and I'm just hoping it's going to get better. If not, at least I'll get another chance to laugh ... or cry.

Rainbows

2011-11-13T18:19:00.005+13:00

Weekends are a bit like rainbows; they look good from a distance but disappear when you get up close to them. John Shirley

And this particular rainbow is about to disappear (one of the disadvantages of living in a country that is ahead time-wise of almost every other inhabited piece of land on this earth).

But this rainbow (as have many previous rainbows) brought with it little rays of sunshine:

And that gives me reason to look forward to the next rainbow ... and the next ...

You Said?

2011-11-11T21:00:00.006+13:00

It seems lately that any decision we've made (that is DH and I) about the finer details of our renovation project have been met with scorn, suspicion, doubt or disbelief from the rest of the family. Son#5 even went so far as to suggest that it's only DH and I who have to be happy with the final outcome since after February next year we'll be the only two living here.

I take that as an: I absolutely hate it but if I say so you probably won't cook any more meals for me or do my laundry until I leave home so I'll try and be diplomatic and keep everyone happy. (Didn't work! I'm on to him.)

So far:

At least one son had suggested that our dining area wouldn't be big enough.

It is. (Although we haven't yet moved all our furniture back in but we're confident it will fit.)

The family didn't like the colour of our new deck.

I love it.

The family - apart from DIL#1 - didn't like the colour of the laundry.

I like it. I think.

The family - or was it just one son in particular? - thought the tiles we had picked out for the kitchen would look funny.

They were wrong.

Proof:

I wonder what their reaction would be if I decided to hang polka dot curtains in the kitchen? Perhaps they'd like that.

The Price of Freedom

2011-11-11T11:00:00.000+13:00

Today is Armistice Day, and as of years of late, it seems to be forgotten by many - that is if they even knew its significance in the beginning. When I posted about Armistice Day last year, I was reminded by a reader that freedom isn't free. Many who enjoy freedom forget that someone had to pay for it - in this instance with their lives, with their injuries, with their grief. The mothers and wives and sisters who let their men go paid the price just as much as those who died on the battlefields. The soldiers who returned with broken bodies and broken minds, paid the price. Those that were blessed to return whole, also paid the price - they witnessed friends die beside them, they gave up careers and study opportunities and families to fight. Everyone who was affected in some way, paid for our freedom. Let us never forget that freedom has a price - and that not many are prepared to pay it.

At the eleventh hour ... of the eleventh day ... of the eleventh month ... let us remember.

In Flanders' fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders' fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders' fields.

("In Flanders' Fields" by John McCrae.)

It's Hard to Believe

2011-11-09T20:17:00.005+13:00

But my 'baby' has now finished school. As of last night, he no longer has to attend school apart from sitting - and hopefully passing - his exams.

He's growing up and soon he'll leave the nest to begin life on his own. I'll admit that I'm in denial. Where is the chubby son that used to climb into my lap every night for a cuddle? It's hard to believe those days are well and truly behind us.

I'm also finding it hard to believe that not only has he finished with school life and everything that goes with it but DH and I have also. Since Son#1 began school almost twenty-two years ago we're always had at least one child at school and at least one prize-giving ceremony to attend each year. I think the record number of such ceremonies we attended in one year was four. We deserved a medal that year!

Prize giving: agonising ceremonies that go on and on (three hours last night and not a chance to stand up between the teacher processional at the beginning and the national anthem at the end) and where parents only want to see their child receive their certificates and don't care two figs about all the other kids (except to compare their results with their own kid/s and feel either proud or envious).

We're done with them. For good. Hard to believe. Of course, there is always the danger that a thoughtful and well-meaning grandchild will decide to ask us to attend one of their prize giving ceremonies in the years to come. Hopefully they'll give us a few years respite.

I'm just realised that the same teachers were on stage two years ago when Son#4 graduated

and I suspect they're the same teachers in this photo of Son#3 when he graduated two years prior to that:

I wonder how many prize giving ceremonies they've attended??? And is it true that teachers hide a book in their gowns to read on stage to pass the time?

Z is for ... Zzzzzzzz

2011-11-05T18:47:00.002+13:00

And a sleeping baby in my arms. Her Daddy said she'd have a bath at 5.45 pm, followed by a bottle and two short stories, and then bed at 6.30 pm. He got it right for the most part. Bath, bottle, stories, yes. Bed, no. Well kind of no. She did go to sleep in my arms at 6.40 pm but when I tried to put her down, she woke and cried.

Now if she'd been one of my babies I probably would've let her cry herself to sleep but this is my grandchild we're talking about. I can't let The Most Adorable Granddaughter#4 cry herself to sleep. It breaks my heart.

Funny how things change when you're the grandparent.

Zzzzzzzz is also for the swarm of bees we've had in our woodshed. When we rang to find out about having them removed we were told to put a cup of petrol in the woodshed. I don't know whether the fumes killed them or just drove them away but as of today we have only seen one bee. And one bee a swarm does not make.

When you have two sons allergic to bees and four precious little granddaughters you don't want to take chances with bees.

Z is also for a zillion things that seem to make this time of year an extra busy time. But right now all I have time for is one precious little girl who needs to be rocked back to sleep. (Ssh, don't tell her parents!)

Y is for ... You

2011-11-04T19:35:00.003+13:00

My faithful reader/s who have managed to get this far through my alphabet posts. Even if You haven't, I still appreciate You.

I'm not sure what I hoped to achieve by blogging for twenty-six days in a row. It's almost over (one letter to go!) but for me it's been a lot of fun and certainly the discipline of having to write every day has been good for me.

Today I finished - or at least I think I did - my latest novel. Due to renovations and changes and life, I've not worked on my writing for months. Today that changed and it was possibly in part due to my habit of daily writing that has developed over the last twenty-five days. Once I got into it, I didn't want to stop. Forget about cooking dinner or doing housework, even my music lesson (almost), all I could think about was writing. I was totally engrossed and didn't want to be distracted.

And so it's finished. Of course there's editing to do and touching and tightening and whatever else it needs to get it ready for publication. But it's done.

And this challenge is almost finished and I'm wondering: Where to next? Do I keep this blog going? What do You my readers want to read? (If comments are any indication, certainly not alphabet posts again.) Do You want more photos? (I've got slack of late as far as that goes.) Or am I deluding myself in thinking that there is any You out there at all?

X is for ...Xaminations

2011-11-03T19:38:00.003+13:00

Son#2 sat his examination on Tuesday. This time - unlike the last time when he sat an exam with thoughts of his wife due to go into labour at any second on his mind (she was already overdue) - his exam paper was at the examination venue and he didn't have to fret and wait until a copy could be made.

Son#4 began his exams yesterday and Son#3 is about to begin his. He had a major presentation today which apparently went "okay".

Saturday week Son#5 begins his exams. Before that, he will have his school prizegiving. His final prizegiving. The very last time that DH and I have to sit through a prizegiving (unless the grandchildren ever-so-kindly invite us to one in a few years time).

I'm in denial. I can't believe that my "baby" is about to finish with school forever. It's happened too soon. I am so not ready for this.

W is for ... Wisdom

2011-11-02T20:53:00.003+13:00

But the wisdom that is from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality and without hypocrisy (James 3:17, NKJV)

There are times when I really need wisdom ... and it's usually when dealing in human relationships. Whether it's my own family or the kids I teach in Bible Class or my colleagues at work, there are times I really really need wisdom.

Wisdom is not usually thought of in these terms: pure, peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, and without partiality or hypocrisy. In fact, we're more apt to associate wisdom with knowledge or knowing how to handle a situation or making the right decision.

This verse paints a different picture of wisdom ... one that I'm going to need to think on for a while. But while I'm at it, let's not forget that this month we have elections and that we will all need wisdom - and lots of it - in knowing how to vote.

V is for ... Visit

2011-11-01T19:49:00.003+13:00

I'm expecting a visit tomorrow from my SIL. I'm not sure when I last caught up with her - perhaps at Son#2's wedding almost two years ago.

I was friends with DH's eldest sister for a number of years before I met DH. I had no idea that time when she showed me photos of her family that one day I would belong to the family. I didn't even give a second glance to the brother with the long hair in the photo.

By the time I met him styles had changed and he was wearing his hair short. This time I stole a second look!

DH decided to do his big OE (overseas experience) by using his sister and brother-in-law's home as a base from which to explore the length and breadth of Australia. But he met a girl and the rest - as they say - is history. He did manage to get up north and years later was able to say that he'd at least sat in an airport down south but he never got across that wide continent.

My SIL moved back to New Zealand with her husband and two children shortly after DH and I had moved here. Now she's on the move again - back to Australia where her husband has secured a job and her daughter lives with her husband and children. I don't think anyone is surprised that they're moving closer to grandkids. (Their son is in America at the moment and still single and childless.)

I haven't seen a lot of her in recent years as they've lived down south although they have made regular trips up this way because DH's mother lives here so it's probably not going to make a lot of difference to our relationship that they'll be back overseas.

However, I'm going to make the most of this visit because one never knows when the next one will come around.

U is for ... Uluru

2011-10-31T16:38:00.004+13:00

Uluru, also known as Ayers Rock, and in the centre of Australia, is one of the wonders of the modern world. It's also a place I've never visited although I'd love to one day. I think the sheer immensity of this monolith would be enough to render most people speechless.

DH worked in a tiny speck of a place several hours drive from Uluru when our eldest was just six months old. He loved it! Not just the landscape, and the wildlife (saw crocodiles out sunning themselves on his Sunday walk) but also the climate.

I doubt very much that I would enjoy the climate for more than a few days at a time but I would still love to go there.

I'd also love to visit Tasmania (in fact, if our kids weren't all grown up and settled in New Zealand with our adorable granddaughters, I'd love to live in Tasmania for a year or two or longer) and Ireland and Norfolk Island (see a pattern here? I'd attracted to those places that have historical links with convicts). And I wouldn't mind seeing a few other wonders of the world while I'm at it.

But since I really hate flying - I mean, I really hate flying - the furthest I'm ever likely to go is Australia. And even that requires years and years of building up my courage!

T is for ... Torment

2011-10-30T16:01:00.002+13:00

n. Someone belonging to our family - generally male - who likes to tease other members of family - particularly spouse but not confined to.

It's when the family gets together that I'm so often aware of defective genes that are passed down from generation to generation. Just last week Son#2 told me that his wife had said such-and-such. His wife smiled indulgently and I hastened to assure her (I hope) that I know what Son#2 is like. After all, he's been tormenting family members since the day he was born!

It's quite possible that DIL#2 had said what he said she'd said - in a totally different context. Or - just as likely - she'd said those words in separate conversations over the course of a day - or week - and he had taken them and put them all together.

But he can't be blamed. He can't help it. He's just like his father ... who is just like his father ... who apparently was just like his mother. I used to come away from visits to DH's family wondering what on earth they must think of me after DH had said something during our time with them. Now I know, that just like me with Son#2 (and Son#3 I discovered when we had dinner with him and his girlfriend the other night - and I suspect other sons also), they probably just ignored it.

After all, he was born that way and can't help himself. It runs in the family. I think the reason why DH's family liked me was because I was so gullible - especially in the beginning. I must have been a great source of merriment for them.

Still, I can think of far worse things than not having a sense of humour or being able to laugh.

S is for ... Saturday

2011-10-29T20:36:00.004+13:00

Which is almost over ... at least for me because I'm shattered. In the last fourteen-and-a-half hours I have given a nine-month-old baby a bottle and breakfast before going off to attend a First Aid Course where I had to consider various emergency scenarios.

Coming home I managed to sneak in time for a cup of tea and a short-lived sit-down before cleaning up the kitchen and helping to cook dinner for seven adults and three children as well as enjoy another one not yet at the solid stage. More clean-up duties in the kitchen and then I help bath and shampoo three little girls.

Finally, I held a child in my arms as she went off to sleep and then slipped her into her sleeping bag where I spent several seconds trying to remove slippery fabric that had become stuck in the zipper.

Now I'm tired and ready for bed. And it's only an hour or so past seven-thirty!

R is for ... Reflection

2011-10-28T11:23:00.004+13:00

More specifically, reflection on our latest renovations. In three words:

Don't do it.

Again:

Don't do it.

Why?

Because even though it's totally worth it, it was probably one of the worst experiences we ever lived through. By the end I was ready to just walk away from the house and pretend it had never existed.

But, now that it's nearing completion (at least from the point of view of the various contractors), we're enjoying the new space and are glad we survived it.

However, if I ever so much as hint at wanting to do it again, please refer me back to this post. Apparently some crazy people go from one renovation to the next but I doubt I'll fall into that category.

From this:

to this:

Q is for ... Quiver

2011-10-27T19:34:00.003+13:00

According to my dictionary, a quiver is a case for arrows. I read once that a quiverful was at least five and because of that verse in Psalm 127 I always wanted at least five children.

I got five and I can say that that passage is right when it says:

Like arrows in the hand of a warrior,
So are the children of one’s youth.
Happy is the man who has his quiver full of them. (Psalm 127:4-5a, NKJV)

P is for … Parenting

2011-10-26T17:13:00.005+13:00

And since I’ve only ever parented boys, I guess it’s about parenting boys.

And what do I know about parenting boys?

Absolutely nothing.

I knew nothing when I started and I still know next to nothing.

About a year ago someone complimented me on my sons and suggested that I teach other parents how to parent boys. This person had known my boys after they’d left home – when I was no longer around to remind them to brush their teeth and mind their manners. She and her husband ran the hostel that two of my sons had lived in (and another is planning to next year) and in which another son had been a frequent visitor (he married the favourite resident). So I guess she knew them as well as any outsider could. The only problem is … I don’t really know what I did right except to pray and hope and pray and try different things and pray and love them to bits.

I did have the disadvantage (or advantage if you like) of having grown up surrounded by females. I had one sister and no brothers and a father that worked shift work, a grandfather that also worked shift work or was ill, uncles only through marriage, and boy cousins that were at least ten years younger or ten years older.

Therefore I had no idea that boys were meant to be messy, noisy, obnoxious, and boisterous. So if my boys wanted to be messy, noisy, obnoxious or boisterous they could go outside and do it! I expected the same behaviour from them that I would have thought appropriate for girls. Ignorant that I was of males, and no one told me otherwise (probably because there were so many females in my family and they didn’t know any different) I raised them to be respectful and mindful of others.

It probably didn't help that DH was one of eight children and had been expected to do the baking and household chores alongside his sisters to help his mother out in what must have been a busy household. So our boys - not having sisters - still had to help with baking and dishes and other household chores. We'd done it as kids so it wouldn't hurt them to do it either - or so we reasoned.

So when it came to being parented, our kids were certainly disadvantaged. We knew nothing and they reaped the consequences of our ignorance.

Okay, perhaps I'm exaggerating a little. All joking aside, there were two parenting principals that we learnt that we believed stood us in very good stead when it came to raising our boys.

The first was to teach our children to obey. We thought we were doing this, but we quickly learned that we were actually teaching our children to disobey. Shock horror, but it was true. Perhaps you’ve seen others use this strategy: “I’m going to count to three and if you haven’t done it by then … one … two … two and a quarter … two and a half … two and three-quarters … two and nine-tenths … three!” and of course the little darlings jump on three. When we realised what we were teaching our children and what we were letting them get away with, we were convicted that we’d done wrong. From then on we expected our children to obey immediately … and it proved to be a lot easier and a lot less hassle.

The other was not just about changing their behaviour but changing their heart. It wasn’t enough to teach them to obey, we had to teach them why (because the Bible says to obey your parents). Ditto for everything we wanted to teach our children. If we wanted to instil good manners then we would explain that it was because it was a way of showing respect and love to others (love your neighbour as yourself). My favourite was – and is – to remind them how they should treat their siblings (how good it is when brothers live together in brotherly kindness).

I still don’t claim to have gotten it right, but when I look at my sons today I am proud – and humbled – at how they have turned out. And just in case you’re wondering, the photo was taken before our eldest was married and only the two eldest have stayed the same height!

O is for ... Overgrown.

2011-10-25T17:59:00.006+13:00

Our backyard that is.

Son#5 offered to mow it during his holidays but for reasons I have yet to comprehend, DH turned him down.

I'm not sure what he's waiting for. Wildlife to take up residence perhaps? Or maybe to see how long grass will grow in a year?

Actually, I tell a lie. I've just remembered why DH said No. It's because we had problems with our plumbing in the holidays. Water was bubbling up from behind our new gully trap and also from a place in the ground where old pipes had supposedly been removed. DH had to get out with a long stick and poke holes in the grass trying to find where the pipes were. He found them, dug holes, and the plumbers came and fixed our problem. But DH doesn't want the holes filled in until he's drawn up a little plan of where they are ... in case there's a next time and he needs to find those underground pipes again.

That was two weeks ago and the grass has grown in that time and will continue to grow. And Son#5 will not be in a hurry to offer his services again - not with only two weeks left at school and exams looming close.

So from this:

to this:

Which looks best?

N is for ... New Zealand

2011-10-24T08:08:00.005+13:00

I had an entirely different theme for this post, but given last night's victory, decided that I had to show some allegiance to this country that I live in even if I rarely support them sporting wise.

So N is for New Zealand who won the game against France 8-7 and are the proud owners of the Rugby World Cup. Having watched the game as well as the game between Australia and Wales on Friday night I can now honestly say that I have watched two games of rugby without falling asleep.

I will admit [looks around to see who is listening] that I really didn't care either way who won and even cheered France on in some parts of the game. I will also admit that I felt no emotion when either team received their medals, unlike on Friday night when Australia received their bronze medals or when I heard my national anthem for the first time in a long time.

As one of my sons pointed out: they couldn't lose regardless of what team won. With Welsh ancestry on their father's side, French ancestry on their mother's, a New Zealand father and an Australian mother, they could claim association with whatever team that won. And with a New Zealand husband and daughter-in-law and a son and granddaughters who hold dual citizenship, I'm happy with them that New Zealand won.

But that doesn't mean to say that I won't be thrilled to have the Rugby World Cup behind us or for it to become less and less the main topic of conversation.

(Image from Wikipedia.)

M is for ... Masterclass

2011-10-23T16:11:00.003+13:00

Just over a week ago I had the privilege of doing a masterclass with an internationally acclaimed flute teacher. Okay, I didn't do the masterclass. I sat in and listened to others play and the comments and tips that he gave them. But I did do the workshop beforehand and that in itself was inspiring.

And then there was the concert the following night! I could've listened to him play all night if it hadn't been for the hard seats that we had to sit on. The concert was held in what had once been a school chapel for the local Catholic secondary girls' school. I've attended services in a Catholic Church on three separate occasions and all were funerals so I don't know if priests get to drone on and on like some ministers but if they do - well those poor pupils who had to sit on those hard seats to listen to mass.

M is also for music and I've loved music since I was little. Some of my earliest memories are going to sleep listening to my mother play the piano or organ. Sunday afternoons my sister and I would gather around our mother and sing songs together. I can remember some of those songs: Tie Me Kangaroo Down Sport and Do Lord, O Do Lord, O Do Remember Me. Quite an interesting repertoire!

I still love music. And one of these days I'm going to make music on my flute ... well hopefully.

L is for ... Lack

2011-10-22T20:12:00.008+13:00

Lack of internet connectivity which seems to be getting worse not better. I was beginning to think that I wouldn't be able to post today and just think what a shame that would have been. lol

L is also for light and I finally have a light switch for my kitchen/dining that works. Okay, I'm still waiting on those pendant lights, but when they're finally up and operating I now have a switch with which to turn them on and off. I'm not sure Son#1 will approve of how it's been done (DH was less than pleased with the final result) but at least we can now say we have a light switch.

L is also for lemon yoghurt cake which was super easy to make and super easy to eat. I suspect I'll be trying this recipe again. And for licorice which if you don't like it can be hard to gain admittance to the family circle (DIL#1 managed but so far she's the only one who doesn't like the stuff and there's no lack of willing volunteers to eat her share!)

L is for laundry (laundry room for my American readers) which DH is painting this weekend. I've chosen a light green colour for the walls. We spent part of today deciding on floor tiles and I made curtains the other day, so it looks as if one room in the house will soon be finished.

L is also for long weekend ... and having my family home ... and that's something I love!

(Son#3's Birthday Cake was Donna Hay's Ultimate One-Bowl Chocolate Dessert Cake. Another super easy cake that the family will not turn their collective noses up at - especially when served with cream and fresh strawberries.)

K is for ... Kids

2011-10-21T08:33:00.005+13:00

Kids who Kut the Kurls off their Kid sister before Kutting their own hair.

If it sounds like Dr Seuss, believe me, it wasn't funny. Their mother cried and I wanted to.

The Most Adorable Granddaughter in the World#1 found a pair of scissors and put them to use. The result was not successful. Not in the least. While The Most Adorable Granddaughter#2's curls have sprung back and the damage is virtually undetectable, the same cannot be said for The Most Adorable Granddaughter#1 whose hair is stick straight. Not only has she a super short fringe with an even shorter layer on top, she also chopped off a lot of her length, including all the blonde bits that we all adored. And what's even worse is that family photos are in two week's time!

But ... hair will grow ... and The Most Adorable Granddaughter#1 now reminds me of myself at the same age ... and they're still super, super Kute Kids!

J is for ... Journal

2011-10-20T13:08:00.003+13:00

I call it my Prayer Journal but a more correct name would be Spiritual Journey Journal. I have had three (I think) over my adult life. In them I write down prayer requests, Bible verses, and any lines from a devotion or sermon that I've found inspiring.

It's fascinating to look back over past entries and to see how God has led us over the years and how He has answered prayer (not always in the way we expect). These journals are concrete evidence that God never lets us down. Often I can see trends emerging that I was totally unaware of at the time. At times, I'm amazed at the journey I've been on and how God has stretched me and grown me.

If you don't have such a journal: get one! It doesn't have to be pretty (I covered one notebook from my grandmother with fabric and another one was a gift from my sister) but I'll guarantee you'll be surprised at what discoveries you make when you start to write on its pages.

I ... is for Irritation

2011-10-18T14:57:00.003+13:00

All those little things and habits of other people (because of course I don't have any irritating habits) that are irksome. Here are my top ten not in any particular order. Naturally how irksome I find these little irritations depends on how much sleep I've had, what side of the bed I got out on, what I had for dinner last night (must remember to go easy on the red onion from now on), and what direction the wind is blowing.

Irritation#1: Our dog Kielsie bringing dirt up onto my nice new blue deck. It doesn't matter how many times a day I sweep and/or scrub the deck, it always looks dirty. Now I know why people paint their decks a dark colour.

Irritation#2: My sewing machine. The bobbin thread keeps breaking. It seems to depend on how the thread is wound onto the bobbin. The trick seems to be to wind it on to a bobbin from the reel of thread and then wind it from the bobbin onto another bobbin. I don't know why this works. It still breaks but not as often. I'd love a new machine but several years ago when I took it in for a minor repair I was told that it was an excellent machine that should keep going for years! Obviously that repair man was extremely irritating!

Irritation#3: Ants in my new kitchen. They moved in before we did! I'm still at the polishing-the-bench-top-every-time-I-do-the-dishes stage so it's not as if there are any crumbs of sticky patches to be had. In Australia we had ants: big ants that could give a terrible sting but we never had ants inside except when our offspring hid an half-eaten candy cane under the bed.

Irritation#4: People who have their cellphones on in church and in particular people who play games on their cellphones during church. And I don't buy the excuse that you have the Bible in three different translations on your cellphone. Sorry, but most teenagers don't get that excited over their Bibles nor do they share what they've just read with their friends and giggle over it. It's just for an hour or two once a week - surely you can live without it that long? (I realise that some people may need them on - as for example the air ambulance pilot when he's on call - but let's face it, these are not the ones who are irritating with their use of cellphones.)

Irritation#5: And while I'm at it, I can understand that young children may need some snack food during the church service, but adults? Unless you have a medical problem, wait until the service is over before skipping out and picking up that coffee from your favourite cafe.

Irritation#6: Lack of respect. It's said that people have to earn respect, but I beg to differ. I think people have to learn respect. Respect is about thinking about the other person first - and it's not something that comes easily. Lack of respect has reached pandemic proportions.

Irritation#7: RUGBY WORLD CUP. It's a game people. A game. Whoever wins this weekend, remember it's just a game.

Irritation#8: Internet that cuts out every time the phone rings. We have broadband: it's not meant to do this. But every time someone rings, our internet goes down for two hours or more. It usually only just comes back on in time for the next phone call. Replying to emails can be a challenge some days. Since this problem began with our renovations, we're hoping that once we move our phone line and computer that things will return to normal.

Irritation#9: Contractors who leave before finishing the job. Son#1 fixed up a temporary light switch for our kitchen/dining area so that at least we can now see to do the dishes at night, but really, what is so hard about the job that it's taken weeks to get a light switch installed?

Irritation#10: Actually I can't think of another irritation, but I'm sure there are more. There are days when my hair drives me crazy, my kids drive me crazy (not so much now although there are still some that leave messes everywhere when they come home), and there are definitely days when I drive myself crazy!

H is for … Horrendously Horrible Humiliation

2011-10-18T14:52:00.001+13:00

You know what I'm talking about. It’s the feeling you get after rushing around the supermarket and loading your trolley/cart to the brim with enough groceries to feed a family for a fortnight and then when you get to the checkout you discover you haven’t got your purse.

It happened to me yesterday and it was horrid.

Thankfully I discovered my purse at home and the horrible nightmare of leaving it in a shop in town didn't eventuate.

It’s probably the same feeling you get when you leave your bike outside knowing that it's a high-risk suburb and when you come back out it’s disappeared and you have to explain to your parents that your only mode of transport has been stolen. (Am I correct Son-you-know-who-you-are?)

But H is also for holidays … and I’m already halfway through this term break and wondering why I can't seem to get through my to-do list ... and for hair which sometimes I think I should cut into a bob and be done with it ... and for health and the fun I had yesterday trying to explain to Son#5 the reason I want to lose weight (he, trying to pay me a compliment told me that because I was short I looked worse than I am!) ... and for hats which I hate with a vengeance despite buying a cute summer one last year ... and for helping hand. And what better helping hands could I have than these ones?

G is for ... Grandparents

2011-10-17T09:30:00.009+13:00

When I became a parent, I better understood the sacrifices that my own parents had made. Suddenly I no longer saw them as unfair or irrational but as humans like myself trying to do the best for one that is loved more than life itself.

Now as a grandparent, I've gained a new perspective on the generational gap. I look back to my grandparents and the day that they lived in and forward to the future that my grandchildren will inhabit. The link between the generations seems to be growing stronger not weaker over time.

I was extremely close to my maternal grandmother and even now, almost seventeen years after her death, there are still times that I miss her and long to hear her voice. She was the one who always encouraged me, always understood me, always loved me, never spoke a cross word to me. My love of handiwork must surely come from her for all her daughters are talented with a needle in one form or another. I used to be bemused when people would mistake me for her daughter but now when strangers assume that I'm the mother of my grandchildren, I naturally love it and of course feel proud to be related to such incredible little people. I can only guess that she must have felt the same way.

My maternal grandfather was a quiet hard-working man who loved to watch the cricket in summer and had a sense of humour rarely seen by outsiders. He died when I was expecting our first son and just a few weeks before his youngest grandson was born. That he made it to our wedding was a miracle - having had open heart surgery a month before the wedding. We were married on his birthday and every year on our anniversary I am reminded of him. I think I inherited some of his quieter unseen qualities and I suspect that at least one of my sons shares his sense of humour while another has definitely inherited his good looks. I know he would have been proud of his great-grandchildren.

My paternal grandparents had had my father late in life and always seemed extremely old to me. My paternal grandmother lived to almost ninety-eight so she was probably in her sixties when I was born. But to a child that seems very old indeed.

My relationship with my paternal grandparents was like a tender and fragile seedling that has to be carefully tended in the early years, but when reaching maturity, becomes stronger and able to stand alone. Interestingly, it was my DH who only remembers two of his own grandparents who encouraged me to become better acquainted with my paternal grandparents. I'm glad that I did. One of the hardest things I ever had to do was to say goodbye to my paternal grandmother (by this time my only surviving grandparent) when we left Australia, knowing that I would never see her again on earth. Thankfully all my grandparents were Christians, although my paternal grandparents were in their seventies when they made their decision to follow Christ. My father had prayed for them for years ...

Now it's my turn to delight in the next generation ... to enjoy the characteristics and features of my own sons in their offspring ... to pray diligently for their salvation ... and to have more than enough time and love to go around.

And just in case my sons have forgotten, here's a little reminder: I want lots of grandchildren!!!

F is for ... First

2011-10-16T16:16:00.001+13:00

Although perhaps it should be for farewell as I'm wondering if I should keep this blog up. But since I still have twenty more days to go on this self-appointed challenge, first it is.

I'm the firstborn ... but only by default. An elder brother died at birth which perhaps explains why I have some of the characteristics of the first-born and most of the insecurities of the middle-child. I never enjoyed being the eldest and wouldn't wish it on anyone, but someone has to do it. I'm told that being the middle child or the youngest isn't any fun either, so it seems that no birth order is perfect.

Right now I can't think of any advantages to being first (perhaps that's because I only had one sibling and she got to do most everything at the same time that I did which I always considered extremely unfair because that meant that I had had to wait two-and-a-half-years longer than she had before I got to do the same things) but I can think of a number of things that start with F that are firsts with me.

Faith.

Family.

Friends.

Fellowship.

Fun.

Food.

Fabulous list, wouldn't you say?

E is for ... Eggs

2011-10-15T16:18:00.000+13:00

I'm not a huge fan of eggs but it hasn't always been so. As a first-time expectant mother, I craved eggs. I would go home from work, cook myself an omelette, eat it with enjoyment, and then promptly bring it all up again. I did this night after night after night.

You would think that I would've learnt.

Since Son#1's birth, I've never really enjoyed eating eggs. I'll have them if they're served up to me, but often I'll just pass. Meals on Sunday nights are traditionally "help yourself to whatever you can find in the pantry/refrigerator and feel like eating" type meals. Often - especially as our sons have gotten older and more proficient in the kitchen - this has included eggs. Often too, the person cooking has offered to cook for other family members. If this has included eggs, I usually decline. Not always, but most times.

I buy 2-1/2 dozen eggs at a time and they can still be there a month later. Apart from baking, I never think to use them. Why is it then, that I occasionally dream about having our own chickens? Let's face it: what would I do with all the eggs except to hoard them and make the occasional pavlova or hair conditioner?

D is for ... Dreams, Delight, And a Tiny Bit of Disappointment

2011-10-14T06:58:00.006+13:00

You didn't really think I was going to do twenty-six posts straight and not slip in a few about our recent renovations, did you? After all, for better or worse, this has been a major portion of our life for the last four months or so.

Whenever things get too difficult or we feel unable to do something, we just have to slip in "we're renovating" into our conversation, and people immediately sympathise. It's been an excuse for not practicing the flute as often as I ought, for not losing weight, for being unable to concentrate, for preparing the same meal night after night, for a garden that is overgrown and a lawn that is all chewed up like a war zone, for not being able to find anything, and a host of other things.

But the worst of it is over and now we can sit back and look with delight at the changes that have taken place. And delighted we are. In fact it's hard to say what delights us most: is it to be rid of the dropped ceilings and warren of rooms that are now replaced with a well-proportioned bedroom with high ceilings that our sons have claimed as "their" bedroom when they next come home? Is it a laundry that is once again inside and has a tub that large items can be placed in and a floor that doesn't slope all over the place? Is it just having our back entrance tidied up and room allocated for our chest freezer? Or is it the new French doors that invite one to sit at the dining table and enjoy the view beyond? Or perhaps it's the new kitchen that has us so delighted?

It's all of the above but especially the last two. They have changed the way we use the space and have exceeded our dreams that we had for this area. Now we're looking forward to realising other dreams - we're already experienced the dream of one family dinner in our new dining space - and that of baking with some very precious granddaughters in my new kitchen must be the next dream to be fulfilled.

But as with all things, nothing is perfect. There have been a few disappointments along the way and a few things that will probably grate on DH long after they've ceased to be an issue for me (such as that light switch that doesn't quite fit between the door frame and the kitchen cupboards). But, the latest disappointment - and let me emphasise that is is only a minor disappointment - is to do with the lights in my kitchen. Several weeks ago, Son#1 began installing the lights in the kitchen. We were thrilled with what he'd done and had no reason to suspect that it would not remain so. Apart from waiting for the electricians to finish wiring up (and yes we're still waiting) there were just the shades to go up when they arrived.

But we've discovered a problem. The shades don't go on our pendant fittings. There's nothing to hold them in place. It seems that they are the wrong shades - or the wrong fittings, depending how you look at it. DH and Son#1 tend toward the view that the shades are wrong and have to be replaced whereas I tend toward the other view that it's the fittings that are wrong and need to be replaced. There are several reasons for this.

I love the shades as they are. The colour, the shape and the price all suit me. The so-called correct shades may not be the same shade of blue (and you all know how much I love blue), are a different shape, and cost three times as much! I also seem to have lost the receipt for the shades that we currently hold in our possession which means I may not be able to return them.

Son#1 apparently told DH that he was sent the wrong fittings, so I'm struggling to understand why we can't just change the fittings - unless it's going to mean new holes in my new ceiling which I obviously don't want. But it would be worth a try first ... wouldn't it? ... before I buy new shades that I'm not so delighted with.

Sigh. Just when I think it's all coming together and that nothing else can go wrong (there's a reason we still don't have our range hood up but that's another story of disappointment and wrong parts), something does go wrong. I'm sure there's a reason for it ... but right now I can't see it. On the other hand, there's enough that's gone right to fill us with delight and give us reason to keep on dreaming.

C is for ... Chocolate Fruit Cake

2011-10-13T11:25:00.004+13:00

I cannot remember the source of this recipe but I do remember that I've made it twice in my life. Once about fifteen or so years ago, and the second time just a few days ago.

I had - perhaps unwisely given my lack of culinary skills - asked DH what kind of cake he wanted for his birthday and he had instantly replied, "Chocolate fruit cake." Obviously if it had left that great an impression on him, I could only comply with his wishes. Right?

Be warned: the preparation time for this cake is lengthy but it's well worth it. I've used metric measurements but any online converter should give equivalents.

The cake is excellent as a Christmas cake but is obviously good for other special occasions too. I wouldn't make it as an everyday cake ... but that's just me. This cake will easily serve 24 or more. It's quite rich and heavy and a little goes a long way.

Chocolate Fruit Cake
220g dried figs, sliced
140g pitted prunes, halved
180g glace apricots, diced (if you're able to get them otherwise dried apricots are a worthy substitute)
125g pitted dates, halved
1/2 cup of orange juice or black tea
1-1/2 tablespoons finely chopped orange zest (leave it out if you don't have it)
3 cups plain flour
3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder (again, if you can't find it, use ordinary cocoa powder)
1-1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1-1/2 teaspoons bicarbonate of soda (baking soda)
3/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon
90g good-quality dark chocolate, chopped
2 cups packed brown sugar
125g unsalted butter, room temperature
4 eggs
1 cup good-quality fruit mince (or apple sauce if fruit mince is unavailable)
300g toasted pecans or walnuts (or untoasted if you happen to be like me and too scared to toast them in case you end up burning them all)

To decorate: icing sugar, melted chocolate, whole almonds, or whatever you fancy

Step 1: Thoroughly combine the first six ingredients (dried fruits, zest and juice/tea), cover tightly, and leave for at least one hour or overnight.

Step 2: Preheat oven to 150 degrees Celsius. Butter and flour a 12-cup capacity 28cm bundt tin or very deep ring tin. I used a round tin for this cake because it was the only tin large enough that I had (and even then it was still on the small side). A small baking tin can also be used. Baking times will vary.

Step 3: Sift flour, cocoa, baking powder, soda, salt and cinnamon together.

Step 4: Place chocolate in food processor and process until finely chopped. Add sugar and grind together.

Step 5: Cream butter with electric mixer until light and fluffy. Beat in sugar mixture in 3 batches, mixing well after each addition (mixture will be grainy).

Step 6: Add eggs one at a time, beating well.

Step 7: Stir in one-third of the dry ingredients then half the fruit mince/apple sauce. Add half of the remaining dry ingredients and the rest of the fruit mince/apple sauce.

Step 8: Stir the remaining dry ingredients and the pecans/walnuts into the fruit mixture. Add to batter and mix well.

Step 9: Spoon batter into prepared tin and bake for 1-1/2 hours or until a fine skewer inserted in the middle comes out with just a few crumbs attached. For the round tin it took 2-1/2 hours to bake and a small baking tin about 2 hours. Cover the cake loosely with foil if it is browning too quickly.

Step 10: Remove tin from oven and cool in tin on a rack for 20 minutes. Invert onto a rack and leave for a minute or two before gently lifting out of the tin. Allow to cool completely.

Step 11: When cold, wrap tightly and store in a cool place or in the refrigerator for up to 3 months. Best left for a couple of days before cutting.

Step 12: To decorate, whole almonds dipped in chocolate, melted chocolate drizzled over the top of the cake, light dusting of icing sugar.

B is for ... Beauty

2011-10-12T15:37:00.006+13:00

I’ve struggled most of my adult life to feel attractive and the older I’ve become the more intense the struggle. I thought I was alone in my struggle. After all, I look around and see many beautiful women my age who seem to exude confidence along with their stunning beauty.

But recent conversations online and in real life have led me to believe that there’s more to this than I realised. Women whom I admire as having it all together (you know the ones I’m talking about: gorgeous on the outside as well as the inside) admit that they feel unattractive. When I express my surprise, they admit to feelings and thoughts similar to my own. Even more amazing is that some of them look at me and have the same thoughts I have about them.

There’s something wrong here (and I'm not referring to the fact that they obviously need glasses). Why is it that so many women fail to see their own beauty? Why do we want to look like someone else whom we think is far more beautiful than ourselves? Can we blame Eve for this? She looked at the fruit and saw that it was pleasing to the eye and ever since we’ve been looking at what we can’t have and feeling dissatisfied with what we do have.

Some of the Bible stories that many of us have grown up on seem to further foster our feelings of unattractiveness. Take Sarah for example. Sarah who was taken into a foreign king’s court. Just think about this for a moment: this king could have had any of the young girls in the kingdom but he chose – by my calculations - a middle-aged woman! Now I don’t want to be in Sarah’s predicament, but she must have been incredibly beautiful to catch the king’s eye over all the young maidens.

And then there’s Esther. She was treated to twelve months of beauty treatments. Can you imagine what that must have been like? Twelve months! One whole year! Me, I can’t even find time to pluck my eyebrows, let alone bathe in goat’s milk or soak my feet in honey or paint my nails with henna, or whatever form such beauty treatments would have taken. It would seem that I’m doomed then. Along with every other woman who feels as I do.

But there is a solution. It’s not for the faint-hearted. It will require a longer investment of time than just an hour or two in the beauty salon. But it’s a permanent solution and one that will cause beauty to increase over time rather than decrease with age.

What is it? Simply, it can be found in the advice of 1 Peter 3:3-6:

Do not let your adornment be merely outward—arranging the hair, wearing gold, or putting on fine apparel— rather let it be the hidden person of the heart, with the incorruptible beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is very precious in the sight of God. For in this manner, in former times, the holy women who trusted in God also adorned themselves, being submissive to their own husbands, as Sarah obeyed Abraham, calling him lord, whose daughters you are if you do good and are not afraid with any terror. (NKJV)

A is for ... Apple Tree

2011-10-11T13:09:00.000+13:00

A is for apple tree which our dog seems intent on digging up. And not just the apple tree but also almost every other fruit tree in our garden. This has something to do with the animals that live behind us and the fact that between the fence and those ever-so-alluring animals lie our fruit trees. Not that our dog is able to get to the animals that live on the other side of the fence, but she certainly tries for all that she’s worth. Since the fence is too high to jump, she’s decided to dig under it. I can’t tell you the number of times that DH has had to fill in holes and put up barricades to try to stop her digging. All to no avail.

But back to the apple tree. Several weeks ago I was given for free a Black Boy Peach tree and a Country Taste Apple Tree. I know about Black Boy peaches and am looking forward to the time when we can pick our own fruit from that particular tree, but the apple tree I’ve never heard of before and neither it seems has anyone else. It’s as if such a tree doesn’t exist. I’ve searched online and in print and have come up with absolutely nothing.

Perhaps it’s been misnamed. Or perhaps it’s not even an apple tree. If anyone can shed some light on the subject I would really appreciate it. Meanwhile, it’s growing and flowering in our garden and as long as Kielsie stays away from it and the bees do their job, we should have some fruit next autumn. Perhaps then we’ll know what it is.

A Challenge

2011-10-11T10:35:00.000+13:00

Are you up for a challenge? With all our renovations my blog posts have become rather ho-hum. Stress, time-pressure and a whole host of other reasons are to blame. I want to change that but at the moment I seem to be lacking in creativity. No post ideas immediately come to mind.

So … I’ve decided to blog for the next twenty-six days on … [drum roll please] … the alphabet. Well not the alphabet per se, but on subjects that correspond to the letter for the alphabet for that day. So today will be a subject beginning with A; tomorrow will be something beginning with B; and so on.

I have a feeling that after F or G I’m going to find this pretty hard going. But hopefully that will all be part of the fun of it. And whoever heard of a challenge that wasn’t well a challenge? There has to be some difficulty in there somewhere.

So who’s game? Leave a comment if you’re willing to play along and let’s have some fun together. (By the way, start whenever you’re ready. If the timing’s not convenient just yet, decide on a time that suits you. But leave a comment all the same so that we can follow along when you do decide to join in.)

Not An Official Update (So That I Don't Have To Eat My Words From My Last Post)

2011-10-09T21:28:00.009+13:00

A raging sore throat timed its arrival with the first day of our school holidays but even that couldn't stop me moving into my new kitchen yesterday.

Yes, you read that correctly. I. HAVE. MOVED. INTO. MY. NEW. KITCHEN. Now before you start blowing those silly streamer whistles let me hasten to add that it's not finished yet. Close enough that I can move in but not enough that we can say goodbye to the contractors forever. For we still need to stay on their good side if we want them to finish the job. But at least the list of things to do is slowly getting smaller and smaller.

Notice I said slowly. I still don't understand how it can take over a week to paint one door or twice that long to put in a light switch (which they still haven't done and I can only assume that they are going to come back to finish). But the cupboards, bench top and oven had been installed and most of the painting completed and it was time to move in before the kitchen became outdated.

Friday afternoon I decided to burn my ovens for an hour per the instructions in the book. Everything was going smoothly until I discovered that the right hand oven was not working. At a quarter to five on a Friday afternoon I knew that my chances of getting the electrician out to fix the problem were probably zilch. Instead I thought thoughts not fit to publish. I then discovered that while the left hand oven, the grill, the oven lights, and the clock all worked perfectly, the ceramic hobs and the automatic ignition for the gas burners along with the right hand oven did not work.

Continue with gnashing of teeth. Then resignation. I still had one oven working and that was a lot more than I'd had for the past seventeen weeks. I decided to make the most of it and while moving into our kitchen yesterday baked a batch of scones for DH and Son#5 who did all the heavy jobs (and without whose help I would still be minus a refrigerator in said kitchen).

Come Saturday afternoon and I'm speaking to Son#1 on the phone who immediately diagnoses the problem and with the flick of a switch on our sub-board, presto! I have a fully-functioning stove for the first time in a long time. I even cooked dinner in/on it. Thoughts now turned to how Son#1 is worth his weight in gold and is definitely not getting paid what he's worth!

There's just one problem. I'm so used to an oven that takes two hours to bake most vegetables that when the potatoes, pumpkin, kumara and carrots were cooked in forty minutes no one was ready to eat dinner!

Guess I'm going to need a lot more practice.

Week Sixteen: Dribs and Drabs

2011-10-01T07:10:00.007+13:00

There will be no more progress reports. Not because I'm now able to happily report that the renovations are complete (I wish!) but because things are now happening in dribs and drabs and there seems to be little or no progress from one week to the next.

This is the frustrating part. So close ... and yet so far away. There are really only a handful of things to be completed: install the range hood over the stove; finish the wiring; tile the splashback; paint the doors (although it now appears that the painters have packed up and left for good and that we're going to have to paint the doors); put up the light shades (Son#1 is ready to do this as soon as everything else is complete); and move in.

I'm ready to move in. More than ready. I had high hopes that it would happen last weekend ... and then when that didn't happen I had planned on this weekend ... now I'm beginning to believe that I'm doomed to looking at an almost-complete kitchen for the rest of my life and serving up salad and cold chicken to my family every night.

Running several appliances off the one power point has led to those appliances either becoming temperamental or dying altogether. Son#2 commented that he thought we used our electric kettle in the living room because it was convenient. But no, we use our electric kettle in the living room because if we use it in our make-shift kitchen we cannot use any other appliance at the same time which can, especially when preparing dinner, lend itself to unwelcome delays. Plus there was a time when it would only work in the living room (don't ask me why). And convenient it's certainly not since we have to keep tripping back to the front room for tea and coffee and milk and cups.

I'm just a teeny little bit frustrated (can you tell?). I want to get into my kitchen and be the first to scratch the bench top (too late for that I'm afraid) or spill tea leaves down my cupboard or forget to turn off the tap over the sink and get to see if the overflow really does work. I want to cook something other than chicken in the slower cooker and be able to use my new wok (I've never had a wok before). I want to sit in my living room and look out through the new French doors and out of the corner of my eye see furniture in the dining room rather than a huge expanse of polished floor boards (very nice floor boards too but they'd look even better with some furniture on them). I want to try out that new stove and the hobs and not get a fright when the little gas cooker that DH is using catches on fire (I only saw it happen the one time but apparently it happened several times when he was helping me with dinner last night but he persevered because he knows how much I hate raw potatoes). I want to transfer clothes from the dirty clothes basket into the machine and push the appropriate buttons and then forget about it rather than having to drag the clothes out to the shed and then run around to the other end of the house to turn the tap on and then continually check to see where the cycle is up to which will often tell me wrong anyway (another temperamental appliance perhaps?). I want to be able to offer my family and guests something other than bought biscuits all the time even if having home baking - or any baking - readily on hand has only ever been a dream and never realised (why does it disappear as soon as it's out of the oven?).

I want things to get back to normal. But I guess I haven't anyone to blame but myself. I wanted everyone out of my house - builders, painters, tradespeople - and now they've gone. I just wanted them to finish it first!

Week Fifteen: Getting There and a Birthday

2011-09-24T14:34:00.002+12:00

The end is in sight! This week our deck has been painted (and yes, I still love the colour), our bench top went in, the handles went on, and our stove was installed (well partly). We're still waiting on our range hood to go up, the painters to finish in the kitchen (for some reason they've seemed reluctant to do the kitchen), and the electricians to finish wiring everything up.

Then, I can say goodbye to our temporary kitchen.

Not before time!

I had promised Son#4 that I would make him a birthday cake in my new oven. I made the promise weeks - months - ago before I knew that our renovations were going to drag on longer than expected. Yesterday was his birthday - and I made him a cake - but not in my oven. If he doesn't mind waiting, I'll make him another cake once my oven is fully operational. And hopefully the next one won't be all gooey in the middle as this one was (not sure what went wrong there considering I ended up baking it for a further twenty or so minutes.)

All this focus on one room in the house has led me to contemplate the different kitchens that I've worked in over the years.

I don’t have a picture of my first kitchen. It was mine for only a few short months – those early days of our marriage – and we have no photos of what was our first home together. The kitchen in that house wasn’t especially pretty. In fact, it was old and worn. But it had a cupboard that was quite possibly the inspiration behind my new china cabinet although if I placed a photo of the two side-by-side you might be hard pressed to see it. I don't remember a lot about that kitchen apart from the smell (possibly because when we left that kitchen I was suffering from all-day-not-just-in-the-morning sickness) that is often associated with old gas stoves.

This particular gas stove exploded in DH’s face just days before our wedding. No wonder I was hesitant about using it after we were married and had no desire to ever use a gas stove again. (Um, so why have I just installed gas hobs in my kitchen?)

My second kitchen did nothing to change my dislike of the colour green. It was a cold dark room that received no sun before early afternoon; the usable bench space was almost negligible; and the tiled splash back was made up of highly patterned white tiles (not grey as I'd thought when we bought the house) which I discovered when I first cleaned it.

My most recent kitchen was the one that I had for the longest period of time (fifteen years as opposed to just over eleven years for the previous kitchen and approximately six months for the first). It was reasonably new when we moved into the house but had been housed in an enclosed veranda and was long and draughty. But it received sun for most of the day, had lots of bench space, and no overhead cupboards apart from one wall of tall cupboards (all things that I've copied in my new kitchen).

At the moment DH thinks my kitchen is 'nice' but that it's lacking something. That something I suspect are the personal touches and the memories that I hope to create when I finally get to move in to it. All things aside, what makes a kitchen special are the memories and I can't wait to start making those wonderful family memories in this brand new kitchen.

Decisions

2011-09-21T16:37:00.005+12:00

I have an important decision to make – one that has nothing to do with renovating – one that has to be made quickly. I’ve been offered increased responsibility at work but with the hours I want. It seems that others have this view that I have untapped skills and knowledge. If that is so, then I’m certainly not aware of any such skills or knowledge chaffing at the bit to be let out.

Perhaps their opinion of me is a little – ahem – inflated. Or perhaps they’re just desperate for someone to fill the role. Then again, it is on my terms, so perhaps they do really want me after all. (Do they really know what they’re letting themselves in for?)

One skill I can see myself needing in this new role is that of decision-maker.

I don’t know if I’m a very good decision-maker.

Take our kitchen for instance. DH has repeatedly told me that he wants me to have the kitchen I want. Within reason of course.

Great! What woman wouldn’t be thrilled with that! However, it’s not been as wonderful as it sounds. Whenever I’ve said – with conviction in my voice – that I want something, he has come back with one or more – or all – of the following replies:

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” (Um yes, otherwise I wouldn’t have suggested it.)

“Have you thought about …?” (Please give me credit for having some intelligence.)

“What about … ?” (What about it?)

“Wouldn’t … [something that he suggests] be better?” (Um ... probably.)

Sometimes I’ve stuck with what I’ve wanted, but other times I’ve listened to him and changed my decision. Usually he’s been right. (Usually - I wish I'd gone with my original decision for pale blue-grey walls in the kitchen - but I can live with what's there - in fact, I'm probably more at peace with it than DH is.)

I should have sought more of his input when it came to choosing paint colours for outside though. (Why didn't he have suggestions to make for this decision?) It seems that my choice of a blue deck has not found favour with the family. I however like it, especially when viewed from my kitchen. And as DH pointed out, The Most Adorable Granddaughters in the World are going to love it!

Week Fourteen: Drama, Disappointment and Delight

2011-09-18T06:52:00.005+12:00

It’s been a week where in some respects little as happened, and yet in others, too much has happened. It began with our floor. That same floor that I was so proud of. Our contractor said he could lighten the water stain and we told him to go ahead. Returning home late one night we discovered that the water stain had indeed been lightened but so had a surrounding patch one metre square with additional splatters on many other boards (the photo shows the stain before lightening - we didn't think to take one after).

To say we were disappointed is an understatement. Devastated might be a better choice of word. DH, whose love of timber surpasses my own, was considering having the kitchen uninstalled and replacing all the affected boards. Given how close we are to finishing, this option didn’t sit well with me, but we could see little choice.

However our contractor worked on it with dyes and stains and secrets of his craft, and the result is that the floor, while not the thing of absolute beauty we had hoped for, is acceptable (click the photos to see the final result). We’re hoping that once the bench top and stove go in, that we won’t spend so much time looking at our feet but will lift our eyes upwards (must be a lesson in that some where).

Meanwhile, my stove continues to wait its turn in the middle of our living room and the range hood takes up space in the spare bedroom and I wonder if this room called a kitchen will ever be finished. My impatience is not lessened by our microwave oven blowing up this past week. Our renovation began with my toaster packing it in, to be followed by my breadmaker, and we suspect my electric jug is also about to go the same way. At this rate, I’m going to have no appliances left to cook with by the time my kitchen is finished, and certainly none worthy of moving into my new kitchen.

Our painters came for three days and after the first day we asked ourselves, “What have they done all day?” That they haven’t yet finished in the kitchen/dining room is another disappointment although not up there on the bad-taste-left-in-your-mouth scale that the floor rates.

But it’s not all doom and gloom. Son#1 and his beautiful family came yesterday and Son#1 installed our lights. We’re still waiting on the shades to arrive for the pendant lights over the bench and china cabinet, but we have no doubt we’ll be as delighted with them as we are with the rest. When it comes to placement, Son#1 definitely got it right: at night there’s not a shadow to be seen in the working areas of the kitchen. DH – who can be a trifle hard to please one hundred percent when it comes to such things – was impressed and thrilled. And the fact that the lights are now installed and we have to look up to appreciate them has certainly taken our eyes from down low and a floor that each day grows on us even if it will never completely win us over.

And this week? My bench top is pencilled in to be installed on Tuesday. It would be wonderful if that could be immediately followed by installation of my stove and range hood compete with all the services (water, power, gas), tiling, and painting. But that might be expecting just a little too much???

Week Thirteen: Aha! Moments

2011-09-10T08:12:00.009+12:00

We've had a number of Aha! moments this week. You know the kind I mean: when something goes together and suddenly you go, Aha!

It happened first when the kitchen units went in. I'm still without a bench top, but that didn't stop me from having an Aha! moment. Actually there was more than one Aha! moment. Naturally when the units went in and I saw the layout of my kitchen I went Aha! but when the cupboard doors went on and all my fears about colour and style disappeared I had another Aha! moment. In fact, it was more of an AHA!!!!!!! moment.

As for my china cabinet, every time I look at it I have an Aha! moment. We had so much trouble explaining what exactly it was that we wanted when we first started getting prices for our kitchen (no one seemed to get it), that it's exciting - and another Aha! moment - to see that our joiner executed our plans perfectly. It's just what I dreamed of and more.

Our kitchen and dining room floor has been another Aha! moment. Although it's a little disappointing that there's a water stain that can not be removed, we're overall thrilled with the way it's come up. Others too have commented on how lovely it looks. Certainly credit must go to our saxophone-playing floor contractor. It's not finished yet, but I'm sure when it is there'll be plenty of Aha! moments.

The ceiling beams and the new deck have also been the cause of some Aha! moments. Contractors and inspectors that have been in and out of the house over the last few days have raved about one or the other - or both. That they tie in so well with the style of the existing house just increases the Aha! moment.

And then there's been another Aha! moment that's been a little sad in itself. It was the realisation that the builders are virtually finished. These guys have been in our house regularly for the past thirteen weeks. They have done a good job, have been patient when I've tripped out their power when I've plugged the jug in, have (on occasion) eaten the food I baked for them, and have always shown respect and been approachable. No small feat! Now they've packed up their tools and bits and pieces and cleared out. I think in one way, I'm actually going to miss them! But perhaps they're now having their own Aha! moment (as in, we're finally done with that job!).

Week Twelve: Dreams Meet Reality

2011-09-04T17:59:00.005+12:00

It's reached that stage where we discover that all those decisions - big and small - that we thought were going to bring our dreams to fruition have at times fallen short in reality.

Like the wall colour and the ceiling beams ...

When I first saw the paint on the walls I wanted to cry ... or scream. It looked so lemon and lemon is not a colour I would choose to live with. It was meant to be neutral and retiring. The painter had even assured me that it was a great choice as it would be neutral and anything would go with it. Hmmm. I wonder if another coat is going to make any difference?

Then there's the size of the room. We've been hoping that once the kitchen goes in and our furniture that it will look bigger than it does at present. If it doesn't, we're going to have to resort to opening the French doors and using our deck:

Which by the way, has proved to be a good decision. Today was Father's Day and even though the deck is not completed, we got a lot of use out of it. I even heard several comments to the effect that it was a good space.

However it does appear that with all our planning we failed to include one vital piece of equipment.

A see-saw.

Never mind. One was easily erected. Perhaps we'll remember that for next time. If there ever is a next time.

A Crazy World? Or Is It Just Me?

2011-08-31T16:06:00.006+12:00

I won't be popular for saying it but ... was one Emperor Penguin really worth the $80 000 spent to return it to its natural habitat?

Sure Happy Feet (as the penguin was known) captured the hearts of millions ... and yes, what a privilege to see one up close ... and of course, it provided valuable practice for veterinary students and biologists ... and naturally it brought the conservation debate to the forefront of thinking (personally I don't know if that's a good thing but I won't go there) ... but really, was it worth the cost?

I personally prefer not to think of the alternative (having an animal put to sleep) which probably makes me a hypocrite (then again, I eat meat and prefer not to think of where it comes from either) but on the other hand, is this penguin likely to survive in the wild? After all, he was found on a beach far from his natural habitat with his stomach full of sand. I have a feeling that Happy Feet may have been a few sandwiches short of a picnic. And when it comes to survival of the fittest in the wild ... well, I'll leave it up to your imagination.

People - and corporations - and whoever else - are free to spend their money as and where they will but I can't help wondering what a difference that money could have made to the Horn of Africa? Or to the poor in this country? The children that go to school hungry and barefooted ... the elderly who cannot afford heating ... those without a roof over their heads ... Granted it probably wouldn't go far but surely it would make a difference to some lives?

Have we become such a mixed up crazy world that we value the life of an animal over the life of a human? Some would say that a life is a life, regardless of whether human or animal. But it is the human that has been created in God's image and who has an eternal soul ... something that cannot be said for an Emperor Penguin no matter how adorable he is (and I'll admit that he is cute).

Call me callous. Call me unfeeling. Call me insensitive. Call me whatever you like. I would love to see Happy Feet returned home, but at such a cost I believe we have our priorities mixed up.

Apparently ...

2011-08-29T14:46:00.003+12:00

You can cook sourdough under a grill for forty minutes as long as you realise your mistake in time and switch to bake function for the remaining 20-30 minutes.

I know.

Because I tried it.

Not on purpose.

I wouldn't recommend it - even if it did work this time.

Week Eleven: Surprise

2011-08-27T16:36:00.005+12:00

It was bound to happen. When renovating an old house, surprises (usually of the nasty variety) are sure to come. That we've managed to get this far without discovering rotting floorboards, sagging foundations, and extensive borer is in itself miraculous. That we thought we would get to the end without any surprises, was totally naive.

Everything was going well this past week. The plasterers came and started doing their part, the new doors went up in the back entrance (okay, they did order the wrong doors for the wardrobe but that was their mistake this time and not ours), and it looked as if we were going to get our veranda restored to its former glory.

Enter the council who deemed it necessary to rebuild said veranda. It doesn't seem to matter that the veranda has withstood the ravages of time since the house was built ninety-eight years ago: the council says it has to have all new foundations, bearers and decking and we can do nothing but comply. That this will push out the date of completion (and thus the installation of my new kitchen) goes without saying.

On the other hand, we now have a better idea of what our house will look like with its veranda. And even though there's no decking, we did manage to sit out there this morning and enjoy our morning tea. We wasted no time however in deciding that we will not be using any of the original colours that the house was painted in.

Meanwhile I am thrilled with the outlook I now have through my new French doors.

It will be even better when I can stand in my kitchen and look out through those doors!

Week Ten: Almost

2011-08-21T19:15:00.005+12:00

I had thought of giving this post the title "Over" since at the beginning of the week I was so over this business of renovating. I just wanted everyone out of my house who didn't belong there ... whether it was finished or not. I got over that and by the end of the week had reached a hard-won truce with the whole process.

"Over" still seemed appropriate since Week Ten was the week the building was meant to be completed thus ending this nightmare (from my perspective at least). It's not over but it almost is. And almost is good enough.

Because apart from the architrave in the back entrance, the doors for the wardrobe and laundry cupboard, the removal of the old kitchen wall (which I suspect has provided a welcome windbreak in this chilly weather), and the laying of new decking, it is virtually over. The building part at least.

After that the plasterer, the painter, and the flooring contractor will all do their bit and then it's time for my new kitchen to go in.

So while the detailing seems to be taking a lot of time and keeping things moving at a slow pace, it's almost there and soon, it will be all over. I just have to exercise patience for a little while longer.

Proof

2011-08-18T16:51:00.005+12:00

Why when the rest of the country was experiencing snow - even those areas whose temperatures didn't drop as low as ours - we missed out? What's that all about? Our greatest claim to fame is that some areas in our city had snow and we managed a few tiny specks (although some intellectual called it some fancy name starting with 'g' which probably means it wasn't really snow). If we get the freezing temperatures why can't we have the excitement of snow as well? I mean we're suffering along with everyone else so a little bit of white stuff on the ground would make it all worthwhile. (Before my Northern readers think I'm insane please remember that this is a once or twice in a lifetime event for us here in our area.)

However, since at least most members of our family experienced snow I've decided that snow by close association is close enough to actually having snow. And now for the proof.

The campus of the university MY two sons attend:

MY son's backyard (yes I know he could have cleaned it up before taking the photo but please bear in mind that he does live with four other guys, none who are anywhere as tidy as MY son):

MY granddaughters and MY son surveying their backyard:

MY son about to throw a snowball (hopefully not at MY beautiful daughter-in-law):

MY son and MY granddaughter photographed in the snow:

So see, I did have snow after all - even if it is just on my blog.

More Spots

2011-08-15T12:02:00.004+12:00

The Most Adorable Granddaughter in the World#1 rang me at 7.20 this morning to tell me that they had snow on the ground and in their tree! The Most Adorable Granddaughter#2 then got on the phone and told me, "Snow. Snow."

Obviously they were excited - and with reason. This is the first time we have had snow since 1974. It's a "One in 50 year event" and it's something to get excited about.

We even had it here where we live. Certainly we didn't have it lying on the ground as some have had - probably too close to the coast for that. But we had our own small taste of it - even if it just looked like a few white spots here and there.

And while The Most Adorable Granddaughter#3 may not have shared her sisters' excitement it was probably because she had spots of her own to worry about. Yep, the poor little darling now has the chicken pox.

Week Nine: Lost Again

2011-08-13T11:41:00.001+12:00

It seems that Week Nine was the week when I finally lost my sense of humour. The week I lost sight of the end goal ... the week I lost my sanity.

That's how it feels anyway.

I'm so tired of the dust. Of not just smelling it but also tasting it and also of the hay fever that it stirs up.

I'm tired of the noise that at times I feel as if I can't escape. Tired too of trying to be sensitive to the builders' needs and not playing music that only I like (so I don't play any - and I miss it).

I'm tired of being a prisoner in my room because I'm too nervous to leave it in case I bump into a builder or get in their way. (This was really bad when they were working in the hallway outside my room and I had to pass them every time I wanted to go to another part of the house.)

I'm tired of my makeshift kitchen and being able to only use one appliance at a time otherwise the power trips out. (Do you know how many meals can be cooked with just one appliance or how long it takes to put together a meat and potato and vegetable dish when you can only use the microwave or the oven or the slow cooker or the frying pan at any given time? I do!)

I'm tired of decisions. And bills. Both are endless. And inevitable.

There are no photos this week. I haven't lost my camera. I've just been too tired to document what has been a better-if-it's-forgotten-week (apart from the picture of the dust on my piano which reads Why bother? simply because that piano had been dusted only the previous day).

Perhaps by the end of this week, things will look brighter. I can only hope.

Big and White?

2011-08-06T19:02:00.001+12:00

This morning I went down to church with my arms filled with lace and tulle and all things white. Our ladies are going to be hosting “Wedding Dresses of the Century” sometime later in the year and wedding dresses are needed. I can’t fit into mine – and am certainly not alone in that respect – but was hoping that there would be a young pretty model that would fit it.

While there I was asked to try on someone else’s wedding gown and agreed to model it.

I went home and told DH and Son#5.

DH: Whose dress are you wearing?

Me: Heather’s.

DH (with obvious surprise): Really?

Me: What do you find so surprising about that?

DH: But she’s not big.

Me (trying not to get upset): Noooooo.

DH: So who’s wearing yours?

Me: Jaycee.

DH: She’s tiny.

Me (thinking it was about time I stood up for myself): Actually, Amber tried it on and it was a bit tight on her.

Son#5: But Amber’s small.

Me: Well I was small when I got married.

Son#5: But Amber’s small.

I could have told him it was his fault – his and his brothers – that I’m no longer the size I was when I got married but I was too hurt to say anything.

The thing is, neither DH nor Son#5 realised they had hurt me. DH even thought he had paid me a compliment. He thought he was saying, “Heather’s not big therefore you can't be big either if you were able to fit into her dress,” whereas what I heard was, “How can you fit into Heather’s dress when she’s not big and you are?”

No amount of discussion has smoothed over the misunderstanding either. DH still doesn’t understand how I could get so upset when he meant to compliment me, and I still don’t get how he could have intended that for a compliment.

As for Son#5, I guess he can’t see past what I am now. I think there’s a theory that boys see their mothers as something impersonal and not as girls at all, but right now it would be tempting to be able to lay all the blame for the way I look at his feet and make him feel some remorse that the reason I’m no longer small and have so many grey hairs is because of what I’ve had to endure not just bringing him into the world but also in raising him. But that would hardly be fair.

Sigh. And I thought I was beginning to understand men.

Week Eight: Lost

2011-08-05T21:07:00.002+12:00

We're at an unsettling stage - for me anyway - in our renovation. I've endured seeing my house torn apart and looking like a construction site; I've learnt to work around numerous males in my house when I like my privacy; I've coped with preparing meals in a makeshift kitchen that does my back in; I've survived when the walls came off, the fire couldn't be lit, and the power tripped out on the coldest day in recorded history; and I've even managed to smile throughout most of it and see it as an adventure.

But now that we can see the building stage coming to an end I suddenly find myself not coping. The rooms are beginning to look like rooms now and I have an urge to get in and clean up the floors. Ridiculous when there's so much dust and rubbish from the building and the rooms aren't finished yet. It would be pointless anyway. Why vacuum carpet that is only going to be removed in a week or so?

I feel as if I've lost my old home but haven't yet found the new one.

Worse, I feel as if I've lost my ability to make a home. I feel stressed at the thought of having to prepare meals for more than our immediate three - although I've done it successfully when required since the building started. I feel that no room is "ours" anymore - that every room is compromised in some way from the renovation either because additional furniture has been moved into that room or it has to function in another capacity or just because we can no longer use it the way we have done in the past.

We've also lost the sense of space that we had when the house was first opened up. No longer can we walk through the wardrobe in the spare room to get to the laundry or back entrance. We look at what will be our dining room and are concerned that it's going to be too small (it won't be but at this stage looks are deceiving). We worry that we've made a mistake and should have sacrificed the spare bedroom for a kitchen and had a larger living area (I suspect that once we can open the doors to our living room that this area will seem larger than it does at present - but we can't do that until the building is completed).

I think too that I've lost sight of the end result. I can't see past the mess, the inconvenience, the fact that there's still more to do. For some reason it now all seems like too much: too much to do (although we're over half way), too much to cope with, too much to have to make decisions about.

I feel like it's going to be like this forever.

At least one member of the family has adjusted to the new layout!

Spots

2011-08-02T21:34:00.003+12:00

Just over two weeks ago the Most Adorable Granddaughter in the World#1 began the school holidays with the chicken pox. Her sister, The Most Adorable Granddaughter#2, coveted those spots. She closely examined every area of skin for the slightest change in colour or the tiniest increase in size that would indicate that she too was getting the chicken pox. We indulged her fantasies and pretended to see spots where there were none.

Finally, she got her wish. The Most Adorable Granddaughter#2 has the chicken pox. She has spots on her eyelids, in her hair, in every crease, in fact, all over.

And she's miserable. Our usually happy Adorable Granddaughter#2 is now crying in pain and complaining that it hurts. Sleep has become a distant memory for her parents.

As with these things, it must run its course. Hopefully it will be a reasonably short course. I imagine though that The Most Adorable Granddaughter#2 will be more careful about what she wishes for in the future.

Week Seven: Strangeness (or How The Most Adorable Granddaughter#2 Evened the Score)

2011-07-30T10:18:00.001+12:00

It's taking some getting used to seeing our dreams of the last fifteen years coming to fruition. Doors have been moved and are in strange places. What was once a kitchen wall now sports weatherboards and new French doors. Walls have gone and spaces opened up. Don't get me wrong: I like what I'm seeing, but there is a certain strangeness to it all.

Even more strange is the number of strange men in my house. Now I'm not totally unused to males in my house. I mean, I married one and between us we produced another five (and some might think them a little strange at times). I'm not even unused to adult males in my house since my youngest is now seventeen and a half years old.

But this is different and at times I have felt a little strange. Even uncomfortable. Like a stranger in my own house.

I walk out of our bathroom and almost smack straight into one of the builders. I go into my bedroom and there's a strange man standing there. I find a strange man in my hot water cupboard.

Definitely strange.

Stranger still is that at times it feels like some kind of weird game: How often can we unnerve the occupants of the house in one week?

The builders and other contractors have been winning.

However, The Most Adorable Granddaughter#2 had her own unique way of evening up the score. One dark morning as the two of us walked out of my bedroom she spotted one of the builders crouched down in the hallway.

"Boo," she shouted.

Two points to the occupants.

Models

2011-07-27T09:47:00.000+12:00

The last time it snowed in our city was over a hundred years ago. It stilled hasn't snowed in the city. Sleet, yes. Hail, yes. Snow, no. However some of the higher suburbs and outlying areas experienced snow on Monday, as these pictures taken by one of DH's colleagues show:

So it seems ludicrous that on what must have been the coldest day on record for a long time I was sewing spring skirts for The Most Adorable Granddaughters#1 & 2. Nor did the cold weather stop them from modelling the dresses once they were completed.

One Month

2011-07-24T21:38:00.002+12:00

Week Six: What on Earth Have We Done?

2011-07-23T21:17:00.000+12:00

Early this week we hit a new stage. The What-On-Earth-Have-We-Done-What-Were-We-Thinking Stage. The Stage where I told DH to tell the builder to put it all back the way it was before.

I think it had something to do with seeing my old kitchen being demolished. When the laundry and spare bedroom came down I almost felt a sense of what could be termed elation. They had never been attractive rooms and I had never taken delight in using or cleaning either room.

But the kitchen was different. There were a lot of memories in that room. Meals cooked. Conversations shared. Quiet moments stolen with a cup of tea and the sun pouring in through the windows. Attempts to turn it into a pleasant room that everyone could enjoy.

Yes it had its faults. I clocked up a lot of miles walking from the stove to the pantry and back again. There were serious draughts in winter and for that reason no one wanted to be the one on kitchen duty when it came time to do the dishes. The floor sloped so that any spills always ran down under the refrigerator, making cleaning difficult. The hot water cylinder blew up annually. And did I mention that it was freezing in winter?

But when the builders starting tearing it apart, I started tearing up. Even DH shared some of my feelings.

It probably didn't help that the floorboards were discovered to have borer and/or rot and that our new kitchen still looks like this:

On the other hand, believe it or not, this is an improvement:

It might not look very pretty but that temporary wall replaces what was just a sheet of wallpaper and has made a noticeable difference to the temperature in our living room. Despite the fact that the room felt to be bordering on sub-zero temperatures, The Most Adorable Granddaughters in the World#1-3 were not too cold to show off some skirts and cardigans that I'd made:

And by the time The Most Adorable Granddaughter#4 is able to stand at my new kitchen bench and help with baking, and Christmas puddings, and dishes (and if she's anything like Cousin#2 she will insist that Nana wipe the dishes as well as wash them - no taking the lazy way out and letting them drain thank you very much!), all this will be a distant memory.

Well I can always hope.

Frozen

2011-07-20T10:08:00.004+12:00

For the past few days my moisturiser and deodorant have been frozen in their jars and almost impossible to remove, let alone apply to one's skin. I guess it's not surprising given there is only a thin sheet of wallpaper separating our lounge room from the outdoors. Well it's only about a metre or so square so it's not the whole wall, but still! (I just hope no locals are reading my blog and realising that this could be an opportune time to break-in.) It certainly doesn't make for a cosy house.

Totally off-track, DH has an allergic rash. I've decided that there can only be three explanations for this rash.

One: He has the chicken pox which he caught from The Most Adorable Granddaughter in the World#1 who apparently looks like a "giant spotted chicken". (Son#2 affectionately calls her "Henny Penny".) This is unlikely since he has already had the chicken pox (twice if you believe the doctor but what did he know?). Anyway, it's more like a rash than blisters, so we can probably safely rule this out.

Two: It's a reaction to something new in his environment. There are two likely culprits. Dust (as a result of the builders tearing down our old kitchen - and yes, I did used to do housework) or The Most Adorable Granddaughter in the World#4 - in which case, I will sacrificially take over his share in the cuddles and kisses department.

Three: It's somehow related to his most recent trip overseas, at which time he seems to have stirred up his immune system to the point that it's now attacking him rather than the real culprits.

Perhaps it's even a combination of two and three. Just to be on the safe side, I think he should stay away from The Most Adorable Granddaughter#4 and let me take over his role. It's a hard life, but someone has to do it!

Shrug

2011-07-18T09:16:00.007+12:00

I’ve not been able to love on The Most Adorable Granddaughter in the World#4 as much as I would have liked to since her birth three weeks ago. Not that Son#2 and DIL#2 have kept her all to themselves and refused to share her (in fact I think they’ve felt bad because we haven’t been able to have more cuddles) but there have been feeding issues which have meant that more important things have had to come first (and rightly so).

At one stage I visited and struggled to hold back tears when I saw the colour of our precious little girl and realised that she was failing to thrive. DIL#2 had recognised that The Most Adorable Granddaughter#4 had seemed lethargic and had rung her midwife. The scales confirmed that she had indeed lost weight and thus began a round of trying to get enough nutrients into her while still trying to sustain nursing. For some reason, The Most Adorable Granddaughter#4 was reluctant to cooperate despite letting us know in no uncertain terms that she was hungry and wanted food NOW.

Because I wasn’t able to shower her with cuddles and kisses, I pulled out my knitting needles and found another way to love her. I decided on this tiny shrug with three-quarter sleeves (and she looked gorgeous in it when she wore it to church yesterday – her first real outing out – mind you, she would’ve looked gorgeous whatever she'd worn) and it gave me something to do while all the time thinking and praying for the youngest member of our family.

I will readily admit that I broke all the rules with this pattern. I used a yarn other than the one specified in the instructions (but I was fairly confident that I knew what I was doing and how to make allowances for different tensions/gauges) and I didn’t ensure I had enough yarn with which to finish the project. I had one ball of merino baby wool that I’d bought last year that I wanted to use up. Looking at similar projects I thought that I would have enough to make this shrug. I would have too if The Most Adorable Granddaughter#4 had only had one arm that needed to be kept warm. That’s right, I ran out on the second sleeve.

A quick trip into town failed to turn up another ball of wool with the same dye lot. DH took down all the pertinent details and looked in a shop in another town but still no success.

What to do? Well I had a few choices. I could undo it and knit up something else. I could fold it up and hide it in the bottom of my wool basket. I could knit it without sleeves (I didn’t think that would look very good). Or I could try to match the wool with something very similar.

I purchased another ball of wool that I thought was very close but when I got it home it tended more toward white whereas the original wool tended more toward cream. There was a marked difference.

Back to my options: undo it or hide it. But I decided to try something else first. I undid the back and fronts of the garment to half way between the armhole and shoulder shaping. Then I worked two rows in the new colour, followed by two rows in the old colour, and then finished the garment in the new colour. I did this for the sleeves too, only undoing half the number of rows that I’d undone for the fronts and back. I was surprised at how well it blended in. Best of all, it allowed me to finish the garment and present it to The Most Adorable Granddaughter in the World#4 on Saturday.

I’d like to try this pattern again – but with longer sleeves – for The Other Most Adorable Granddaughters in the World but this time I will try and ensure that I have enough wool to finish the project before I cast on that first stitch!

And guess whose eyes she has!

Week Five: Halfway

2011-07-17T09:16:00.002+12:00

It seems incredible that we are supposedly already at the halfway point regarding our renovations.

This week the weatherboards went up, windows started going in, and the back door was reinstated complete with a brand new lock and handle which matches our front door but which looks ridiculously out of place on the not-yet-painted-and-still-looking-like-the-old-door-that-it-is back door. Still it’s progress and I’m enjoying the prospect that one day in the not too distant future I will have my house back again - and then I’ll have to clean it again (not a totally unwelcome prospect - at least the first time). And I've given up hope of ever getting my backyard back - I have visions of future grandchildren learning to play cricket/hockey/soccer around the accumulated rubbish that is just going to get bigger and bigger as time goes on.

We went and chose glass for the fanlights above the windows, not at all surprised to learn that the original in the house is no longer produced. We returned home to discover that one room already has two different glass patterns and joked that we should have decided on two different patterns so that that particular room would have had four mismatched fanlights.

I went and chose a colour for the bench in my pantry and amazed the guy by saying I didn’t particularly care. In the end I agreed with his suggestion. I mean, who’s going to see it? On the plus side, I was able to introduce some blue into my kitchen and am feeling quite smug about that. I can just picture myself standing in front of the pantry with both doors wide open admiring my bench top with its specks of blue!

I saw my china cabinet in progress and fell in love with it. The design is ours but we seemed to have had difficulty explaining the concept to others. This joiner seems to have caught on to what we want and I’m pleased to say that it’s going to look great! It’s being made from recycled rimu (red pine) that had been sitting in our garage for at least the last ten years. DH used some of it when he built our bathroom vanity and thinks he has saved enough for the second bathroom vanity. It’s nice to see it being used again.

I’ve had my moments (as when I came home and discovered that the tuna and pasta dish I had put in the slow cooker had turned into a cold gluggy mess and not the hot filling dish I had hoped for) but we have been spared the worst of the horror stories as regards renovating one’s home.

We’ve heard that it’s one of the worst things you can live through but apart from the inconvenience of having to cook in a makeshift kitchen, it’s not been at all bad. The builder’s guys are quiet and respectful, and I’ve only had half a house to clean at a time when I really haven’t had time for cleaning. Can’t complain about that.

Just this past week there was another horror story on television: a builder who had taken the couple’s money and left them with an unfinished house that had been badly renovated and a contract that was meaningless. We chose a builder who is a personal friend and an elder in our church, realising that this could have its pitfalls (what if it turns our badly – would we say anything to a friend?) but also aware that professionally and in the church he is well respected and that that must count for something.

So what will this next week bring? A few less holes to let the cold in would be nice but other than that, I’ll leave it up to the builders!