the art of Roux

I once invited myself in on a Cajun Gumbo cooking lesson presented by an authentic Louisianian.  Do you know what gumbo is?  They make it in that awesome Disney adaptation of the Princess and the Frog.  It's like gravy soup.  With lots of vegetables, especially okra for its thickening agency, a strong stock, and we added shellfish, chicken, and sausage.  We served it over rice, it was a hearty meal.

What I learned the most in that lesson was how to make a really decent roux.  Roux is the cooked mixture of flour and fat used as a base for lots of creamy soups and sauces.  The process of scraping the flour through the fat cooks the flour, creating both colour and flavour, just like toasting bread.  It has to be scraped quickly or it will burn.  During the gumbo making lesson, we made a huge quantity and practiced trying to scrape it all off the bottom of the pan in a few quick movements, over and over again. 

It's all a matter of having patience, if you add the liquid too early, your sauce will be floury and probably lumpy.  Now, every time I need to make a roux, I remember my gumbo lesson.  What a privilege, I'm glad I pushed on in.

An Incredible Journey

Last night I watched the doco. - Turtles: An Incredible Journey.  It put my life into a new perspective.  Loggerhead turtles start their life digging, for three days, and then they swim some 70 miles.  Only when they find a raft of seaweed on the Gulf Stream do they finally sleep for the first time in their lives.  The next 21 years are spent swimming through several oceans, finally mating and returning to their home beach.  Despite the odds, they have outlived dinosaurs.  Man can't get in their way, though we try hard enough. 

I swam with wild turtles once, on a visit to Malaysia.  It felt kind of amazing, like I was engaging in something bigger than me.  I hadn't even seen the doco.  I have a friend who once stayed awake all night on a beach in Malaysia, hoping to see the Leatherback turtle come in to lay their eggs.  They grow to be the size of a mini cooper.  No kidding.

I just think they're kinda neat, that's all.  Not mysterious though, not when you know of the Great Creator.

positive-thought-less day

Today is a hole in the middle hard day.  Maybe I'll tell you all about it one day, when I can see the lighter side of things. I have been watching the Dick Van Dyke show which sort of helps, but I can only watch 1.5 episodes before I'm bored, he's just too goofy.  They're short episodes, too.  As his screen wife, Mary Tyler Moore is too perfect.  

What do you do when life gets on top of you? 

Bread Puddin'

I always thought of Bread Pudding as soggy bread with raisins.  How do raisins help a situation such as that?  I was never sure: it seemed to me they would only make the dish worse.  I have been eating sandwiches since I was a young girl and the day the bread was soggy in my lunch box was a day I skipped lunch.  In those days, it was all on white bread too, we wouldn’t eat any other bread, and white bread is no match for a little bit of moisture.

My good friend in Baltimore taught me I was wrong in my presumption.  She gave me a recipe which involved croissants, egg yolks, sugar, cream, and chocolate chips.  Ever since then, I have been reformed in my thinking and have tried any number of good flavours in my bread puddings.  I guess chocolate chips are my favourite as Jbird was confused why I would put raisins into it, he only remembers it with chocolate chips! 

We had some left over Christmas Panettone.  It was dry and old from three days of sitting out on the buffet table.  So I made bread pudding for breakfast.  Cheeky.

Snow flakes a-falling

Today it finally snowed!  We were a bit bummed that we didn't get a white Christmas AGAIN but today was as good a day as any, especially because we didn't have anything on this morning.  

Snow is such an unusual thing to us Auckland kiwis that it always gives us a sense of excitement and wonder - it becomes hard to leave the window.  We're still at the house and every window offers another, prettier view of the flakes falling, and everything getting covered in a pretty white powder.  Each object is topped by white and becomes a magical item.

It has snowed most of the morning but is now sort of melting and turning into slush. I got some tartan gumboots from Jbird for Christmas, they're going to come in handy this afternoon as we move away from this winter wonderland, back to the flat.

The Movie Experience

I have a love hate relationship with popcorn at the movie theatres.  On the one hand, I always end up with bits stuck in my teeth, scattered all over my person and seat, and a funny feeling in my stomach.  On the other, it is delicious and makes you feel like you're at the movies.  

We saw Tintin in 3D on our annual boxing day trip to the theatre.  We didn't get popcorn but I definitely felt like we were at the movies - it's such a fun, exciting film to see.  Did you read the comics when you were younger?  I did, and I also loved seeing the images plastered all over Brussels on my trip to Europe with Syls in 2005.  I'm amazed at how accurately the movie portrayed many of the same story lines I read.  The images and characters were well represented - it was fun to see it all in motion.  Pre-movie, I couldn't muster much interest in going to this one, I thought it might be too dull. I definitely walked out with a smile on my face, ready for a late left-over feast back at home.

Our Antipodean Christmases

This is the third Christmas us three Birds have enjoyed together on this side of the world.  Normally a couple other kiwis join us too but this year it's just us.  These are the only Christmases Jbird and I know as a married couple, it will be strange to return home one day and take back the summer traditions together.

So far it's been lovely.  We got up nice and early to get Jbird to church to play the piano.  It's always nice to celebrate the reason with other believers.  There have been a few nice surprises for everyone under the tree.  We are in a bigger kitchen than we're used to which has been fun for Soph and I: food preparation is that much easier and it seems less messy.  We made the panettone into French bread for brunch with bacon and maple syrup.  We haven't drunk or eaten too much, and haven't yet broken anything. We could only be happier if it snowed! 

It's time for a Christmas movie before we start cooking dinner.  Merry Christmas!

Christmas = Food

After a day of barely anything: mulching around, dinner at friends; today is pre-Christmas baking day.  Soph’s on Christmas mince pies and I’m making a cherry pie and maybe some focaccia bread.  I’m dieing to make a panettone but that will depend on time and energy.  Perhaps I’ll do it after Christmas.  

Our food on Christmas day has been loosely planned.  Breakfast will be a mighty affair with cinnamon buns, bacon and eggs, coffee, cider, eggnog.  Some of the easy to assemble items for later in the day are the antipasto, brie smothered in croissant pastry.  We’ve got asparagus to wrap and cauliflower with a cheese sauce.  A potato and ham bake.  Pork tenderloin is our meat of choice, it came in a delicious marinade.  We will wash it all down with the pie and spiked apple crisp shooters.

Don’t forget the Christmas fruit cake – this family traditionally starts eating that on Boxing day.  I hope I survive all the eating! 

Nashville, IN

There’s a phenomenon which occurs during a wintery Christmas which doesn’t happen down in the summery southern hemisphere – the desire to be warm and cosy.  To achieve this, we tend towards being housebound, with the fire lit, and the Christmas lights on.  However, there’s nothing better than going out, to appreciate a cosy house on arriving back home.  

Yesterday, after a lazy morning, we took a short drive to Nashville, Indiana.  The drive out there wasn’t very long but it followed rivers and meandering leafless woods such as we never see in NZ.  Nashville is the cutest little town I can remember seeing with a main street and a few little side roads.  It offers Nashville-made fudge, caramel corn (flavoured, sweet popcorn), wine and candles.  We had a glorious afternoon wine tasting and wandering through the many gift and antique stores.  As the sun set, the buildings were all lit up with magical Christmas lights.  Happy days.

Uh Oh, she's losing it

I had a moment in Walmart yesterday where I wanted to be that bratty kid, lying on the floor, tantruming.  It was pretty sad.  Do you ever get like that?  To make matters worse, I didn't get it under control and actually hopped out of the car at the lights and walked for a bit.  It helped me let off some steam but made Jbird feel pretty stink, I'm sure.

Since then I have been thinking about the privilege of having people, and how I sometimes take that for granted.  Day to day life is not always going to go my way, no matter what I do.  Other people are involved too, luckily, and it's actually much nicer to live life with people.  Like the schools of little fish in the stream that I bike passed on the way to the supermarket - it's better to swim against the current with the school, growing bigger and stronger together, than to stay in the shallows remaining small, weak, and alone.

At this time of year, I bet there a bunch of people who have to be alone but I have friends and family to be with.  Lucky little me.

Light a candle in my window

Because we have a car this week, as we look after Ella the puppy, we get to drive around and look at all the Christmas decorations on people's houses.  I'm at the point where if a house hasn't been decorated, I'm disappointed in the owner.  I'm not fussy, just a strand of lights would be fine!  There are some that are really, really decorated.  They're exciting to see and often catch our attention for almost too long - it could be dangerous if you're the driver.  There are giant moving snowmen.  Blue trees.  The Grinch that stole Christmas.  Any more than ten yard ornaments and I wonder if they're part of a competition.

The house we're in has candles in the windows.  The first time I saw these in Baltimore, I thought they were really cheesy.  Now I consider them homey and inviting.  The house also has a wrapped door, as though it were a gift, and a tree covered with lights on a timer.  It's simple but nice, especially with it being so cold out.

I never thought I'd say this but when we live in a house, we're looking forward to decorating it for Christmas.  A little.  Maybe a lot.

How American are you?

Sweet As.  I used to say that a lot.  It probably means no problem or oshubida ney (in Bangla).  I still say the latter, in my head.  On moving to Bangladesh, my Texan friend informed me she thought I was telling her she had a sweet ass when she first heard me say it.  Oh, a sweet arse?  But I don't say arse like ass!  Truth be told, I did say arse a lot too, but it's slipped from my vocab.  I've replaced it with stink.  For now.  I still don't say ass, but I do say ya'll.  Also, trash, sweater and cookie.  Bickie, as in NZ biscuit which is a cookie.  Instead I buy biscuits which are scones in a pre-baked tube - they're too delicious to snub in the refrigerator aisle.  I often have a snack, it's replaced afternoon tea and is something I take with me in case I'm hungry later, but morning tea still happens at 10am.  I'm pretty sure we continue to have tea as dinner and pudding for dessert but my coffee is milky, not black.  I knit with yarn which may have a wool blend but is no longer ever referred to as wool.

Jbird says tomato like potato and he pours half and half into everything.  I do not.

A Wintery Christmas

It has taken a while to sink in that I have returned to winter.  The trees finally became bare while I was away and temperatures now hit zero or below frequently.  It takes me 5 minutes to undress every time I arrive somewhere.  Gloves, boots, hat, scarf, jacket, and a little bit later: sweater, are all peeled off so that I resemble a human instead of a lumpy snowman.  Our blinds are pulled at 5pm to ward off the cold.

Jbird, Soph, and I have been invited to house/dog/pot plant sit for the week over Christmas.  The perks are cable t.v. (holiday specials) and the loan of their car.  Their Christmas tree is about five times the size of ours.  To me, it's also the possibility of having a holiday away from home when we can least afford it.  Unfortunately, there is no snow forecast for Christmas.  Maybe it will surprise us?

Shall I start a collection?

Do you collect something unusual?  I have friends that own more than thirty nativity sets, other friends who must have about the same number of cuckoo and chiming clocks, and some that own hundreds of ornamental frogs.  Jbird and I have a few of this, a few of that, but no big collection.  

I've tried to start collections in the passed but I feel as though these things happen by accident.  You don't start out thinking: "I'm going to start a collection of...", you just have one and like it.  Then you see another and like that too so you buy it.  As it is, the things we cherish are in storage.  We try not to feel too attached to items we have here, we know how expensive it will be to get them all back to NZ.  Sometimes when we're given something, we say to each other: "This is going back home with us."  Only a few lucky items have this category attached to them, and even they may have to be discarded.  

I wonder if this position prohibits the beginning of a collection or if in 15 years time, we'll have found we own a collection.  I wonder what it will be.

A night off

I had a busy day yesterday, out of the house, with lots of lovely people.  I was talking all day.  I missed Jbird but I was a little bit glad to have the house to myself for a few hours in the evening as he had a gig.  Socialising can be exhausting at times.  

One of the the meals I love making when Jbird's not around is Fettucine Carbonara.  He doesn't love it - I think I may have made it wrong too many times.  If I get distracted, the eggs are likely to scramble or the sauce will be too thick or too runny.  But made properly, it is creamy and delicious.  I believe my new brother-in-law only orders this dish when he eats at his favourite restaurant.

We rarely have cream (or half and half as I used tonight), bacon, and fettucine in our fridge or pantry all at the same time as they're 'b-list' foods, ones I see as luxuries.  Last night, the moons must have been in alignment as they were all there!  I added some fresh tomato and chives for a little interest.  I wonder if I'd live up to my B.I.L's standards?

YumBo.

Another Great Pairing

We had our Christmas book club meeting last night.  When I say that, it sounds as though I'm a regular attender and have been going a long time. In reality, last night was my first time.  It was fun.

I brought homemade chocolate truffles to the meeting and someone else happened to bring yummy mandarins.  It reminded that for a few years, I was obsessed by the combination of chocolate, orange, and coffee.  They have to be good oranges, none of those watery, seed filled clementines that Jbird and I have had recently.  I'm not very fussy about the chocolate but I probably prefer dark at the moment.  

Revisiting the combination brings back memories.  Mandarins were my childhood afternoon tea staple for many years as we had all these fruit trees in the back yard.  I first discovered my enjoyment of all three together in Bangladesh where chocolate and good coffee are (were) hard to come by.  I later revisited them in our first year in Baltimore when my brother was visiting us for Christmas. 

Are there any food combinations or memories that you savour?

Best topping ever...

Jbird and I love to have dessert for breakfast at least once a week.  Either pancakes, waffles, crepes, or french toast.  They're our lie-in then brunch kind of breakfast.   This year we discovered a most excellent topping.  It's a combination of lemon curd, a berry sauce of some kind, and a creamy dairy.  Preferably heavy whipping cream or greek yoghurt.  This works well in home-made ice cream too.  It's just so good.  Jbird always adds a little maple syrup on his.  

What's your favourite topping?

Mostly Meyer Marmalade

On my quest to give mostly homemade presents for Christmas this year, I decided to tackle some meyer lemon marmalade in the kitchen yesterday.  I have unsuccessfully tried to make marmalade on two previous occasions, so I was dubious about it working this time.  I think those failed attempts taught me a thing or two regarding pectin, candy thermometers, cheese cloth, when I should add sugar, thinking twice about reducing the sugar amount, and over-cooking. 

I found a recipe which suggested the ratio 1:1:1 (sugar, lemon, and water) for Meyer lemons.  As they’re fairly sweet and have thin skin (and therefore less pectin), they require a little bit less sugar and water.  It also warned me not to try substituting real lemons into the recipe but I was short on Meyer so I ended up referring to my mother’s recipe too, adding in a little bit more sugar and water, and using a couple oranges and plain lemons.  It was a gutsy decision to make, but it turned into a sweet yummy marmalade and I can't wait to give it away. 

I’m excited about the day that my Meyer lemon tree starts producing fruit and I can use my own home grown fruit!

Meyer lemon are native to China and are a mix between orange and lemon.  My mother has a tree, I think she calls them lemonades.

Bite your tongue

Flying over a section of the snow dusted Rocky Mountains on my way to Denver, Colorado, and then Indianapolis, brought back memories of my first day of high school.  We had a Social Studies quiz.  I get the feeling our new teacher was trying to distill some fear in us, I certainly didn't know many of the answers.    One of the questions was: What State is the Rocky Mountains in?  A lovely redhead in the class who turned into one of my best friends, is an American.  She had just spent the American winter with her Grandparents in Colorado so she knew that the Rockies are in Colorado.  It was kind of a stupid questions as they hit a bunch of states, right? 

This teacher was not a very kind teacher, she was in it for the money, as they say.  Or maybe so she could flirt with the Social Studies teacher next door.  Anyway, she told my buddy that she was wrong - the answer in her teachers' manual was Idaho - and somehow she made her completely doubt herself, even though she'd just been in that part of the world and probably knew more than our teacher.  Our teacher was in a position of power and authority, she asserted herself and did not consider that she might not be right.  

I always hoped I'd never do the same as a teacher but I know I have.  My first year teaching was a particularly hard year and I said all sorts of things I regret now.  I am forming a New Years resolution based on this - I hope to focus on my conversation skills this coming year and somehow bring more grace into them.  I'll keep you posted as I formulate this more.

By the way, the view was incredible from my little window seat in the plane, until we hit Denver after which it was all flat: corn country.

Haere Ra, Aotearoa

Farewell NZ, land of the long white cloud

Yesterday was the never ending Sunday – 42 hours long.  It started with breakfast and church with the Stakkas.  I had lunch with my parents at the airport but by then I was itching to leave.  

The flight from AKL-LAX is an okay flight.  It starts mid afternoon and simulates night time which helps me to start changing my body clock to the new time zone, when we leave the plane it is morning.  The staff and food are kiwi, giving me the feeling I have not yet left NZ: muesli for breakfast, plunger coffee, a kiwi sense of humour.  Like moving a pot plant from the humid green house into a dessert environment, LAX thrusts me in the States.  There is no sense of order to the lines at immigration, people are tired and cranky from the long flight and forget how to be polite, and I am grilled by the immigration officer when my head cannot quite think straight.  

Following this is a day of further travel.  LAX-Denver-Indianapolis-Bloomington.  I take short cat naps, not sure if I’m asleep and then dead to the world.  Trying to regulate my body temperature, my feet are often cold.  I don’t know if I’m hungry or sick.  I’m fed peanuts, coffee, and a few crackers from home.  

Arriving home, Jbird greets me with flowers, a smile and a hug.  He has tidied the house, strung the Christmas lights.  I distribute small gifts to him and Soph.  I sleep well.

Changing Skies

Flying west across the States on my way here, I had a surreal moment as the plane I was in chased a setting sun.   I had been day-dreaming about the trip to come when I suddenly realised I'd watched the same sunset for 4 hours.  I felt suspended in time.

Driving north to Auckland this afternoon, I was mesmerised by the sky.  It was full of beautiful deep, purple-black clouds dropping fat rain drops while adjacent to me were sunlit hills and the bright Waikato river.  It could have been one of those pictures you draw as a child, rainbow and lightening flashes included.

I do like to observe the sky and I've recently been wondering what it would be like if it were the same every day, if it were constantly blue or constantly grey.  If the sun never set, or maybe it never rose.  Everything would be different.  Seasons, vegetation, comfort. We'd never regulate our sleeping patterns.  The position, shape and size of your house wouldn't matter.   I'm sure it would be quite boring too.

With that thought came the realisation that perhaps the magnificent of a beautiful sunset is found in the culmination of that particular moment.

Girl's Night

Whenever I stay at my sister's house we eat and drink too much and fall asleep too early.  This time she had gone shopping at Sabato for lovely ingredients: valaroha chocolate (oh my!), fancy cocoa, dried strawberries and figs and other lovelies.  Even though she was tired after the usual excessive Saturday activities with two lovely children, we sucked it up and baked two types of biscotti.   Chocolate and Hazelnut, and Christmas Mix.  K.-Stakkas and I enjoyed the crumbs, I will have to sneak a little taste into my suitcase for Jbird. 

It is loads easier to bake with more than one person.  Biscotti is twice baked, the first is a log but then it's cut and rebaked.  The issue comes in the crumbling, how do cafes do it?  It was lovely and fast to cut with two people.

With a couple glasses of Strawberry Lindeur, highlighted by chopped fresh strawberries, we baked, had pedicures, and watched Bridesmaids.  This was a perfect movie after the recent sisterly nuptials where we were bridesmaids three and four.  We're looking forward to getting to know the new family member - too bad Jbird and I are soooooo far away.

I've hit the mother-load

To replace the candles and Christmas goodies I brought here from Bloomington, I'm taking back with me: a new wardrobe, including both summer and winter items hand-me-downs from the pretty trendy Bride (who's also moving cities and had a purge) and last season's winter classics from Glassons; hand-me-down towels from the elder sister; old duvet covers for rag rugs and excessive amounts of yarn from a lovely crafty Aunt-who-understands; marmite and golden syrup for me; six loaves of vogels and eight packets of timtams for the Birds in Bloomington who miss home; textbooks for both Jbird and I; and a few Chrissy pressies. I'm still considering taking a bunch of succulent clippings over, but I'm not sure whether they'll get through American customs.

I feel weird.  I want to go but I want to stay. Life feels like it's ready to go back to normal here but it's not normal anymore so I have to go there.  One more day at the beach, a drive to Hamilton to help the newly-weds move in, and a meal with family, and I'll be on the plane.  Fly away little birdie.

A very Kiwi Christmas

Wandering through the paddock with mum and the niece and nephew, grass tickling our ankles, we're picking out the best tree for mum's lounge.  It's not too big, with a few pine cones attached and a good covering of branches and pine needles.  It takes some convincing, Maddy thinks it should be bigger.  Harry wants to do the sawing, he's a builder at two years old.  Maddy helps a bit too. The lady who sells it to us is wearing flip flops and sunnies.  This is normal for Christmas.

Later we decorate it with historic decorations, ones I grew up with, as well as a few newer ones.  I'll be gone soon, back to the winter, snow, and warm clothes.  It's alright.  These are my memories and this time, the time we're spending in the States, is giving us new memories.  Memories for our new family.

Swimming out the back

The day I learned that flippers would give me the strength to get passed the front waves, the wonders of swimming out the back of the surf was opened to me.  I love the risk and the excitement of being back there, with the other surfers, waiting for the large waves in a set.

Sometimes the conditions seem too good to be true.  The sun might be setting behind me into the horizon, the water perfectly clear and the waves have enough strength and size to give a thrilling ride.  When the waves are easy to get passed and seem to pick me up time and time again, and the sun is nice and warm, I never want to go in, not for food or rest or warmth.  I’ve been in angry surf too, where I have been afraid for my life and not one wave breaks alone, it’s a jumble of unidentifiable liquid.  That’s the surf I get out of quickly. 

I remember finding myself in a ten foot swell once.  The waves were perfect and clean so I was determined to get out the back to catch what looked like perfect waves.  I struggled through them for a long time, the surf life-savers came over in their motorboat and asked if I needed to be towed in.  I thought I was fine but when I finally made it out the back, and got to the crest of a huge wave, I felt like I was on the top of a two storey building and deciding to jump - I couldn’t do it.  I bailed back off the wave and swam slowly ashore, swimming into waves as they broke, hoping I wouldn’t die as I tumbled through them like a sock in a wash cycle.  

Check out my local spot - Piha.

I'm getting my word count in

As a beginning teacher in New Zealand, we are given a huge professional development allowance equalling one day every teaching week of the first year.  My flatmates always knew when I’d had my PD day because I hadn’t met my usual teacher’s quota of talking at work, so that evening I would talk and talk and talk and talk.  They’d say to me: didn’t you teach today?

Moving cities, with a lot less friends and virtually no work, and certainly no classroom teaching type work, I think I’ve learned to talk less.  Probably Jbird has to tune me out at times.  Because I’m only home for two weeks, I’ve prioritised to see a bunch of really close friends, we’ve had a lovely amount to catch up on and I get to talk and talk and talk and talk.  It has been wonderful.

I’m looking forward to growing a few ‘heart friends’ (see: this post) in Bloomington, those that I won’t feel I need to bite my tongue around too much.  It's not just that though, people who know my history, where I've come from.  It just takes time.

learnt or learned?  My NZ dictionary allows both...

New Plymouth-Wanganui-Auckland in a day

Driving home, my brother and I took a tiki tour further south to Wanganui to visit a cousin and her four kids.  The weather was pretty clear, though we had a little rain. This is one of Jbird's and my favourite little towns to fall upon, with a cute downtown, lovely museum and art gallery.  The museum documents the early settler days in photographs, some of the few that still exist, I imagine.  

Highway four, after Wanganui, is a winding, scenic highway with little traffic.  We drove through hilly farmlands, with stunning views of pine tree forests, New Zealand bush, valleys, craggy peaks and the mountains - including 'Mt. Doom'/Mt. Ngarahoe of the famous LOTR trilogy.    These were covered in clouds, their foothills and the odd glimpse of snow higher up peaking through, announcing their presence.  The gorse and cabbage trees were in bloom.

Though the tiki tour doubled our journey, I treasure the ability to drive here, at home, New Zealand place names flashing passed - Raetihi, Taumaranui, Te Kuiti, Otorohonga, King Country.

Are you dieing to hear?

There are many great things about being in a wedding party.  Some of my favourites are the early access to seeing the Bride's dress, having my hair and make up done, champagne with breakfast, and dressing up more than I usually do. 

This wedding was a really nice day, the weather was gorgeous. The votive candles I found in Bloomington worked perfectly, interspersed around different herbs growing in jam jars and place names written on leaves with a heart hole-punched out.  All the Aunties loved the dresses.  Silver/grey bridesmaid dresses with an interesting wrap detail, high neck and cute little poof sleeves.  Maybe I'll be able to wear this bridesmaids dress again!?  The big white dress was kind of phenomenal.  Empire cut, silk with lace over the bodice and a full skirt.  We had pink and green bouquets.  Can you picture it yet?  

The food was delicious.  There were huge New Zealand mussels for canapes, as well as different bruschetta with salmon etc.  I had a calamari entree and a scotch fillet the size of my head, cooked perfectly medium rare, nice and bloody in the middle, for my main.  I ate it all, too.  Oh, and chocolate mousse, homemade chocolate icecream and a toffee pistachio praline for pudding.  With plenty of NZ vino and bubblies in between. Then mum's decadent wedding chocolate cake for supper. 

Over the past 14 years or so, weddings have been the main way I meet up with extended family as we all live so far apart.  This may have been the last wedding from all the cousins - there have been 13 and I managed to attended 11 of them.  I hope we can still find excuses to reconnect.

entree - hors dourves in New Zealand
scotch fillet - ribeye steak

Do ya like it?

Many expats have their funny things they obstinately save for home.  Doctors' appointments, children's schooling, golden syrup, marmite.  For me, it's all of those things, but more peculiarly, it's my hairdresser.  So far I have refused to look for another one anywhere else. The first cut she gave me was just before our wedding.  It was a special cut so I had streaks put in and she straightened it. When I went to school the next day, everybody EVERYBODY commented on my amazing haircut.  The children told me I looked like a princess.  Jbird insisted on documenting it in photos.  She thinned it out and it was easy to manage for months and months.

You see, I have curly hair.  People don't know what to do with curly hair.  Baltimore was full of curly hair, but it was the kind of curls found on African-Americans.  They're a whole different kettle of fish, requiring straightening, wigs, and extensions.  It  took me 28 years to know what to do with my curly hair, and it was she that taught me.  Why would I go to anyone else?  For the first time in my life, I'm venturing out without hating it unless it's tied back.  This is a break through!

She has her salon in the Waitakere ranges, surrounded by beautiful New Zealand bush (you. really. must. visit. this. place).  She has done my hair since my wedding and knows all about Jbird and I, over there.  I go to her once a year, when we are home for the 'summer'.  I broke this fast yesterday, as it had only been four months since my last cut by her.  She knows I won't let anyone else cut it, obliterates my split ends, and admires how long it is getting - as a hairdresser, she finds it very hard to grow her own hair. 

When I went yesterday, she gave me a cutting from her jade tree, known as a 'money plant'.  I will plant this in my kitchen in Bloomington and think of her and the fabulous hair cuts.  We won't be back next summer, I think it might be  time to move on.  For the time being.

Social Situations

I want to revisit the idea of social anxiety. I have to start with an apology - I don't have a very clear head as I've recently come back from a hens type meal.  My sister - not the one to-be-wed, the other, bought a bottle of wine to share with me, hence the foggy head.  However, the time to write is now as tomorrow will be wedding wedding wedding.

Earlier in the day, at the afternoon tea part of the hens events, I was almost in tears, I didn't want to go.  I was completely overwhelmed by too many new people, and trying to feel comfortable in a situation where I didn't.  The sister - older than me and oh so much more mature - very kindly went out of her way to persuade me.  Soon after this was a rowing-on-a-lake part of the events where myself, this sister and my mother shared a boat together.  It was a perfect time of the day, beautiful light, and we were surrounded by gorgeous New Zealand native bush.  I was able to relax and we had some nice conversation.  This helped me to forget my discomfit and I then attended the evening meal almost organically.  The dinner was fun, we sat with some fun people, though my angus beef burger was a little well done.  It was funny that my entire table of six ordered the same though we didn't discuss it.

I think we all ALL suffer from social anxiety at different times.  It can't just be me - though I feel like I suffer more than most.  I'm sure others feel the same way.  Remember my original post?  I blamed living in America (click here to read).  

When I review today's anxiety, I was at my worst shortly after I'd had space to think.  Too much space.  When things were busy, I felt better and forgot my worries.  If you have been able to follow and agree with my thread of thoughts directly related to creativity coming from space and time, you might feel as bewildered as I by the idea that negativity that can also flourish in that same space.  Depending on your frame of mind and how you let things flow.  

My little sister's getting married tomorrow.  Where did the time go!?

In the folds of family

We have started the four day wedding weekend.  I drove down to Taranaki/New Plymouth today, sitting between HarryBarry and I'm-not-madsta-I'm-Mad-e-LINE.  Two Stakkas in the front seats. The scenery was superb.  Dense green New Zealand bush, full of pungas and palms.  Ocean views, white cliffs. Sheep, cattle, goats and alpacas.  The kids played I-spy-with-my-little-eye-something-purple, doctors, and cameramen.  They were gorgeous.  Lunch in a cafe on the way down was delicious.

There will be dinners, afternoon teas, nail painting, make-up and hair.  Car cleaning, house cleaning, place name marking.  We have plenty of black shoes to choose from and my relocated dress is safe and sound on a hanger.  THE dress has been revealed, I can't wait to see it on the bride-to-be.  Dad's picking Andy up from the airport and they'll bring down those votive candles I brought all the way from Indiana.  There will be high tension and drama, what would a wedding be without it? 

I'm glad.

What dress shall I wear?

When I got here, I didn't really unpack or think about anything, I just went straight to the beach for my first surf and then to visit my niece and nephew (oh, and their parents!).  It was all I could think about.  A day later, when I realised I hadn't seen my bridesmaid dress in my boxes here, my first response was to panic.  I'm talking thirty minutes of doom and gloom, I decided I'd taken it to the States and left it there!

Jbird is my saving grace when I  panic at home.  He kind of just absorbs it.  Saying things like "Well, I think the only thing you can do in this situation is to panic." and "are you panicking yet?"  It sounds sarcastic and mean but it actually helps me to think: "oh, what should I be doing?"  I've heard this of sarcasm: it's no longer considered the lowest form of wit.  It can be mean, but it can also be clever, helping the recipient to think about where it came from, and what it means, encouraging creativity in their thought process.  I'm not just saying this because I have a habit of using it, either.  Click here to read the article.

I'm packing today to go down to New Plymouth for the great wedding fête.  The bridesmaid dress is already down there, taken by my mum.  It's going to be a fun weekend but I'm glad I'm only visiting one person and her baby today, I need a rest day!

The Icing on the Cake

I visited two lovely friends yesterday.    I had energy and time so the visits were comfortable.  Today, I'm squeezing in three, as well as a haircut - call me crazy.  

I woke up with time to do some baking for today's friends this morning so I thought I'd throw together some chocolate cupcakes, using a cake recipe I found in one of mum's books.  I made sure all the ingredients were available before I started.  This search wasn't quite thorough enough as I got them in the oven and went to make the icing, only to find there was no icing sugar in the cupboard.  How very annoying - this happens to me far more often than I would like.  A quick search online told me it would be fine if I whipped butter and plain sugar together.  Unfortunately, in order to get a smooth texture, you have to whip and whip and whip and whip or it's going to be grainy.  With a hand held beater, this can be particularly annoying.   

With all my visiting, I feel the urge to relate this to our friends, husbands, and anyone we desire to be close to.  Friendship (and all relationships) can't be instantaneous.  We have to throw together a lot of ingredients and bake them.  I'm inclined to think that in these relationships, we try to add plain sugar and they take a lot more whipping than we're willing to give.  

The cupcakes were a hit - I substituted out the milk, putting in berry yoghurt instead.  I also had real chocolate in the icing (which was a little grainy).  Though it had almost melted by the time I got to the last house, the cupcakes were really soft and yummy.

The raisins didn't get a good soaking

As mentioned in an earlier post (click here to read it), I baked two smallish rum-soaked fruit Christmas cakes ten weeks prior to Christmas.  I thought about bringing the second one to NZ as a pressie for my mum.  It's the kind of thing that's appreciated in NZ while Americans (and I) don't really go for fruit in cake.  I didn't bring it in the end, for a few reasons: I ran out of room in my luggage, I wasn't sure how to transport it safely, lacking a decent tupperware container, and I wondered if home baking would be allowed through customs.  I guess I figured if it was homebaked, they'd want to know what was in it.  Those NZ customs peeps can be tricky at times.  I was once nearly fined $200 for some dirty boots in my luggage - they were worried about mad cow disease in those days.  Turns out any food's allowed in, unless there's honey or meat involved.

So this morning I whipped another one up.  It won't have ten weeks to age and the raisins weren't rum-soaked - though there's some port in the cake itself.  The recipe I used called for 1.2kg/2.6lb of dried fruit, six eggs and not much else!   I wonder how it will turn out.

A Thirteen Hour Flight

Two days ago I was dressed for winter, snuggling under a rug, recovering from Thanksgiving.  The sun set before 6pm, the early morning was chilly, and the trees were bare.  I had to duck away from a biting wind while biking to the Black Friday sales.  Though my accent was tending towards an American lilt, a day didn't go by that I wasn't asked where I was from.

Today I went body-boarding in the ocean, I am wearing jandals and torn jeans, I have a slight burn on my shoulders, and black sand between my toes.  It's still light at 8pm, all the trees are covered in vibrant green leaves, and there are flowers everywhere.  I have to remember to stay on the left hand side of the road while I drive.  My accent is normal.  

Today we had a picnic at a summery Christmas concert and I received sloppy chocolatey kisses from HarryBarry and Madsta. 

Today, you are there and I am here.  Jbird, I miss you. 

Island life

I MISS the ocean.  Maybe more than I miss family and friends.  While they always talk to me and respond, the ocean expects me to stop by and invite myself in.  It doesn’t care if it’s too cold and uninviting - or too far away. 

Growing up on an island, I took regular ocean swimming for granted until I moved to Dhaka, Bangladesh.  Although it's a harbour city, surrounded by water, the water is polluted: rank, and green or purple.  It enjoys a cooling monsoon season and a flash storm could flood the streets in seconds.  Later, Jbird and I moved to Baltimore.  Though it's another harbour city, we did not own a car, and because we followed the winter to New Zealand, we were never able to swim in clean salty waters.  Now we’re in Indiana and I'm landlocked for the first time in my life.  We’re pacified with a pool nearby but secretly yearn the ocean.

On Monday, I’m going to drive out west to get my hair cut.  Afterwards, I will drive to Piha with my body board in tow.  I hope there's at least a four foot swell.  Strong enough to take me by surprise, pick me up, and dump me on the sand.  A thorough baptism of home waters, the Pacific.

Variations on a Turkey

Our first thanksgiving in the States together, Jbird and I flew to Texas for a Thanksgiving extravaganza.  I won't go into too many details, it was a memorable trip in too many ways, except that the turkey was deep fried.  I over-ate and nearly went into a food coma.  There was no way to avoid it, the food was too good and very plentiful.

Yesterday we enjoyed thanksgiving at two different houses.  I managed to show a considerable amount of constraint by serving minuscule portions.  It was a good survival method.  Two types of cranberry sauce, gravy, green veges, turkey and pumpkin pie later, as well as many types of wine and coffee in between, and any number of side dishes, and I was doing okay.  I think it was the pecan pie right at the end of the night that kind of sent me over the edge.  I had to have some quiet time inside my head.

The real bonus for us is that we're in somebody's house on one of their biggest holidays of the year.  Traditions are shared that may stem from generation to generation: recipes, family, and locations, all things that that particular family has adopted over time. 

Thanks for sharing, America.

Pre-Turkey Day

Yesterday, we had one of those perfect pre-Thanksgiving days.  Our friends, Ash and T, wanted Jbird to tune their new/old piano.  They have four boys.  Their relatives had just arrived from Baltimore – the dad's a cop in the Mondawmin Mall area.  He says The Wire is true.  It was fun to get to know him and his family, from recent stomping grounds.

While Jbird tuned, I played with the kids, stuffed my Christmas cards, knitted and cuddled the baby.  Best of all, I was allowed in the kitchen this year!  I was given the honour of making the cheese cake/pumpkin pie.  Ash had kindly pre-baked the pie base.

We finished the day in a payment of barbeque ribs.  Think: Fred Flinstone and his toppled over car.  They were amazing.  I don’t want to say the ribs were better than the smoked brisket of Texas, Thanksgiving 2009 (read about that here).  They may have been just as good, not in the same way, a different meal.  America also knows how to do meat.

Heart Friend

Trying to relate is really hard, for everyone.  I know this so I try to make it easy for those who don’t know me.  I mimic accents, facial expressions and body language, I try not to butt in too often, and I remember anecdotes so that I can ask that person about them when I next see them.  

I think about all this relating a lot, it keeps me up at night.  A lot of the time I’m thinking “huh, I shouldn’t have said that!” because I am no good at the not-butting-in part.  I let myself spend a lot of energy on my relating skills and then I crash.  My response to this is to hermit.  I creep into my little house, with my coffee, books and knitting, not coming out for anything.

As I consider going home, I know that I will see a lot of people who I think of as heart friends.  People that know me so well we can get talking and wonder where the time has gone?  Days, months, years spent apart becomes irrelevant.  But it won’t be all peaches and cream.  People are already telling me they’re not available.  I won’t be on my best behaviour all the time.

With only two weeks, I promise to try my very best.  To be a relating machine. I'll sleep on the plane.

Tying up loose ends

I ensconced myself in the corner of our lounge last night with the Mary Tyler Moore show, a bowl of chips and a bottle of water.  I had decided to force myself to finish off the three months worth of knitted/crocheted items I had overflowing from my craft box.  My friend, MK, tells me – with all the wisdom of a life-long artist and as a much more experienced crochet-hook worker – that I should enjoy this part of the job.  It’s creating the final product.  Particularly with the amigurumi toys I have been fond of making.  Your crochet skills almost don’t matter, as the sculptor, sewing them together is what gives them their character.  Do a bad job of it and you can end up with one funny looking toy.

I’m far more prone to let myself “do it later” than I would like to be because five hours later I had a cramp in my right hand and I had still not finished! 

Preparing for travel

Travelling internationally used to be a delight for me.  I loved to choose the movies, eat the little meals and not be where I was leaving, or arriving, but just be.   

I’m a little more travel weary these days.  Jbird once described it as familiarity with the bad parts of flying; sleep deprivation, waiting at airports for countless hours, lost luggage, armrest wrestling with strangers.  On our last trip home, we flew FOUR international flights with my maiden name on my ticket and my married name on my passport, it was so stressful.  Soph once lost her passport at LAX, what a nightmare!   

Do you know what I hate the most, something that can never be avoided?  Living in recycled air for two days and the dehydration that ensues!  My skin peels for days afterwards.  My eyes ache.  My mouth or nose – depending on which I chose to breathe through while asleep – feel dry and uncomfortable.  

With all the liquid carrying restrictions on planes, this is hard to remedy but I have started making my plans for this trip.  I will carry a bottle, refilling it inside each airport and sip, sip, sip – I have found this even helps the dry eyes/nose/mouth syndrome, so long as you remember to do it.  I will carry little bottles of moisturiser, Vaseline and olive oil to protect my poor skin.  

Is there anything you do to make flying more comfortable?  I’d love your ideas!

On writing

I was talking to a new blogger buddy at church today.  It was nice to share this thing that we have in common, and to realise that it’s changed my life in a little way. 

The regularity of this blog was something that I needed when I started.  It helped me to keep it up and to fill a void I had from moving to a new town.  It hasn’t been too much of a challenge, so far, to write something and publish it every day but I don’t know if that will change soon.  My life is a little busier now and it’s sure to be even busier next year.  Most of it will be study busyness, and blogging is a nice distraction from that.  I’m going home on Friday for two weeks and the travel will delete an entire day from life - I just won’t see Saturday (I get two Sundays on the way back here).  It will be Thanksgiving just before I leave so I’m sure to have lots to write about and pre-schedule for those travel days.  I’ll just have to take the trip as it comes though, maybe I’ll miss a day or two.  Maybe I’ll be able to keep on top of it.  We’ll see.

The best part of this blog is that the voice that talks to me while I’m going about my day, my inside voice, has taken to composing blogs.  It’s quite nice - I will be lying in bed and realise I’ve thought up three new posts and I’d better get a pen to write them down.  I think it might even help me to avoid the negative voice that often likes to chime in.   

Here’s to writing regularly.

Building creativity and ability

A teachers’ college mantra through the four year degree was “...and write a reflection”.  They wanted us to learn to reflect on everything, at all times. At the time I was a young ‘un and I really didn’t know what I would reflect when I did reflect because I didn’t have the nouse to know I’d have to stop and think first.  I just wanted to do it as quickly as possible, get the grade and go do something I was interested in.

As a part time job during those years, I taught a small studio of violin students and I was fortunate enough to have an amazing mentor.  She supplied me with games, ideas and even stickers.  Even with her help, my lessons were awful.  I would finish everything in ten minutes, leaving twenty minutes to improvise.  The improvisations were bad too, I was empty of words.  My response to this was: "At least I won’t be doing this forever!  I’ll be in a classroom with 30 kids and everything will be much better."

It wasn’t, it was super hard.  I’ve learned that there’s no two ways around it, there’s more to teaching than just having a job.  

Today I started a violin student and it is amazing to see where I have come in 12 years.  I have this knowledge, a teaching pedagogy, that has built up over the years.  I still use a lot of my mentor’s material but I know what to say in the gaps and I know how long I should spend doing activities.  I probably didn’t reflect on it the way I was taught in teacher’s college, but I have developed and improved none the less. 

Did your twenties do this to you, too?

This post relates directly to what I’ve written earlier here and here.  I’m remembering to be bored so that I can be creative.

Making something out of rags

Rag rugs are a really satisfying, quite simple gift to crochet.  Making the rags takes a bit of time and it can be quite messy - I end up with a layer of rag fluff all over my clothes and the floor.  I prefer to make circle rugs, although I have found the hardest part at the start when I'm counting the first few stitch increase increments.  It's hard to see the definition between stitches with all the jaggedy edges getting in the way.  Doing this step properly makes a big difference for a really tidy looking rug, unless you’re going for the lopsided effect. 

They are one of the few items I make that I always like at the end.  They seem plush, and it's satisfying to see how the width of the rags I've made and the imagined design turns out in the finished product.  I've made a couple with some sheets my parents have had since they were newly-weds.  Those sheets are really familiar to my family but they had become thin and were tearing easily from over-use.  It's nice to have found a new purpose for them. 

Preparing for home

In preparation to go home next Friday, EIGHT SLEEPS FROM NOW, I have bought 144 votive candles and their glass holders for a very special wedding, written a Christmas letter for family and a few select friends, and am receiving packages in the post for things people want from the States that are more expensive or not available at home.  Clothes from baby gap (so cute, Madstar and Haz are lucky little people), cowboy belts for the resident cowboy (Mr. Bird, Sr.), and a kindle for some cuzzies (still waiting, I hope it gets here in time).  Older-sis ordered a bunch of American mags too, so I’m trying to get through those.   

I am also in the process of finishing off our New Zealand Christmas shopping. “Finishing off” is an exaggeration.  I should say, starting.  Fortunately, my study has finished, placing me into a very wintery summer holiday, so I have the time to concentrate on all these things.  Unfortunately, I am far more inclined to knit and watch old episodes of the Mary Tyler Moore show.  I should get on it though.  We have dinner engagements and thanksgiving to get through before I leave.  Oh, and the black Friday sales the morning I leave.  

Really, I have no complaints.

We had a spill

...on the apartment carpet.  Which was new just before we moved in.  Jbird was going to tip a wet bike upside down in the spare room, to keep the wet tyres off the carpet.  A wet, black substance (probably grease) dripped out.   

When we spill anything at his parents' house, Mrs. Bird Sr. yells “I’ll get it!” and won’t let us near it.  She has a strong conviction that her method is the only method and will work at it at any time of the day or night to get that stain out.  It’s impressive.  And it works.  She uses a dry cloth and dabs, dabs, dabs, presses and jumps until no stain remains.  It gets all soaked up into the dry cloth.  

So we tried this last night - we’re very interested in getting our bond back when we move out.  Unfortunately with her conviction comes strength and perseverance.   What we needed to do was to put Mrs. Bird, Sr. on the case.  To be fair, it’s not looking too bad now, but I KNOW she would have been on it until it was all gone.   

My job today is to put some baking soda sludge on the remainder of the stain and to buy a chain to get those bikes out of the flat.  I want my spare room back!

What's a Hoosier?

We were given tickets to the Hoosiers’ basketball game on the weekend.  We’d done our research by watching the movie “Hoosiers” a couple months ago.  The game was a fun cultural experience, super super American.  I saw my first live slam dunk!  There was a brass band, cheerleaders and flags.  Bigger flags than I’ve ever seen in my life.  I’m not going to lie, the cheerleaders were a hit for me.  They wear big white bows in their hair and they’re soooo peppy!  Jump, jump, jump, arm pump. Back flip. Thrown in the air... Unfortunately, I missed getting the pyramid on camera by about a second.  Bah to that. 

It was a home game for the Hoosiers so they had home audience advantage.  By that, I mean the entire audience was decked out in red and white.  The women in the vicinity to me had had red manicures that day.  It was intense. 

I know I’m meant to be on the Hoosier’s side but I couldn’t help feeling sad for Chattanooga.  They played an okay game but the audience was pretty mean anytime they did anything ANYTHING decent.  It was quite lopsided.  I don’t think I’ve ever been to a game where the cheering was solely for only one of the teams.  It must be super demoralising.  Ah well, go Hoosiers!? 

What's a Hoosier?  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hoosier

Recital week for the Birds

This Wednesday, Jbird and Soph will play their chamber music recital.  They have formed a trio, with a cellist, and are playing Rachmaninoff Piano Trio Élégiaque No. 1 in G minor and Shostakovich Piano Trio No. 2 in E minor.  They have put a lot of work into this recital, holding a huge number of lessons and rehearsals together, besides all the personal practice.  Jbird even managed to swing a fancy lesson with Professor Dubinsky who played the piano part for Rachmaninoff himself! She's kind of royalty around here.  They're holding their dress rehearsal as I type.

I am always much more inclined to enjoy a concert if I’ve heard the music a lot.  Normally Jbird practices at home but we didn’t have a piano for a good part of this semester so I’ve had to resort to listening to recordings instead.  Rach and Shost are two of my favourite composers.  Those Russians write dark, intense, exciting music.  The themes are memorable and hold many story-like components.  

One of the best things about living here is all the concerts we can go to, and even better, the concerts that Jbird and Soph play in.  If you’d like to see little bit of their magic, click on this link.  Here, they’re playing Gran Duo Concertante for Double Bass and Violin by Bottesini with their buddy Steve.  It was at Steve’s Senior Recital.  I’m extremely proud of my sis-in-law and hubby.

Community Bike Project

Jbird has gotten into the habit of bringing home abandoned bikes.  They will have something small wrong with them - a broken peddle or their handle bars have come loose.  In this student town, the owner will dump it, believing it to be irreparable - or unsure how to fix it.  Ten dollars for a new peddle from any of the convenient bike stores but instead they're bike-less!

We finally made the trip downtown to the community bike project, to fix the broken bits.   It’s kind of hard for us to get there – it’s only open a few hours a week and it meant biking one bike and wheeling another alongside.  Not an easy feat.  Down there, they have tools and spare used parts we could use for free.  It’s a fun place to be, everybody helps each other.  Two pedals swapped out, a kick stand replaced and we have five working bikes!  We donated one of our old cruisers too, I’m sad to see her go. 

This makes me think of a book: Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.  The narrator knows a couple that refuse to get to the nitty gritty of their own motorcycle, instead they just send it into the shop.  This pervades into their lives, they live with a dripping tap for years and years.  The author goes deeper than I’m going to but I do want to say that I’m a little bit like that, I put up with annoying stuff.  I used to think this showed patience, but now I’m veering toward the apathetic side.  Jbird, on the other hand, remains annoyed and then he fixes stuff.  He’s starting to influence me that way and I like it.

Just so long as you're happy

One of my many guilty pleasures is to watch back to back episodes of a show I’m enjoying at that moment, often whole seasons at a time (at the same time I’m knitting up a storm, so the time isn’t completely wasted). 

This week I have been watching a particular show about a Hollywood stylist.  No names shall be named.  When you watch the show a lot, you can’t help but notice the shallowness with which they make life changing decisions.  Their favourite mantra, when musing, is: “Well, I mean, just so long as you’re happy.  I don’t mind what you do, just so long as you’re happy.”  This is often at the expense of employees or so called loved ones.  Actually, a lot of the time their loved ones are paid by them – but that’s another story.  Nothing seems to make them happy.  Maybe the editors are more concerned with drama and don’t show the less shallow moments.

I have been thinking about this “just so long as you’re happy” mantra, and how often I use it myself, at the detriment of others.  A whole lot, I suspect.

Love Big

I guess I was a little bit obscure in yesterday’s post. I so badly wanted you to think about it too, not to have me spell it out.  However, I know at least one person who completely missed the idea I had tried to get at because they didn’t read the last paragraph.  

Today I will expand a tiny bit on what I was trying to get at.  Not to give you any kind of clue, because it’s your own life that you’re busy learning lessons in, more to help me to keep processing.  Here goes.

If I’m to let myself become withered yet strong, I’m also going to have to let myself love big, bigger than I know how to love.  I will have to do this with the expectation that it’s not an easy kind of love and that I’m probably going to be hurt in the process.

I've been doing some thinking

I want to write a bit more about that one plant I mentioned in an earlier post (click here to read it).  

It nearly died living indoors for two years and since we moved here, I've been growing it outdoors where it is thriving and multiplying.  I’ve let one of its cuttings grow inside, and they could be completely different plants, they look so distinct from one another.  The ones outdoors are strong, leaves growing upwards, thick and hardy.  The colour is denser, redder and, well, stronger – if a colour can be stronger. Its stems are sturdy. The one indoors trails down over the edges of its pot.  It has developed fine, delicate and pretty features.  But it snaps when barely touched.  

It’s the same for all indoor plants, they don’t have any elements to fight (apart from supremely dry air) so they just don’t grow strong - they don't need to.  I now realise its why the herbs I tried growing indoors last year couldn’t stand up to anything and never got bigger than an inch – every time they were knocked slightly, they would die. 

I think this is a good analogy for life.  Which would you rather be – a breakable, delicate, indoor plant, or a strong, yet weathered, outdoor plant? 

On ya bike

There’s nothing like riding a bike down hill to keep you focussed on the moment.  Rushing past trees, the road below, the cars all around.  It can be exhilarating.  Bloomington has a healthy number of hills too.  

Jbird and I have been getting around on bikes for about a year now and it has improved our standard of living greatly – places that would take an hour to walk to, are now only 15 minutes away.  It also means we are getting exercise every day.  We have put a crate on the back of mine, making grocery shopping by bike more manageable.  In this town, no one shouts out the windows at me to “get on the sidewalk” either: Baltimore could be quite terrifying on a bike.

It’s fun to ride together and the weather has been largely gorgeous since we moved here.  People often say “what a beautiful day for a bike ride” when we pull up and we agree!  The physical activity leaves me feeling as though I’ve achieved something too.  As long as it’s not raining and I’ve brought enough clothing to keep me warm, I’m happy.