Not camping in the rain

For these reasons, I am not camping in the rain.

First, we booked a hut, not a campsite. Wilson's Promontory is notorious for dramatic weather, and we aren't keen on digging trenches at 3am.

Second, I didn't go anyway. I write this from my bed, while Trudi and Hazel and Ivy are far away. Three weeks ago I twisted and bent over to get heavy shopping out of the car, and I felt a distinct PING in my lower back. After two relapses I am finally improving, but I can't sit down for more than a few minutes. The thought of sitting in the car for hours there an back made me sad.

So here I am, having a solo weekend. It's been a blast, sort of.

What I have done:

• Slept in until 7:15am.
• Lazed in bed for another hour, listening to Minke the cat snoring in the next room.
• Cooked chickpeas. Not sure what I'll do with them.
• Had a lie-down.
• Made mayonnaise using a bamix, which is dead easy and took two minutes. Oh my goodness, it is so fine! I actually made two batches but I threw the first lot out. I had used olive oil, and it turns out that the fast-moving blades somehow chop the oil into tiny bits that taste utterly bitter. The second batch (canola oil, mustard and fresh dill) is amazing.
• Lay in bed some more.

Things to come:

• Fleur is coming over for dinner tonight. I plan to make butter chicken and freeze some for another night. She is bringing DVDs and I expect I will make some dessert involving cream.
• Lie down for most of the day.

Overheard dialog

The kids are nattering in the other room. Who is wearing whose shoes, how to do them up, natter natter...
My mind tunes in to hear Hazel say:

There is only one right way, and that is my way.

She has no irony in her at all, bless her.

It's all Nigella's fault

In the Epicure section of the Age last week, I read Nigella's list of 20 ways to be a better cook. Right now I cannot recall one of them, but at the time it was a nice read. There is a photo of her looking smily and vibrant, how nice.

That evening I casually tossed a fish fillet into the frying pan, and hot butter and oil splashed out.I think that was subconsciously channeling bloody Nigella. I'll just FLIP this fillet into a vat of hot butter.


I wonder if it will leave a scar?

Consolation prize

I just realised that my phone creates DRAFT blog posts but can't actually publish them.

So here is something from January 2013, when I was working "from home" in Merimbula.

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It is 40 already, at midday, and today is my first day back at work. Trudi and the kids are at the pool, and I'm sheltering.

This morning Ivy made me a picture to make me feel better about working today.

She knows I like rain, so here is a green grassy hill with rain coming down softly (make gentle wafty handgestures). The rain made puddles all over the hill. That's me smiling in the rain. I also have a happy cat, and a rainbow.

I also received a foot massage, a hand massage, and some desperate clinging.