TO LAUGH AT ONE’S OWN SELF IS HEALTHY, OR SO WE ARE TOLD!

 

 

If the above title is a fact, I must be very healthy, indeed!

I don’t need Charlie Chaplin, Laurel & Hardy, The Marx Brothers, Abbott & Costello, or the rest of their ilk who have followed in their lively footsteps to keep me amused.  Successfully, with little or no conscious effort, I manage to amuse myself often...very often.  I’m not sure if it’s a good thing, or not.  There could be two avenues of thought.  Those blokes in the white jackets might have a different opinion to mine, so I’ll keep on keeping a low profile, and run/hobble for cover if I see them lurking around.  I duck for cover every time I hear a vehicle drive up the lane!  

Frequently I hear my two furry mates chuckling away behind their paws at my antics. Perhaps, they’re easily amused...maybe I am, too.  As for the kookas aka kookaburra...from the amount of laughing they do I must be the centre of their entertainment...the highlight of their days.

To me, it matters little if I make a spectacle of myself.  By this stage in my life I’m used to it, which became evident a couple of weeks ago while out shopping.  I broke into laughter at something I did. Story below...

Thankfully, the good manners instilled in me throughout my childhood are still at play...most of the time, anyway. 

As I approached the entrance to IGA, our local supermarket, a few weeks ago I paused to allow a fellow shopper to exit the store through the sliding glass doors.  I broke out laughing when I realised I was looking at my own reflection and that of my trolley in said glass doors! 

There I was waiting for me to exit when I hadn’t yet entered.  Who was going to move first...give way first?  A Mexican standoff ensued. I could have stood there all day long, but, finally I took the trolley by the horns, and entered the store. The exiting me thanked me for my politeness.  By golly...that’s how to be jolly with a trolley...

And, then there was the time in Sydney in the mid-80s....another moment of hilarity for me caused by me. 

At the time I was manager of the then Hinchinbrook Island Resort in North Queensland. I was in Sydney attending a tourism expo, promoting the island resort and surrounds as a choice holiday destination.

Clad in a stylish women’s Pierre Cardin pant suit, high heels, well-groomed hair and make-up, I felt very glamorous in my smart outfit. Cocktail in hand, I mingled with other attendees in a crowded bar at the Sydney Hilton. 

My bubble of confidence rudely burst when I looked down and noticed the fly on my chic trousers wasn’t, not even at half-mast, but unceremoniously fully lowered!

Hoping no one had noticed my uncouth public display, surreptitiously, I re-zipped, embarrassed, yet amused by my fashion faux pas. My unintentional social blunder brought me swiftly crashing back down to earth (or carpeted floor). My brief feeling of being a member of the catwalk brigade alongside the likes of Cindy Crawford, Kate Moss, Heidi Klum, Gisele Bündchen et al disappeared without my even making the back cover of Vogue magazine! 

It’s no secret I’ve never strutted my stuff for Victoria...or any other state, for that matter.

 I did, at the age of eight years, sashay along a catwalk in tune with the joyful song, “The Teddy Bear’s Picnic”.

I was the one and only juvenile member of the fashion parade hosted by a Gympie dress salon.  As she frequently did for such parades, my mother was a model.  I adored the dress I was showing off...a crisp white voile dress with emerald green embroidery and an emerald green satin sash to match. I loved the melody which accompanied my strutting. 

Carried away under the spotlight...from the smell of the make-up, and the roar of the madding crowd...I literally had to be dragged off the stage!  Not quite “dragged’, but a lot of urging, beckoning and encouragement from the wings went on until finally the message got through to my brain. 

The images from so long ago remain embedded in my mind.  It was not only the teddy bears who had a picnic that evening. The innocent enjoyment the little girl felt all those years ago still amuses me, causing laughter.

As you can tell...it takes little to amuse me...   Not a bad way to be, in my opinion...particularly during this time of gloom and doom....

 

Picnic Muffins: Preheat oven 200c.  Spray a 12 hole, deep muffin tray. Add 5tbs x-virgin oil, 2tbs cooled, melted butter, 1 large egg and 240ml buttermilk to bowl. Mix using a fork or balloon whisk. Add 250g plain flour, 1tsp baking powder, 1tsp bicarbonate soda, 85g grated parmesan, 1/4tsp salt, 1/4tsp garlic salt, a few sprigs chopped parsley, and 6 Prosciutto slices, chopped into small pieces. Mix together with wooden spoon until just combined (don’t over-stir or the muffins will be tough). Add 1tbs of the muffin mixture to each of the holes. Using 12 hard-boiled, peeled eggs, place one on top, in each of the holes; then top with remaining muffin mixture. Push mixture down the sides and around the egg using a spoon. Sprinkle each with grated parmesan; place in oven. Cook for 5mins, then turn oven down to 175C; cook a further 12-14mins – until the tops are golden brown. Once cooked, leave to cool in tin for 10mins before removing.

Veggie Picnic Pinwheels: Set aside 1/2c each of thinly sliced capsicum strips, thinly sliced carrot strips, thinly sliced yellow capsicum strips, baby spinach leaves and shredded purple cabbage.Mix together 2/3^rd cup whipped cream cheese and 1tbs ranch powder until thoroughly combined. Spread mixture evenly over the 4 large tortillas. Leaving a 2.5cm border on all sides, lay out 1tbs of each vegetable in rows across tortillas; top with shredded chicken. Roll up each tortilla tightly.  If the tortillas refuse to remain closed, you can use a toothpick or two to do the job....or tie with chives or shallots.