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.  

 

 

 

HURRY UP! HOP TO IT! DUST OFF YOUR EASTER BONNET!

 

Some of you may recall in previous years I’ve mentioned my friend Clint. To put your mind at ease...yes, Clint Lindt, my chocolate bunny, immaculately clad in his golden suit, remains in residence, rent-free, safe and secure, fully chilled-out in my fridge.

And there, Clint shall stay. I should plan a birthday party for him. Many a year has passed since I adopted Clint.  It’s about time we had a celebration.  After Easter weekend has come and gone would probably be the best plan.  I don’t want to put the fear of God in him by throwing an Easter party!  

I was eyeing off the Lindt chocolate bunnies in IGA, our local supermarket, the other day, tossing up whether or not I’d get Clint a roommate, but I decided against the idea. Bunnies breed like rabbits, I’ve heard.  If that is the case, I’d soon have a herd of bunnies hopping around in my fridge, leaving no room for anything else. By the permanent smile on Clint’s face, I think he’s happy the way he is in his domain.

As long as I’ve got a good supply of Cherry Ripes and Batch 37 Darrell Lea Liquorice on hand to chew through...I’ll be content throughout Easter, and beyond.  In readiness, I’ve already begun stockpiling!  I’ve previously admitted I’ve not yet grown up...additional evidence not required.

When my late brother, Graham and I were kids our brightly-feathered, most generous Easter Bird...not Bunny...was an early bird....always arriving during the wee small hours of Good Friday morn, not to catch a worm, but to deposit a stack of Easter eggs in the nests we’d made with dried grass. The nests were snugly fitted into our rather large sun hats.  Knowing where we’d find our eggs, we never had to go in hunt.  

Fish was always our Good Friday fare, and Easter Sunday lunch was, without fail, a grand affair.  Knowing what lay ahead, we’d scurry home from Sunday School.  

Sunday School was conducted in the Scots’ aka Presbyterian Church, a couple of blocks from where we lived.  In those years Gympie boasted two Presbyterian Churches.  Many Scots settled in the Gympie area having flocked to the rich goldfields in the mid-1800s in search of a nugget or two.  My Scottish ancestors were part of the early influx.

As a carefree teenager, along with a couple of girlfriends, our Easter long weekends were spent at the coast...either Mooloolaba or Noosa Heads...mostly Noosa.  We’d head off after work on Easter Thursday, returning home again on Easter Monday afternoons.

 Also, one year I spent Easter weekend participating in a honeymoon...mine. 

In my case, neither a coastal Easter, nor a honeymoon, will ever occur again in the foreseeable or, unforeseeable future.  Nowadays I prefer to stick at home munching on my delicious treats, with my two furry mates as company.  Thankfully, they don’t have a sweet tooth between them.  Very spoiled, with many treats of their liking, they want for little, if anything.  I suppose, I could give them a couple of Kit Kats.

To compensate for what they miss out on in the sweets’ department, I’ll make Remy and Shama, my feline best buddies, an Easter bonnet each to wear over the Easter weekend. The three of us will have our own Easter Parade. We’ll prance around in tune to Gene Autry’s “Peter Cottontail”.  Don’t spend too much time thinking about it, you’ll spoil the image!

The thought of warm Hot Cross buns loaded with lashings of butter (definitely never margarine!) and raspberry jam is already making my mouth water.  Diet?  What diet?   

Locked in with my furry rascals, armed with an Amazon load of Cherry Ripes, Batch 37 Liquorice, Hot Cross buns, maybe a chocolate Easter egg or two, along with Netflix and Stan (not Stan the Man, but the streaming service)...and Clint, the Untouchable...I’ll be well-primed for Easter. 

Have a safe and Happy Easter...whichever, whatever way you choose to spend the special weekend. Take care if you're out on the roads....take care wherever you may be....

Enjoy the company of the people you’re with.  If you’re alone, enjoy your own company; if you have a pet or two...cherish the companionship of your furry or feathered mates.  That's what I intend doing with my two four-legged, furry-pawed beloved roomies...

 

Easy Fish Bake: Preheat oven 180C. Grease 20x30cm baking dish. Bring saucepan of lightly salted water to boil; add 1kg boneless fish fillets; cook 4-6 mins; drain. Melt 3tbs in a med-saucepan; remove from heat; mix in 6tbs plain flour, ½-1tbs mustard powder and 2c milk. Return to stove over med-heat; stir until thickened; season. Flake fish into baking dish alternating layers with sauce. Sprinkle top liberally with grated cheddar (add some dry breadcrumbs and parmesan to the cheddar, if desired). Bake 20-25mins, or until browned.

Chocolate Bird Nests: Melt 700g semi-sweet choc chips, or choc chips of choice; stir often, until smooth and creamy. Stir in 1/2c peanut paste/butter, if desired. Break up into small pieces, 375g pretzels; add to melted chocolate; mix to fully coat. Line 2 baking sheets; place scoops of mixture onto pans. Press mini Easter eggs or M&Ms into centre. Set at room temp, 1hr; or chill in fridge. Store at room temp.  If desired, add 1/2c shredded coconut to choc mix for scragglier looking nests.

Hot Cross Bun Pudding: Preheat oven 180C, fan-forced. Butter baking dish. Slice 6 Hot Cross buns into bread slice thickness. Butter slices on one side; jam of choice on the other. Arrange slices on baking dish. Blend together 200g cream, 50g milk, 20g sugar and 4 eggs. Pour over the Hot Cross buns; allow it to soak in for 5mins. Sprinkle with cinnamon. Loosely cover with foil.  Bake in oven for 20-30mins, or until golden brown and set. 

 

 

WHEN YOU’RE SMILING THE WHOLE WORLD SMILES WITH YOU

 

This morning I was busy trying to talk myself out being busy...of doing housework. I didn’t completely succeed.  I weakened. I succumbed and ended up doing a light load of laundry.  Also I lifted the broom and waved it around a bit.  I thought of going for a ride on it, but decided against that idea...for now.  

While being busy trying not to be busy I worked out that I probably, unintentionally in most instances, read, watch, hear and catch glimpses of the world’s news on a daily average of four hours...give or take...if I took the time to add up the time spent!

It would be similar for most of us, I suppose.  Every which way we look, we’re inundated with news – the good, the bad and the ugly...and the very ugly.  

There’s far too much of the latter three.

However, among all the mayhem and horrors are the positive, inspirational stories, which abound with goodness, bravery and empathy.  

Relating stories of individuals reaching for the stars, fulfilling their dreams, win or lose; some pushing themselves beyond the point of human endurance.

Unselfish actions and random acts of kindness touch our hearts, often making us question our own values in life.  We don’t hear enough of those stories.  Too much emphasis and repetition is placed upon the negatives...not the positives. Not enough light is shone upon the good.  Too much light is placed on the bad.  Surely, the latter is not beneficial to one’s frame of mind....I know it’s not beneficial to my own.

It's so easy to become weighed down by the heavy burdens the world thrusts upon us. Also, it's easy to become cynical, if we allow ourselves to be. We must train ourselves to look beyond the evil-doers.  Train ourselves to open our hearts and minds to those inspirational people who each moment of each day selflessly give of themselves to the betterment of others.  

I find cynicism, as well as bitter, nasty sarcasm to be very destructive to one’s well-being...

We should learn to give praise where and when praise is due. We should not allow ourselves to fall into traps filled with derision and harsh criticisms.

Unfortunately, many find the latter easier to do than the former!

 

 

                                 Graphite sketch and acrylic painting...by me