Monday, February 12, 2024

WHERE DO I BEGIN?

 




My apologies to you all…to my blogging mates for me being missing in non-action of late. I’ve not been spending much time on my computer.  To be honest, I’ve not been feeling 100%, but I’ll start picking up soon.  It’s just been shitty couple of months, one way and another.

 

First, I need to get something off my chest. I thought, or at least hoped, as I got older I would cease being surprised by the attitude and behaviour of some humans, but apparently it’s not to be.

A couple weeks ago I was talking with a fellow who doesn’t live up here on our mountain. He lives in a nearby area, and had come to do a job for me.  His blasé comments annoyed and angered the “you-know-what” out of me! He discounted the seriousness of the destruction, the devastation this area suffered on Christmas night, and the resultant distressing aftermath.  With a smirk, he pooh-hoohed the whole thing!  Why are some people cynical, seemingly heartless and smug?  His indifference to the hardships suffered by many, towards the ferocity of what we were hit with on Christmas night was inconsiderate, unfeeling, and wrong.  Biting my tongue, and as difficult as it was to do, I contained my anger caused by his ignorance; fuming alone and in silence. As if it wasn’t already more than hot enough without me boiling and adding more steam.

There’s always at least one idiot in a crowd.  It seems they are multiplying more rapidly than rabbits these days…no offense intended to rabbits. Some folk are adept at walking around with their head stuck up their jumper. No thongs necessary!  I’m not embarrassed to admit in some areas I’m old-fashioned.  I believe thongs should be worn on the feet, if worn at all. Having someone’s bum on full display in the public arena thrills me not.   (To non Aussie readers “thongs” are what some other countries call “flip-flops”.  Also the G-string bikini briefs…and I mean “briefs’ with just a string up their “you-know-what” is also called a “thong”).  Have some decency and dignity for God’s sake!

When I was much younger I wore bikinis…having purchased my first hot pink bikini when I was 16 year old.  As I said…”when I was much younger”.  Every weekend was spent at the beach, but my friends and I kept our dignity intact…and our bums!

On the flipside of human behavior, there are those who do care; those who do understand, even if they live many kilometres away.  For instance, a cousin, who is the same age as me, and I are in regular contact. We chat on the phone often, and we exchange emails.  Now retired, my cousin spent his working life as a highly-respected cop in north Queensland. He is a decent, caring, empathetic person, and one I’m proud to know. Even when going through the threat and aftermath of Cyclone Kirrily, he took the time to check on my welfare. 

And there I was, for more than a month after Christmas night, blushing, not flushing.  I built up muscles even Arnie would have been jealous of; there was no need for me to visit a gym.  Regularly throughout the days and nights I was lifting bucketfuls of water to flush my toilet as my cistern had gone on strike. Thanks to the Angels, who once again lived up to their name, I’m now flushing, not blushing.  My muscles have rapidly diminished in size. Arnie can relax.

Just right when I needed him, Just Rite Video Service’s Bruce came to my aid.  My old television was a victim of Christmas night’s chaos. My new Smart TV insisted on showing me it was far smarter than me.  How rude! Gradually, much to my delight and surprise, I was becoming familiar with its tricks, proving I’m not as dumb as I look. It thought I was getting too big for my boots, and therefore got its nose out of joint. The smartie pants Samsung decided to make things difficult for me. Luckily, Bruce came to my rescue, saving the day, and my sanity.

Previously, at times I’ve written that I’d “given myself kick up the butt (without falling over)”. Well, that’s not entirely true.  A couple of weeks ago, I didn’t give myself a kick up the butt, but my walking stick did slide out of control on the damp kitchen floor. Before I could steady the situation, down I went, face first, flat out, on my belly and chest, bum in the air. I admit my fall from grace was not gracefully executed.  I’m not sure who received the biggest shock, me or a friend who was visiting at the time.  Fortunately, the only thing that was bruised was my pride.  The fun things one does to amuse one’s self.  I don’t want it to become a habit, though.  Surprises like that one I really do not need. From now on, instead of trying to emulate Torvill and Dean, I choose to be a spectator from afar as I watch the Winter Olympic skating events. To be fair, my style and ability are unmatchable, which would make me impossible to beat.  However, I’ve retired now, and other skaters have nothing to worry about.  My skating, slip-sliding days are over…I hope….

 

Watermelon-Kiwifruit Ice Blocks: Peel and chop 400g watermelon; blitz in processor. Add 2tbls icing sugar; blitz again until combined. Divide watermelon mixture amongst 6 popsicle moulds; fill each to 2/3rd of the way up, leaving room for next layer; freeze for 2hrs. Once firm, peel and chop 3 kiwifruit; blitz in processor, along with 2tbs icing sugar. Pour kiwifruit mixture on top of partially frozen watermelon; put the popsicle sticks in. Freeze 6hrs or overnight. 

Strawberry-Banana Blocks:  Place 2c strawberry yoghurt, 1 mashed ripe banana and 1tbs honey in bowl; stir to combine. Pour into ice block mould and freeze. 

Fruity Ice Blocks: Place 410g can sliced peaches in light syrup and 425g can Golden Circle Crushed Pineapple, with juice, into processor, or blender; add zest of 1 orange; process until smooth.  Pour into ice block moulds. Freeze 6-8hrs.

Lemonade Ice Blocks: Add 3c hot water, 1c sugar and zest of 1 lemon to small pot. Bring to boil, stirring; simmer 5mins. Remove from heat; add 1/2c lemon juice; strain to remove zest and pips. Pour into moulds; freeze until solid.     

 


Friday, January 12, 2024

LOST IN A WORLD OF MAYHEM

 

 
 
 
 

And, this is what I’m trying to do at present…look at life from both sides.   It’s been a very difficult time, but, sadly for many others, it’s a much more difficult for them.  Too many suffered great losses, their homes, their possessions, and it will take years for them to recover.

I live very quietly and humbly in an equally small humble dwelling, which is actually a rather small shed that was converted into a cabin.  Nothing fancy, not a threat to Buckingham Palace.  Somehow this little, unassuming, shabby abode withstood the ferocious, unforgiving onslaught of Christmas night’s tornado.  Its four walls and roof still, intact, surround me.

I think all of us in this area a suffering PTSD to some degree from the “event”.  I know I am.  My anxiety levels are through the roof and beyond…my nerves are shot to pieces…to smithereens.  I jump at the smallest unexpected sound.  And that is not the “normal” me…whatever the “normal me” is or was.

Finally, power was restored.  Until it was there was no electricity, no refrigeration (I lost all contents of my fridge and freezer), no phone, no internet, and no water (which meant no flushing toilet, as well).  We here on the mountain are reliant on our own water supply/tanks, and septic.  No power to operate the pumps to the septic tanks and water outlets.  Such fun it has been!

My television blew up so I’ve had to purchase a new one that was delivered yesterday, Friday, 12th January.  It won’t be installed until Monday or Tuesday this week ahead.  I need and miss watching television.  I need to dull down my over-active, non-stop mind.  My mind is running out of control like an out of control kaleidoscope.  When I do eventually fall asleep, my dreams a vivid and active.

I never, ever thought I’d say this, but I’m sick of reading!!  So far since the horrendous event and its aftermath I’ve ploughed through six books, and am now on my seventh.  Other bits and pieces have added to my reading material, as well.  I love doing puzzles and buried my head in those, too, but I had to cut down on doing so.  I found when I tried to catch some very elusive, evasive sleep, when I closed my eyes all I could see were squares, letters and numbers.  My brain was constructing its own cryptic crosswords!!

I’ve been feeling like shit, but hopefully all that will pass soon, too,

Once communications were back on line, back in working order, I have been sincerely humble and overcome by the generosity of so many…of the goodwill and care shown.

Thank you, thank you, thank you…..Take very good care, each and every one of you.

 

 


Monday, December 04, 2023

THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS

 




As I have done for the past number of Christmases I'll be flying under the radar once again during the Holiday Season.  Gone are the days when I catered for the 'masses', whether privately or in restaurants/resorts...thank goodness!  Often I wonder how I did so!   Nowadays I seek a peaceful, relaxed Christmas, alone with me and me.

The last year or so that I lived in Cairns, I wanted a break from the hospitality industry, so I gained work in a real estate office in Smithfield, a northern beaches' area of Cairns. Therein, I was employed as receptionist, secretary, and property manager.

A couple of weeks prior to Christmas, tenants, a young family of five, came to me in search of cheaper accommodation. The 'thirty-something' father, an upright, gentle man who was, obviously, a hard worker and, who obviously cared dearly for his wife and young children, had run into a few difficulties on the work-front. I hated the thought of losing them as tenants as they took very good care of the rental property in which they lived, and they always paid their rent on time, if not a day or two earlier. They were a very nice young family.

I tried my utmost to find alternate housing for them, but I had nothing suitable on our books. The whole situation saddened me deeply. It was the week before Christmas. Their lives were being turned upside down and inside out. I was losing a lovely family, decent, good tenants. I felt for them. They were battlers trying vainly to do the right thing. They may not have had much, however the children were loved, always clean, well-mannered, dressed simply, but immaculately.

With cap in hand, the father came to me one day, saying he had found a house through another agent. Apologetic, he said he hated having to go to someone else but he could see no alternative. I understood. As hard as I tried to help him, it was out of my hands as I didn't have a property to suit his needs. Our mutual dismay and disappointment was clearly visible to anyone who may have witnessed the drama as it unfolded.

Feeling glum and defeated, I rang the owner of the rental property to inform him of the situation. I had never met the owner of the house face to face. He lived way out in Weipa, situated far up north on the west coast of Cape York, on the Gulf of Carpentaria. In detail, I explained what had been happening with the tenant and his property, leaving nothing out of my report to him. In silence he listened.

Finally, he said to me. "Lee...thank you for keeping me informed. Here's what I'd like to do. Has the family moved out yet?"

I answered, "No, but, they are in the midst of packing their possession etc., and will be moving out tomorrow."

"Okay," continued the owner of the property. "You ring him, or go around to see him, and offer him this. I hate to lose good tenants, and from what you have told me these are good, worthy people. I'm prepared to forego his rent for four weeks. And, I will not raise the rent in the foreseeable future...and that could be a far distant future. I would rather take care of worthy tenants than have a vacant property. That might help them out a bit."

When I found my voice, I thanked him profusely as we completed our conversation. Grabbing my car keys, without wasting a minute, I raced out of the office. As I drove up to the rental property, the father was in the process of loading up his vehicle. He looked surprised when he recognised it was me leaping out of the car. Breathlessly, I related the conversation I had had with the landlord. As I passed on the offer to the tenant, I couldn't stop smiling. I will always remember the look on the father's face.

Overcome with emotion, he reached out and hugged me. I returned the favour. Both of us had tears running down our cheeks.

Now, that's what I call a 'Christmas present'!

The family remained in the house and were still tenants when I left Cairns to live on Newry Island. I can't remember the name of the landlord, but what a generous, wonderful, empathetic man he was. I hope Karma treated him well.

Friday, November 24, 2023

HERE I GO AGAIN….REPEATING MYSELF!

 



                                       

 




This time of the year, every year, I’m in awe at the beauty that surrounds. I offer no apology for, once again, sounding like a broken record by describing the joy I always feel when I drive along to and from my local supermarket at this time of the year.  As is my choice, I’m not one to be out and about much.  Mostly, I prefer to stay at home, not only to my own delight, but, probably to that of everyone else, too.

At this time of each year the blooming jacaranda trees never cease to enlighten, and brighten my spirits when I do dare venture forth.  Like purple raindrops, the brilliant blossoms fall. Rich purple carpets enhance the roadsides and walkways.  All too soon jacaranda season comes to an end. Appreciating every possible moment during their brief, colourful performance, I give thanks to each and every one of the beautiful, blossoming tree I see.

Overcome by the intense splendor of jacarandas in full bloom, tears often well in my eyes (where else?).  Certain childhood memories enjoyed during jacaranda seasons flood my mind.  Playing on the swings, seesaw, and slippery slide in Gympie’s Memorial Park surrounded by the purple brilliance; playing “chasey” around the rotunda, the well-kept lawns and the rose-filled garden beds, were frequent, much enjoyed childish pleasures.

Julie Andrews made a boo-boo by incorrectly singing the lyrics, which actually are; “The hills are alive with the colour purple.”  This hill, also, is alive with the colour purple at present. For too brief a period each year, this beautiful area we’re fortunate to inhabit is covered in a purple haze.  Surrounded by the stunning lavender array, one may not be far off the mark in thinking jacarandas were the inspiration behind the music of Jimi Hendrix and Prince.

I guess, too, my ever-lasting love of jacarandas was one of the reasons, the “Singing Cowboy” aka Burl Ives’ version of “Lavender Blue (Dilly Dilly)” from the 1949 Walt Disney film, “So Dear to My Heart” was so dear to my heart when I was a kid.  You youngsters out there (that means anyone younger than me…which is just about everyone)…do a Google search on Ives.  He was a well-loved character of many shades.

In past years, life wasn’t always a bed of roses, nor was life a magic purple carpet ride, but it’s better for one’s equilibrium to preference joyful memories over upsetting ones.

A chilling moment, the memory of which never failed to make me laugh once I’d calmed down, occurred when my brother, Graham, our Nana, and I were sitting at the top of our front stairs late one afternoon,  The previous evening Graham had watched the 1960 Alfred Hitchcock horror movie, “Psycho”, which starred Anthony Perkins and Janet Leigh.  During Graham’s purposely dramatic, detailed, sombre, nail-biting relating of the movie’s storyline, engrossed, Nana and I soon became lost within the scary story.  Without prior warning, Graham bellowed loudly. His unexpected, loud outburst frightened the hell out of both Nana and me, causing us to almost fall down the stairs!  Having the reactions he’d aimed for by his Oscar-worthy performance, Graham laughed his head off.  Instead of an Oscar, I presented him with a thump on the arm!

I’ve many happy memories from past jacaranda seasons.  Nana was a Scorpio, as am I.  A couple of days separated our birthdays. When I was still quite young, I decided to surprise her by making her a birthday cake.  It was to be the first cake I’d ever made without adult guidance. The way it turned out, it was a miracle I ever made another.  With little forethought, I chose to make a sponge.  It would’ve been a far better plan to have purchased a bath sponge, smothered it in icing, and stuck a few candles on top!  My sponge was a disaster from go to whoa. I used too many eggs – our bantams were prolific producers that year - and not enough flour. My future catastrophe rose to the high heavens. To my dismay, once removed from the oven, it collapsed flatter than the flattest pancake, as did my confidence and mood. As time passed, through the ensuing years, that particular episode…my valiant, well-intended effort… also caused us much laughter.

 

Purple Grape Cake: Preheat oven 175C. Grease and flour 23cm round cake pan. In bowl, mix together 1-1/2c plain flour, 1-1/2tsp baking powder, and 1/2tsp salt. Set aside. In large mixing bowl, cream together 1/2c softened, unsalted butter and 1c sugar until light and fluffy. Add 2 large eggs, one at a time; beat well after each addition; stir in 1tsp vanilla. Gradually add flour mixture to butter mixture, alternating with 1/2c milk. Begin and end with the flour mixture, mixing until just combined. Gently fold in 2c fresh purple grapes. Pour batter into cake pan; smooth top. Bake 50-60mins, or until inserted toothpick comes out clean. Remove from oven; let cake cool in pan for 10mins; transfer to wire rack to cool completely.

Nana’s Easy Sponge (Obviously not the one I used): Preheat oven 160C. Grease and flour 20cm cake pan. In bowl, sift together 100g plain flour and 30g cornflour; set aside. In large bowl, add 4 room-temp eggs and 100g sugar; beat for 15mins; add 1/2tsp vanilla; beat another 2mins. Gently fold half sifted flour into beaten eggs; combine; then add remaining flour; gently fold until smooth and completely combined.  Pour into pan; bake 30-35mins. Cool in pan, 10mins; move to wire rack to cool completely.  Go wild…decorate to your heart’s delight!     


Sunday, November 12, 2023

THE SPIES WHO LOVE ME…

 

Kookaburra...graphite drawing I did a few years ago

Magpies

Butcher Bird

Noisy Miner

.
Pied Currawong




Constantly I’m under surveillance by a group of tuxedo-clad spies, and by others of various sizes, dressed in outfits of varying designs and colours. They’ve bugged my place with hidden cameras of that I am certain.  I strongly suspect they’ve buried periscopes out and about in the yard.  My every movement is being monitored. No matter how quiet or stealthily-made a movement I make, out of nowhere they appear at my screen door, peering inside, blatantly letting their presence be known.  How do they know what I’m up to if not for hidden scrutiny devices?  Sometimes the spies even tap on my closed, sliding glass door to ensure I won’t ignore them.  That’s how determinedly persistent they are. Every step I take….I can’t get away with anything!

For the 20 plus years I shared my life with my two beloved furry best friends, Remy and Shama, every afternoon, when cutting up meat for their dinner, I gave the neighbouring birds the meat scraps. I can’t let them down. The magpies, kookaburras and the cheeky, fearless, little spitfires disguised as butcherbirds are not dependent on me for their food, but they do know that every day I have special treats for them.  Frequently, currawongs visit, too.  Lately, a few noisy miners have quietly joined the gang.  I wonder how much the joining fee is. 

I’ve no fears of being swooped on by the magpies.  They know I’m their mate, and am not a threat.  I call the magpies “Maggie”, the kookaburras, “Kooka”, and the butcherbirds, “Butch”, or…“Tommy Butcher” (when I was a child one of our neighbour’s name was “Tommy Butcher”.  He was a cop). The noisy miners, I call “Digger”. 

To my delight, the maggies introduced their babies to me a few weeks ago.  The “babies” are no longer small. They are as big as their parents, but they’ve not yet graduated to suits similar to those of their elders. The young ones are still clad in their murky grey-coloured rompers. No doubt they’ll soon don tuxedos, spread their wings, and fly off in search of new adventures, forgetting me.

While unloading groceries from my car the other day, one of the magpies, in a world of his own, was wandering down the yard, grazing as he strolled.  “G’day, Maggie! Whatcha doin’?”  I called out to my feathered friend. 

Without fear or hesitation, the bird turned, and walked across to me, coming to a stop a couple of inches from my feet. His plucky, confident behavior gifted me a joyful start to my day. If I could have picked him up and given him a cuddle, I would’ve done so.  He was probably checking out my shopping bags to make sure their meat was among my purchases…it was….

When I was a little girl, often, as a form of affection, my mother called me, “Maggie”.  Why she called me so, I have no idea, but I liked it. Maybe it’s the reason I’ve a close affinity with the maggies!   Just a thought!  Don’t run and hide! I’ve no intentions of swooping on anyone. Dive-bombing isn’t a habit of mine.

Daily visits from the birds, the beauty of jacaranda blossoms, and mango season, all help lighten, a little, the burden of today’s troubled world. I love having the birds around...hearing their calls.  They're a chatty mob!

With so much beauty surrounding us, why do many humans fail to see it…to appreciate it?  Too many humans don’t want to recognise and appreciate what they’re part of - what they have.  The innately inhumane behavior of some, their lack of compassion, their cruelty, is never-ending. When will humans learn?  I wish I had a positive, ever-lasting answer. There’s too much violence, prejudice, hate, sorrow… let’s restore empathy, goodwill, respect, kindness, love, caring, laughter...

Ticks tick me off. They receive no empathy from me.  A couple of weeks ago, one little pest buried into my neck, nestling in behind my left ear lobe. For a few hours, after I’d successfully dislodged it, I eased the irritation it caused by applying - laying my head on - a cold pack of frozen blueberries. My head was still attached to my neck, by the way.  Almost freezing the affected area was/is an assured, quick way to rid the annoying after-effects of a nasty tick.  Maybe I’ll send a call out to the 18 rowdy Guinea Fowls that woke me one morning a while back to come and do their job. Guinea Fowls are supposed to be eradicators of ticks

Mango-Blueberry Smoothie: Blend until completely smooth, 3/4c Greek yoghurt, 3/4c milk, 3/4c frozen blueberries, 3/4c frozen mango chunks, 1tbs honey and splash of vanilla.  Add more milk if too thick.

Mango-Blueberry Cake: Preheat oven, 177C. Butter and flour a 23cm/ 9-inch square or round pan. In bowl, whisk together, 2c plain flour, 2-1/2tsp baking powder, zest of lemon and 3/4tsp salt.  Cream 1/4c softened butter and 3/4c sugar until fluffy.  Add 3/4c coconut milk, regular milk or favourite non-dairy ‘milk’ and 1 egg; mix well. Add the flour, zest, etc; mix well. Gently fold in by hand, 1c diced mangoes and 1c fresh or frozen blueberries.  Make crumble topping:  Combine 1/3c softened butter, 1/2c sugar, 1/3c flour, 1/2tsp cinnamon, and pinch nutmeg. Spread cake batter in pan; sprinkle crumble topping over batter. Bake for 20mins. Lower heat to 163C; bake another 25mins, or until toothpick comes out clean.

Mango-Blueberry Parfait: Grab 1 finely-diced mango, 1-1/2c fresh blueberries, vanilla yoghurt and some granola. Place layer of berries on bottom of glass dish or large glass, then granola, then yoghurt; add layer of mango, granola, and then yoghurt again. Repeat layers until dish/glass is full. Garnish with some berries, mango and granola. Chill until ready to devour.