A PET PROJECT...I OBJECT TO BEING OBJECTIVISED!

So! What of it?

The smile says it all....

Two of my pencil drawings

I should be used to being wrong, I suppose, but, foolishly, I hang onto the hope perhaps once I’ll have a win. 

I’m not referring to winning the Lotto.  Don’t misunderstand me, though...I wouldn’t look that particular gift horse in the mouth.  In gratitude, I’d buy the old nag an electric tooth brush.  By “old nag” I’m not referring to me!  

Too often I believe I’ve heard it all...but, once again, I’ve been proven wrong.

Instead of reading newspapers, and watching TV news bulletins, I’d be far better off sticking to reading comics such as “Tom and Jerry”, “Tweety Pie”, “Donald Duck”, and “Foghorn Leghorn”, among others of the animal variety....when I’m not bingeing on “The Garfield Show”, “The Cat in the Hat”, “The Adventures of Puss in Boots”, “The Littlest Pet Shop”, “Peter Rabbit”, “Shaun the Sheep”, “Paw Patrol” , and “Dogs on the Job”  via streaming services, that is.  

PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) have...in their “superior knowledge” (please notice a tone of sarcasm)... announced we humans are no longer allowed to call our pet a “pet”. 

The decree was made a few weeks ago by PETA’s president, Ingrid Newkirk. She (or should it be “they”?) stated “pet” is a derogatory word, and should not be used.

Oh! Rats!

In Newkirk’s opinion, referring to an animal as a “pet” held the same discrimination as calling women “sweetie” or “honey”! 

Don’t many females aka women and girls call their loved ones aka boyfriends, husbands, or girlfriends - whichever the case may be - “sweetie” or “honey”, and vice versa?  When I was married my husband, Randall and I used the affectionate terms towards each other. We didn’t consider the usage belittling in any way.

A mate of Ingrid’s – perhaps her lap dog - joined in by declaring “pet” should be replaced with more inclusive terms such as “companion” and “home carer”. 

Give me a break!  Do these people attend university courses to gain degrees in stupidity?

For many, stupidity comes naturally. Therefore, no courses are required - no money needs to be expended.

Not meaning to sound petty but, to me, it’s a load of bovine excreta!

Caprines aka goats will be joining cows and jumping over the moon when they discover kids have become exclusively their own. Humans will be banned from calling kids “kids”. I’m not kidding!  

D’oh! We won’t be allowed to buck the system.  It’s a barrow-load of nonsense “they” are trying to ram down our throats as “they” endeavour to steer others to “their” way of thinking. 

I, for one, won’t be following the herd. 

This old grey mare – I can no longer be classed as a “filly” - bolted before the gate was bolted shut!  These days I may be hobbled, which is a bit of a bore, but I’m not a member of a mob, nor am I part of a flock. This bird has flown!

It’s a cock and bull idea.  The PETA cohorts, in their misguided way of thinking, are telling us to cease referring to our pet/s as “pet/pets”. 

Well, dam!** I’m going the whole hog by declaring I will not bow to their idiocy.

I wear a coat of many feathers. I’m a chick, albeit an elderly chick. I’m an old hen...often a goose. I’m an old duck with two dearly loved pets. Treated like royalty, my furry mates rule me accordingly.

All my life, from when I was a very young child,  I’ve had pets...cats, dogs, guinea pigs, canaries, budgies (not smugglers), fish, and briefly, a couple of tortoises before they leisurely strolled back to the waterhole from whence they came.

Our pet bantam rooster named “Joseph” cockily strutted about, believing he was leader of the pack; cock of the menagerie.

Do tadpoles count?  I don’t mean can they count! They don’t have fingers, or toes!

 **A horse’s mum...

Honey Duck Breasts: Pat dry skin of 2 duck breasts; score skin; season. In pan over med-heat, place duck skin side down in pan, 5mins, or until skin is golden; turn duck over; cook 2mins. Remove from pan; place on lined baking tray; roast duck in 190C oven, 8-10mins. Remove from oven; rest 5mins before slicing duck into thin pieces. In same duck pan, add 2tbs honey and 1tbs butter; cook until melted; add juice of 1 lemon and pinch of salt; remove from heat. In griddle pan, grill 4 quartered peaches and 1 onion, cut into rings, until they get bar marks and soften slightly. To serve; lay green salad leaves on platter; top with peaches, onions and duck; drizzle over the honey-butter dressing; top with fresh tarragon leaves and 1/4c diced roasted almonds.

Honey- Garlic Pork Tenderloin: Remove any fat from 450g pork tenderloin.  With a fork, puncture pork in several places. In bowl, combine 1tbs each, garlic salt, garlic pepper, onion powder, fresh minced thyme and fresh minced rosemary, and 1tsp chilli; then spread this on all sides of pork, pressing in firmly. Heat heavy skillet over med-high heat; melt 2tbs butter; add pork; sear just until brown; flip to sear all sides, about 2mins. Place skillet in 200C oven; roast 20mins.  In small saucepan add 1/2c honey, 1/3c brown sugar, 1tbs minced garlic, 1/2c light soy sauce, and 1/3c orange juice; whisk; bring to slight boil. Combine 1tbs cornflour and 2tbs water; add to sauce; whisk until slightly thickened; set aside. Remove pork from oven; baste with honey-garlic sauce. Place pork under hot grill for 3mins to allow sauce to caramelise. Rest 5mins, covered; slice; top with fresh chopped thyme and rosemary to serve.

REFLECTIONS OF MY MOTHER…MEMORIES OF ELMA...A TRIBUTE

Elma Flora Hay...aged 18 years....

                              (The melodies are some of Elma's favourite tunes played on our piano)

My mother, Elma Flora Hay was born in Gympie, 17^th February, 1919. Elma was the daughter and first child of John and Ivy Hay (nee Hose).   My mother’s grandparents were Scottish Highlanders who were joined by a rogue Irishman who snuck across Giant’s Causeway from Northern Ireland to find a bonnie Scot’s lassie.  My ancestors settled in the Gympie area around the time of the gold rush. James Nash’s discovered of gold in Gympie on 16^th October, 1867...a discovery that saved Queensland from bankruptcy.   

The name “Gympie” didn’t come into being until 1868.  The name was derived from the local Gubbi Gubbi language…the Aboriginal language spoken by of the indigenous people of the area, and its surrounds.  The Gubbi Gubbi word - “gimpi-gimpi” means “stinging tree”, a tree similar to the stinging nettle.  The town was originally called “Nashville”  after prospector James Nash. A southern area of Gympie retains the name “Nashville” to this day.

  

My mother passed away 15th August, 1974.

This post is my tribute to Elma.   

My mother was a brilliant pianist.  Barely a day passed without our mother playing our iron-frame Irving upright piano. Many hours, when she wasn't working, were spent at the keyboard.  Her repertoire was vast and varied...covering all genres of music.  Our mother, at various periods throughout the early to mid-Fifties, also was the pianist in local dance bands.

The music videos I’ve posted are some of Elma’s favourite melodies.  If I had a dollar for each time I heard her play them on our piano, I’d be a millionaire a couple of times over….

When I listen to these artists…I hear my mother’s playing…Without prejudice…Elma, my mother, was that good on the ivories…

 My paintings and poems are for Elma...

REFLECTIONS

Reflections abound a melodic symphony of silence surrounds engulfing me

Afar the fiery golden orb bids its final farewell to lingering shadows of day

Tardy birds relish the dying embers as homeward they wend their way

Vignettes remain happy moments sad words a smile the touch of your hand

Selfish am I in my desire for your presence your being not only in dreamland

Wise lessons taught life’s principles bestowed your gentle guidance survives

Seemingly an invisible nimble fleeting minute in the lightning span of our lives

Unforgotten is the laughter our nonsensical joyfulness or the tears we shared

From my heart forever I thank for your unfailing love always showing you cared

A mother’s enchantment at baby’s first cry

Contentment profound as it suckles her breast

Baby’s grasp of her hand as she lays it to rest

Witnessing smiles a tentative first step

First words spoken tears that are shed

Eager anticipation of what lies ahead

Is a love complete unable to be compared

TULIPS FROM AMSTERDAM....ROSES FROM NEW YORK...

I’ve never received tulips from Amsterdam, nor did I have the 78 rpm record of Max Bygraves’ song...“Tulips from Amsterdam”.  When I was a kid, Bygraves wasn’t a big hit in our home, and the status quo remained in the years that followed. 

In our household Nat King Cole was popular; as was Elvis, Bill Haley, Little Richard, Perry Como, Johnny Mathis, Patsy Cline, Frank Sinatra, Tony Bennett, Bobby Darin, Connie Francis, Paul Anka, Conway Twitty, The Platters, Brenda Lee (her last name had a familiar ring to it), Fats Domino, Fats Waller etc., etc.,....a very lengthy list, which included others... but no Bygraves.

Forgetting tulips for a moment, back in the early 70s, I did receive red roses from New York.  Before you shout me down, let me clarify my statement! 

If you insist on being pedantic...New York City didn’t actually send me red roses on St. Valentine’s Day.  Please...let’s remain in the mood of the moment, let’s not split hairs, or go nit-picking among those split hairs. 

In the years long before today’s technology... before the internet, and the easy availability of shopping/ordering online, my then beau - albeit long-distance - who later became my husband, Randall - when living and working in New York for a number of years, somehow managed to organise, from afar, red roses for my Valentine’s Day surprises.

To my delight, one dozen beautiful red roses would be delivered to my place of employment in Brisbane, bringing smiles to my face, tears to my eyes, and a touch of envy to my co-workers.  

Back then I was a twenty-something romantic...now I’m an ancient-something romantic.  However, if I want red roses these days, I’ll have to send them to myself; or sneak out and nick a few from someone’s garden.   

Don’t get your knickers in a knot...I’m just kidding about doing the latter! 

I won’t be sending myself roses, either.  Hundreds of dandelions are in bloom out in the yard.   I’ll grab myself a bundle of them, and pretend I’m coloured blind.

Every day should be like Valentine’s Day...spread the love around.  Don’t be a Hard-hearted Hannah, or Cold-hearted Colin. Toss cynicism out the door, and bolt the door behind it...send it packing.  

I hope businesses, many of whom are hurting badly at present, profit from Valentine’s Day.  I hope they have a bonanza.  What’s the point of being in business, if not to make a profit?

Imagine a world without love.  It’s not a pretty image. Imagine a world without money...that’s not a pretty image, either.

You can’t give love a bad name, even though sometimes love is a battlefield.  All you need is love...a whole lotta love!  (That’s not to say a few dollars in the bank wouldn’t help).

Don’t fall in love with a dreamer, we’ve been told. Why not, I ask?  What’s wrong with having dreams? You can’t hurry love; but the journey to discovering that crazy little thing called love can be lots of fun. 

Jump aboard the love train.  Its destination is the love shack where silly love songs play all day, and through the night.   In the still of the night, allow night moves and night fever have free rain.  You can leave your hat on, but take off your sunglasses at night.

My funny Valentine memory happened to someone else, not to me, but I witnessed it.

Years ago, a sweet young couple dining at a restaurant in which I was cooking was celebrating their love on the special day.  The young bloke insisted being the one to pop the cork on the bottle of Kaiser Stuhl Cold Duck (Yuck!). 

Standing aside, the wine waiter politely concurred, only to cop the cork in his face!  

If you’ve lost that lovin’ feeling...just remember – when a man loves a woman...she loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah...

Happy St. Valentine’s Day!

 

** You may have noticed...I’ve snuck in a few song titles...to keep in the mood.  If you haven’t you probably think I’ve “lost it”...that could be a not-so-remote possibility, too!  Blame it on the crazy little thing called love....

Valentine Lobster & Steak:  Combine 4tbs butter, 1/4c chopped Italian parsley, 2tbs chopped chives, 1tbs chopped rosemary, 1-1/2tsp chopped oregano, 1tbs lemon juice and ¼ tsp salt. Cut 2 unshelled lobster tails down the middle. Spread 1tsp herb butter over lobster meat; arrange on foil-lined baking tray, cut-sides up. Roast in 230C oven until just cooked through.  Season 2 thick rib-eye steaks. Heat 1/2tbs olive oil and 1tbs herb butter in pan on med-high heat; cook steaks, flipping once, until med-rare, or as desired. Top each steak with 1tbs herb butter. Rest 5mins; serve steaks alongside lobster with lemon wedges.

Strawberry Jelly Mould: Sprinkle 3tbs gelatine over cold water. Stand 10mins until it blooms. Heat over a double boiler.  Beat 227g cream cheese and 397g condensed milk 3mins; add 354g evaporated milk and 1c cream or whole milk; beat 2-3mins; add gelatine. Pour into a lightly sprayed bundt pan; chill 2hrs. Prepare 17g pkt strawberry jelly per directions; cool completely at room temp. Remove bundt pan from fridge. Carefully separate white layer from sides of pan; invert onto a plate. Immediately flip it back into pan.  Pour room temp jelly into pan; pour slowly and carefully around sides of pan. The white layer should be floating on top of the liquid jelly; chill 2-3hrs.  Loosen cake using hair dryer, or place pan in hot water for 5secs; flip dessert onto serving plate. Garnish with strawberries; slice and serve.

Dark Choc Pots de Creme: Add 2 eggs, 1/4c honey or maple syrup, 1tsp instant espresso powder, 1tsp vanilla, and 125g chopped unsweetened dark chocolate to blender; blend until smooth. Heat 3/4c coconut milk until very hot (don’t boil). With blender running on low, slowly pour hot coconut milk into blender. Blend until chocolate is completely melted, and mixture is smooth and thick. Pour into serving cups; chill until set, about 2hrs. Garnish with raspberries.