Such a Lady...

This morning I run out of the house with princesses in my hair. And a red-and-white checkered bow, on a red rubber band. Classy. You see, last night, the Daughter decided that it would be nice to spend some (read two hours) of quality time with Mommy at 2 in the morning. Which meant that while she was still sleeping like a slug in the morning, somebody had to get up and get the day started. Which meant that there was hardly time for me to take a second look at myself in the mirror after gathering my hair on top of my head with first means possible, that just happening to be my Daughter's 'princesses and bow - band'. And not just that, but it also meant that my hair looked like at least a couple of pigeons were holing up in there somewhere by the time I actually did manage to get a good look at myself in a mirror. I am such a lady... And I really have to laugh since do you know what it is that people so often keep telling me? That I am always so ladylike...teeheehee...

My  Mother used to say that a lady always carries a safety pin in her purse, and somebody else once said to me that a lady does not need to carry a safety pin because there is never anything in her attire that the safety pin could possibly be required for. Well now, I don't think I have a single one of those magical 'ladypins' lurking around anywhere in my purse, but what I do have is needles, thread and a Swiss Army knife. And obviously a host of other items, show me a woman who hasn't. I particularly remember one old boyfriend who was genuinely puzzled yet quite obviously fascinated when I, seeing that the hem of my self-made minuscule dress (well, I was much younger then and into my 1960's mod phase) was starting to unravel, just took up the needle and thread and set out to fix the hem right there and then. Yeah,  I know, it just might have been the fact that the dress obviously had to be lifted in order to be fixed that so captivated his attention and not my deftness with a needle and a thread. Men.

Shoe polish, cleavage and stocking tops?!? 

And right now I am playing hooky...Sure, I am sitting at my desk to all intents and purposes toiling away with my Victoriana , my mind buzzing away with literary analysis, but in reality I am far, far away with my thoughts flying all over the place. Concentration, my old pal, please come back! Maybe some lunch would do the trick...

That's not actually my lunch today, but dinner a few days back. Just some soup and some fresh bread. The soup is a basic carrot and sweet potato mix, flavored with fresh ginger and a drop or two of warm-your-heart piri-piri. To prepare, peel and chop the carrots and the sweet potato, then boil in a generous amount of water until just soft to touch but not too mushy. Then pick up the veggie bits from the water with a sieve, transfer to a bowl, grab a blender of your choice and puree until soft but still slightly bitable texture. Keep adding some of the boiled water into the mixture. Pour the soup back into the pot and at low temperature add some cream and let simmer. Peel about 2.5 cm/an inch of fresh ginger, chop and add. Then salt and pepper as needed. Next, reach out for your piri-piri sauce and start adding drop by drop. If you are not familiar with it, first add just one drop, let simmer a while, taste and only then start adding more. If you are going to serve this soup to children, separate a portion for them before adding the piri-piri. Last, take a bunch of fresh parsley, chop, or, as I do, rip, into pieces, and throw in.  Add some cream and parsley on top to serve. Simple and heartwarming. Perfect for the gloomy, dark October evenings...

And for dessert, pie! Berry pie! Excuse me for the exclamation marks but it's been a while since I have been baking anything so I'll just say it again, pie! And a berry pie because that's what I happened to have lurking in the freezer. Berries, that is, not the entire pie... Using whatever  I could find the pie ended up having blueberries, raspberries, strawberries, blackberries and lingonberries in it. Here is a nice recipe for a sweet pie crust at Cook Like Your Grandmother. On top of the crust I spread a jar of sour cream flavored with a little bit of vanilla and sugar. Next, the berries. Just like that. And here's a tip for you. If you use lingonberries, be generous with the sugar, they are s-o-u-r. Stick in the oven and bake until, errrrmm, until ready... See, I have no idea how long I kept it in the oven, but must have been around 20 minutes based on previous pie experiments. Served with vanilla ice cream...

And here's a picture of me baking the pie....

Yeah, right.

This is more like it ....

You see, I am really not much of a cook. Or a baker. But seeing that my motto is  'Just how hard can it be?' , I just go ahead and do it anyway. And when it all goes belly-up, there's always the microwave. Though right now it's buried somewhere underneath a pile of books in the corner of the dining area, and I find it tempting to just leave it there. And I never would have thought of myself as saying that I have a dining area, even though that too is right now full of books and other strange paraphernalia certainly not belonging there. And we eat wherever we can find an empty surface. Ahh, the joys of moving house. The Daughter was particularily happy one day when we spread a blanket on the floor of her room and had an impromptu pic-nic while it was snowing outside. Yes, snowing...though the snow is hardly anything like the whiter than white Hollywood fluff but rather like tiny wet rags thrown in your face. And once it's been on the ground for anything over five minutes it turns into brown slush. Ecckk. But now I am taking my princess-hair and my flock of pigeons to the cafeteria for a spot of lunch, so take care and see you later. 

Pic by Betina

Jumping With a Swiss Cheese Parachute

Life, that capricious old friend of mine. One moment I am facing a certain direction only to moment later realise that like a tornado whipping through my world life has turned me to a direction I never would have thought of venturing into on my own. Or I feel something nudging my shoulder, softly but persistently, pushing me to take those steps. To cross that border. Ever since I was here last, I have found myself feeling such feelings I never thought myself capable of. And some of them I never wish to feel again. There's been tornados and thunderstorms, rain, hail and snow with the occasional ray of sunlight stretching its golden fingers to tell me to keep on going. That eventually the rain will stop. I am still waiting. Life, you mischievous old creeper, you really did sweep me off my feet this time. Thank goodness I have enough padding on my behind to make the landing that teensy bit softer since it would seem like my parachute has more holes in it than swiss cheese.

I have moved house. And absolutely love the rickety old house I am living in now with its old house smell in the staircase.  I have taken trips and returned to find that while some jumps are worth taking, some will just land you smack down on your bottom. I am getting divorced. And my life will never be the same again, for better or for worse. And I have opened my mind and my heart to people and learned that just like Emily Brontë,
                                        ' No coward soul is mine,

                  No trembler in the worlds storm -troubled sphere.'

Whoa. Serious stuff. So it is. Not much comic relief here in the past months. My fabrics are still packed away in the moving boxes. And my cake thingybobbies are hiding somewhere in the back of the kitchen cupboard. I meant to bake some fancypant cupcakes for the Daughters kindergarten fete, but got ill, so ended up taking two cheesecakes whipped up by my mother.  And you know what, my lovelies, this is where you learn about the true value of friendship and love. It is the people who ask how you're doing with genuine tenderness and sympathy in their eyes. Or the ones who help you out with everyday tasks and chores, and show their love in their actions instead of words. Or the ones whose mere existence is enough to fill you with millions of little pinpricks of light. 

 

When I was very ill, there was a person who sent me 'strength and love'. I count myself fortunate to have so many people wishing me strength at that time, but these two words really made me think. Just two words. And in them a whole life. Who couldn't build a good life around those two things. Strength. Strength enough to crawl, if need be, long enough 'till you can walk. And to walk until you can run. And if you never will be able to run, then strength in the belief that walking will get you there just as well.  And it will. Strength to battle all those pesky little everyday annoyances as well as to deal with the bigger shipwrecks life will inevitably throw in your way. And obviously, strength to belive in love. Love that is not a Hollywood movie. Or Bollywood. Or any other cinematographic 'wood' there might be that I, in my movieland ignorance, am not aware of. To believe in love in all its guises since what we so lightly pronounce to be love these days is, I belive, quite often anything but. And  strength to know that love is not all you need. No matter what Lennon and McCarthy might say. But while it is certainly not all you need, without it this world would certainly be that much bleaker. And needless to say, this world of ours needs no help in the bleakness department. And, of course,  what happens to children who are not loved? So, strength and love it is, then. And maybe a little soul searching thrown in for good measure every now and then....

And after all that, life; capricious, mischievous, mean and lovely, still continues. Maybe next weekend I will dust off my sugarpaste tools and bake some cupcake treats for my new neighbors. And my Sister is already asking for a dress with a decidedly 50's vibe based on this picture from a recent Louis Vuitton ad.

We're talking about the one on the left here...Yeah, we know, it will receive some, ahemm, remodeling on the top part. And I have returned to this poor, neglected little blog. Today, I had a lovely chat with yet another friend whom I see far, far too little, and it was her words that inspired me to come back to this space after such a long time. She was wanting to read more, and I have, after all, for quite some time now felt like writing, something other than my thesis, that is. And as a blog is, or should be, an organic thing, I do not know what the future will hold for this one. Or its writer. But that, after all, is what life is about. Jumping with a Swiss Cheese Parachute.

Strength and love, my friends.