#270: Classy Picnic
It’s so nice when awesomeness lands in one’s lap.
One of my friends had a birthday, and celebrated with a “classy picnic” – confidently leaving the interpretation up to his friends. Brave move, sir.
Does this girl remind anyone else of Mary Poppins (and yes, she’s British, highly intelligent, and very capable of letting others know when their manners are not up to par)?
The birthday gentleman is the one in a top hat and shorts.
I always seem to end up with a top hat at these things.
The curious thing about the picnic wasn’t the outfits. It was the – well, the love. Like most humans, my friend inhabits several very different spheres. This was one of those rare parties where the spheres actually mixed, and enjoyed mixing. I knew more than half of the people by various means, but I spent most of my time talking to a group I’d never met before – and it was fun (which is all the more remarkable considering I have a social anxiety disorder that severely impairs my ability to function). It was one of those rare moments in time when the weather is perfect, the food is good, and the company is effortlessly enjoyable.
Without trying, my friend brought out the best in all of us. He doesn’t know it, but he actually does that a lot.
S#99: Mmmm, sprinkles!
Today’s awesomeness mission was to bake a cake or cookies for a bunch of friends, utilising the awesome power of sprinkles.
I haz fulfilled my mission.
Here’s the meringues I made (crusty on the outside, chewy on the inside, and sprinkled with leftover margarita sugar):
My recipe:
4 egg whites
1.5 c. sugar
healthy splash of vanilla
Preheat oven to 220 degrees Celsius. Beat egg whites until stiff. Add sugar (gradually. . . ish) and vanilla. Drop by teaspoonful onto greased trays. Sprinkle with something shiny and/or chocolate.
Turn off oven and leave in for five hours.
Eat leftover meringue mixture.
Eat cooked meringues.
Blog.
Take remaining meringues to party.
#33: Photograph a tree
When the British first came to Australia, they really disliked eucalyptus trees. They didn’t shade you; they looked ragged; and they were everywhere.
Like most Australians, eucalypts are my favourite tree. They are evergreen, with a beautiful silvery sheen and a pale grace.
So here’s a pretty pretty picture of a tree.
What do vampires and eucalyptus trees have in common?
They’re dead but they’re still pretty.
Coming soon: swim under the stars, horseriding, and sprinkles.
#269: I Quit!
Every job has disadvantages. The disadvantage of private tutoring (my main source of income*) is that it is casual work – very, very casual. So casual that even when I actually have work, and no-one cancels, people very often either (a) Forget I’m coming, and (b) Forget to pay me, or (c) Both.
Generally I plaster on a polite smile and remind them to pay me – usually once or twice is more than enough. Other times, people make me feel bad for asking. Other other times, it takes more than one or two reminders.
At the end of the school year, as my income dropped by its annual 90% for the two months until mid-February, one family owed me $105. I called them about ten times, and was told four times that, “She’ll call you back as soon as she gets in.” She never did – in fact, she happened to almost never be the one answering the phone. She was always “out” or when I called her work she had “just gone to the car” and so on. I physically went to her workplace, and so did CJ, and on both occasions (which we’d arranged with her) “something came up” and she wasn’t there. She “lost contact details” about four times.
A couple of nights ago I was startled when she actually answered her phone, and enormously relieved when she said she’d had the cash waiting for me for weeks, and would be at her work all day the next day.
I went there. No-one was there. I called all three of her numbers twice during the extremely hot half hour I waited for her to show up. Two were turned off (including her mobile), and one was answered by her partner who said he didn’t know where she was.
I decided to amuse myself by calling all three numbers every hour from then on. CJ also visited her workplace during those hours, and again saw no sign of life.
After leaving around twenty messages saying, “Hi this is Louise. I’m just wondering what’s happening. Talk to you soon!” the lady answered.
CJ and I went to her house (on the literal edge of Canberra) and picked up the money. I remained polite, but I let her know that I would not be able to continue with her.
Not very awesome, really. The one awesome thing is that I never, ever need to deal with her again.
Also, our leather footstool spontaneously produced this smiley face.
oooOOOOOOOooooooo
*if you don’t count CJ
#268: “The King’s Speech” at Dendy Premium
CJ and I have now been married for two years – and we still like each other.
We celebrated by visiting Dendy Premium cinemas for “The King’s Speech” (knowing via word of mouth that it would be stellar).
My perfect evening involves food, dessert, Baileys, CJ, a couch, and a movie – Dendy has it all. You order from a menu half an hour before going in, and you sit in pairs of enormous reclining arm chairs, where your meal and drinks are delivered at whatever time/s you desire.
Brilliant.
The film itself is all about the horrible (and real) situation King George VI suffered through: being a public person without the ability to speak in public. As he says, “We’re not a family; we’re a firm.” Colin Firth plays the king (or rather prince), and the pain in his face is excruciating without ever becoming too much for the audience.
His wife, Elizabeth, is played flawlessly by Helena Bonham Carter (who’s come a long way since selling the worst pies in London). Geoffrey Rush plays the last in a long line of speech therapists – a determinedly antipodean fellow with determinedly antipodean manners. I hadn’t realised Rush was actually playing an Australian, and blogging this film for Australia Day turned out to be overwhelmingly appropriate (even more so since Rush has been nominated for an Oscar – along with Nicole Kidman and Jackie Weaver). Australians are no longer proud of Mel Gibson or Russell Crowe (because they’re violently idiotic and/or racist), but Rush’s performance made my heart sing.
Colin Firth, however, deserves an Oscar even more.
This is certainly not an action film, but it is full of human triumph, and is often funny. Wikipedia informs me that many of the best lines were taken directly from the real-life speech therapist’s diary of his experience.
*historical spoiler*
The speech of the title – his first as King – is familiar to every British schoolboy. It is a triumphant part of the UK psyche, born in a moment that could easily have been filled with utter despair.
#113: A Five Course Meal
You can tell by the (relatively) low number that this was on my list waaaaaayyyy back in March 2010 when I started my plan of a year of Daily Awesomeness. Since then I’ve been studying manners for my steampunk book, so when I couldn’t get inspired by anything awesome last Sunday and I glanced at my wall of awesomenesses and saw #113, it was a beautiful moment.
I needed to not spend any money – but I love a challenge, especially a ridiculous one. The traditional five course meal is made up of:
1. Appetisers
2. Soup course
3. Salad course
4. Meat course
5. Dessert
I. . . adjusted the traditions. Of course. I adjusted even more when my sister-in-law invited CJ and I out to dinner and I counter-invited them to our increasingly complex soiree (luckily, they also bought wine*). My aim was to manage five courses for four people based on what was in my house at the time (I had originally planned to have sushi that night, mainly because we had half a cucumber that needed eating). Since I’m eating healthily these days, I also needed to use very small portions.
For fun, I decided to go nuts on the table settings and be as ultra-classy as possible. And so it was that I donned regency garb and strolled nonchalantly next door to steal some of their best roses**.
Here’s the final result of the table organisation, moments before we ate.
Our appetiser is cashew nuts, served in the two green bowls (cutlery: teaspoons). This was followed by “Invisible soup” served on bread and butter plates “with”. . . well, bread and butter (is there anything more delicious than soft white bread spread with real butter?) Our salad course featured cucumber, avocado and Asian mayonaisse served inside sushi rolls (or whatever they’re called. For that, the cutlery was chopsticks). For the meat course, each of us ate one-fourth of a single forlorn yet delicious piece of lasagna I discovered in the freezer, solving the dilemma of how I whether I’d share it with CJ or eat it when he wasn’t looking (cutlery: knives and forks). For dessert we partook of fruit salad (with dessert spoons, naturally). We drank water, orange juice, and wine.
The ladies used serviettes (cloth, naturally – we’re not COLONIALS for goodness’ sake), although the gentlemen declined them (which was a good thing, since I could only find two that weren’t disposable).
It was a delicious meal, and I recommend you see what you can scrounge up from your own cupboard when a five-course mood strikes you.
*And lots of it. This later altered the whole “don’t spend money” thing and the “eat healthily” thing (see http://shootingthrough.net/2011/01/23/266-late-night-ice-cream-run/), and was totally worth it.
**not for the first time, and certainly not for the last.
Tomorrow: See “The King’s Speech” at Dendy Premium cinemas – yep, I’ll be reviewing it for you.
#267: Let him kill the spider
I’m scared of a lot of things, so my fear of spiders is no big deal. But it’s nice, every so often, to not bother being brave. And it’s nice, every so often, for a man to do the manly thing. So in our house, CJ kills the spiders. It’s an elegant symbol of my trust and his strength.
It was a whitetail, by the way – a spider wikipedia says is “known to bite humans”.
I was going to put in a whitetail pic, but wordpress is acting up. You’ll just have to imagine it.
Oh, and that regency dress thing? There were two bottles of wine involved. All will be revealed tomorrow.
#266: Late-night ice cream run
I don’t actually need to write this entry at all since I feel certain you’re all sitting at your computer/phone, nodding in agreement.
I hear you. Late-night ice cream runs are, by their very nature, awesome.
This one was more awesomer. First, because there was a group of us going. Second, because it was the legendary Cold Rock Ice Cream company, which has just opened in Canberra (in Gungahlin, my Canberra peeps). So bundling the four of us into our cars and driving over there just before they closed felt naughty, and silly, and special – arguably the three most necessary ingredients of the best awesomenesses.
If you’re not familiar with Cold Rock Ice Cream, here’s how it works:
Step One: Decide to go – just because you can.
Step Two: Walk in. Pause. Gibber.
Step Three: Choose an ice cream flavour (see Step Two). I was torn between Baileys and English Toffee, but eventually chose Cake Batter. CJ chose Rocky Road.
Step Four: Choose add-ins from a wide range of popular chocolate and lolly varieties including Ferrero Rocher, Sour Gummy Worms, Skittles, Maltesers, Caramello Koalas, and MANY more (see Step Two). I chose Cookie Dough, Mint Freddo Frog, and Crunchie Bar. CJ chose Chocolate Fudge, strawberries (the real fruit kind), and a Bounty Bar.
Step Five: Explain why you’re taking photos as your assistant puts a chunk of your selected ice cream flavour onto a wide stone bench that is cold (see name of store).
Step Six: Watch in awe as your assistant smashes up your selection of candy and expertly folds it into the ice cream.
Step Seven: Take blurry photos of the final product due to overexcitement.
Step Eight: Nom nom.
Some general advice:
1. Don’t get a large size. Trust me on this one.
2. Choose your genre of fruit, sweet, sour, or mixed carefully. Also be advised that some things – Skittles, Sour Worms, Gummi Bears – don’t smash up, and others, like Cookie Dough or Fudge, tend to flatten rather than fracture.
3. Stay calm. There are suggestions on the wall if you really can’t make up your mind.
4. More than three add-ins tends to overwhelm the otherwise elegant symphony of flavour.
5. If you’re at Cold Rock for the first time, ignore # 4 and # 1.
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
Anyone wondering why I’m wearing a Regency dress? There is actually a reason, and it’s not “coz I felt like it”.
You’ll find out the truth on Tuesday.
#265: Film a twitchy kitty
I recently discovered that Ana sleeps – and dreams – with her eyes open. (Not weird at all.)
Every so often, CJ will smile at me and say, “Did you sleep well?”
When this happens, I panic.
Most recently, it turned out that I (apparently awake some time after midnight) had laughed and said to him, “I just had a dream I ate your neck.”
I recall none of this. None. Not the dream, not the laugh, not the sharing. None.
Again: Not weird at all.
#264: Vodka and caviar
Today’s mission (suggested by Ben) was:
Eat something ‘gross’ that is considered a delicacy in another culture.
Ever since watching “The Strange Case of Benjamin Button” (which, sidebar, I didn’t like due to the excessive sadness) I’ve wanted to combine vodka and caviar – like Tilda Swinton’s character does in the film.
Since I’m buying caviar for my epic birthday feast – but don’t plan to buy enough vodka for everyone – I chose to indulge myself today.
I discovered that, ironically, vodka “ice” (unlike regular vodka) can freeze. After waiting for it to unfreeze, CJ and I ate Russia’s answer to Devonshire Tea.
Vodka is pretty yucky without sugar, but cruisers always taste nice. Caviar is an extraordinarily neat food – both in the jar and on the tongue. Each sphere is perfectly formed and doesn’t taste of anything much. They feel surprisingly solid, like tiny marbles. Then you bite down and juicy saltiness just explodes. (I forgot to note back at the “sushi” entry that I do like one salty food – caviar.)
Then you have a little more vodka. Then some more caviar. Then vodka. Then caviar. I think the effect of the vodka is to burn away the flavour so each new mouthful of caviar is a brilliant surprise.
I enjoyed this very much. (The little jars, by the way, only cost about $6.)
In the past, I’ve also eaten:
Chicken feet and neck (tastes like. . . er, chicken. Particularly chicken wings).
Crocodile (like very dense, dry chicken).
Dog (like extremely tough red meat – yuck).
Turtle/Tortoise (I don’t know which because no-one there spoke English), which was the worst thing I’ve ever tasted. It tasted wrong and dirty and gravelly – much like I expected dog to taste, actually.
And I’ve eaten frog’s legs (like extremely tiny drumsticks, and perfectly nice despite the difficulty of actually eating them) and. . . drum roll. . . fried frog’s skin.
The fried frog’s skin was crunchy – crunchier than crunchy potato chips – and mostly tasted burnt.
One question remains: Who on earth goes around peeling frogs?
PS Now I want to go eat some more caviar. And have more vodka.
Yay for Russia.
Felicity Banks 