Thursday, August 28, 2008

To kill ya

Stopped by the supermarket on the way home today as I needed several lemons to make a sauce for the artichokes I'm currently cooking. I grabbed a few and went to the checkout.

The 20-something girl behind the counter asked me 'Are you having tequila for dinner tonight?'!!

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

My secret admirer

I got home from training today to find a gift box in the post (as a complete aside, training was pretty good, except that I was sitting next to a lady who had gaol tatts all over her arms. The tatt on the arm closest to me read 'mum(picture of heart)dad' and then had a date. I can only assume the date was of their murder/suicide, or the day they got busted for running drugs across the border, or when they were burned in a fire they started to get cash on a bogus insurance claim).

Anyhoo, my gift box. It looked exactly like the sort of box that tiaras or diamond necklaces come in (I assume), or - as is more in my league - a double deck of cards. The box was black, and embossed on the top in silver read 'Happy First Anniversary'.

First anniversary, you say? Of what? August last year...a quick flick of last year's diary reveals that August held a few spin classes (and to be fair, it's been about that long since I went to the gym), some interviews for uni, and some market research (yup, rich and fulfilling life over here!). I opened the box, hoping that it was a secret drop for the previous tenants and contained something fabulous - or at least not that deck of cards. A flash of blue and silver and I realised what it was...

The ANZ bank sent me a gift. A silver keyring with ANZ on it, and a big blue ANZ card, reading 'Who says the honeymoon's over?'. A letter inside:

"Congratulations! This time last year you were probably toasting to your new home with a glass of bubbly (glass - bottle - who am I to correct the bank). And so you should (darn straight). You don't achieve the dream of owning your own home every day. Look around you now, it's your own space and everything you have in place has your own unique touch"

Well. Who'd have thought that ANZ and I had a relationship now? Although, admittedly, I have paid them ten gazillion trillion dollars in interest, so I guess they do owe me a keyring and a pretty box. I read the letter about three times to make absolutely sure there was no mention of interest rates rising again, and although I can't see it I will check for invisible ink later.

The letter closes: "With us, the honeymoon's never over". Ah ANZ. I'll be your corporate whore any day!

Monday, August 25, 2008

The weekend shortlist

The indicators that I have had an awesome weekend include an unscrubbed house, no clean laundry, not an ounce of schoolwork done and nothing delicious baked (well, not by me anyway).

Luckily, a shortlist has already been made to outline the top weekend events, cos there was simply too much jammed in. Hurrah!

In fourth place for an honourable mention: a ferry ride back to the city from Cockatoo Island (an old industrial/military island in the harbour, where part of the Biennale art exhibition was held). We'd missed the rain (just), the sun was dancing across the water, the city was in view (and admittedly I'd knocked back half a bottle of vino!). Getting out on the harbour reminds me why I choose to live in Sydney - I think it showcases perfectly the freshness and sparkling beauty of the city and it's setting.

Coming in at number three: an installation on Cockatoo Island, which was not only awesome but totally unexpected. Shortly after completing number two on this list, we wandered along and came across a site - an old house - that held an exhibition but required special bookings (everything else on the island you could just wander in). The guy at the gate was convincing; the house opened in ten minutes, and our names were on the list. I didn't rate most of the stuff in there (I believe she was a Norwegian artist and there was lots of photographic images imposed over each other and some really dicey quotes). But the thing that blew me away was the camera obscura. You walk in to a totally darkened room, where there is just a tiny pin prick of light. With your back to the pin prick, after about 5 minutes you begin to see an image appear. I was in there with a stranger; we were having giggles about the dark, and how long we should stay, and whether it was all a hoax when she started to be able to make out shapes. Firstly a very pale light patch began to show, and as my eyes adjusted I could see, reflected upside down, the image from outside projected on the wall. I wasn't sure what it was at first but stranger lady was on the money and together we made out the edge of the building, telegraph poles and the streaks of grey clouds that were drifting across the sky. It was mind blowing - I think mainly because I'm not an overly patient type of person and this was direct reinforcement of why it is a virtue and all that lark. The surprise and unexpectedness of it made it my winning piece for the day.

Number two: it's a sad sad fact that booze will always make it onto my shortlists. This particular instance was a bottle of red wine shared shortly after arriving at the island. It was medicinal, really - it was freezing after the trip over and we had to get warmed up! A seat was found in the sun (but unfortunately also in direct line of attack of the aggressively nesting seagulls) (who, to be fair, kept to themselves), red wine was consumed, and good conversation flowed. Ah, day wines!

And a drum roll for number one: my top moment of the weekend was my inaugral visit to the NSW State Library. I'd been to the exhibition room before, many times, but for some reason had never actually made it into the library proper. And oh heavens, it was worth the wait. It was a large room, lined with books and staircases, filled with light, and with stained glass windows along the upper walls. We went in and found a book on Marrickville which had a range of old maps and pictures (for some reason Da Ville was a hub of brickworks at one stage. Like, there were a million factories here only to make bricks!) and propped it up on a reading aid (a big wooden book stand made for lazy people like me) and explored the suburb from the sanctity of a library. There is something about speaking in hushed tones that makes anything you find in a library seem more exciting, more like a discovery, than if it was to be read in a place where normal voice levels were acceptable. We also had a flip through the hand written cards in the calling system (I don't know what it's called! I am tempted to say dewy decimal system cos it's my only library term and should therefore be thrown in somewhere, but I know that's not exactly what I mean). Some cards had an early type print while others had the distinct spidery handwriting of an old school lady. We happened across a drawer that held the cards for a whole lot of commissions into Chinese gambling in the 1800s. I wouldn't change technology for the world, but there was something magical about flipping through cards from one subject to the next that the google machine just can't replicate.

So anyway, that was the roundup! The weekend also held a lost game of trivia, a trip to the markets for poppies, cherry blossoms and green garlic (my current food obsession), a freshly baked loaf of bread for Sunday breakfast (thanks bread boy!), and some frisbee in the park. It was exactly how a weekend should be. And now I'm dragging the Monday chain and have to get to work, and hit the books to make up for lost time tonight!

Thursday, August 14, 2008

MSW (Master for Special Wendy)

Sesame Street was originally a social development project intended to shorten the gap in education between under priviledged American (primarily Latin- and African-American) children by giving them easy access to some of the early education (a-b-c and 1-2-3) they were not accessing otherwise. It didn't really work in terms of its original target - just as many priviledged children watched it and subsequently the gap never closed. As a TV show though obviously it was wildly successful.

(This was the fact that interested me most in a reading I did last night on international economic development in third world countries. The paper outlined a range of economic theories, each attempting to give a different persepctive on how international financial aid could be combined with local labour and social capital to support communities to become self sufficient through empowerment. I am clearly a low brow buffoon).

Monday, August 11, 2008

The rest of the holiday

After the crowds had gone home after the 80th, J and I still had some Quality Sister Time to spend in South Australia. We decided, on advice from one of mum's cousins at the party, to head to Strathalbyn as it was supposed to be real purty. It was indeed - completely different from the Barossa but just as lovely. Lush and green and rolling farmland and magnificent hills. The afternoon we drove in was post card perfect - the sky was the brightest blue, the grass almost fake green, and there were black-and-white cows (struggling to remember their names from year 7 agriculture!) dotted across the horizon. As we approached the town, driving down a winding road, a whole avenue of almond trees - all in blossom - kept appearing at each turn. Each bend of the road brought out an 'ooh', then an 'ahh' until we'd out ooh-ed and aah-ed the bloody new years' eve fireworks.

The next day took us back to Radelaide, where we got to know the city. We hit the art gallery (the winners were a Sideny Nolan ape picture and a Jeffrey Smart), the markets (the cheese! the bread! the pastries! the organic fruit and veg!), a bike ride along the river, the old Adelaide gaol (we didn't go all the way through. Just checked out the exhibition of gaol paraphernalia - home made tatt machines, bongs, radios and the like. Ah rough as guts prisoners!) and other tourist attractions as they popped up.



The river, as we cycled around town (prior to drenching rains, but still icy cold).

We spent our last day doing factory tours - Haighs chocolates in the morning, and Cooper's brewery in the afternoon. Haighs was short and sweet, ha, and actually quite interesting. Turns out Haigh Junior (son of original Haigh) was sent to Switzerland to live with the Lindt family. He taught Lindt Junior english in exchange for learning the art of chocolate making. Apparently he learned the Lindt family method of churning chocolate in order to ensure it is super mega smooth, and doesn't leave a coating or aftertaste in your mouth. J and I had many samples in order to ensure he got it right.

The Cooper's factory was next, with our cousin The Bias. It was out in the burbs so I was designated driver (and as I'm not the hugest beer fan in the world that was OK. If it were a wodka factory, different story). It was a huge, custom built factory that had its own on site bar, bbq area and...private three hole golf course for staff. Drinks at the office on Friday would have been awesome. Drinks at their office on Thursday afternoon turned out to be quite refreshing as well. The tour showed all the machinery and was quite technical about the brewing process (I confess it was loud, his words were multisyllabic and sounded like the chemistry textbook I didn't use for my HSC so I didn't pay particularly good attention), and then took you through the packing and testing rooms. There were a few dudes standing around looking scientifically serious in their lab coats and half-spectacles, necking beer. Oh what a job!



The Bias and J tried about 8 different beers - apparently the last two, which were Cooper's vintage ales (I think from 97 and 98?) were the best.

We then made our way back home (via Jonno's house, more cousin time, and some time along the coast before our flight) and had some recovery champales in Sydney to celebrate the end of another lovely sister's adventure!

The 80th



My grandma's party was an afternoon tea affair in their local church hall. We arrived early to set up - my Aunty Liz had done the catering and J and I were in charge of decorations. We blew up balloons, hung streamers, and set up tables with the help of my four cousins who live in Radelaide. The guests rocked in (lots early, which shows just how genetic my chronic early-bird-ness must be!) and the party started - and it was just lovely. Cousins, aunts and uncles, great aunts and uncles, friends of great...well you know how these things are!

My highlight was when one of mum's cousins said to me 'You must be in your 20s by now'...YES! 20s! That rocks!





The food Aunty Liz did was wonderful - there were hot plates as well but I am afraid to say I was too interested in eating them by the time they came out!

J had the fabulous idea of name-tagging everyone with their name, and their connection to Grandma on them (Grandma's was adorable - it said 'Elinor, Party Girl'). It was a fun game and a nice way to meet all the other party people (although several did doctor their tags to up their status a wee bit - like 'Andrew, most handsome son in law'. Nice).



I confess I had something in my eye during my grandfather's speech. He talked about how he met my grandma - an abridged version, as he abruptly finished it with 'and then we moved to Nuri and lived there ever since'! We heard the rest of the speech that night around their kitchen table - my grandmother seemed very uncomfortable with the telling but was the first to interject to clarify matters! It was just lovely and I feel so lucky to have been able to be there and share it.

J and I convinced three of our cousins to sneak away for a cheeky butcher and we subsequently avoided party clean up, and got to spend some time with Jonno, The Bias and Jemima who we'd not really seen much at all as adults. By which I mean, over a beer! It's totally cheesy, but it was just a lovely family day!

The Barossa

Ah, the Barossa. My grandma turned 80 on the 3rd of August, so J and I headed over to help celebrate and fit in a bit of a holiday as well (it is the year of the sisters' holiday. We have done two so far and have two more coming up, hurrah!). We got in on Friday morning, and our mum (who had arrived earlier that day) picked us up from the airport. We headed straight out to Nuriootpa, the small (4800 and something...I've forgotten!) town in the Barossa where my grandparents live and my mum grew up.

I have such strong feelings about it there, which is odd really because I've never lived there and not really spent very much time there. As kids, we'd head over usually once every year or two to spend holidays with my grandparents. The drive always started well before the sun came up, and was always hot and long. We were allowed to eat fruit loops (I love them and we never had them any other times) which in hindsight seems insane - four bored children, one hot van - give 'em sugar! We'd get in to Nuri always when it was dark (and in my memory always freezing, which doesn't tie in well with the hot drive!), and my grandma would have made up the beds in the girls' room for us with flanelette sheets and a hot water bottle, with their pale blue covers tucked a certain way around the pillows. On this trip J and I made our own beds over in the lounge room and replicated the way grandma made them (a much inferior version though I must say!).

My grandpa built the house they live in, which is just so romantic I think. It's got a huge yard with fruit trees and veggies and grape vines and although it's not in its prime any longer, as a kid I remember it being this amazing playground full of lovely growing things (even better, things one could eat!).

Anyway, we arrived there and spent three days with them - it was just heavenly. The first night J and I hit the town - there are two pubs, the AP (Angus Park) and The Slimey (The Vine Inn). We'd picked up the in-the-know lingo from a previous visit. We drank West End, the local draught, and found that their beer sizes are named completely differently to ours.

NSW - SA
Pint - Imperial Pint
Schooner - Pint
Middy - Schooner
Seven - Butcher

We never worked out why a butcher was a butcher, but we drank a few of them in an attempt to find enlightenment that way. To give you an idea how small Nuri is, observe the following phone number spotted in the AP:



The trip involved lots of driving around (thanks, mum!) to the wee towns, stopping in at wineries, and me getting completely besotted with the almond blossoms, which were out and blooming all over the valley. It smelled like honey and was just divine, and it would spring up around every other corner. I never got sick of it.



We only hit a few of the larger wineries this time, and I must say I was quite disappointed in comparison to some we'd gone to in the past. Still, even when it's disappointing wine tasting is still wine tasting!



We also made it to a farmer's market (the food there seems so much fresher and more natural than food here. There was so many delicious things. J and I settled for some olive oil that we've had before and some jaffa fudge...mental note: fudge still in fridge, eat some soon).

On one of our drives we came across these wee buildings (in Daveyston, I think. My grandfather, I learned later that weekend, had his 21st in the school hall at Daveyston. He also scored a sneaky kiss from my grandma there!).





But my favourite thing of all was just spending time at my grandparent's house. The familiar smells, the way my grandma cooks (salty beans and carrots that I loathed as a child and cannot get enough of now!), the way my grandpa dunks bread in his soup and warms his milk every morning to put on weetbix...and just everything about being there. Ah, the Barossa!