Courage and a Reality Check

I'm sitting at the hospital at the moment, waiting. Waiting and thinking and watching someone I care about faces her fears as she, in turn, waits for surgery. And watching someone else I care about try to be brave for her as she faces the fear that the person that she loves so desperately could be taken away, after everything else that she's been through.


It's been a scary year for my family. Our lives have, once again, been tipped upside down. It hasn't been easy. They (whoever 'they' might be) don't warn you that it will be like this. It's all the little things that you don't expect, that become the new normal in your life. The fear of getting sick, at all, in case you pass it on to someone whose immune system cannot cope with it. The intensity. The constant feeling of things just below the surface, of everyone walking on the very thinnest film over a bubbling lake of unrest, where one wrong footstep can throw off the delicate balance. These things have all become normal. It feels like this year has been an endurance test, for all of us. And we're all so very tired.


Despite all of that, there are beautiful small moments. Moments of humour and love and laughter. I don't know how I would cope, how I would adjust to the idea that I was most likely going to die. Watching someone I love adjust to that idea, over the course of a the last few months, has been a hard thing to do. Watching her make peace with the idea that the surgery today could not go well was also hard. And watching my Mum adjust to the idea that she may have to live life without the woman she loves was possibly the hardest thing of all.


But at the same time, that courage is inspiring. And for me, today, a reality check. 


I've always been a survivor. I've always gritted my teeth during the bad times, pushed through and held on to the tiny bit of hope inside me that, surely, it will get better. There are times however, when I am going through my dark patches, when I wonder if that is true. Whether the fight is worth it. Whether I am worth it. Whether it would just be better to stop fighting and to slip quietly into the calm darkness of it all. 


Sitting here today, watching them, inspires me. Despite the hard times lately. Despite everything. It's worth keeping on fighting another day. 

Brownies, Cupcakes and a Welcome Return.

The other result of having such a crappy Friday was that it required plenty of baking therapy. With fortuitous timing, the second owner of the flat, where I was recently staying, was due to return from a prolonged stay overseas on Sunday evening, so a thank you present of baking seemed in order.

A bad day like that required full baking therapy. No half-arsed efforts. So, much to the amusement of the other residents of my house (and possibly any neighbours who witnessed it through our kitchen windows), I attired myself in heels, 50's style dress black and white checked ruffle dress, including full net petticoat and patent black belt, and apron, turned up the music, and started to bake.

The album for the day: Younger Brother - The Last Days Of Gravity.

Amusingly enough, the first track on the album is called 'Happy Pills'.

The recipes for the day: Dark Chocolate and Macadamia Brownies and Lemon Coconut Cupcakes with Cream Cheese icing.

I was good and disciplined and took process photos for the brownies. The cupcakes, not so much - I'm even missing a finished product photo of them with the icing on. If I manage to acquire one, I'll add it later.

Dark Chocolate Macadamia Brownies

Ingredients

375g unsalted butter

375g good quality dark chocolate - I used Lindt 85%

6 large free range eggs

1 tbs vanilla extract

500g white sugar

225g plain flour

1 tsp salt

300g macadamias

Heat the oven to 180°C. Line a baking tray with baking paper.

Chop the macadamias in half or smaller.

Melt the butter and chocolate together.

Beat the eggs, sugar and vanilla together. You can use a handbeater, but using an electric beater is far easier, and tends to get better results. You want the mix to be light yellow and fluffy.

Sieve the flour and salt into a separate bowl, ready to mix. Allow the melted chocolate mixture to cool slightly and then slowly and gently add to the egg mixture. The secret to good brownies is to mix the ingredients together very slowly and gently so that you don't knock the air out of the egg and sugar mix. I use a folding motion to stir the chocolate mix through. It is heavier than the egg mix so it will sink to the bottom of the bowl.

Add the flour and salt and gently combine that into the mix. Once fully combined, add the macadamia nuts.

Pour the mixture into the baking tray and spread evenly. Be careful not to drop or jostle the tray too much of you will knock the air out.

Bake for about 25 minutes or until the top begins to crisp up. Brownies are best when the top is crisp but the inside is still gooey.

I haven't sampled this batch. Hopefully they came out ok, they definitely smelled good!

The second thing on the agenda for the day was the cupcakes. I'd been wanting to test out a new recipe for lemon and coconut cupcakes with cream cheese icing.

They seemed to come out ok and the recipe was pretty easy to make. Again, taste test pending!

Lemon Coconut Cupcakes with Cream Cheese Icing

3/4 cup of unsalted butter, room temp

3 eggs

1 1/4 cup of sugar

2 1/2 tsp fresh squeezed lemon juice, divided (some is for the icing)

1 cup of coconut milk

1 tsp salt

2 1/4 cups flour

3/4 cup sweetened coconut

1 tsp baking powder

1 3/4 cups icing sugar

250g cream cheese, at room temp

Heat oven 180°C and line a 12 cupcake tray.

In a large bowl, cream the butter and sugar until fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time and continue to beat. Once combined, slowly add the coconut milk and the lemon juice and beat to combine.

In a separate bowl, sieve the flour, salt and baking powder. In batches, add the dry mixture to the liquid until just combined, being careful not to over mix. If the mixture feels too dry, add a dash more coconut milk. Add in the coconut and give one last whirl to mix through.

Divide the batter evenly. Each cupcake liner should be about 2/3 full.

Bake for about 20 minutes, testing with a skewer to ensure cooked through.

While the cupcakes are cooking, beat the cream cheese, lemon juice and icing sugar together to make the icing. Once the cupcakes have cooled, pipe the icing onto the cupcakes.

A bad day and being lucky.

Sometimes you have those days where you really just wish you hadn't bothered. Friday was one of those for me. 

It started on Thursday night, in fact, when I discovered that my Mum's partner had been scheduled to have surgery. She is currently undergoing intensive chemotherapy for Stage 4 cancer, which has currently spread to three separate locations in her body.  My initial response was: Surgery? That's a positive sign. That means the tumours have shrunk enough to operate. Unfortunately, only two of the sites are responding. The other, the lungs, stubbornly refuses to respond in any way, shape or form. So my fleeting hopes were dashed again and my heart broke as I watched the mixed emotions flowing across on my Mum's face. I could see her allowing herself the hope that I had just written off.

Friday morning brought more awesomeness, in the news stories about the legislation around requirements for reporting of abuse of children. There's a whole separate blog post on that topic to be written, at some later stage, but the thoughts of the impact that the legislation would potentially have had on my family are a little scary. To top that off, I got a call from my Mum to let me know that it was looking like our dog was dying, which, if you read my previous post, you'll know came true over the weekend. And then I had to go to work. Ick. I wish we could have Fridays off when we felt like that!

The sum of all those factors was an overwhelming dose of the Glum. This year has been a trying year, at times, and days like Friday sometimes make it feel like it's all too much to bear.

I am, however, lucky. I am surrounded by wonderful people. People who, sometimes without even realising it, help me to fight the glum off, before it can take hold. The small things that these people do make the world of difference. The hug from a Jonelle on Friday afternoon. The little message from Iz in my inbox. The sitting at Alex's bar with ET, downloading cat pictures and giggling hysterically. The fleeting visit from Rob for a giant hug, whilst on the phone, on Friday, and then the driving lesson, tea session and dumpling fest on Sunday. The random funny and cute pictures from Jackson. And the lovely ongoing messages from Bee. Including the one the arrived just now, wishing me a better start to this week.

Despite everything. I'm very lucky, indeed.

Tears and Farewells

My last dog died while I was away traveling. By the time I had returned, the family had adopted another. Our neighbour at our bach was dying of cancer and had a pair of poodles, named Dodi and Diana, that she loved desperately. She had a home for one of them but she needed to find somewhere for the other, so she asked our family to take him in, knowing that we were currently without a canine companion. So when I returned from my travels, Dodi was there, waiting to greet me with flolloping paws and a giant lick, and when I moved back home to help my family with their own troubles with illness, he was still there.

Before owning a poodle, I had held many prejudices against them (poncey and poofey were two words that may have passed my lips) but he has been the most wonderful pet. He's a standard poodle, so stands nearly waist height, and as he was not kept in show clip, rather resembles a giant, fluffy lamb. This resemblance was exacerbated when he was younger, as his pure joy at being taken out walking translated into a tendency to gambol through grassy fields, something that was always amusing in locations like the Parnell Rose Gardens, where puzzled and delighted Japanese tourists watched open-mouthed.

Sadly, old age caught up with him and his days of gamboling are now gone. This morning we said farewell to him, gave him last hugs and kisses and took him to be put down. It's for the best: His eyesight was going and he was in pain. I'm glad that he's no longer hurting, but I miss him already.

Music and Baking (of non special, but magic, muffins)

When the weekend rolls around, or at the end of a stressful day, as I've mentioned before, one of my happy-techniques is to go home, put on some of my favourite music, slightly louder than is technically necessary, and bake. Depending on my mood, this is sometimes accompanied by dressing in 50s housewife attire, somehow that just makes it all the more fun.


For some reason, my baking comes out better when I play music. Perhaps I put more happy into the recipe. Perhaps my beating or stirring is more rhythmic. I don't know. In any case, I'm not complaining, I have more fun doing it, and it comes out even tastier at the other end, an all-round victory in my view. And if my neighbours get an amusing show as I dance round the kitchen between mixing bowls and electric beaters, then so be it!


This being the case, each batch of baking is paired with an album or set of songs in my mind. The chocolate chip cookies from Friday night were baked to The Beatles - The Blue Album. And Saturday's savoury muffins were baked to the sounds of RJD2 - Deadringer. 

The savoury muffins are an old recipe that I was given in primary school cooking class, and have modified over the years. My current favourite addition to the recipe is Mexican Magic Powder, an ingredient that tends to raise a few eyebrows, when you first mention it, but causes much drooling upon tasting. Magic Powder is salt and chili dissolved in lime juice and then baked off so the liquid evaporates out. You're left with a delicious limey, chili, salty substance to add to, well, virtually anything. This fantastic substance can be acquired from Mexican Specialties, the very best Mexican food store in Auckland. 


I took some of the finished products into a friend's bar on Saturday night, for him and his lovely wife to have for breakfast the next day. After I left, I'm told his patrons quizzed him on whether or not they were "special" muffins. No, no, just magic ones.

I was all organised and remembered to take photos, documenting the baking process, to post, too, rather than just braggy finished product ones.

Savoury Muffins

Ingredients:

• 1 packet of onion soup
• 2 1/2 cups of plain flour
• 4 raised tsp of baking powder
• 1 tbsp of white sugar
• 1/4 tsp of salt
• Cracked pepper (to taste)
• 1 1/4 cups of trim milk
• 2 medium eggs
• 1/4 cup oil - I prefer rice bran oil
• Fresh chopped parsley
• 1 cup of grated cheese
• 2 free range bacon slices, roughly chopped
• 1/4 cup of sweet chilli sauce
• 6 sundried tomatoes, chopped
• Magic Powder
• Extra lightly grated cheese to sprinkle on top

You can use other savoury ingredients, the above is a guide only. I have also made with feta cheese, lightly chopped baby spinach, garlic, ham, salami, assorted fresh herbs.

Heat oven to 190 Celsius. Lightly grease a 12 muffin tray.
In a small bowl, mix the onion soup mix and milk. Leave to stand.
In a large bowl, sieve dry ingredients and loosely mix. Add savoury ingredients, including a good sprinkle if magic powder and create a well in the middle of the bowl.

Add the oil, sweet chili and egg to the liquid mix. Combine well with a fork. Pour mixture into well. Combine evenly with a wooden spoon.

Once combined, spoon into muffin tray. Sprinkle top with grated cheese and magic powder

Bake for 12-15 minutes, until golden brown and inserted skewer is clean.

You Make Me Feel So Free

So many happy memories come flooding back when I listen to this song. Someone posted a link to the Christchurch Symphony Orchestra version of Shapeshifter's 'One' tonight and it started me on a trip down memory lane. This is the live version of Tapestry with Ladi 6.


Music you know, you mean the world to me.
You mean the world to me.
You make me feel so free.

Messages for a friend from the Revel fridge poetry

Bee and I stopped into Revel for dinner during a lull in the madness this evening to have dinner and a glass of wine. One of my favorite things to do there is to sit and read the previous visitors' offerings, on their wall of fridge poetry, next to one of the tables.


There is always an amusing mix of crude, poignant and witty. I often sit and wonder who came up with each of them, what prompted them to leave that particular combination of words as a memento, albeit a temporary one.


Today, there were some half-formed sentences that Bee and I played around with. As we shuffled the words around, some sentences fell into place that immediately felt like messages that needed to be sent to a far away friend. I'm sure she knows who she is, without me even needing to tell her. She's wonderful like that.


I could imagine spending hours with her there, indulging in the exact same activity whilst chatting and drinking tea or chai. So I took photos of the sentences, before they were lost in the endless shuffle of the magnets, recombined to become a fresh part of someone else's thoughts and feelings.

Music, Dancing and Conversations with a Wonderful Friend

I forget, sometimes, that there are people for whom music is not woven so tightly into the ins and outs of their every-day lives that living without it seems utterly impossible. For whom music is optional. Without it, they don't really feel like they're missing much.

It would be a rare day, indeed, in my life, that featured no music. It is such an integral part of my existence. I listen to it because I like the tunes themselves, but more than that, because it possesses the most wonderful ability to lift me up when I am down or feeling lost or introspective. I don't know if the non-listeners don't experience it, but I love it, the feeling, at that moment, when a song that I absolutely love plays and it feels like a little ray of sunshine is blossoming inside, amidst whatever storminess is going on. Sometimes that's all I need to come out from behind my cloudy day.

I love that moment of excitement when you find a new song or artist that resonates with you. I love sharing music that I enjoy with a friend and seeing the same joy and pleasure on their face. I love that all the best moments in my life have songs attached to them in my memory, and that all I need to do to relive that moment is to press 'play'.

The other wonderful aspect of music, which never ceases to amaze me, is its ability to make me want to dance. Put on a song that I enjoy and regardless of the setting, I will want to move. Music seems to infuse my entire body with a happiness and energy. One of my secret pleasures is playing music a little bit too loud and dancing around the kitchen whilst baking. Pleasure combo! If you play the right music, I will happily go out for an entire evening to a gig, completely sober, and lose myself in the music dancing.

The lovely Izy and I have recently had many discussions on the importance of enjoying the tiny moments in life, living in the 'now'. It may seem like fairly trite advice, but far too many people don't take the time to enjoy the small things around them. To stop and appreciate the beauty and wonder in the gifts they are presented with in their everyday life, regardless of what else is going on around them. I know that from time to time I don't. And the times that I don't, are the times that I feel most stressed out and unhappy.

Music is one of these under-appreciated things. Each song is a beautiful little gift-wrapped box of someone's talent, delivered to us via our ears, into our brains and our hearts, whenever we want or need it. I'm in awe of those wonderfully talented people, who have the gift of making that ray of sunshine unfurl within me, of making my feet move and my heart happy.

There's A Strange Feeling In The Air

Over the past few nights, my old foe, insomnia, has returned. Since mid last week, my sleep has steadily grown patchier. It tends to go in cycles and for the best part, I'm used to it. It normally doesn't last more than a week or two, so unless it goes for longer, I take my grouchy self, dose up on several cups of tea and push through those couple of weeks and then enjoy a couple of weeks of 'normal' sleep (i.e. 5-6 hours of patchy sleep, rather than 1-2).

This time, however, it's returned with an unusual addition. For the best part, I don't dream. Well, I say I don't dream. What I mean is, I don't tend to recall any dreams, if any have occurred. Some people say that I'm missing out on a rather bizarre, yet pleasurable experience. I'm a little divided, on the rare occasions that I do dream, I wake up far more mentally tired than when I don't. My brain doesn't feel like its had as much of a rest as it normally gets. It feels cheated. But on the other hand, dreams do sound rather fun.

The flip-side of dreams, however, is nightmares. And it's this particular (and unwelcome) addition to my most recent insomnia bout that I object to most. That might sound like a contradiction in terms. Nightmares with insomnia. But when I have my insomnia bouts I tend to manage to sleep a total of an hour, maybe two, or three of I'm really lucky, all night. I need those hours to be as restful for my brain as possible. So for them to be filled with nightmares is most unpleasant.

I'm not really sure what to do about it. All the nightmares are work-related and all are tied in to a specific situation that has recently arisen. Hopefully, I should have some clarity on that in the next week. Hopefully. [insert generic benevolent deity] knows, I spend more than enough of my time thinking about work! There is a teeny tiny little piece of me inside that is allowing me to let myself hope that a large part of my current crappy work situation is going to be fixed very, very soon. Maybe the nightmares is the other part going 'Yes, but what if this doesn't work out?' Something I really don't want to think about. A sobering thought indeed.

The other thing that may well be contributing to the current state of affairs is the invasion of our fair city by the slathering hordes of sports-ball fans. It's Rugby World Cup eve and the feel of the city has steadily been changing for the past week. A rugby fan might tell you it's excitement, but it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up (and not in a good way). For the past few nights, the sounds of K Rd have been different. It's strange. But it feels like a different place. I don't feel nearly so comfortable wandering out along the road later in the evening.

I also have the dubious pleasure of working fairly close to the fan-zone, where we can cater for approximately 15,000 people, yet expect to potentially have up to 100,000 arrive tomorrow evening. Many of those people will then yahoo their way around the city toward Eden Park. I hope that the event organisers have prepared adequately. I really do. The Kiwi attitude of 'She'll be right' doesn't really cut it for large scale events when you're trying to move drunk people en masse.

For someone like me, who at times suffers from some fairly decent anxiety in large crowds, this is not at all an appealing prospect. My lovely workmate has offered to drop me off on her way home and I will be ensuring I am adequately stocked with groceries so as to ensure I don't need to leave the house for the evening, indeed for the weekend, should it be required!

On the plus side, as I am currently house-sitting on K Rd for some friends who are in Sydney, I will have a fantastic perch to sit and watch the parade of drunken tomfoolery that is the Fan Trail between downtown and Eden Park. Let the entertainment begin. 

Baking: Revisited (with bonus recipe)

The experimental cookies seemed to go down a treat, so with that in mind, I decided to whip up another batch to take along to a BBQ flat warming last weekend. This time, the intention was to make a rather more traditional batch, however. 


Disaster very nearly struck again, when I managed to have an absolute brain-fail of a moment and forget to buy an vital ingredient, despite going on a trip to the supermarket purely to buy it. After last time, you'd think there was no way I could have stuffed up the condensed milk again, wouldn't you? But no. My mastery of the ancient art of shopping lists clearly needs work. 


K Rd, whilst a lovely place and full of character and entertainment, isn't exactly overflowing with useful shops selling vital baking ingredients and I was already running late. I dashed madly up and down the street, in and out of dairies, manically hunting the shelves for a tin of condensed milk.


As a last resort, I popped into Lim Chhour. Lim Chhour was a staple of my student days, a supplier of tasty noodles and green tea, a place where we went to find something interesting to inspire our weird and wonderful cooking, rather than a place where we went for the basics. If ever we did attempt to find the basics there, in a moment of desperation or folly, we were always destined for disappointment. Not this time. Let it be known that on this occasion, Lim Chhour saved my baking bacon.


Tin of condensed milk in hand and smile on face, I returned to complete recipe. I'm assured they made a delicious post-Costa-Rican-BBQ-hangover-breakfast. Cookies are an anytime food! Side note: If you ever get a chance to attend a Costa Rican BBQ, you should do this. In fact, you should drop everything to do this. The food, oh my, the food. So very delicious.


Of course, the company at this one was outstanding in quality, too. Pretty much an all round perfect Sunday afternoon in my books. Sun, laughter, good conversation, good people, good food, good wine, good rum (OK, good whisky would have been better, but you try arguing that with a Costa Rican!)


I had several people ask for the recipe for the cookies after the last batch, so I may as well post that here, too. Excuse the horrid phone photo. The recipe is pretty standard: Dead easy to make and as demonstrated by my stuff-up last time I made them, incredibly forgiving.


Chocolate Chip Cookies

• 4 oz of butter (softened, but not melted)
• 1/4 cup sugar
• 1 cup flour
• 2 tsp baking powder
• 2 tbsp condensed milk
• Approximately half a large block of chocolate, roughly chopped. I prefer Whittakers 72% Dark Ghana

Heat oven to 325°F or 162°C.

In a medium size bowl, cream butter and sugar. Add the condensed milk. Sieve the flour and baking powder into the liquid mix and add the chocolate and combine with a wooden spoon.

Using a teaspoon, take a scoop of cookie dough and roll into a ball. Press flat on a baking tray using either fingers or a fork if you want a pattern on top.

Bake for 10-12 minutes, until the edges just start to go golden brown. Take out from oven to cool and harden.

Growing Up But Not Old

I woke up this morning and lazed in bed reading my usual Saturday digest of words-from-around-the-internet (a.k.a. all the rss feeds in my mailbox that I haven't had a chance to read during the week). This usually consists of a hodge-podge of news, politics, random geek stuff, baking/food, fashion, transportation, art and other weird and wonderful topics. It was the last of those topics, however, that was to lead me into a spot of hot water as the day progressed.


I love beautiful clothes. Actually, take that back a step, I love beautiful things, things that are aesthetically pleasing, with beautiful lines and colours. That love of beautiful things has always translated into a fondness for beautiful clothes, something that, in my mind, differs quite markedly from fashion. I don't care in the slightest about fashion, beyond the fact that some fashion houses, by virtue of the fact that their designers are talented and are in possession of fairly large amounts of resources, produce some stunning garments. But the notion of fashion as it exists on a daily basis, the slavish following of one trend after another, with little-to-no regard for what actually suits people, holds zero interest for me.


In any case, my regular blog-dose consists of a number of blogs written by people whose personal style I like or who are designing things that I think are interesting. This morning's catch up consisted of a fair amount of one of these blogs and the onset of spring (yes, I can hear you laughing from here) left me feeling inspired to rejuvenate my wardrobe. My mind was filled with images of dresses and unfortunately I didn't have a sketch book with me where I was staying. Circumstances seemed to be conspiring against me further, as at that point, my phone rang and my comfy couch lazing was interrupted by my brother, requesting my assistance on an errand. 


Errand satisfied and good deed for the day done, I found myself on High Street and as luck would have it, the City Designer's Market was on. I have been meaning to visit this market since its inception, but I always forget or have something else on. It seemed my good deed was being rewarded!


I loathe the shopping experience in general. I hate the stores with their pushy assistants, who clearly don't give a crap about the products or the place they work in. I hate the loud and unpleasant music. I hate malls, but I also hate streets, like Queen Street, filled with people who just don't seem to know pavement etiquette. I hate how every store seems to want to sign you up to some shitty loyalty program, just so they can spam you with email, but how every single loyalty program is a steaming pile of turd that seems to offer nothing more than taking up space in your wallet. Then there's on-line shopping, which is a whole separate rant, but I shan't get into that now, because I already sound like a grouchy wench.


To my surprise and pleasure, the City Designer's Market was a pleasurable shopping experience indeed. It is a staffed by the designers themselves and they are wonderfully helpful and definitely not pushy. They listen to what you have to say and as the makers of the clothes, have an eye for what would suit you and a knowledge of the fit of each of the garments. They are full of helpful suggestions on styling, not just with their own garments, but with those of each other as well. The room had a refreshingly laid back air, so much so that I didn't mind coming out into the main room to use the"best" mirror to view the garments. They inspire genuine confidence, something which cannot often be said about clothes shopping for those of us who are not sticks.


To top it off, the clothes themselves were beautiful. Well made, nice attention to detail and gorgeous colour palettes used. I'll definitely be going back, especially to check out their sale stock, I picked up some wonderful bargains, including a fabulous singlet top and skirt from Flox's range for $20 each and a bright, fun Harriet Falvey dress for $89.00. Bargain! Well, I say bargain, I still spent far more money than I had intended when I walked out the front door. It seems shopping at an excellent retailer after reading a good fashion blog is like venturing into a supermarket on an empty stomach. One should consume a cheeseburger first. Or something.


Musing on quite how much money retailers could make if they could only replicate that particular delightful place, I began my trip home and as I did, the little girl inside me squeed with glee and went "HURRY UP, I WANT TO BE HOME NOW!" in excitement. Not because I had anything particularly exciting to head home to, you see, but purely because I still have not grown out of my little-girl love of getting home and putting on my pretty clothes that I have just bought and dancing around the house. It does not matter one bit that I have *just* worn them in the shop, I must still wear them at home and I must do so immediately. To the extent where if I am shopping with somebody else, something that I absolutely loathe with a passion and avoid at all costs, I find myself mildly resentful (and having to hide the fact) and have to force myself not to make excuses to head home and partake in this most strange of habits.


We were not a particularly wealthy family when I was small and I did not often get new, store-bought clothes. The vast majority of my wardrobe was hand-me-downs from Mum's cousins' children or things Grandma had knitted or things Mum had whipped up for me on her trusty sewing machine. Of course now, I dream of clothes whipped up for me, created bespoke on a sewing machine that fit me perfectly. One of the top 3 items on Nat's List Of Things To Learn is how to sew properly. In any case, being bought something from an actual STORE was pretty exciting. I remember sitting in the car on the way home, with the new purchase in its bag on my lap, wriggling with excitement and I guess I haven't grown out of that. 


And you know what, I don't think that I want to.