Sometimes I want to face life
Sometimes I'm happy
Sometimes I want to win
Sometimes I make decisions
ANZAC stands for Australian and New Zealand Army Corp who came together to fight in WW1
These ANZAC biscuits were baked by the soldiers mothers and wives and sent to the solders fighting in the war because they kept for a long time.
|1C rolled oats|
|1C unprocessed bran|
|½ C brown sugar|
|½ C wholemeal flour|
|1½ Weetbix biscuits|
|2T golden syrup (be generous if you like them softer)|
|2T treacle (be generous if you like them softer)|
|1t bicarb soda|
|1/2t sea salt|
|1.||Preheat oven to 160 degrees C|
|2.||Heat butter, golden syrup, treacle in microwave or on stove till butter is melted and combine.|
|3.||Combine all dry ingredients and mix thoroughly. Add wet ingredients to the dry ingredients and combine thoroughly.|
|4.||Spoon into biscuit sized shapes on a greased baking tray. (or press into small greased tin if you want more of a slice. Bake for 15 minutes.|
|5.||Remove tray from oven and allow to set for a few minutes, then transfer to a cooling rack to set completely. If doing the slice version, make sure you cut it before it sets (it can go rock hard).|
How many times have you been told that by someone who is confiding in you only to find you are not the only one keeping her/his secret.
One day when I had taken my son to the dr for yet another bout of tonsil problems my dr turned to me and said "open mother" as he came towards me with a tongue depressor.... To my horror he tells me I am infecting my son and if I had my tonsils out my son will be fine. (my daughter had already had her's out)
Appointments are made the hospital booked and off I go. Now, I admit I was a bit blase about this.... my daughter had, had her's out at four and was fine.
The next morning I am prepped for surgery, got told off by a very officious nurse to stop reading my book as I need to be sleepy.
Operation over, I hear people saying my name, then I am crying and trying to scream. Gosh the pain was incredible. Not only that but, it apparently took a while to bring me back. I had, had an allergic reaction to the anaesthetic.
Next thing I remember is that I am back in my room which to my disgust I am sharing with 3 other elderly women. I had booked a private room and my dr changed it he told me later. Said a private room would have kept me too isolated and I needed company, okay, I swallowed that story without an argument and found out later what really happened was the shortage of beds.
I got a shot of something that sent me to sleep and woke up with a dowager sponging my forehead and the other patient from the bed opposite also sponging me. I had been crying in my sleep and here they are like mother hens fussing over me. I felt such a fraud. after all I ONLY had my tonsils out and the dowager had cancer and her breast removed and the other one had a drip of some sort hanging off her.
I had slept albeit fitfully the rest day away and now it was dinner time.... food had arrived. Now, I was looking forward to the jelly (jello) and icecream as is the usual fare for tonsil patients instead I get a roast chicken dinner.... OMG the pain! I had tried some mash potato with the gravy and the salt stung so much (may be the reason I do not eat salt) One of my carers in the bed opposite rang for a nurse who rushed in saw what was wrong (I was sobbing like a baby) said a boy up in the children's ward had also had his tonsils out and was insisting on "decent food" so she swaps our plates over.... Oh how wonder that icecream felt slipping down my throat.
Next day my dr comes in.... I ask why my tongue is so swollen and stuck to the roof of my mouth and why do I have such painful earaches and why is my chest so sore? He tells me I had quinsy and my tonsils burst!!
And that I don't want to know what they did to my tongue and my chest soreness was from where he leaned on me..... My earaches were caused by tissue from the burst tonsils.
Every day when my dr visited he would sit beside me and give me a cuddle and repeatedly said "the closer you are to ten the easier this is" One of the nurses said he is a softy and when I had been crying in pain he would come out of my room blowing his nose.
The dear ladies over the way continued to sponge my forehead, and croon you poor thing to me ... Gosh I felt such a fraud I knew I was going to get better but was very unsure about these 2 sweet ladies.
Eventually I started to improve. The twice daily sometimes more old fashioned vicks in hot water and a tent made from towels as an inhaler helped. I had to do this myself on a needs basis and not wait for a nurse. Fine by me.
And I cannot leave out the twice, sometimes 3 times daily injections of morphine. I was beyond pain on morphine. One night a friend dropped in just as I was in the middle of a Morphine high,... I frightened the life out of her, there I was sitting in the middle of the bed with the waste bin firmly clasped in my hands as I tried to be sick and telling her this was great stuff and I was going to the mall when I got out to get more.... I was so beyond pain and was even able to talk what I thought was normally instead she later told me I was slurring my words all over the place.
Eventually the old dear with the drip thing goes home and I am left sharing the room with the dowager, what a darling old lady she was. Eventually she too goes home and 2 more patients take their places.
Now, I knew from my daughter's overnight stay that I should be home with my children by now and had been nagging my dr for a few days to let me leave.... finally on the eleventh day I was allowed to go home.... to bed. I had lost 11 kilo in hospital and was so weak for quite a few weeks ..... guess living on jelly and icecream will do that to a person.
During my recovery I had to take my son off to the dr with tonsillitis again. And this time he tells me my son will need his tonsils out. I was like HEY!! you told me to have mine out so he wouldn't need to!! Words can not describe how upset I was with the pain I went through thinking I was saving my little boy from this ordeal to be told he had to get his out. Somehow I felt tricked.... And like a child of course he sailed through is operation.
Before my son has his operation I had to go for my checkup.... still mad about being tricked I was very grumpy with my doctor, who tells me the tone of my voice has changed. I shrugged like who cares I am too mad with him... then he tells me he loves my new voice that I sound like a young Katherine Hepburn who he loved. If that was meant to be flattering it was't and it didn't endear him to me as I always thought her voice to high pitched and squeaky. He who had seen through many trials and the birth of my children. Who btw guessed the sex of both my babies. Laughed as I left the consulting room.
I still remember the first time he laughed at me and oh, how hard he laughed when on my first consult with him I shyly asked for the contraceptive pill. And when I told him the dr I went to had turned me down and said his name my dr laughed even harder. Turned out the first dr was head of the Catholic family planning.....
Lessons I learnt while reflecting about an internet friendship......
Still on the MIL theme...
A friend posted a very funny blog post about her MIL's stomach which led me to thinking about my MIL. K and I have been together over 25yrs. And while the Inlaws live 3hrs away and we always prearrange our visit, So she knows we are coming I have never had a cooked meal there. Well, I have had meals but never home cooked. She has a beautiful home, every mod con in her designer kitchen and yet I have yet to see her use them, She must use them sometime surely, just not when we are there. I would love to know why this is.
The last visit when again she knew we were coming, MIL asked if we were staying for dinner HUH!!! It was already 5pm when we arrived. I was embarrassed but K said yes we would stay for dinner. So she goes to the phone to ring FIL who fortunately hadn't left his office to pick up some takeaway on the way home. After the call I said I hope we are not being too much trouble and I did get a reply along the lines of now with the 2 of them she does not cook as it is too much trouble.
Which left me thinking wouldn't having visitors be a good excuse to cook up a storm but apparently not.
Looking back on the 25 plus years I have known her and even when we have stayed there we have had to fend for ourselves.
Following on from my previous divorce stories....
Love is lovelier
The second time around
Just as wonderful
With both feet on the ground
It's that second time you hear
Your love song sung
Makes you think perhaps that love
Like youth, is wasted on the young
Love's more comfortable
The second time you fall
Like a friendly home
The second time you call
Who can say
What brought us to this miracle we've found
There are those who'd bet
Love comes but once and yet
I'm oh so glad we met
The second time around
A little relationship humor.....
She spent the first day packing her belongings into boxes, crates and suitcases. On the second day, she had the movers come and collect her things. On the third day, she sat down for the last time at their beautiful dining room table by candlelight, put on some soft background music, And feasted on a pound of shrimp, a jar of caviar, and a bottle of Chardonnay.
When she had finished, she went into each and every room and stuffed half-eaten shrimp shells dipped in caviar, into the hollow of the all of the curtain rods. She then cleaned up the kitchen and left.
When the husband returned with his new girlfriend, all was bliss for the first few days. Then slowly, the house began to smell. They tried everything, cleaning, mopping, and airing the place out. Vents were checked for dead rodents, and carpets were steam cleaned.
Air fresheners were hung everywhere. Exterminators were brought in to set off gas canisters, during which they had to move out for a few days, and in the end they even Paid to replace the expensive wool carpeting.
Nothing worked. People stopped coming over to visit. Repairmen Refused to work in the house. The maid quit. Finally, they could not take the stench any longer and decided to move. A month later, even though they had cut their price in half, they could not find a buyer for their stinky house.
Word got out, and eventually, even the local realtors refused to return their calls.
Finally, they had to borrow a huge sum of money from the bank to purchase a new place.
The ex-wife called the man, and asked how things were going. He told her the saga of the rotting house. She listened politely, and said that she missed her old home terribly, and would be willing to reduce her divorce settlement in exchange for getting the house back.
Knowing his ex-wife had no idea how bad the smell was, he agreed on a price that was about 1/10th of what the house had been worth, but only If she were to sign the papers that very day. She agreed, and within the hour his lawyers delivered the paperwork. A week later the man and his girlfriend stood smiling as they watched the moving company pack everything to take to their new home, including the curtain rods.
DON'T YOU JUST LOVE A HAPPY ENDING?
I threw out hubby's final year thesis ....
I didn't just throw this balled up box of papers into the bin but, I actually took it to the recycle centre... When I clean I really do a good job.
Where we lived at the time there was no garbage collection so every 2nd week when I had an RDO I would take our rubbish to the recycle centre.
I can still see the look of horror on my husband's face, as he calmly came out of his now neat and tidy study to ask me what happened to the box of papers!!
Oooops!! Poor hubby, he was devastated and tried to explain to me that it was balled up in frustration .... How was I to know I replied. After that he had me promise to never touch anything in his study and I never have. He vacs, dusts and straightens it himself. I think if he could he would padlock the door....
|Einstein Hubby's hero|
I have been experimenting with different versions of Scotch eggs and settled on this low carb version.....
Scotch eggs are traditionally deep fried with bread crumbs but neither is necessary and makes for an easy low carb conversion.