makar [ˈmækər]
n (Literature / Poetry) Scot a creative artist, esp a poet
[a Scot variant of maker]

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Lemon and Lime time again!

These biscuits are too easy and very, very moreish.

Lemon and Lime biscuits


* 175 g plain flour

* 1 lemon, grated zest

* 1 lime, grated zest

* 110 g soft butter

* 50 g sugar


1. Preheat the oven to 180C/ gas 4.

2. Put the flour and lemon rind into a mixing bowl and rub in the soft butter.

3. Add the caster sugar and bring the whole mixture together to form a stiff dough. Do not add any water, however tempting.

4. Roll out the dough to about 1/2 cm thickness and cut into shapes with a cutter.

5. Place on a baking tray and cook in the oven for 6-10 minutes until pale golden.

6. Remove from the oven and cool on a wire rack.

Friday, May 27, 2011

{this moment}

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

Thursday, May 26, 2011

I've lost my voice, or rather it's still there (just), but it doesn't sound like mine: all croaky and husky and completely ridiculous! Anyway, it's made me aware of just how much I talk all day. Whether it's explaining things to my children, or chatting away to other mothers, I never seem to stop! I guess I've always been a big talker - I have my mother to blame for that - but I remember finding it quite difficult to think of things to talk about to my baby. Another woman in my mums' group, who was pretty reserved and very quiet, was really worried about her inability to chat away to her little one. She asked the child health nurse, in all seriousness, whether she could just have talk-radio playing all day instead. Would her baby girl pick up language in that way? Well, she found books were the answer, as I have done. If you can't bring yourself to prattle away about every little thing you do all day (I actually can do this now, but I feel a bit crazy), then reading books to your baby offers a great way to engage with them and inspire further "conversation". When they do finally start talking back to you, and you realise how much they have been absorbing, all those one-sided exchanges no longer seem in any way silly or pointless. This evening, I croaked my way through a fairy-tale, all the while wondering if it was entirely appropriate bedtime reading for a 3 year old, and then found myself explaining that while people in books are often either good or bad, in real life things aren't so simple. Most people are good, I found myself saying, but sometimes they do bad things.... I guess what I'm getting at, is that lately reading stories to my girl is not only about telling her a tale; it's explaining all manner of other things about the world to her. She no longer sits quietly, passively absorbing it; now, she is asking questions, picking apart the stories, trying to really understand and figure it all out. We've come a long way from the days when I reached for a book because I couldn't think of anything else to say. A book is the beginning of a conversation, which is of course, how it should be. I only hope my voice returns before tomorrow's story-time.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

I attempted to creep out of my little girl's room tonight before she was completely asleep (she'd been asking questions for about 40 minutes and I was hungry), only to be met by howls of protest, as she sobbed: "It's just that I love you so much. I can't bear to be apart." Wow, where does she get this stuff from? We don't have a television (just a stack of scratched Playschool DVDs and my laptop), so I can't blame the soap operas. They really are such little sponges and I guess as they get more and more independent, it's harder and harder to trace all that influences them. There have been all manner of new, rather strange expressions after her day at Kindy, not all of them quite so endearing. One thing's for sure, Little Miss has been a drama queen since the day she was born and, unfortunately, I know exactly where that came from...

Monday, May 16, 2011

Monday morning is usually writing-time for me. I get about 3 hours to disappear into the lives of my characters and sustain myself for the week ahead. It gives me some creative outlet, stops me from going cuckoo, and makes me a better mum. Not this week though because my babysitter is otherwise engaged. Instead, after a spot of grocery shopping and a splurge in the Op-Shop (Does $22 count as a splurge?), I sat in the sun, while the little rascal played in the sandpit, and flicked through a magazine - a rather more superficial way of losing yourself in other people's lives. Anyway, I fell in lust with this amazing warehouse apartment, complete with indoor trampoline and Tyre-swing for the kids. Ever since I saw the film Ghost, I've had this fantasy about living in a warehouse. While everyone else in the world remembers that movie for the scene at the potter's wheel, I have never forgotten the moment when they first glimpse their apartment: the ceiling soars above them and the sunbeams illuminate clouds of dust. It is, in short, "a space". So all of a sudden, I'm thinking wouldn't it be great to live in the city, in a place like this. We'd be so close to all those inspiring museums and galleries, fabulous places to eat and shop, the best schools and universities, so much culture, all on our doorstep... And then I remember the crowds, the grime, the hurry, and what actually happens in the film, Ghost. Hmm, maybe suburbia's not so bad after all: I'm sitting by a lemon tree, I can hear the chooks next door, the air is clean. Yep, my reality is pretty sweet, with or without my writing-time.

Friday, May 6, 2011

{this moment}

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

Inspired by Soulemama

Thursday, May 5, 2011

My daughter is a competitive mother: "my baby sleeps all nights"; "my baby is always good, she's never a rascal like yours"; "my baby likes to eat lots of food"; "my baby never eats crayons"; "when I put my baby in her bed, I say night, night, and she goes straight to sleep". It would appear that baby doll is the perfect baby. To begin with, I found this all very amusing, and then I started to think about why we were having these slightly surreal conversations, and it occurred to me that this is what we (mums) must sound like to her: constantly weighing up (sometimes quite literally) our children against one another. How awful that this is what she thinks it means to be a mum! How awful still that there is a lot of accuracy in her observation. We do spend a great deal of time comparing and contrasting. To some degree, I guess this is entirely natural, but I do wonder how productive it is. As a child health nurse, once said to me, "we are all so different, why do we expect our babies to be the same?" As for baby doll? Well, she is very placid and well-behaved, but I have noticed that there are a few mile stones she's not met, and for a two-year old, she still doesn't have very much hair...
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...