Favourite things Friday

My Family.
They rock. They are supportive. They are fun. They are zany. They are loving and caring and...

My Friends.
They rock. They are supportive. They are fun. They are zany. They are loving and caring and...

Love you guys.

Merry New Year.

Cat-urday: Christmas!

And this is why my Christmases have been mostly tree-less for the last 14 years.

Friday favs... Smith & Caughey Christmas

I love the fact they go all-out. I love the windows. And I really, really loved the ham Christmas lunch I had a couple of days ago with the Boss - the roast potatoes were amazing.

Thoughts for a Thursday... dress dilemmas

Warning: very boring for guys... so don't bother reading on. Promise.

On Saturday I was on a mission to find a dress for Christmas Day. Hey, if the little guys can have new clothes for the day, don't see why I can't.

Anyway - the shop was open for less than an hour when I eventually left with one dress I'm 90% happy with. Leaving a pile of 10+ dresses that didn't cut the mustard. Said dress made the cut, but only with the addition of a t-shirt and shrug - which will not be worn at the same time).

I watch  things like Gok and Trinny & Susannah. I know from their shows - Gok in particular - that mine is the body shape people want (in theory - tho' one website told me I was plank-shaped. Thanks. Heaps.). This, however, did not stop the disaster / dilemma of the trying on.

I have a shape (albeit plank), which means dresses with lots of padding don't work. Squished-mono-breast is not the look I'm going for, in general. It also means support is needed. So, strapless can be a problem. And so can straps. I'd prefer wider straps, thanks, to at least attempt to cover the bra straps. Oh, and so halter-necks are out, too, for that reason. So, too, plunging necklines. I like my clothes to do double-duty: work and not-work. Cleavage may be great, but so not suitable in my work place! A hint, yep. Plunging - that would be a hell no.

It is difficult to be a 1950s-shaped person in a 1960s/70s styled fashion world. Sigh.

Hence the dilemma.  

I like dresses. I like the fact that on days like Christmas, when you're eating a lot, there's no restrictive waistband to make you uncomfortable.

But, again, the dilemma - the shape. I'm a couple of different 'sizes' in my one size. So, finding a dress that suits and is - for me - one-size-fits-all is a struggle. (Not just dresses, really - skirts / trousers also a problem. Yay for hipster styles, I say!) Surely I'm not the only one with such issues.

Anyway - I'm sure there will be photos so you can see how well I did.

Cat-urday: the truth

So - this is how they do it. There's a manual!





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Friday fandom... OMG!!! EPIC

Thought for a Thursday... cousinly love

I'm pretty close to my cousin Jod - in age and emotionally. We're only two weeks apart - I'm older, but as Jod like to point out, she was conceived before me. And she got to go home from hospital first. Oh, and walked first, too. She did a lot of things first.

When we were little, we spent a lot of time together - our families were close. But, as both sets of parents divorced - we went with the unrelated parent. She with her mother, and me with my father. Although we shared a set of grandparents (my mother's parents, and her father's parents), we didn't see each other for years.

Then, one day - completely out of the blue - I received a letter from her. In it was a ticket to the local ice-skating rink. She thought it would be useful for me, as she lived on the other side of the city. 

From that simple act - I don't know how brave it was to write and hope - we came back together. Every school holiday we spent time together, alternating houses. 

As she moved around, we kept in touch by letters.

Then, she moved back to Auckland. And, somehow, we stopped writing and didn't really start phoning. But, still, the closeness was there. Now there's email, facebook, blogs and text. And we just pick up where we left off.

And, this is the true meaning of closeness - no matter the distance, nor the differences in philosophies - we are together. 

I love you lots Jod!

with my big sisters in 1972

1974

1984

1987

 

1996



2001

2010

Cat-urday: aint that the truth

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Cat-urday: life with the Mollster

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Thought for a Thursday

Ain't this the truth...



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Cat-urday: somedays

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Reading history

For those who don't know - I'm on Good Reads, and take part in challenges - go Romance Readers Challenge! 

Anyhoo, a while ago - one of the challenges was to read a book from each year you've been alive. I thought I'd share my list:

A life-time of books:
Reading time allowed: May 2009 to November 2010. Finished 17 July 2010.
I tried to re-read books I owned, as I thought it was a more true reflection of my reading life than reading something new to me.


1971 - Dragonquest by Anne McCaffrey. 21 Dec 2009. Re-read & own.
1972 - The Summer Book by Tove Jansson. 15 July 2010.
1973 - To Ride Pegasus by Anne McCaffrey. 20 Sept 2009. Re-read & own.
1974 - Mister God, this Is Anna by Fynn. 2 May 2010. Re-read & own.
1975 - The Machine-Gunners by Robert Westall. 27 March 2010.
1976 - Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less by Jeffrey Archer. 13 Nov 2009. Re-read & own.
1977 - Illusions by Richard Bach. 22 Sept 2009. Re-read & own.
1978 - Beauty: A Retelling of the Story of Beauty and the Beast by Robin McKinley. 24 May 2009. Re-read & own.
1979 - Under the Mountain by Maurice Gee. 8 Aug 2009. Re-read.
1980 - The Beginning Place by Ursula K. Le Guin. 12 Aug 2009. Re-read.
1981 - Good Night, Mr. Tom by Michelle Magorian. 9 Sept 2009. Re-read & own.
1982 - The Blue Sword by Robin McKinley. 6 June 2009. Re-read & own.
1983 - Alanna: The First Adventure by Tamora Pierce. 14 May 2009. Re-read & own.
1984 - The Changeover by Margaret Mahy. 19 June 2009. Re-read & own.
1985 - The Ruby in the Smoke by Philip Pullman. 23 Sept 2009. Re-read & own.
1986 - To Love and to Conquer by Joyce Verrette. 13 Nov 2009. This is the pub date of the UK edition - which had no info re the US edition - which I've just discovered was 1984. Sorry... So, also read Jesse's Lady by Veronica Sattler. 12 January 2010. Both of these are re-read and owns - owning, in that I inherited them from my sister.
1987 - The League of Night and Fog by David Morrell. 20 Sept 2009. Re-read & own.
1988 - The Gate to Women's Country by Sherri S Tepper. 14 Aug 2009. Re-read & own.
1989 - The Silver Pigs by Lindsey Davis. 23 Aug 2009. Re-read & own.
1990 - Good Omens by Terry Pratchett & Neil Gaiman. 14 July 2009. Re-read & own.
1991 - The Juniper Game Sherryl Jordan. 2 July 2009. Re-read & own.
1992 - In Good Time by Muriel Jensen. 1 January 2010. Re-read & own - another inherited book.
1993 - Deerskin by Robin McKinley. 9 Nov 2009. Re-read.
1994 - The Hidden City by David Eddings. 15 Sept 2009. Re-read & own.
1995 - Wish And a Kiss by Margaret St George. 17 Sept 2009. Re-read & own.
1996 - The Thief by Megan Whalen Turner. 1 June 2009. Re-read & own.
1997 - Magician's Ward by Patricia C. Wrede. 19 Nov 2009. Re-read & own.
1998 - The Surgeon of Crowthorne by Simon Winchester. 29 December 2009. Re-read & own.
1999 - The Tower and the Hive by Anne McCaffrey. 19 Aug 2009. Re-read & own.
2000 - The Redemption of Althalus by David & Leigh Eddings. 4 Sept 2009. Re-read & own.
2001 - Living With Crazy Buttocks by Kaz Cooke. 28 December 2009. Re-read & own.
2002 - Lady Knight by Tamora Pierce. 14 Sept 2009. Re-read & own.
2003 - Sunshine by Robin McKinley. 17 March 2010. Re-read & own.
2004 - Cross Tides by Lorraine Orman. 30 Oct 2009. Re-read & own.
2005 - Across the Wall: A Tale of the Abhorsen and Other Stories by Garth Nix. 4 Aug 2009. Re-read & own.
2006 - The Mislaid Magician or Ten Years After: Being the Private Correspondence Between Two Prominent Families Regarding a Scandal Touching the Highest Levels of Government and the Security of the Realm by Patricia C. Wrede & Caroline Stevermer. 10 January 2010.  Re-read & own.
2007 - Time of the Eagle by Sherryl Jordan. 15 June 2010. Re-read.
2008 - Chalice by Robin McKinley. 20 Oct 2009. Re-read.
2009 - Bloodhound by Tamora Pierce. 4 July 2009. Own.
2010 - Archangel's Kiss by Nalini Singh. 8 March 2010.

Thoughts for a Thursday... little things

And, probably not the little things you're thinking of.

I'm thinking little things called prepositions.

While studying@ old dead languages (Old English & Old Norse)* I discovered that their prepositions were quite fluid. One little preposition could mean at or on or by, etc...

And that really screws with your concept of the action.

Consider these shoes...

Now, the very pretty one on the left is one of the pair I was wearing AT work yesterday. While the one of the right - plain, sensible - is one of the pair I was wearing TO and FROM work. See - makes sense.

When translating some saga or other - we needed the help of our lecturer to picture the scene. Well, it's not every day you find out that cows often grazed ON the roof of a house#.

So, I say - take care of those little prepositions and enjoy the knowledge they provide in those few letters.

@ I say 'studied' - not learned. Trust me, did enough to pass - and forgotten most of it now. I didn't even consider any living language.
* I also studied Latin - but it didn't seem to have the same problem with prepositions - or I don't remember it.
# It's like the first thing we translated... about the birth of Sleipnir, Odin's horse, in the Gylfaginning - when it says about Loki: he bore a foal. It was grey and had eight legs. Come on, that's pretty odd, and makes you question your skills!

Garden update

Here you go - photos of the 'garden'...

 

Got any bread?

Well, yes, actually I do...

Inspired by the new Simon & Alison Holst New Zealand bread book - which I bought - I've been making my own bread. The tortilla recipe is from my edition of good-old Edmonds... And, I have no photos of the kumara and cumin bread. That rocks! Tonight - pizza! Last time (the first time) I made it, from the time I gathered the ingredients, to putting my empty plate on the sink - 45 minutes. Not bad, if I do say so myself.

 

Itty-bitty no-knead rolls

 

Homemade tortillas -
oh, with my own lettuce, too!

 

Olive & herb bread -
crispy, not burnt!, crust

  

Hamburger buns

First loaf of kneaded bread

 

Homemade pizza



Cat-urday: ad-land

This, may I say, has NEVER EVER been the Moll-ster. She has - once, I think - interferred with my knitting. Never played with balls of wool. And, quite frankly, I don't think seeing something raining down outside would disrupt her from her contemplation of life. However, it is a really cute ad.

Sock-isfaction

Done! All the Christmas socks I planned - and more - are completed. And, the baby shower socks - 4 different sizes, so future baby's parents are prepared. And, the socks I entered into a WI competition in October (which will do double duty as eldest sis' birthday present in July)... So - onto next-sister-up's presents...

I've made changes to my pattern - all updated on the patterns page of this blog. You can email me if you want the new version. It has two extra baby sizes. Friends and family were texted to measure their babies' feet...

So - a couple of photos - the pile of socks - and the big-and-the-small of it! In the pile, the competition socks are missing.

That means - only two Christmas presents to buy! Yay... However, I refuse to 'wrap' the presents until December. With the socks, I'm planning on tying them together with pretty ribbon. I try not to wrap presents.

Thoughts for a Thursday... hands

What is it about hands that fascinate me?

Hands, quite literally, hold our pasts and our futures.
Hands create our present.
Hands offer gifts, and hold our hearts.
Hands offer comfort and support. And a Gibbs-style hit up the backside of your head when you need it.

I spent hours massaging lotion in Grandad's and Dad's hands as they were dying. It's amazing how dry dying people's hands get.
Their years of work - labour - were visible in their hands.

I remember the thrill of Dad discovering he had fingerprints again. To explain - years of working with acids, and stone (he was a stone mason / tiler), had worn his fingerprints off. (And the hairs on his knees - many hours spent kneeling on job sites). It took months after he retired for these normal, everyday, signifiers of identity to return.

Hands sustain us. They make our food - our clothing - the comforts of our lives. Whether they belong to a factory worker many miles away - or our own hands.

As I use my hands to create this year's batch of Christmas gifts - handknitted socks - I feel that I offer my love and care to the recipients in each stitch my hands create.

Hands. Take care of them. Love them. And acknowledge all the hard work they do, every day, without us really noticing.

Cat-urday: why yes...

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They do...

Friday fandom

'Nuff said...




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Thoughts for Thursday: Rememberance Day

Yes, today is Remembrance Day. Yet, how many New Zealander's remember that this day is important.

We're all behind ANZAC Day - and so we damn well should be! - but there is also something significane in the acknowledgement of Remembrance Day.

On ANZAC Day, we remember and acknowledge the New Zealanders and Australians who have fought on our behalves across the years - whether we agree with the reasons behind the conflict or not - their courage and willingness to sacrifice their lives needs acknowledging. As a friend's grandmother once said about the returned World War Two vets she knew - none of the boys I knew came home. Yes, men looking much like them, and with their names, returned. But whatever essence of 'boy-ness' or innocence that left NZ with them - stayed overseas.

But - Remembrance Day. This day asks us to think about those lost in war across the world. Not just our own fallen.

When I grew up, the school bell would sound just before 11am, and we were asked to observe the traditional two minutes of silence.

Today - now - I will be doing so. Yes, I know no one else will know, but I will.

To soldiers - to those affected by war - past and present - here and overseas - I acknowledge and reflect upon your courage. I hope for your healing.

Kia kaha. Arohanui.

Review it: An old favourite

These Old Shades by Georgette Heyer


My rating: 5 of 5 stars




Sparkling dialogue - a hero just as bad as he should be - a heroine who can actually stand on her own feet (even if she's only 19). The Duke of Avon (aka Satanas) buys a page - Leon - who is really Leonie, with a sordid family history. Avon has an interesting history of his own, including fighting in the '45 rebellion.


Heyer is brilliant - others just try to reach her level. I'm pretty sure I read a Barbara Cartland take-off, but that would have been over 20 years ago... so hard to remember!






additional review: November 2010:


There's something about re-reading an old favourite. It's like changing into your old snuggly slippers and dressing gown. You know they're a bit shabby, a bit worn down, but you - without being aware of it really - skip over the holes and instead revel in the comfort they provide.


So it is with These Old Shades. I'd hate to think how many times I've read this - which was first published in 1926.


I adore Avon, the hero. He has the perfect mix of tenderness and suppressed violence - and a shady past. He is probably whom I base all romance heroes upon.


Leonie, the heroine, is a wonderful mixture of innocence, wisdom and world-weariness.


I can see how this May and December romance works. Avon is in his 40s, Leonie is 19. They have time to develop a real relationship, without any romantic overtones, and learn to appreciate each other as people - pretty much warts and all.


Leonie's development, growth and change from mischievous page boy to irrepressible young lady, is also believable, within the world developed.


Avon is a force of nature - unwielding and secretive - so it is difficult to read him at times - that is, to get inside his head.


Ah, the relationship between Avon and Leonie. Trust, honesty, respect, adoration, acceptance and freedom between them. One of the best lines ever is from Leonie: I would so much rather be the last woman than the first. Yes they change, all do in relationships - but they remain themselves. In Devil's Cub, the story of their son, Leonie is a well-established, middle-aged duchess, and Avon is heading towards elderly (he'd be in his 60s I suppose - and that's probably why I don't re-read this one. My Avon is in his prime, and that's how he'll stay, thank you very much!). However, Leonie is irrepressible and forthright - still with that touch of Leon, the page. Avon remains inscrutable.


The supporting cast are all well-drawn and have sustained personalities. There are Avon's siblings - Fanny (who is very silly - well, focused on fashion and society - believable for the times) and Rupert - a gadabout young man. And the very sober Edward Marling, Fanny's husband, Hugh Davenant and Tony Merivale - friends of the family. The pig-person, or baddie, is also believable within this world.


There is mystery - the dénouement and details are somewhat foreshadowed - which is well-handled, as you'd hope from someone who also wrote mysteries!


The historical detail is convincing - Heyer is renown for her research and accuracy.


The dialogue moves the action forward and gives glimpses into the characters' thoughts and personalities.


There is no sex - one kiss, very briefly mentioned and interrupted. There is some violence - again, detailed just enough so you know what has happened (no matter how bloodthirsty Leonie is!). There are lots of parties and LOTS of descriptions of clothing.


Oh, and you might struggle with the French expressions scattered throughout. I just skip what I don't understand. Mind you, I'l still trying to figure out what Pon Rep might be an abbreviation of - and that's English! Readers in the 1920s obviously were bilingual!


All of this is wonderful - in my eyes, at least. And I'm not alone - it's still in print and still read and enjoyed.


Now - the holes. For me, there's only really one - and it's major. It's the old 'nature versus nurture' debate. (My years studying anthropology come to the fore now.) Leonie's genetic heritage is obvious to all - she must be well-born. Helpfully, some of her behaviour and mannerisms - and education - are explained by the years she was taught by, and live with, the village priest - an aristocrat. The vicomte is a clod and all he wants is a farm, although raised in society and frequent attendant at Versailles.


But, if you accept this premise - that nature is paramount - then enjoy the read.






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What I did on my vacation

Spent too much money...
Read too few books... [ie, had PILES - literally - to read, and have read ONE]
Knitted socks
Went to doctor for skin cancer check - all good
Checked and I don't have any signs of glaucoma or catarachs [however the hell you spell it]
Slept in and rested lots
Made 2 - yes TWO - lots of bread. One no-knead, one full-on kneaded. Photos coming later.
Made my own tortillas for tacos. Is that obsessive?
Ignored technology quite a lot - hence not visiting anything - including my blog.
And now - tonight is sports nights. League test and ABs v Wallabies. Bliss...
Signing off now, and will be back when back to work on Tuesday.

Cat-urday: x-files kitty!

Well - that explains a lot!


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Reminds me of Tooms!

Fun on a Friday: review time

Anyhoo... I posted this review on a discussion / challenge in Good reads - but thought I'd share it here. Haven't reviewed anything in AGES!

Three times a bride
An anthology. So, three novellas - three 'forced' weddings. As always with anthologies, a bit rocky.
First up: 'Fancy free' by Catherine Anderson.
Western. She wears glasses, but was rejected because of them, so doesn't wear them in public - hence, embroils the wrong brother in her revenge plot. Found the next morning in a compromising position IN THE CHURCH! How convenient, they could just get married straight away... And, seeing as hero was thinking about getting hog-tied anyhoo (those brothers of his are all running wild and having nightmares) the Father with gun, *seriously - pointed AT HIS HEAD* (sorry, I think it was a pistol, not a shotgun) - he goes through with wedding. Introduce New Bride and all is perfect... until aunt arrives... blah, blah. Yep, predictable. 3 stars.... ok, but not overwhelming.

Followed by 'The mad earl's bride' by Loretta Chase.
He's just like his mother - over-sexed and headachy. So, convinced he's going to die at any moment, he lives recklessly in the wilds of Yorkshire (crap! I think it's Yorkshire)... anyhoo, moving on. Then calamity! He becomes the earl - thanks too close-to-impossible-plot-device... Enter, even whose than a blue-stocking, but *shock horror* an EDUCATED woman who wants to be a doctor, but those mean nasty men won't let her. That's ok - she's found a dying man to marry (and breed with, quickly you understand - thank goodness her family are so fertile) and leave her his fortune so she can build her hospital and run it without those pesky men interfering. Gotta love those frizzy-redheads... That said - I really liked her! 3.5 stars - nearly 4.

Last cab... 'Scandal's bride' by Samantha James.
How sad. Her father is forcing her to marry - three seasons you know. To stop his evilness, she finds the first man she doesn't already know and KISSES him in public. Well, on the balcony, just as her friend appears in a pre-arranged set-up. Father is there, tho! No escape!! It's marriage for sure. Right then. Well, an hour or so later. THEN... no consumation. THEN... misunderstanding... THEN... togetherness... THEN... misunderstanding... THEN... happy ever after. Ho hum 3 stars.
So - overall, an OK read. 3 stars. Right for those brain-dead times when you need the words to wash over your eyeballs, but don't actually require much in the way of brain cells to comprehend the meaning.

Oh... discussion questions!
Did the story & characters sound realistic? Um... that would be a NO.
Could you relate to any of the characters or certain things that happened in the story? If so, can you share an example? Frizzy-red head with an education? One who basically speaks in tongues when sharing her knowledge. Yep. That would be me. Well, sorta wavy, and sorta auburn. And, the whole speaking-in-tongue things, I've really cut down on that. Blank looks aren't always funny. (Sometimes they're hilarious).
There you go - is that enough of a review for you all?

Thoughts for a Thursday... Treasure

I'm on a bit of a Joy Cowley binge at the mo.
As part of it, I've just picked up her 3 books of reflections - now, those who know me, know I'm not religious. Well, not organised pigeon-holed religious. I come from a family of questioners, from whom I have inherited a great faith, but one that isn't bound in any Faith. I hope you understand the distinction. It does mean that I pick up, magpie-like, bits and pieces of many different belief systems and appreciate them.
While skimming through Psalms for the road I found many poems which resonated with me. One of which I'd like to share today.
It made me think of conversations I had at the last working bee up north. Ok, I'm not a gardener - so have to ask others if something is a weed or not. Somewhere I heard a definition of a weed as a plant that's growing where you don't want it to - so, it could mean lettuces among your roses. Now, Dad had me well trained (and the others probably, too!) - so we appreciated 'weeds' - dandelions, buttercups, daisies - and I was always sad when Dad mowed the back yard. It was much cooler as a jungle. And provided a softer landing if you were kamikaze-ing off the swing.  It was also a complete pain to mow. Little Monkey is currently growing up in a backyard similar to this - so I've been trying to convince her mother that a little bit of jungle is a good thing for a growing child.
May we all see treasure in 'weeds' - and may all our weeds become treasure. We just need to change our definitions and our viewpoints. And, may we not label others' treasures as weeds.
After this long preamble, I offer Joy Cowley's words - far more eloquent than mine.

Treasure
One fine morning, the child stood on a lawn
covered with daisies and dandelions,
and hardly dared breathe for beauty.
The grass was thick around her ankles and in it,
as far as she could see, were jewels laid out
on spring-green velvet.
Each daisy was a perfect yellow cushion
edged with white petals, some blush tinted.
Every dandelion was made from sunshine,
and some had on their faces, wet diamonds
that shivered and glittered when they rolled
onto the child's fingeres.
She took a bunch of this perfect treasure
into her father and he admired every flower,
his eyes growing soft with memory.
Together, they put them in a glass
on the kitchen window sill which instantly
became a shrine to beauty.
Later that day, someone said, "Nice lawn.
It's a pity there are so many weeds in it.
I have a spray that'll get rid of them."
At that moment, the child learned
that when a treasure is judged a weed
it has no value at all.

Who'd have thunk!

What Models Read

Nostalia

Today is the day - the anniversary of the last nightly show of this little number...

Music on a Monday: cover head-to-head #3

Two fabulous voices and one fabulous song... so hard to choose! Sorry for the quality of the vids!

Cat-urday: that explains it

So, this is why the Moll-ster runs from children...



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