Vegetables and Cabbage soup and no little lambs for Suzie and you thought water boarding was torture. Wellllll...let me tell you what cabbage soup for breakfast feels like.! Actually...before you tell me about all the poor starving children in Africa I have to share a wee trick . For those of you who may want to attempt this at home. Consider eating the soup COLD. I doubled the recipe right from the start..I was NOT born yesterday. This is my third tour after all. I thought it most unfair to do the big boil up and permeate the house more than I needed to, so 7 days/nights worth were done in one foul swoop. Packaged up in big covered containers and then delegated positions in either fridge or freezer. When one needs the soup you can have hot/warm is ok and cold is just as palatable minus the smell. Welllll...smell is not quite as obvious. I started out by using bowls each time and now I just go to the fridge, pull out a container, sit at the table and ladle it down my throat. its all a matter of getting the job done now as opposed to enjoying fine cuisine. So...hope this tip makes it all a little more palatable for those about to start the cabbage marathon. I tell you what... its amazing how tantalizing and delicious a baked potato sounds on Day 2. Fancy looking forward to a frign potato. I am grateful. I AM grateful. I AM FRIGN GRATEFUL ,OK!
July 09, 2011
July 08, 2011
July 07, 2011
January 27, 2011
Down and Dirty in DTLA
Well there I was... pounding the grimy streets of the downtown wholesale area of LA, a fave haunt of The Kiwi's. With wits semi intact, the need to go meant I went from being wide-eyed prowess to being pinkie in distress. I no longer had the LA TIMES car-park to sneak into and enjoy their somewhat cleanish facilities. I knew that Charbucks was a WC free space...go figure. Then I remembered I had passed a McDisgusting on previous adventures through the alternate world of LA. I was going to say the alternate world of well heeled LA and then I remembered that this wee pot hole part of one of the most famous and infamous cities of America is also well to do in an underworld sort of way. I was winding and weaving my way through olde Persia where the bucks collected, very rarely go through the books to fatten the back pockets of the likes of Bel Air. As usual I digress and resort to a mad rave...ce la vie. So there I was, winding down the gulf, needing a pee so bad that I dare not stop to contemplate an alternative, McDisgusting here I come. The usual clientele were there, the bedraggled, the crusties, the zoot suited pimples of society and me. I kind of blended with the bedraggled. Tracy gets it...she will confirm my uncanny ability to mix in with the weirdest of weird and with a flick of the hair it is like I belong. I know there is another name for it but it eludes me right now. Sooooo...back to the story. I get to the front of the line, open the door, half expecting to see a scene out of LA LAW and ORDER. You know the ones...corpse with hole in forehead propped up against the bog, or corpse with eyes looking straight ahead with needle in dirty arm. Have I painted the picture of our big cityscape? Instead, the first of two cesspools had rubbish piled up and I was toooo scared to even look inside the bowl because I just knew it was blocked up with goodness knows what. I looked left then right then left again and settled on the dunny straight ahead. To cut a long story short, when a gal has to pee she could even pee under a tree but in LA fabric district there aren't any trees so Macs place has a monopoly, what's new.
I thought you might like to share my adventure and yes, at least there was toilet paper and no corpses. I must look into one of those female urinal things, I know I have seen them in the wrinkles magazines before today. Not a bad option when one travels on the sidewalks and freeways these days. If anyone has had experience using one of these devices can they please riddle me this...Can they be used with one hand and is it even legal? All that being said, relief being sweet... the treasure hunt continued, buttons and various other Gorgeous Wee Objects were added to the YanKiwi inventory. I think next time I shall just go to the supermarket and get myself a six pack of Depends and save myself the dispair of downtown dunny disgust.
January 13, 2011
January 10, 2011
January 07, 2011
"Gingernuts" no longer
Its a decision all mothers ought consider at least for a brief moment. We did and there's no going back. Our second to be snipped boy Rupert Weasley once known as "Gingernuts" is now aka "The Ginge". We were relieved of the ordeal to deball Freddy aka "The Riddler" as it was done for him at the cruel age of just one month. Sad but true, at least done. There are so many kittens being executed for just being a kitten that we had no doubt this was the most responsible decision and one to do promptly and without hesitation. I am not quite sure what goes on in Rupert's head as he has one of those faces. " Mummmmmm...do I have to?" You all know the look. The charming, slightly dippy eyed bad boy look.
Wellllll...he charmed Tracy. Never were we even looking at the redheads in the shelter. When we first went we both gravitated towards our fave cats from the past. I'm not sure what it was but 'The Ginge" had Tracy wrapped around his paw from first sight. Within a flick of the fingers and a brush-up against his wee jail cell he had the attention. I too was charmed and delighted by his memememememe antics and the rest is history. I will be happy never to go to the shelter again though I do know we rescued our boyz. We are not going to turn into eccentric old women with their cats who treat them like their children. They are now part of the family and so be it. They amuse us and are cute and loving. We will look after them like any mother and in many cases 100 times better. No college fees needed here. The odd Christmas news letter may go out cause God knows we have to put up with our friends and rellies showing off their offspring. Plenty of photos and videos will be taken to record the joy of kitten chaos moving through their delinquent teenage years to transform into cute cuddly cats. Long may each and every moment last! Here's to their good health and safety as they use up all of their nine lives. Its nice to be a mum again.
January 05, 2011
June 03, 2009
Teddy bear's picnic
Have I ever shared that The Kiwi has a rock fetish? Stuff the common rice crispies, The ROCKS have to speak to The Kiwi before she will even flex her aging muscles to pick them up. That factoid said, I'll continue my story. Yesterday we packed up "FLICK" our trusted fire engine red jeep and drove off into the mountains to our beloved Forest Falls, the home of many a rock slide, ensures the valley is littered with rocks, choc of granite, minerals of pink and stripes of green. I am sure there is one with the complete outline of the Virgin Mary somewhere out there, however The Kiwi is leaving that for one lucky rock loving Catholic. Before I go on, Ranger Bob, actually it was Ranger Sheila, at some time said " There's plenty of them, isn't there?" when we asked if we may take some for our garden. That being said, did set a precedent in The Kiwi's mind. It gave universal permission to cull the rocks and bring a little bit of the mountain range back to our Riverside garden. Whilst we know the old adage of leave nothing behind but footprints in the sand, yadda yadda yadda and take nothing but sweet memories or however it goes, we decided it was OK. The Yank and The Kiwi are very much nature conservationist types of folks and dammit we were going to at least have the rocks to prove it. OK...
Hours passed blissfully in the mountain range. A rainbow cloud like no other ever seen by The Kiwi appeared not long after arrival. The air was fresh and crisp. It was going to be a good day. The Yank was breathing with two nostrils and the sun was shining minus the burn. We took our Greek pal Elli along. We had long been meaning to go together and had never quite been able to gel on a time to suit us all. If Elli were here with me as I write, she would tell you she had a ball. She had never been to the mountains here in CA. She too is a lover of rocks and is now herself in PIG HEAVEN. With the learned wisdom of The Yank and The Kiwi we had two vehicles at the falls = more rocks. We snacked with the squirrels and scrub jays then donned gloves and heavy duty footwear suitable for such an adventure then stepped forth each in our own direction, wherever the rocks were calling. Hours later, excitement still oozing we decided to call it a day and drive around the perimeter on the lookout for the ONE last BIG rock each. The piece de résistance, Mama rock, THE rock, whatever you want to call it. We parked in a small space, bum facing the rock field for ease of loading and went off we went, eyes peeled for the tallest, thinnest most gorgeous rock with attitude that could be carried by the now exhausted gals. THEN...out of nowhere came the words. "BEAR, BBBBEAR BBEAR" The Kiwi looked around her and yelled "WHERE, WHERE, WHERE?"
Thinking The Yank was playing a prank, as she has been known to do, The Kiwi's usual, rapid response was somewhat quelled, pondering the validity of The Yanks words. Still hearing "BEAR, BBBBEAR,BBEAR" did get The Kiwi looking around and thinking "Its all very well for you up there to call out, Indeed, YOU must be looking directly at said bear." The Kiwi couldn't see no bear from where she was and hopefully the bear couldn't see The Kiwi. So The Kiwi did what The Kiwi hates to do... She ended up running, in a Kiwi sort of way, towards the excited voice of The Yank and Elli. ANDDD...sure as eggs are eggs, there was da bear. Granted it was a young bear, nevertheless, it was a bear, claws and all, guesstimation of age, around 2yrs. Of course The Kiwi had to get closer, whilst mindful of a potential mama bear lurking. One must always practice commonsense when out in the wildness. "NO, get closer Kiwi" said the crispie within. "CLOSER, It's just a baby, you big girls blouse." The voices were loud and clear. "ITS A BEARRR!" said The Yank. "SOOOO?!" said The Kiwi. The desire to get just that bit closer and maybe touch it's fur gave me that overpowering uncontrollable urge that I can only imagine heroin addicts must experience. Then, The Kiwi's brain age finally caught up with her and she stopped. Shared a moment with the bear, with a respectable 20' distance between them. The bear and The Kiwi sniffed the air searching for a whiff of each other, licked their lips, posed for The Yank and then parted ways. The tune of "Teddy Bears Picnic" filled the valley floor and was THE singalong song on the trip home. Another memorable adventure shared by The Yank and The Kiwi and their sidekick Elli. Now...what to do with all the rocks and who is going to unload them all?
May 30, 2009
The SIX eyed monster
The day started out much the same except for two things. I have the Yank home 24/7 as The Times chose to save her from a death worse than misery itself by cutting the ties. First let me go back a step in time. As part as their pathetic attempt to keep slum landlord Sam Zells greedy aquisition of The Time afloat, the Chicago thugs...opps.did I say that? Ok...thumbscrewers came in and changed the healthcare package, part of their costcutting effort. Ho Hum. NOW...what does that mean? I can hear you say. It MEANT that the WORKERS of the once prestigeous LA Times now have a healthcare plan akin to a third world country. BUT...it cost the workers the same. Just more co pay and crappier people to deal with. NOW...I am writing this a little late but whats new lol. Its changed once again and we now currently have NO healthcare but that's not the story. My blurb is about eyes and the pariphenalia that must adorn them as we age.
The Yank and The Kiwi have been going to 20/20 vision for about 6 or so year. We love the Doc and we love Jennifer the ever so patient meticulous optometrist a gal could wish for. We loved our yearly visits. We trust them both with our eyeballs. When the healthcare package went to the dogs we decided to stay with Dr Everett as she knows our eyes inside out. She marvels at my tortured veins and is ever so grateful we haven't pulled apart any of her machines looking for interesting adornments to play with. Theres a real trust between us, something that is sorely lacking with most other medical professionals in our lives currently.
We had to go elsewhere to get our perscription filled and there the horror began, we couldn't take our Jennifer with us. A list in hand we started at the closest joint. ICK and the Jennifer wannabee was horrid. Nothing worthy of adorning our eyes and the wee suitcase holding the specs for the peasant class looked like something from the backstreets ofsome eastern bloc reject pile. Did I mention the PLAN Sam Zell had given the LA Times staff was a peasant plan? That's irrelevant now but I had to mention it for the story's sake.
Ok...onward and upward. OFF to Sams Club and Walmart... DOUBLE ICK...there was some HOSPITAL eye place somewhere in there but I threw a paddy and didn't want to even have anything to do with it. I missed my Jennifer! Hours and fign hours later we ended up at another joint, it looked promising, more selection, laughter and a gal that did her best to be our NEW Jennifer. The dreaded suitcase came out. Its a peasant thing. The suitcase and the peasant plan are one and the same, joined at the hinge. We both found glasses on the wall and decided on those. Hours had passed, we both felt a sense of loss . Its a good thing though. Its very much a case of "tis better to have loved and to have hold then never loved at all." NOT to freak Jennifer out at all lol but we have her in our life and She comes to our "Art In The Yard " Do's and sometime we will all go for Thai together at our fave Thai joint. The Yank and The Kiwi appreciate the professional friendly treatment 20/20 vision has bestowed on them over the years and even though The Kiwi must now wear two different pairs of glasses for different tasks no personal grudge is held.
