This is the cabin table centrepiece at the moment. I ran out of real-life-guest-people to show, and I love it too much. Lilly pillies and parsley seed heads. The last of my horticulture assignments are due today, and then oh, the cookbooks I will read. Then I’m going to India! And back just in time for Christmas.
I’m going on a very last minute trip to India - which is awesome and exciting. I’m leaving in about two weeks, so I’m rushing to get it all together. Currently wading through the online visa application. EXTREME HANDSOMENESS. You won’t even be able to look at this application for all the handsome.
On my FB, this woman I used to work with posted something last night, like “Oh god, nightmare! Trapped on a broken down train at xxxxx” (the place I grew up in/lived for 25 years, mostly made up of Middle Eastern and African migrants and refugees.) And all the comments were like “omg are you okay” and someone was even like “GHASTLY”. And I understood instinctively that all the horrified comments were not just talking about the train, they were talking about xxxxx. And then the OP was like “don’t worry! I escaped and am heading back to the civilised world of xyz” (trendy expensive inner-city suburb where she lives.) Actually used the word “civilised”. Lots of class feels. The OP and commenters are all sociology professors and it’s like really? Really? I don’t pretend it’s the peachiest place on earth, there’s a lot of poverty and dysfunction, but check your fucking shit, you know?
Farah just posted the best accent challenge. It sounds like a very lovely poem: Cosmos! Dragon! Thunderstorm! Antarctica! Striptease! Here is mine.
Epic homemade pasta success on the weekend! I’ve been wanting to try making orecchiette (“little ears”) for ages - they’re like little shells, and they don’t need a pasta machine or any fancy equipment. It was so much better than I expected! I served them with a simple arrabbiata sauce, and basil. The difference between this and store-bought dried pasta was incredible - we all realised we’ve never actually had pasta, as it’s meant to be.
I used this Mario Batali recipe, which makes 4 medium serves, or 2 large serves.
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 to 1 1/4 cups tepid water
First capsicum from the garden, destined to be roasted for homemade pizzas.
Collecting dried peas from the vine in the yard, to save for planting next season.
Making homemade man’oosh zataar and honey lemon curd frozen yoghurt.
Jacarandra flowers blanketing the yard, and rows of tomato plants.
I made chicken stock ice blocks for Tess to help her beat the heat today. She’s pretty into it. Is meat block the grossest thing you’ve ever heard, or what? Get a meat block inta ya!
I fuCKING LOVE THIS ELVIS GIF
- fucking floor guy killing it on the sax
- the fuckers on the ladder
- jimmy-bob in the back dancing like a prospector who found gold
- the motherfucker who just appears swinging a trombone like he’s fucking fighting a swarm of bees
- and fucking Elvis hobbling around like he lost his crutches
Reading this great Hungarian cookbook from 1954. Cherry soup, carraway and beet salad, linzer wreath cookies. Really great illustrations, too. I’ve uploaded it here if anyone feels like a spot of spaetzle.
I don’t even know what this is about, but I can guess, and it came up on a suggestion list for this e-reader site I use, and I cried just looking at the cover. SECOND CHANCE DOG, YOU GUYS. A LOVE STORY. DOGS.
and you can choose what kind of tree you want to become
just imagine cemeteries looking like this
life after death
THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I WANTthis is how all cemeteries should look. its awkward to hug a gravestone. imagine hugging your grandma/tree. ugh rebuild all cemeteries
James’ mum is getting married tomorrow - Tess is coming! Today we are practising sitting still in our wedding decorations. There are liver treats for those who comply.
I am seriously considering dropping my Masters degree. I got a one sentence response to my first major assignment of my degree:
“there was nothing to fear, nothing to doubt.”— radiohead
one of the boys I was doing a visit for shit himself.
His mom cleaned him and threw away his underwear, but baby boy REEKED all the way home...
me and my back rolls
can we stop giving fit mom air time? can we please stop giving the fattie wars air time? because the bottom line is that...
The sun in you
just got back from the walk-in clinic. my lip was super swollen & looked awful when i woke up this morning, so i went to get it checked out. sure...
I’m back from NYC, which means back to work and back to counting calories, but it also means that I’ve fallen in love with my city all over again...