Where does one start in a kitchen that hasn't seen a complete make-over (now I'm not talking layout and appliances here, but rather the most effective use of cupboards and shelves and fridge space) since the day we moved in. The only real organisation seems to take place when preparing to move house and that particular little number we have danced on more than one occasion. The anticipation of moving into someplace new is always an exciting prospect and the ensuing packing up is started with enthusiasm and vigour. Time to re-ogranise and sort through the chaos. The theory is that one tosses out all the things no longer needed, such as Tupperware without lids or lids without the Tupperware (?), chipped or cracked crockery and, in exposing the dark recesses of cupboards and drawers to the light, cookery books, wine openers, the missing stopper of a beloved cruet set, odd knives and Grandmas precious silver sugar spoon, all miraculously come out of hiding, to be re-assigned their place back in kitchen society. The sad truth is: I've always got (a) bored/tired of the job (b) started tossing things randomly into boxes which are just scribbled "kitchen" just to get the job finished, and, (c) having run out of energy/inclination, assigned the remaining finishing up of the packing to the removal company who have, by this time, arrived to load up into the removal van a household that is not completely boxed and taped up and marked room by room. Oh, for Heaven's sake - just suck it up guys and do what needs to be done!
Back in the kitchen. This time we are not moving, but, I am enjoying the thought of being on the brink of being so organised that the whole place will stay forever organised. Nothing will ever be disorganised or out of place (or lost, or misplaced) again. I will be known as Queen of Organised Households! People will queue up in our driveway just to marvel at such a sight for sore eyes, begging for tips and perhaps even my autograph. One of them could even be Heloise!
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Monday, July 19, 2010
Falling Off (again)
Sadly, I have waved goodbye to my lovely martial arts beginners' class for wannabe fitness fanatics! I say "sadly" because I really wanted to throw myself into this thing, really wanted to commit but the pain in my ribs as a result of a really scary fall off my mountain bike promptly stopped any further action for me at the local Dojo. By the time my ribs had healed, the moment of glory, the appeal, the novelty had seriously worn off - for blocking and kicking, that is.
The usual Saturday bike ride was going really well (I thought) and, as I looked forward to rewarding myself after huffing up a fairly gentle upward gradient by freewheeling beautifully down the other side of the equally fairly tame downhill sweep, allowing the early morning breeze to blow my hair, to cool my flushed cheeks, I realised that the road was marginally more level (stable) if I rode along the grassy middle. Changing lanes, as it were, at over 27kms an hour on that glorious bit of rocky, teeth rattling, down-straight looked easy enough and I aimed for the grassy middle patch which would offer a bit of a smoother ride. Oh, disaster! My front wheel bit into a sneaky dump of deep sand lurking on one side of the grassy bank, bringing my heretofor carefree forward momentum to a savage and sudden fullstop! Imagine - full throttle, sudden stop, 180 degree spin of the handlebars whilst simultaneously meeting the ground, chest first, said handlebar coming to rest directly between soft tissue and ribcage, as bike and biker airborne for a moment, before coming to a skidding, sliding landing onto hard ground on the far side of the road just next to a stately line of tall sugar cane awaiting harvest. Dramatic was that ending to say the least but, as one who has survived a childhood of climbing up everything from cupboards to very tall trees and falling regularly, I had to concede that never before had I been so totally "winded". I felt like a lung had collapsed but managed to howl my breath back, slowly and painfully (and loudly). Husband came sweeping back to separate me from my bike which had wrapped itself around me like a pair of ominous metal arms and whilst agonisingly gathering my breath back, I managed to observe a little village just ahead of us, and wondered aloud where all the inhabitants could be, small children and chickens running about were a common sight in villages such as this. I had expected a roadside of shocked bystanders, viewing the crash site with grave interest, but Husband dryly opined that they had surely all run away in the opposite direction, due to the noise I had been making!
Suffice it to say that after a good few painkillers, anti-inflammatories and finally a Voltaren injection, several weeks had to pass before I could face getting back onto my bike again, never mind air kicking and punching at my reflection in the wall sized mirror at the martial arts dojo! So I was never destined to be a ninja but I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try some nice Korean or Laotian food recipes!
The usual Saturday bike ride was going really well (I thought) and, as I looked forward to rewarding myself after huffing up a fairly gentle upward gradient by freewheeling beautifully down the other side of the equally fairly tame downhill sweep, allowing the early morning breeze to blow my hair, to cool my flushed cheeks, I realised that the road was marginally more level (stable) if I rode along the grassy middle. Changing lanes, as it were, at over 27kms an hour on that glorious bit of rocky, teeth rattling, down-straight looked easy enough and I aimed for the grassy middle patch which would offer a bit of a smoother ride. Oh, disaster! My front wheel bit into a sneaky dump of deep sand lurking on one side of the grassy bank, bringing my heretofor carefree forward momentum to a savage and sudden fullstop! Imagine - full throttle, sudden stop, 180 degree spin of the handlebars whilst simultaneously meeting the ground, chest first, said handlebar coming to rest directly between soft tissue and ribcage, as bike and biker airborne for a moment, before coming to a skidding, sliding landing onto hard ground on the far side of the road just next to a stately line of tall sugar cane awaiting harvest. Dramatic was that ending to say the least but, as one who has survived a childhood of climbing up everything from cupboards to very tall trees and falling regularly, I had to concede that never before had I been so totally "winded". I felt like a lung had collapsed but managed to howl my breath back, slowly and painfully (and loudly). Husband came sweeping back to separate me from my bike which had wrapped itself around me like a pair of ominous metal arms and whilst agonisingly gathering my breath back, I managed to observe a little village just ahead of us, and wondered aloud where all the inhabitants could be, small children and chickens running about were a common sight in villages such as this. I had expected a roadside of shocked bystanders, viewing the crash site with grave interest, but Husband dryly opined that they had surely all run away in the opposite direction, due to the noise I had been making!
Suffice it to say that after a good few painkillers, anti-inflammatories and finally a Voltaren injection, several weeks had to pass before I could face getting back onto my bike again, never mind air kicking and punching at my reflection in the wall sized mirror at the martial arts dojo! So I was never destined to be a ninja but I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try some nice Korean or Laotian food recipes!
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Finding Myself
Starting something like Tai Kwan Do would rank seriously high on the list toward finding myself, wouldn't you agree? I thought so, and pleased I was to receive some nice encouraging words through the Class Teacher's email straight after class this morning. Okay, its only a beginners' class but given my advanced years during which time I can count on one hand the number of gym sessions I have completed, added to the number of pilates stretch classes and other rudimentary bouts of muscle toning along the way, I would say that it's more than pleasing.
My husband was suitably impressed when I reported back after my initial stint at the martial arts centre and I could hear him thinking that he might now have someone at last who might possibly develop the potential (finally) to at least have a decent cycle with him on a Saturday morning, without him having to do two laps around the mountain bike circuit just to get a bit more of a stretch. A cycling partner who wouldn't turn bright red, sweat profusely, gasp loudly for breath and threaten to turn back before we had even gotten out of sight of the car park. It's not my fault, I just can't help the thumping of my heart, which at every push of the pedal threatens to jump out of my chest or strike me down with complete failure, the lack of balance and the inevitable falling off my bike - in soft sand (and there is much of it on this route) , off the bridge (it really is a sneaky narrow plank bridge which suddenly takes you by surprise. Just after a nice level meander, the track narrows into a ninety degree turn, dips downhill where this nasty little bridge lays in wait before sweeping you up a steep section, causing the unsuspecting cyclist to panic and, in my case, lose momentum). I now walk that bit after falling down, falling off and even falling into some rather thick bush beside the track, with the bike on top of me, wedged between my legs somehow and my one foot still on the pedal, because the pain and humiliation and resultant bruising on my legs, ankle and the backs of my calves every Saturday are just not that worth it. In fact, I seem to walk a lot during our Saturday morning cycle jaunts. My face remains frozen, eyes glued to the track just in front, mouth twisted in a churlish grimace amidst calls of "Did you see those birds?" "Did you see the Red Bishop?" "Look! Egyptian Geese in the field, over there...!" I notice nothing other than my irregular heartbeat, the pouring sweat and pain in two legs which feel like I've been trying to pedal push a Boeing, uphill with a fridge on my back. I mention the fridge bit because my state of the art "Camel Back" caringly filled before every ride by my DH with ice-cold water and ice cubes, to ensure my cool wellbeing, leaks! At one point during the ride one morning, I complained bitterly as my back felt icy-wet instead of the usual hot sweaty-wet and, after skidding to a halt (once again), DH's eyes rolling exasperatingly heavenward, a closer inspection revealed that the thing on my back carrying ice cubes and water, was indeed leaking.
With the Camel Back sorted out, the cycling will continue, I guess, but in the meantime, with weight loss and super fitness within reach, mastering the martial arts will be my next stepping stone/goal (nemesis?).
My husband was suitably impressed when I reported back after my initial stint at the martial arts centre and I could hear him thinking that he might now have someone at last who might possibly develop the potential (finally) to at least have a decent cycle with him on a Saturday morning, without him having to do two laps around the mountain bike circuit just to get a bit more of a stretch. A cycling partner who wouldn't turn bright red, sweat profusely, gasp loudly for breath and threaten to turn back before we had even gotten out of sight of the car park. It's not my fault, I just can't help the thumping of my heart, which at every push of the pedal threatens to jump out of my chest or strike me down with complete failure, the lack of balance and the inevitable falling off my bike - in soft sand (and there is much of it on this route) , off the bridge (it really is a sneaky narrow plank bridge which suddenly takes you by surprise. Just after a nice level meander, the track narrows into a ninety degree turn, dips downhill where this nasty little bridge lays in wait before sweeping you up a steep section, causing the unsuspecting cyclist to panic and, in my case, lose momentum). I now walk that bit after falling down, falling off and even falling into some rather thick bush beside the track, with the bike on top of me, wedged between my legs somehow and my one foot still on the pedal, because the pain and humiliation and resultant bruising on my legs, ankle and the backs of my calves every Saturday are just not that worth it. In fact, I seem to walk a lot during our Saturday morning cycle jaunts. My face remains frozen, eyes glued to the track just in front, mouth twisted in a churlish grimace amidst calls of "Did you see those birds?" "Did you see the Red Bishop?" "Look! Egyptian Geese in the field, over there...!" I notice nothing other than my irregular heartbeat, the pouring sweat and pain in two legs which feel like I've been trying to pedal push a Boeing, uphill with a fridge on my back. I mention the fridge bit because my state of the art "Camel Back" caringly filled before every ride by my DH with ice-cold water and ice cubes, to ensure my cool wellbeing, leaks! At one point during the ride one morning, I complained bitterly as my back felt icy-wet instead of the usual hot sweaty-wet and, after skidding to a halt (once again), DH's eyes rolling exasperatingly heavenward, a closer inspection revealed that the thing on my back carrying ice cubes and water, was indeed leaking.
With the Camel Back sorted out, the cycling will continue, I guess, but in the meantime, with weight loss and super fitness within reach, mastering the martial arts will be my next stepping stone/goal (nemesis?).
Friday, May 14, 2010
From the Front Lines of Chaos to Change
As so many different, seemingly everyday, events in life motivate, inspire and amuse me, I wanted a place to store and even share my discoveries before they evaporate mistily into the far distant crevices of my memories (I am past the half-way mark after all!)
From a recently-read book, or article, shared moments with my three grandchildren, Hannah, Joshua and Tyler, a memorable meal, a "keeper" of a recipe, to a brisk walk, a good cappuccino at my favourite haunt, shopping tips and shared hints, I am revived and renewed and find pleasure (and many times humour) in sharing life's finds. I love it when people share their keepers with me, so I humbly reciprocate on these and the following pages. Even if you do not find the time (or inclination) to read any of this, the time will not have been entirely wasted, for I will have finally realised my dream of putting "pen to paper", thus preserving these memories for a good personal read or reminisce later on.
I have realised that my life is in chaotic disarray at the moment. It's not that I am busier than ever before, its just that being disorganised creates its own battlefield. Of course I am a pristinely tidy and organised person on the inside frantically trying to find a way out. Of course, everything is filed away in tidy little compartments and all the bills paid up to date, dogs' flea programmes routinely administered, the garden blooming and sprouting homegrown organic herbs and salad greens! Of course, in my mind.
Sadly, the reality is that my home office desk looks like a tip and indeed my husband (with whom I share the study) is frightened to open any of the drawers in case something jumps out and bites his hand! If the truth be told, it's actually HIS study and I have usurped his space. It's a lovely study with a lot of potential, but right now, the door remains firmly closed as I hunker down in front of the computer, guiltily addicted to Spider Solitaire or Tetris. I know that these time wasters are eating into valuable productive time but I am swamped and overwhelmed right now by all the small tasks that make up one's day, hopelessly drowning in a sea of overdue library books, unfinished craft projects, two bulging handbags which needed sorting out two month's back, and the longer these seemingly harmless tasks remain untouched, the more demanding they become, the louder their cries of disapproval and the guiltier I feel. The guiltier I feel, the more deserving I think I am of a good few games of Tetris instead.
Enter a Super Heroine, one named Heloise who wrote a book entitled "Get Organized with Heloise", which I recently borrowed from our local library. Some pages were merely flicked through, but here and there were treasures which I am sure will change my life forever. I seem to have many life-changing moments, but the lifelines thrown to me in random chapters of this book have me inspired and motivated to tackle the worst tasks with vigour and enthusiasm even!
The Kitchen is the first area to which I decided to concentrate my attention. It is, after all, the "heart" of the home (well, my home anyway, because my family love to eat). The kitchen is the place where meals are planned, prepared, cooked, served from and then the leftovers ultimately stored; the place where the beginnings of each meal are to be found neatly stored in either the pantry, refrigerator or freezer, thus, I felt that it deserved my special ministrations, taking precedence over any other room or cupboard (even the study).
As I embark upon this new part of uncluttering my life, I feel the need to share each step of the way so that I am held accountable (even if only to myself) to dive in, persevere and organise, tidy and get on top of the mounds of refrigerated unused leftovers and rotting veg which I keep purchasing, and which jostle for breathing space amongst the packed shelves of half-used jams, preserves, pickles and wet spices, which seemed such a good idea at the time. The freezer also bulging with Tupperware cartons of unidentifiable (unmarked) frozen food, the grocery cupboard with packets and packets of half-used dry goods, which for ages have been attracting pests with an open invitation to picnic undisturbed. Until now! I am about to declare war on waste and wantonness, my freezer will bulge with nourishing "frozen assets" for those lazy days, instead of simply dialling the local pizza parlour's delivery service. My Husband's generous offers of "putting me onto a grocery budget" will now be gracefully accepted because for once I will have planned, listed and budgeted for each carefully thought out purchase instead of getting carried away by the latest shopping whim.
Hold tight, this household is about to change and I smile smugly as I get ready to publish this. Once the button is pressed, I am forever committed and being a rainy, cold Saturday afternoon, I get ready for a nice relaxing afternoon nap. Got to plan somewhere, not so? And, where better than lying on your bed, your mind buzzing with a myriad of good thoughts about food, food storage and food preparation until your eyes start to close and you drift off into a well-deserved sleep.
From a recently-read book, or article, shared moments with my three grandchildren, Hannah, Joshua and Tyler, a memorable meal, a "keeper" of a recipe, to a brisk walk, a good cappuccino at my favourite haunt, shopping tips and shared hints, I am revived and renewed and find pleasure (and many times humour) in sharing life's finds. I love it when people share their keepers with me, so I humbly reciprocate on these and the following pages. Even if you do not find the time (or inclination) to read any of this, the time will not have been entirely wasted, for I will have finally realised my dream of putting "pen to paper", thus preserving these memories for a good personal read or reminisce later on.
I have realised that my life is in chaotic disarray at the moment. It's not that I am busier than ever before, its just that being disorganised creates its own battlefield. Of course I am a pristinely tidy and organised person on the inside frantically trying to find a way out. Of course, everything is filed away in tidy little compartments and all the bills paid up to date, dogs' flea programmes routinely administered, the garden blooming and sprouting homegrown organic herbs and salad greens! Of course, in my mind.
Sadly, the reality is that my home office desk looks like a tip and indeed my husband (with whom I share the study) is frightened to open any of the drawers in case something jumps out and bites his hand! If the truth be told, it's actually HIS study and I have usurped his space. It's a lovely study with a lot of potential, but right now, the door remains firmly closed as I hunker down in front of the computer, guiltily addicted to Spider Solitaire or Tetris. I know that these time wasters are eating into valuable productive time but I am swamped and overwhelmed right now by all the small tasks that make up one's day, hopelessly drowning in a sea of overdue library books, unfinished craft projects, two bulging handbags which needed sorting out two month's back, and the longer these seemingly harmless tasks remain untouched, the more demanding they become, the louder their cries of disapproval and the guiltier I feel. The guiltier I feel, the more deserving I think I am of a good few games of Tetris instead.
Enter a Super Heroine, one named Heloise who wrote a book entitled "Get Organized with Heloise", which I recently borrowed from our local library. Some pages were merely flicked through, but here and there were treasures which I am sure will change my life forever. I seem to have many life-changing moments, but the lifelines thrown to me in random chapters of this book have me inspired and motivated to tackle the worst tasks with vigour and enthusiasm even!
The Kitchen is the first area to which I decided to concentrate my attention. It is, after all, the "heart" of the home (well, my home anyway, because my family love to eat). The kitchen is the place where meals are planned, prepared, cooked, served from and then the leftovers ultimately stored; the place where the beginnings of each meal are to be found neatly stored in either the pantry, refrigerator or freezer, thus, I felt that it deserved my special ministrations, taking precedence over any other room or cupboard (even the study).
As I embark upon this new part of uncluttering my life, I feel the need to share each step of the way so that I am held accountable (even if only to myself) to dive in, persevere and organise, tidy and get on top of the mounds of refrigerated unused leftovers and rotting veg which I keep purchasing, and which jostle for breathing space amongst the packed shelves of half-used jams, preserves, pickles and wet spices, which seemed such a good idea at the time. The freezer also bulging with Tupperware cartons of unidentifiable (unmarked) frozen food, the grocery cupboard with packets and packets of half-used dry goods, which for ages have been attracting pests with an open invitation to picnic undisturbed. Until now! I am about to declare war on waste and wantonness, my freezer will bulge with nourishing "frozen assets" for those lazy days, instead of simply dialling the local pizza parlour's delivery service. My Husband's generous offers of "putting me onto a grocery budget" will now be gracefully accepted because for once I will have planned, listed and budgeted for each carefully thought out purchase instead of getting carried away by the latest shopping whim.
Hold tight, this household is about to change and I smile smugly as I get ready to publish this. Once the button is pressed, I am forever committed and being a rainy, cold Saturday afternoon, I get ready for a nice relaxing afternoon nap. Got to plan somewhere, not so? And, where better than lying on your bed, your mind buzzing with a myriad of good thoughts about food, food storage and food preparation until your eyes start to close and you drift off into a well-deserved sleep.
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