Dishwashing 101 with Miss Keiralea

Before we began our chores, I told Miss Keiralea that I was looking forward to her coming over and just KNEW she was going to be a great help to me.

She insisted on carrying a kitchen chair over to the sink to stand on.  I rolled up her sleeves.  "If you get wet, don't worry; Mama has another top for you to wear", I assured her.  I rolled a towel into a 'sausage' and placed it on the edge of the sink to soak up any spills and prevent water dripping onto the chair, potentially making it slippery.

I placed a plastic, removable bowl into the larger sink and filled the smaller sink with water for rinsing.

"Mind while we run the hot water into the bowl.  If we put dishes into the bowl the water could splash on you and we don't want that, do we?

"No, Mama"

"Is that too hot for you?"

"A little bit..."

"OK, I'll put some more cold in.  Mama likes to uses the hottest of water as possible to clean the dishes because it makes lots of dishwashing bubbles and it is that hot water and bubbles that help clean all the food mess and oil off the dishes"

"Mama, can I wash this knife?"

"No, Baby.  How's about we wash the glasses first because they are the cleanest of all the dishes.  We can soak all the knives and forks because soaking makes all the food that is stuck to them - soft - and it is easier to wash off".

"To wash the glasses, we put them in the hot, soapy water and use the dishwashing brush or bottle brush to wash inside".

"Why do you use a brush, Mama?"

"Because it is safer than putting your hand inside the glass - with or without a cloth"

"What will happen?"

"Sometimes, some girls and ladies had their hands cut from the sharp glass"

"Did they bleed?"

"Yes..."

"Oh noooo.."

"Anyway, after we have washed the glasses and everything else, we rinse them in the other sink with  clean water, then put them upside down on the draining board so that all the water can drain off and then,the tea towels don't get so wet."

After a decent chunk of time, Miss Keiralea decided it was time to stop. "Can we have some tea now,  Mama?"


A girl after my own heart.....

Jelly Belly Fan Club

We were at the kitchen table and a pack of Jelly Belly beans was being handed around for all to choose a flavour / colour or flavour / flavour combination.

(This is an exercise in extreme patience as others carefully select their beans by referring to the flavour chart on the packet).

OK, so we all get that.

However....

We all decided to smell the packet, too.

"This smell just reminds me so much of younger days.  I can't figure out what the dominant scent is, though..."

"Could it be pina colada?"

"Coconut?"

"Vanilla?"

Miss K, almost five years old, inhaled deeply

"It's Mama's house!  The jelly beans smell like Mama's house!"

I can live with that.

I know what I have to do to keep up a sweet home fragrance.

Moonlight Imaginings

Last night, I swam in the moonlight.

The Machinist had gone into the workshop to get the huge fan and bring it inside so that we could later enjoy it's prowess while watching a movie.  Cezar was on the pool deck - tormenting himself with the prospect of joining his mistress in the water versus fighting his fear of heights.  Polly was doing her usual panting routine - not wanting to take part in family activities, but whimpering (whinging) if any other canine did so.

A huge orange moon seemed to be perched on the pitch of the Machine shop roof in the East North East.  Lightning flashes appeared above the ivy clad willow tree in the North West.

My delight and admiration of such beauty was broken by the sound of mosquitoes buzzing around my head.  I plunged underwater hoping that said mosquitoes would be gone when I resurfaced.  They weren't.  I knew they wouldn't be gone.  I knew it was one of life's great misconceptions.  I didn't want to stay too long underwater either - cos - well - you know - the Jaws theme song.

By now, I was in the middle of the pool.  Another sound.  What was it?  What did it remind me of?  That's it... Anthony Hopkin's as Hanibal in the Silence of the Lambs, - the sound he made as he reminisced over brains and fava beans:

Flup-flup-flup-flup-flup.

But it wasn't Sir Anthony.

It was a ....

BAT!

Swooping me - just like a magpie in Spring.

Flup-flup-flup-flup-flup

I could feel my flesh instantly turn to chicken flesh at the prospect of that bat getting closer and - horrors!

what IF it got caught in my HAIR?

Flup-flup-flup-flup-flup

"Babe.  BABE.  BAAAABBBBEED!!!"

"What is it?"

"A bat.  Swooping me....sob...."

"It's ok.  He's probably thirsty"

"Yes, for my BLOOOD...."

And with that, I was out of the pool and the intense heat of a kitchen in an Australian Heat Wave never felt so good.

And comforting.

The Kitchen Sink

We have a stainless steel double sink in our scullery; a deep main sink, and a smaller one next to it. I use the larger sink for pot and dish washing, and fill the smaller sink with bleach or disinfectant water for soaking the dishcloths. This is much more hygienic than using the dishwater to rinse the cloths in when wiping kitchen surfaces, as the dishwater contains a lot of grease from the pots and pans. Grease that sometimes cannot be seen floating, especially when the water is hot and soapy. It is so very tempting to dip the cloths in this prepared sudsy water, but submitting to this urge results in the countertops looking streaky. The grease particles are well behaved; they stay wherever they are spread. Until the next wipe.

If you don't have the benefit of a second sink in your kitchen, a plastic bowl, the shape of your sink unit is an ample substitute. There are round and rectangular bowls available to suit the shape of your sink. Kitchen sink bowls are so handy. Mobile too. The bowl can be filled with 'counter and benches cleaning water', and can be carried around to each kitchen destination requiring cleaning. While your sink is left to do what it does best; hold water for the soaking and later washing of dishes, pots and pans. Alternately, your bowl can be used for washing fruit and vegetables.

Many housewives in England use bowls at their kitchen sinks. It is a domestic tradition. If they have a round sink, they have a round bowl. If they have a rectangular sink, they have a rectangular bowl. My sweet mam used a bowl. She claims that if you place cups, saucers and other 'delicates' into the bowl, they wont have to mix with 'tougher' pots and dishes, which may cause them to crack. Items can be stored in the bowl in the same way they can be stored in the dishwasher. This frees up the sink and draining board and thus provides inspiration to tackle any necessary chore involving the kitchen sink. Mounds of stainless steel, pottery, porcelain, plastic and china, not to mention potatoe peel, spinach spines, carrot peel etc. are very off-putting.


My personal experience with kitchen sinks has been a learning one. I have 'gleamed' much. As a newly wed I thought that if my sink was clean and shining and all gruesome looking food particles were cleaned off the sink, tap and draining board, that everything was truly clean. Alas - that is not so. There's much unseen life there. What I do now, and what I taught my kiddos to do, is firstly, thoroughly clean and disinfect the entire sink area. Then, give the base of the tap and water spout a 'towel rub' with the cloth. Have you ever seen what comes off of there? It's like that song we used to sing - ".....red and yellow and pink and green, orange and purple and blue.....I can see the crud crumbs, see the slime balls, I wonder, can you, too?"

After the rub, I drizzle clean water over this area. Even more crud slithers away - down into the sink. As I watch this, a childhood song comes to mind - and it is as if the goopers are singing the song themselves - "row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream, merrily merrily down the drain, as Helen cleans and gleams". Off they go -down the plug hole! And just when I think they've all surrendered, another lost soul sets sail, down to the depths of the grease trap; via the grey water rapids....

After the 'sinking', I like to use my tea towel to dry the taps, spout and sink area so that it shines. Ready for the next shift.... 

Vintage Glassware

I love the shapes of these glass jugs, as well as the sugar container.  They remind me of days gone by.  Mothers of old would use them regularly, sometimes covered by lace doilies with beads attached to add weight and stop flies and fruit flies from falling into the milk.  

The Barn

This is the inside of our barn.  I don't know why we call this little building at the bottom of our garden "the barn".  It's not that livestock were ever raised in here.  Nor did we store hay or grain inside these walls.  Living things have entered herein, though.  At one time, our Emma's horse would frequent part of the barn, but she never liked to stay inside for long.  Maybe she found it austere.  

With master cobwebs like this, I would too.  Not to mention the decomposition of fallen willow tree leaves on the 'sky-light' part of the roof.

She preferred the outdoors. The beauty of the paddock.

I would too.  If this was my only other option.

The Machinist uses the barn, though.  A lot of his 'I-can't-find-a-place-for-this- I know - the-barn!' items are stored in - the Barn.

Generations of cats and kittens would play and frolic in the barn, too.  As did mice (not for long, though).  And once, while moving brand new fence sheeting off the bare-soil floor, the last sheet revealed a sleepy Tiger snake.  (I will never forget it.  Nor will my daughters.  I won't forget the terror of the snake.  They won't forget the terror of my voice when I saw the snake).

The Barn has played host to useful things, too.  Like props we used when we ran our cafe, The Daily Pie

We would use this light - like a beacon at night when we were expecting customers for evening functions.....

It's original home was in a local Theatre within our Shire...

And of course there is the faithful, hard working, manual-labour lawn mower.  Oh, the number of lawns this fella has mowed.  If only he could talk.  He would tell you!  He'd be glad to brag, too.

Which is more than I can say for this old dear.  I suspect he needs some attention....

Then there is the fire fighting pump.  He's pumped about his important role in the protection of our property against prospective bush fires (that's a lot of 'P's').  We're glad he's here, though.  But shhhh....don't tell him, or else it may go to his head.  He already thinks he's the cleanest, shiniest piece of equipment in the room.

Another guy ready for action.  I think my son was 2 when he learned to use the chain saw.

Just kidding.  That would mean that I would have had to start it for him by pulling this chord.  That would never have happened.  I'm not that tenacious.  Or patient.  Especially when there is no fuel in it to keep it running, and I wouldn't even know the difference.

And what is this treasure, hiding under that semi-rusty shelving?  Oh, that's right.  I remember now.  It's a birthday gift.  A potting wheel.  Never used.  Except for the assortment of beetles, spiders and other critters passing through it's parts.

All this to say - the Barn is on our Projects List for this year.  We've been slowly but surely clearing it out and I'm happy to report that these last items may be the Barn's last occupants before the Big Makeover.  The walls will be lined.  A ceiling put in.  A floor, too.

Lights!!

Camera!!

A DAY IN THE LIFE OF THE MACHINISTS WIFE

Wake at around 8am

Tea with the Machinist at the kitchen table

Check emails to see if there is any news from Council.

Coffee with the Machinist in my office.  Hayley makes a wrap for her 'Daddy Andre' to munch on while we discuss Council issues on Flooding and Flood Levels in our local Creek, Building Class, Surveyors and The Building Code of Australia,

The Machinist then phones the Council while I check out another Engineering company's website, whereby the Machinist's eyeballs nearly pop out of his head, as he checks out photos of their machinery, -  not missing a beat in his current conversation with a Council staff member.

Sarah comes in for her 'to do' list, which I have been compiling between phone calls and emails. She is still cleaning out the Workshop A, organising shelves, putting like with like (as much as a girl can put like with like when they're not sure what certain metal items are). Our barn is getting fuller, but at least various items are becoming contained in one place - like a 'one stop shop'.

Discussions with Council continue through lunch.  The Machinist and I become flabbergasted at one of Council's requirements and we embark on a somewhat loud yet funny tirade of abuse against Policy Makers in general.  Emma wafts in and puts her finger to her lips, then starts flapping her wings.   "Just so you know, we can hear you in the kitchen".

That pesky baby monitor in the shape of an angel.  It must have ears in the back of its head.

Emma is determined to finish the job she is on in the Workshop.  She is transferring poems from local Poets using CAD and then sending them to the plasma cutter.  These poems will appear as Tourist attractions throughout our Shire.

I've nicked a couple of the photos she took today, - pictures of when the sparks hit the fan:

Hayley sets off after lunch to paint what was once a food store in the pie shop (now called The Block), to apply water and mould proof paint, as said food store has been transformed into a bathroom.  We are confident that she and our Sam will move in very soon.  While Hayley is gone, I get to look after our darling Baba, Keiralea.  "If she stands in her cot, I pick her up, lie her down on her back with dummy, then put Blankie Ted and Rabbie under her arms..." Hayley instructs me.

My intentions are always good and I'm all for following a mommy's wishes for her Baba.  However, after ten or more sessions, I succumb to infant loveliness, swoop the darling up into my arms, give her 'fairy kisses' and rock her gently.  Within minutes she is asleep and I transfer her to her cot, quickly scooting Blankie Ted out of the way with the back of my hand.

While Baba sleeps, I hand draw a Plan View of Workshop B - a silly requirement of Council, showing the positions of Plant & Equipment.  Later, Emma will draw this up on CAD as well.

After work, we have cold drinks and some of us swim.  Baba falls asleep in her pushchair and I wheel her into the lounge, set myself up on the brown leather lazy boy (girl) chair and promptly nod off....zzzzzzzz......

The Machinist takes the Baba and puts her in our laundry sink, which he has filled with bubbles and her yellow Duckie (a gift from her Pop).  She loves splashing in this tub and it saves our backs.   I dress her and feed her.

Right now, Sam and Hayley are frolicking with their offspring on the rug.   Sarah has gone out with her fiance, Cam, and Emma is cooking.  The Machinist is grilling kebabs on the BBQ.

I'd better be off... The Machinist just popped his head in my office door -

"Do you know how lonely it can get - barbequing kebabs?"

And later - "Did I tell you how hot you look today, Babe?"

Calling A Diet A Diet

It's very rare, of late to spend a whole day at home.  On weekdays, I am taking the Grands to their doctor's appointments or keeping my own, along with the Machinist.  Otherwise, there are jobs to be picked up or jobs to be dropped off in town (sixty kilometres away from where we live and work).  Accountants to consult, banking to be transacted, hardware to be bought, vehicles to register.

And... blood to be let. At the Pathology clinic, that is.

Some months back, I booked an appointment at a Sydney doctor's practice for our Emma. In the meantime, Emma embarked on a new health plan and had no need to see this specialist doctor.  And so - I took her place and I'm glad I did.

I, too will be embarking on a new health plan, - dare I call it a "diet".  Although we all like to publicly refer to it as ' ...a new lifestyle...' or '...a new way of eating...', I'm convinced there's many of us that still use the term 'diet', and when we do, it makes everything clear and there's no questions needed to be asked and everyone knows what's going on.

The diet I refer to is the HCG diet.  I've read about it and am reading more and more.  I will even be adding to the diet blog I set up some time ago...

All being well, I will start tomorrow.  The diet, not updating the blog...

Wish me luck good health!

Tying Loose Ends

I can hear the gentle wooshing of the rain as I sit and type.  The Machinist has finished watching his favourite program and has just walked through to the lounge, where I sit behind my desk with a dim lamp light.  He draws the curtains.  It is part of his evening routine, as he is such a creature of habit.  He draws the curtains, locks the front door, goes to the bathroom, then takes his supplements.  He's like clockwork and I love him for it, as he is a great support, dependable and reliable.  He is steadfast and comforting and assuring even- especially in these times of uncertainty.

I find that there are so many projects that I want to complete, both in the house and also in the garden.  Before I can whole-heartedly throw myself into these projects, however, I have to finish packing up the shop.  My brother has bought most of our equipment, but there is always so much of the smaller items to deal with: glasses, crockery, cutlery, small appliances, stationary, table signs and numbers, menus, left over giftware, jams, sauces, honey and small quantities of dry goods like peppers, specialised flours, spices etc.

During the days of packing up The Daily Pie, I am also 'flirting' with a HUGE decluttering at home.  Some days, I take things from home to the shop, and others - I take things from the shop - home.  The rest goes into a huge trailer parked outside, ready to be towed to the local tip.  Some days, it feels like I am getting "nowhere", as while I spend so much time in each day repeating this routine, I am not doing the regular chores like washing, cleaning, and even - shopping.  We have plenty of stock in our home pantry, but lack fresh fruit and vegetables and other perishable items.  Hence, we're still not eating as healthy as I would like us to eat.  My waistline proves it!

And although we are still saddened by our elective closure of the Cafe, we are all excited about the future...

Fridges, Flights and Axes

The Machinist is up early.  He and Number One Son are going to Sydney to pick up a cold display fridge that I bid on and won. Usually, the Machinist and I do the Sydney trips together, as we consider them a bit of business and pleasure.  Pleasure being the opportunity to EAT out. Today, however, I have to make pies.  Lots of pies.  If I'm good and actually finish making the pies the girls are going to let me go home, so that I can chisel away at the mound of paperwork currently sitting before me as I type.

My Mam and brother are going to the UK in four days time.  I'm all nervous.  For them, and for me.  I don't want my Mam to be stressed and tired, or worry about anything (as she often does).  I want her to be calm and peaceful and enjoy her visit with her sisters and my brothers.  I'm hoping my brother doesn't get too tired with all the arrangements and responsibility of the care for both of them (he has Tetralogy of Fallot aka 'Blue Baby Syndrome').  And for me - well - I'm gonna miss them.  Seven weeks is a long time.  Oh, and the goodbyes.....

Grandpa will be staying home. At an impressive 85 years he doesn't fancy the trip.  He will be coming into the cafe each day for his coffee(s) and looking after "Blossom", their 8 year old Pekingnese.  Blossom will need a lot of care.  Yesterday, our Sarah took her to the vet and she has a heart murmer, is acutely obese, has a tired liver and possibly, even doggy-diabetes.  Grandpa assures us that he will NOT be chopping wood for his fire, and he will leave that to us.  (Even though he secretly bought another axe when he handed over his rather large axe to us).  Several trips to the outpatients, due to axe trauma doesn't really bother him.  I'm convinced he has his fingers crossed behind his back when he promises he won't EVER chop wood again, nor seek 'kindling' on the hill behind his cottage.

All Creatures Great and Small

We have a lot of windows at the front of the Cafe, and they are usually kept clean and sparkling.  While this is pleasing to the eye, it's havoc for some of our wild birds, as they fly straight into the glass, knock themselves out and fall to the ground. Unconscious.  Oftentimes, we scurry to find boxes for the concussed birds to lie in while they recover.

Last week, a brightly colourful Rosella collided with the glass and while he was recovering, his mate fluttered nervously around him. Eventually, they flew off together.  Happily Ever After.

Standing at the sink and gazing sleepily out of the window, a movement, just below the windowsill caught my eye.  A Grey Shrike-Thrush was fluttering and then lurching his tiny body at the two hot water tanks, servicing the kitchen and bathroom.
 

The Thrush would flutter, lurch and then land on top of the tanks, croon his head and peck....

"Would you like a cup of tea, Babe?" the Machinist asked as he clicked on the kettle.  "What are you looking at?"



I pointed to the curious activity of our avian friend. "He's picking flies and bugs out of the cobwebs", the Machinist continued.  "I watched him just the other day.  See?"

Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they? Mathew 6:26 KJV

Relaxing After Work

After a long and customer-busy day at the pie shop, there's nothing more relaxing than couch potato-ing it next to the Machinist.  Our usual viewing line up is 60 minutes followed by Silent Witness on a Sunday.  After this, we flick and flick, looking for snippets of shows that we may be interested in.  American Idol flashes a full view of all three judges...

"Is that his real face?" I ask the Machinist of Steven Tyler.
"Yeah..."
"No nips, tucks, pinches or stretches?"
"I don't think so"

The dogs are all over me.  Polly either at my feet or the chair next to me.  Big Black Bob between the Machnist and I with his big head weighing heavy on my lap.  Peppi curled up in a tight ball, on my lap and Lilly - laying across Big Bob's neck and onto my left side.

"I don't get it", says the Machinist "I feed and water them, administer medicine and care for them when they are sick, yet they're always sitting with you or on you.  You're their Idol"

He's always making me laugh...

Aquatic Drones: Good Guys Really

One of the toilets at the Shop wasn't flushing with as much passion as it usually flushes.  On inspection, the Machinist discovered that the submersible pump in Number Two Septic Tank wasn't working and grey water was building up and not seeping away quick enough - therefore, causing a sort of septic regurgitation. 

He came into the kitchen to tell us that he had fixed the problem. "...and Doll, you should see the creatures we have in the septic tanks..."

The three of us looked up, waiting for more information.

"What?"

"The tanks"

"The pumps are  fixed"

"No, the creatures...."

"You don't wanna be lookin'...."

The Kitchen procession began - out of the back door across to the septic tanks. 

Rattailed Maggots and lest you think the tail is - well - the tail.  It's not.  It's their breathing tube.

A Bloke's Best Friend

The front lawn had grown beyond recognition. It needed whipper snipper action before a conventional mower could have any effect. Even the path between the lawn and the house had lanky dandelions and grass roots emerging from the soft soil. Time was sparse and the Machinist moved swiftly, swinging his arms from left to right with skill, ravaging the rogue greenery - now bulbous and (almost) bursting with new life. Prolific seeds, waiting anxiously for their marching orders.
Suddenly, a pebble, lifted by the green chord shot up and hit the tall window. A crack, then another. Within seconds, the whole pane fragmented, but held in place.

That night, I heard crackling sounds. They woke me. By morning time, the Machinist had had enough of my ramblings about how the glass in the sliding door might "...suddenly burst and like shrapnel, disperse through our unsuspecting bodies...". He marched outside with bucket and broom, and 'relieved' the heaving pane. Not having enough time to clear up thousands of pieces of glass, the remains lay just outside our bedroom door.... waiting to be swept up 'later on'.

It's quite a few weeks later and the window has not been fixed. Instead, a huge piece of laminated cardboard protects us from the 'elements' (loud birdsong, loud cat crying and loud possum scrapping). On cooler nights, the wind almost whistles as the board flaps.

"Would you check that it's still in place? It sounds as if it's loose..."

The Machinist lifts the curtains to check his handiwork.

"It's fine. I'll get the glass man over tomorrow...Anyway, the Duct Tape's still in place..."

Thunderstorms and Flooding

We were up at 4am two Friday nights ago - sweeping water out of the Workshop.  Then again last Friday.  This time, though, it was more than the average flooding; brown rainwater came in from both ends of the property.  The creek at the bottom of our garden had risen so high, there was exactly three inches between the water level and the Workshop's concrete floor.  The Machinist's brand new 'thousands of dollars' new machinery sat 10 metres away from facing the dreaded 'wet feet'. 

The Machinist, the girls and I had spent the afternoon packing hundreds of sandbags in preparation of what was looming in the late afternoon sky.  We were still filling, lifting, carting and dragging the heavy, (already)wet sacks when the storm began. 

Equipped with several pumps, we attempted to suck the water away from the Workshop and pump it back into the creek.  We'd made calls to the State Emergency Services, as well as our local Fire Brigade, to no avail. 

"It's not just a back-yard shed," I pleaded "It's our bread and butter..."

I was so proud of my family that night.  Our girls were real troopers, lugging sand bags on their shoulders, placing them around the perimeter of our property, through the trees, orchard, chicken coop and barn, bitten by bugs, treading on slugs (and having slugs stuck on their skin....yeowww).

You never know what you can do until you have to do it...

**On a sad note - we haven't seen Rognon since the storms.  We can only presume she and her kittens were marooned someplace along the creek**

A Taste of Spring

I bought some petunias today.  Petunias and stocks - in pinks and whites - some frilly, some smooth petalled.  Oh, and a couple of silver leafed perennials to plant in between them, bringing out their beauty, while adding to their vanity.  There were red and green cabbage flowers, too, which I left behind and now regret.  I've always adored displays of fruits, vegetables, berries and twiggery which hold their own against the most brilliant of flowers.   These aren't for our garden, though - they are for the Grands, and for mam to divide and replant.  She's been wanting 'pots of colour' for their outside table since the weather warmed a little.
"When did you put those plants outside our door?" she asked "will we be going back to the plant shop? I'd love some primroses, too ..."
"Sure we can, ma... I just wanted you to have something beautiful to welcome spring"

Our garden at home has come alive and looks quite lush already .... with LOTS and LOTS of weeds.  There's weeds between the vegetable beds and the garden paths have the thickest, greenest patches of lawn.

Should we mow it or scrape it up?

On each bed sits bulbous black bags, strategically placed and filled with semi-decomposed leaves; - a gift of labour from Grandpa when the leaves were carpeting the front of the house in early winter. They look like huge cocoons, waiting to burst open and spew out their contents.  I'm hoping we can relieve them really soon. 

Then again - I'm hoping to attend to a lot of garden exploits.  Soon.

Ramblings

The Machinist insisted we had a day 'off' and in town today.  Who am I to argue with that? Firstly, though, we had to pack away the flour deliveries, as well as the fresh fruit and vegetables. It's a good job we're just 'down the road' from the Shop.  There's always a feeling of 'I need to do this or I need to do that'.  The Machinist says I should relax and rest on days that we are closed.  I can't see this happening, as I cannot rest unless my house is clean and orderly, the washing is done or doing and the pets are tended. 

The Grands are always willing to help with our workload.  Grandpa forages for firestarting branches on the hill behind their cottage, and stacks the wood when we deliver it to him.  Hard going for an 84 year old.  They made them tough in 1925.  Each afternoon, he pops in for coffee and a treat, then later returns to carry the outdoor tables and chairs inside.  Like I said, they made them tough...

Granny also pops in with him, as she polishes the cutlery and folds the napkins.  Some days (yay!), she takes a stroll down to our house and washes any dishes we may have as well as folds the washing.  They made them tough in 1928, too!

Tomorrow, Lordwilling, the girls and I are taking a trip to Sydney with our Cheffy Rob to attend the Food Service Australia Expo. 

Which means an early start...

Hope Rob is awake by then! 

(If you read this, Cheffy, note that I AM JUST KIDDING. We all know you are like the sparrow...)

Soup..Er ... Meat Kitchen

I didn't notice her straight away.  Then, the kitchen light, shining out into the darkness revealed her eyes.  She was so thin and tiny, almost skeletal.  She came towards me, limping...

It's our mission to fatten her up.  Her name is 'Rognons', 'cos her first meal was Steak and Kidney pie and she wolfed it down with great abandon.  She is a nocturnal tabby.  There is no sight of her during the day, and then, at night, with the clashing of pots and pans, and the ritual door-opening to let cool night air into the hot kitchen, she appears, waiting, wanting ... with faint meows...

Two nights ago, a pure black cat showed up, too.  Rognons, although much smaller, growled at the newcomer, as she lapped up her evening milk.  The larger black cat now waits until Rognons is finished before she approaches the bowls.  The Machinist informed me earlier this evening that yet another cat; - a black with white patches feline attempted to claim Rognons' position as the Head Daily Pie cat. He continued on that he showed the other cat some 'Oliver Number 7' boot (he'd never do it.  He just hates injustice).

I remember smiling with admiration at a local farmer - all of 84 years of age - who feeds the local ferral brigade.  The cats don't remain ferral and a nuisance for long, though.  They become tame.  He names them and they become his.  The dairy cows on his farm provide a bottomless dish full of lactose nourishment.

Perhaps we've started a trend akin to our local farmer.  Maybe the feline community do their rounds.  Meaty dinners, followed by warm milk in two of their favourite locations.  Maybe, then, Rognons will become ours.

Smile....

Extreme Measures

"Mam, Maaaammm!"

I only just heard her shouting to me above the noise of the washing machine as I was folding clothes.  I looked out of the window, and Sarah had hoisted herself up and was balancing on the top of the picket fence, holding onto an arbour.  Between our herb garden

and the arbour leading to the pool area, she had '...spotted the tail end of a small snake...'

I rushed to the phone and rang the Machinist up at the Shop

"Snake!  Quick!"

Within minutes, the Machinist walked through the front door, long handled spade in hand "Where? How?"  He went down the deck steps and cautiously poked at a clump of catmint, which was poking through the fence from the shrubbery garden within the 'Vegetable Garden'. 

What Sarah thought was a small snake, turned out to be much bigger. The Machinist took three whacks at the slithering reptile with the spade

Site of the whacking: arbour leading to the 'Pool Room'

The snake slithered away.  I stood on the back deck, watching and feeling physically faint.  I watched it slither under the gladitsia bush, past a purple rose, then under a row of baby's breath, then....where?  It had totally disappeared.  We knew that probably injured, the snake would be angered.  Due to the midday sun and heat, along with shadows from shrubs and bushes, Slithering Houdini had made his getaway... The trouble is - our garden is totally fenced in (goodness knows where he and the other villain entered in the first place).  "They always travel in two's, Helen" I can still hear mam advising me on numerous occasions. 

The dogs have spent the day indoors.  I will not let them out until the snake is found.  The Machinist insisted I go into town to buy aspirins.  He has been told, from a reliable source, that crushed aspirin, mixed in a bowl of milk, will attract a snake from it's hiding position and kill it.  While I took the trip into town, the Machinist whipped up four 'dish guards' from square mesh, to put over the bowls of milk, and thereby prevent the kitties from supping up the deadly concoction. 

Extreme situations call for extreme measures.

I returned with the strongest of aspirins as well as Napthalene blocks. After the Machinist had crushed them and spread them around the perimeter of the dogs yard, we could detect that nasty moth ball smell from the front driveway.  Even while we were still in the car.

The dogs will have to spend their days in the Grand's fenced in, snake-proof garden and nights in our house during the next few days / weeks - until we can assure their safety in the back yard. 

In other news, we've applied three coats of clear epoxy to the 100 square metre plus gallery / cafe floor, as well as three coats of a coloured composite resin to the 45 square metre kitchen floor. Oh, and we've started moving the kitchen equipment in, too.  You can read about it at http://www.thedailypies.blogspot.com/ .

 I have a shift at the winery tomorrow. And so, for me it's - to bed!

The Old School Room

Yesterday, I showed you pictures of the disorganised section of my office.  It wouldn't be right not to show you the rest of the office.  I say office lightly, as the Machinist has booted me out of the Machine Shop office, and I haven't gotten around to eleviate this old School Room from - well - it's schoolroom atmosphere. 

Poster depicting Australia's history from the Australian War Memorial

Another poster from the Australian War Memorial

Yet another poster from the Australian War Memorial.  I particularly liked this one, because I like the mention of jobs.  Especially when I have to give them away to another...

Precious cards - stuck on the wall above my computer

A dumpable mess.  Keeping it real...

Reference books on business, cafes and interiors.  My budget tin, and memorabilia from home-school days. Sigh....

My shelf of decorating magazines: - inspiration for the Daily Pie's cafe / gallery

This is going to be one of the backs for the cafe chairs - designed by the Machinist.

More memories from the Young Adult's childhood days... sob....

Yet another wall of memories.  I really HAVE to change things in this room! Always loved the printer's trays, though.  Oh, and all the books on this shelf - are my favs.  Some read, some waiting patiently for me to turn their pages.  Below this shelf, we used to have a whole wall of desktops.  Now that was a bit too much...

Part of my bookcase, - all non fiction.  Gardening, Cooking, Health, Home Education, Cleaning and Organising.  What a freak I am.

I hope you've enjoyed your mini-tour. The Machinist would love to replace all this with a flat screen tv and sinkable couches.  Hmmm... that doesn't sound too bad, given the way I feel right now, after FIVE hours vacuuming dust at the Daily Pie.  See update here.