T'was the month before Christmas

T'was the month before Christmas and all through the house talk was of visitors soon to arrive. Guests from the coast; Woy, Woy, Gosford and Wyong trekked to Maitland. The purpose; to share a preChristmas dinner. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year everyone. Thank you Cater Force.

Happy Pants

What does one do the day before a wedding? Some get a manicure, others a pedicure or haircut and then there are those who buy a sewing machine while shopping for some odds and ends. A recent family wedding was the perfect opportunity for one member of the bridal party to take a much needed break. The usual 13 or 14 hour day work schedule didn't permit such frivolous use of time as browsing for a sewing machine. Over the dinner that night there was great debate over the inklings that prompted the purchase. Remember when ... our youngest used to wear happy pants. He chose to wear happy pants whenever the occasion presented. So where better than to start one's sewing career? Once an essential item in everyone's wardrobe were the loosely fitting happy pants. A draw-string waist and presto, they fitted every form. On hot days they were cool for the fabric hung from the waist strung like washing on a clothesline. Our eldest decided to reward her brother with a memory from his childhood. The nostalgia of the imminent wedding rekindled the notion of family and along with it all of its idiosyncrasies. No pattern. No problem. Never sewn before also not an issue. She hunted, searched and finally unearthed a pair of his jeans under a bundle of dirty washing on his bedroom floor. Good; just perfect for creating a pattern for his happy pants. A day long experience shared by all bystanders. No pins, no paper! Leave an edge for a seam. The jean template smoothed and placed face down over the bright fabric. Snip then trim around the jeans. Easy as. Now sew. Easy too. How wide, how long? Wait until fitted to make such decisions. The end product a credit to the novice seamstress. Congratulations. Pity about the elastic. How long does the tailor's assistant have to accompany the man in the happy pants? Trickiest part was threading the elastic through the waistband. I love the happy pants and I think that so does the recipient. Glad that we resolved the challenge of elastic waistbands. The tailor's assistant was free to take on other chores on the day of the wedding.

An Un-Birthday Celebration!

Birthdays come around every year and some are milestones in our lives. Shared birthdays are the most fun. Shared birthdays allow us to bake cakes and blow out candles. At home last weekend we had an 'unbirthday' dinner for six. Unbirthdays are popular in our circle of friends or so I tell myself. At about 11:00 we were chopping, slicing and dicing in earnest. Drinks due at 6:30 with dinner at seven. First, a pound of strawberries were topped and pureed for mousse. Home made blini with basil creme fraiche canapes, were prepped. Next, rice was boiled for arancini balls. Later, pomegranate, baked pumpkin cubes and hazelnuts were eased over a bed of spinach. Rockmelon wrapped in prosciutto was toothpicked for entrees. Finally, a salad of potato, red kidney beans and chorizo sausage set to cool in the refrigerator. Shots of lemon and mango sorbet were almost forgotten. Fortunately, once remembered taken before dessert. It's never too late for sorbet; unless of course, if you happen to have farewelled guests and then discovered them still chilling in the freezer compartment. I have done that on the odd occasion. Happy unbirthday to you, happy unbirthday to you ... I don't recall singing either. Did we sing when Gary cut his cake?

In my day, pictures from weddings tended to arrive following processing at a local shop or via the official photographer weeks later. Rolls of film had to be sent away for developing. In this digital age one does not need to wait long, for thumb drives, SD cards or the Internet delivers them in nanoseconds. How pleasing it is to log on and find that someone has posted an album to share happy memories. Times change and I celebrate those changes. Thank you everyone who has contributed to the growing collection of happy memories. Garden weddings no longer terrify me. I see the photos of everyone smiling and I feel that it was all worthwhile.

There Is A Wombat In My Garage

When the council rezoned us many, many years ago they said that we were no longer considered a rural postcode. Interesting things have developed since then. Interesting in that the livestock that has taken up residence in 2320 was obviously not cognisant of the rezoning from rural to semi rural. There is a brown snake that resides under the porch beside the front door. Every now and then it slips out to sun itself and occasionally it raises up to strike out at unsuspecting passersby. However, today when I decided to clean up the cubby and the garage I noticed that the big white tub that holds old, dust sheets was pushed to one side. Old earthenware pots were upended and so too the springs from an old car. Someone had been messy. Wrong! Not a someone but a something. A large hairy lump with beady eyes was starring at me. The sudden realisation caused me to stammer and stutter and bolt towards the pool. Stephen was at the pool where he had earlier retrieved a small rabbit who had not been a good swimmer. Stephen presumed from my demeanour that I had seen the snake again since I was in full panic mode. Wrong again. There was a big wombat that should not have been living under the work bench in our garage. Who does one call to return a wombat to the wild? Naturally, I rang the snake lady as she was on my speed dial. Judy didn't pick up. Possibly she was already in the midst of a delicate snake relocation event. Second telephone call to the local council native animal emergency hotline was illuminating. Did I know that it was most unusual for a wombat to be found in my area? Did I know that wombats can run at 40 kilometres an hour? Did I know that I shouldn't approach as it might charge me and in all likelihood sink its teeth in too? Armed with all that information I now had great respect for the startled wombat living in my garage. My guess is that it has been there for some weeks. It explains the unusual holes around the yard and the night time ruckus on the back verandah just last night. Tonight we have been advised to lock out our wombat so that it will have to find new digs. Hope that it understands that we are doing this for its own good. By the way; could resist naming it Walter. Good night Walter. Promise not to wake you again so that you can make your way in the world tonight having had a good sleep.