Sunshine

Happy Mother’s Day

A week of breakfasts

I have a small confession to make. I’m just going to spit it out quick, now:

I like to eat dinner food for breakfast.

In my eyes there is no better breakfast than cold pizza. Leftover noodles, stirfry, tacos, I’m there. I think it’s because lazy weekend meals like pancakes and bacon aside (it’s my favourite meal to go out for) I don’t really like any traditional breakfast food at all. Mushy cereal makes me gag, milk makes me want to vomit, yoghurt – meh I can take it or leave it and it’s always too sweet anyway, porridge makes me bloat, and I’ll never know on any given day how I’ll feel about the prospect of eggs but I can guarantee you they’ll never be runny, boiled or poached (ewwww).

So, mass amounts of bread aside (oh and spreads – vegemite: ick, butter: yuck, honey: meh) there is no real quick and easy option for a weekday breakfast. I’m thinking part of the problem is I lack imagination and inspiration – so please hit me up with any suggestions for a nutritious, delicious and super fast weekday breakfast.

As a result, when there are no leftovers on offer I (especially lately) tend not to eat breakfast at all. And this is leading to poor choices later in the day, namely, bacon sandwiches at 10am. In an effort to kick that habit and kickstart a new one I committed to eating breakfast every day last week. It is the most important meal after all.

These are my efforts:

(ooh look who just got Photoshop Elements and is putting text on their photos!) So this was an adapted Michelle Bridges recipe and will demonstrate to you how I started with the best of healthy intentions. Later in the week you’ll see that slide. The recipe was actually meant to have ricotta with honey and ginger mixed in and some pears topped with cinnamon. Amazingly I already had a tub of ginger honey, but only cream cheese for spreading and apples for topping (don’t like pears anyway). The cream cheese and honey were good, but apple on bread was weird. I didn’t go back for seconds.

One of the only meals that didn’t involve bread. There’s nothing more to say about this – it was leftover and it was delicious.

Sunday surpassed Saturday (and every other day) in the taste sensation stakes.

Fresh basil would have finished this off nicely.

This involved mixing and stirring and cooking and would never have happened if I didn’t have a rare late start at work and a commitment to eat. They were a bit tasteless, next time I’ll be trying this recipe instead.

Poor time management and the need to finish the avocado off led me down a path of repetition towards the end of the week. Strangely this was the most satisfying breakfast, I didn’t start to get hungry until at least lunch time. Perhaps it was the natural fats in the avo?

It’s clear I need my own personal chef to help me out and get a bit of variety and nutrition into my mornings. In the absence of an Oprah-like income however I’ll settle for any tips on your yummiest, quickest, healthiest breakfasts.

(Does anyone else like dinner food for breakfast? No?)

Morning details

Dear Fat Machine

Dear Vending Machine About 50m From My Office Desk, or, as I like to call you: Fat Machine.

I have some feedback about your recent performance and I’m not going to sugarcoat it: it’s not good.

First of all, your selection angers me. You house the crappiest of crap chocolate options – mint Aero bars, peppermint crisps, the Cadbury snack bar – who are the people selecting these from your spring loaded shelves? Where is the chocolate that is unfettered by gooey flavoured centres or mint? Where has all the plain chocolate gone?

Sure, I don’t mind some nuts and/or wafers in my chocolate, but what do you offer me in the way of this variety? The Whittaker’s peanut slab and some strange inedible version of the Kit Kat Chunky. I can guarantee you no one, anywhere, wants to eat something called a “peanut slab”. Where are the Snickers, the original Kit Kat, the Freddo Frog, the Flake? Where has all the normal chocolate gone?

Secondly, on more than one occasion you’ve taken my money and not actually delivered me anything, leaving me completely high and dry, penniless and sugarless. I think we can agree that robbing me of my $2 made up of 10 cent pieces is not one of your key performance indicators.

And what was up with the time that I dutifully slot in my money and pressed all the right buttons, ready for a Twirl to be delivered to me, only to have you flash at me in angry red letters “make another selection”?

“But,” I replied in bewilderment to you out loud, not caring there were people walking past “I already made my selection.”

I know I have my part to play in this. I am a fickle customer – some weeks I visit every day, other times months can go past and I’ll barely give you a passing glance. Plus, you might have overheard me cursing your name when my pants don’t fit.

But you and me have had a good thing going on over the years. I’ve often called on you in my time of need (3.30pm weekdays) and you’ve provided me with sustenance, a little thrill, a little somethin’ somethin’ to help get me through the rest of the afternoon. At times you’ve even been there for me outside of office hours, when some emergency or crisis that was so important then but I can’t remember why it swallowed hours of my life now, kept me at my desk until way after most people had gone home. I can’t just forget about our good times together and abandon you.

So I’ll see you again Fat Machine, oh yes, we will meet again (3.30pm weekdays). And when we do make sure you’re packing Twirls.

30 April

I kind of miss April already. In April I had the anticipation of two weeks leave, and then the actual holiday. Now I have minus three hours of leave, no money and no plans to go anywhere or do anything. Woe is me.

Photos for April continued:

Clockwise left from right: Retrospect, looking in, unconditional love, inspiration, home.

Book-wise I devoured the next two books in Michael Grant’s Gone series: Hunger and Lies. I have mentioned Gone before, and at the time I recommended it for 12 year old boys. Well, I revise my decision. I was suckered into feeling like it was relevant for that age group because it’s written quite simply, with short sentences and fairly plain language (in fact sometimes I was longing for a paragraph that consisted of sentences that were more than three words long). But each book becomes darker and darker, and some of the content is just plain gory. Not that I have a problem with this, I’m a grown up lady and a-ok with the adult theme thing, but I think the books’ concepts of murder and gore is probably better pitched at 15 years and up.

The story is about a town where all the adults disappear, and the kids are left trapped inside some kind of walled/domed area they call the FAYZ (Fallout Alley Youth Zone). There are some supernatural elements at work, but what I find most intriguing is the stages of destruction of their society, as they try and work through a world with no adults. The comparison with Lord of the Flies is obvious, but relevant. It tugs at my heart strings to read about sick five year olds in the care of their older siblings, or kids cutting their braces out because there are no dentists. I’m well into book four (Plague) and completely enjoying it (and simultaneously wanting to give the kids a hug and some food).

Also in April I finally finished the last season of Gossip Girl. I am still reeling from the relevation of who Gossip Girl is. I’m not sure how I feel about it.

And music-wise, I was forced to listen to many, many Slim Dusty songs while on my road trip to Julia Creek with my Dad. To say we have vastly different music tastes is a slight understatement. Anyway, I listened to Leave him in the long yard more times than I care to mention in April, and hope to not hear it again for at least 10 years. All respect to Slim and his song writing (he didn’t have a successful career in country music for decades for nothing) but his voice is just not for me. It would not make my chair spin.

P.S. The Voice + Ricky Martin = Happy Happy Lynda.

Oh and here is one more photo, just for fun:

Sprinkler rainbow!

Studs and stripes

I have committed a fashion crime (again). I walked past this shirt the other day, and despite having an over abundance of horizontal striped shirts and the type of body that really shouldn’t be wearing horizontal stripes, it somehow found itself amongst the other articles of clothing in the change room with me.

As soon as I saw it an internal dialogue began. “You promised not to buy any more horizontal stripes, it’s all about spots now, remember? And it’s blue. Show me something in your cupboard that isn’t blue, black or white and I’ll give you a million dollars. And the studs! They’ll make your shoulders look huge. You’ve been watching too much Gossip Girl. Only Georgina Sparks can wear studs like that. Don’t do it…”

But the heart wants what it wants. And it wanted studs and stripes. So now it’s mine.

What have you bought (and worn) that you know you really shouldn’t have?

Julia Creek Dirt and Dust

This time last year I wrote about how I’d love to attend the triathlon my hometown of Julia Creek hosts every year. Apparently writing things down makes them happen, because I’ve just returned from a trip to watch the 19th annual Dirt and Dust triathlon. My brother decided to compete this year, and being the supportive and wonderful sister I am, I went along to cheer him on. I will have a proud sister moment and let you all know he won his age group and came 25th out of a field of 400-plus competitors, which is a pretty great effort I reckon.

I decided to road trip it up this time, something I haven’t done in over 10 years. It’s not a short trip – 17 hours in a car from Brisbane, and you don’t want to be driving at night and risking a kangaroo colliding with your car, so it’s two full days travelling. I didn’t mind the long drive though, it was great to get back out into western Queensland again, where a little piece of my heart will always be.

Of course I took my camera and took way too many photos of windmills, leaves, grass, trees and spectacular sunrises and sunsets.

There is a lot of nothing out there.

This is the town of Tambo, which is approximately the halfway point of the journey. I had a great hamburger on the way up and a yummy steak on the way back, so good work on the food Tambo. Make sure you take your mozzie repellent though, we got eaten alive. The Tambo Teddies store is for sale if you’re looking for a new business opportunity.

The verandah of the Blue Heeler Hotel in Kynuna. This hotel and a servo and a few houses is all there is of Kynuna. There is some conjecture about this, as some research says it happened in Winton, but apparently the Blue Heeler is where Waltzing Matilda was first performed publically. Apparently the swagman in the song and Banjo Paterson himself drank at the hotel. Either way, the Combo Waterhole, which is outside of Kynuna is widely agreed to be the billabong in the song.

This is Julia Creek’s water tower. Most of the towns in this area have them, but Julia Creek’s is distinctive because it’s wine glass shaped. It’s kind of an ‘icon’ – the first thing you look for on the horizon to let you know you’re home. No matter which way you’re coming from it’s a long drive to the Creek, so the water tower is always a welcome sight.

Eastern Creek is where the swim leg of the tri is held. As you can see, the creek is quite low, so they cut the swim leg from 800m to 400m and had the swimmers take off in heats instead of all at once. It was touch and go as to whether the swim would even go ahead until the day before the tri.

The town.

Sadly, the Town and Country Club has closed down. Only two pubs left now.

Flinders River.

Punchbowl waterhole at Flinders River. It used to be full…so next time you do a rain dance please send some of that energy this way.

Station signs.

Prickly tree.

We must have seen more than 100 dead kangaroos on the side of the road (or splattered in the middle of the road) on the trip. I was starting to get disheartened about seeing an actual alive, hopping around one. Then this guy showed up.

The animals you see on the road.

The Australian Stockman’s Hall of Fame in Longreach. I don’t know if it was because I was so deliriously tired and hungry when we got there, but I had probably one of the best steaks of my life at the Longreach RSL. OMG. It was delicious.

The Tree of Knowledge in Barcaldine. In 2006, the same year it was added to the National Heritage List, the tree was poisoned. It’s not clear who the culprit was. The tree is significant because in 1891 (about the same time a jolly swagman was camped by a billabong) there was a shearers’ strike across central Queensland. They gathered at the tree to protest, and it was here that as a result of those protests and actions the Australian Labor Party was formed.

After it was poisoned they built this big square feature around the remains of the tree. It’s meant to kind of mimic the original movement of the tree. Honestly, it sticks out like a sore thumb. Underneath it’s ok, but when you’re travelling into and around town it looks ridiculous. Too big for a tiny place like Barcaldine.

Another sunset, another windmill.

Grassy sunset

Sunrise at Shorncliffe