Let's discuss 'discuss'

I don't know when it happened.  Or how it happened.  It just happened.
At some point the great 'they' decided to follow up a comment with the word 'discuss'.

Will the world end in 2012?  Discuss.

What are the economic ramifications of cows farting?  Discuss.

Should those that wear white after Labour Day be flogged in public?  Discuss.

(For the record I don't get the don't wear white after Labour Day thing.  I googled it and apparently it's to do with only wearing summer fashions in summer months.  Here in New Zealand summer falls after Labour Day so I think it's perfect acceptable to wear white then.  Oh god, did I just 'discuss' something?  Nah, I commented on it, phew.)

What grates me about 'discuss'?

I suspect it's because it feels like everyone has to jump in and be the first to say something.  It's like a race.  And I hate races.  I'm slow.  I'm not athletic.  And I hate to lose.

Ready?  Set .... DISCUSS!!!

Sneaky little Sock Fairies

It was a little chillier than usual last night but not chilly enough to have to wear a full pj kit.  So I stuck to my usual Spring nighnigh outfit and added a pair of socks to keep my tootsies warm should the 4am chill strike.

Well, I woke up this morning and padded half asleep to the shower and on my return I happened to turn back my sheets (no idea why, clearly still half asleep) to find the sock fairies had paid me a visit during the darkest hours of the night and daintily removed my socks from my feet so as not to wake me and left them for me to find in the morning so I could put them in the wash.  How kind.

If only the sock fairies would talk to their chocolate fairy friends as I'd much rather wake up to a bar of chocolate than a pair of sweaty socks.

Whitebait? Why not!

Growing up on the east coast of the South Island I remember spending hours at the mouths of rivers as various family members and friends of the family would go whitebaiting.  When it was sunny it was quite fun, when it was overcast and cold, not so much.

Last year I was fondly recalling these times when I decided that I was going to buy whitebait once a year in order to recapture a hint of my youth.

Last year I made do with whatever whitebait I could find and it was all good.

But this year I sought out South Island whitebait.  And I found it.  Lord knows what part of the South Island it was from, but it tasted fantastic.  Probably no different from the North Island stuff.  But to me it tastes of hours spent playing on rocks, moaning to go home, then eventually tucking into a soft fluffy piece of white bread topped with a fresh whitebait pattie with a squeeze of lemon on top.

Kind of like this ...

The recipe?  Simply:

250 grams whitebait
2 free range eggs
Salt
Pepper

Whisk.
Fry in butter.
Serve.

Yum.

Baby that hurts!

Today I was struck down with a sore stomach.

Not a sore stomach where you suffer waves of 'uh-oh where's the loo' moments.

But a tummy ache which felt like a nest of vipers had erupted in my upper abdomen and decided to have a competition to see who could squirm the most.

I used to get these stomach pains in times of stress and decadence but they've eluded me for years, I blame laziness and the recession.

But today I revisited the excruciating pain.  And then my colleague (a former nurse) informed me what I was suffering what Adult Colic.

Blow me over with a feather and pop a dummy in my mouth.

Adult Colic.

What's next?  I'll lose all my teeth (again) and start teething (again).  And then I'll enjoy growing pains (agai.....)  Oh wait, hold on.  I'm 5'2.  I never felt growing pains.

You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.

I once heard a comedian question the saying 'you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.'  Their feeling being why would you want to catch flies anyway?  I'm with them, I don't want to catch flies.  I prefer for the automatic fly spray thingy to kill them for me.

But this isn't the point of this post.  Nope.  The point of this post is ETA's new 'extreme' Salt N Vinegar chips.  Let me tell you, when I saw the word 'extreme' I got excited.  

Back in the day Bluebird did an 'extreme' version of S&V chips and they were so awesome they took a layer of skin off my tongue and singed my nostril hair.  Divine.

So it was with these memories that I bought ETA's version, ripped open the bag, inhaled and felt ... nothing.  Then I ate the chips.  There was salt.  There was vinegar.  But there was no 'extreme'.  

The only sour thing about them?  The look on my face.  

If I wasn't already a crazy cat lady I definitely am now

This last week I've suffered from a terrible affliction.

The common cold.

One moment you're peaches and cream, rainbows and candyfloss, the next you're struck down all snot and sneezes, aches and agony.

It's like the flu but not quite.  (Mainly because the flu gives you a full week off work, a cold gives you only a day or two).

So there I was feeling very sorry for myself.  The Husband had left me to go make money.  I could barely lift my lead filled head to take a sip from the water bottle.  Let alone heave my beleaguered bones from my bed to refill the hot water bottle.  And then a black and white angel came along.

Mr Alfred Mao. 

He came and cuddled up beside me on the bed.  And for once in his life he didn't meow at me for strokes.  He didn't meow at me to open a door.  He didn't meow at me for more food.  Instead he just hung out.  Not for 10 minutes.  Not for an hour.  But for the whole day.  Lord knows how he didn't pee the bed.  

Never before have I had the privilege of living with a cat who put my own needs in front of theirs.   

Dear Mr Alfred Mao (for the record it's Mao cause that's the sound he makes, he's no relative of the Chairman) you're the best cat ever and you make me proud to be a crazy cat lady.  Bless your little white non-cotton furry socks.

Annabel Langbein was my first.

You never forget your first they say.  And I'm inclined to agree.

The first time I won a competition as a child was when I was 11 or so.  We went to the Bromley School Fair and I entered a raffle.  Handing over my twenty cents I was so hopeful.  And when I found out I'd won I was stoked.  Then they gave me my prize.  A homemade clown.  Well made.  But a clown no less.  Not to sound ungrateful but it was something of a win fail.  Clowns freaked me out and this one was shut in my wardrobe along with Lisa the blonde haired blue eyed doll that could walk by herself if you pressed the walk button.  Terrifying.

Anyway, since then I've not won any competition.  Lady Luck left me.  Probably due to being so hateful towards someone's painstaking hard work and creativity.

For whatever reason, maybe because she believes in second chances, Lady Luck recently returned in the form of a Twitter competition.  I retweeted a post from Annabel Langbein's team and won her book Celebrate, which features cake recipes among other things.  I was on Twitter when the announcement post came through saying I'd won.  And it's fair to say that little old loser me was was shaking with joy.

Not wanting to aggravate Lady Luck again I quickly whipped up a cake for a friends birthday.  It was The Hummingbird Cake.  And this was the result.

And guess what, all that delectable icing wasn't hiding a fail either ... check out the inside ...

YUM.

So, to the Annabel Langbein team and to Annabel herself - THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!  My first competition win as an adult and the prize was a real winner!

(And to Lady Luck, thanks for visiting, if you want to stick around for a while and perhaps give me the winning Lotto numbers tonight that'd be great.  Just imagine all the cakes I could bake with 17 million.)