~
Today, while we were walking, I was thinking of a comment Apolline had left on my Missing Strangers post about social movements and urbanization. We turned a corner and here was exactly what I had been imagining loneliness all together to look like:
I have just spent the evening watching an old movie about the Australian opera singer Marjorie Lawrence. Marjorie was born on a farm in 1907 and somehow managed to go from distant Australia to France to study and then onto New York to rise in the operatic ranks. Being an Australian girl she was very physical and she was the first soprano to perform the immolation scene in Götterdämmerung by riding her horse into the flames as Wagner had intended. Good old Marjorie also performed the Dance of the seven veils in Richard Strauss's Salome[1] "more convincingly" than most other sopranos!
Not long after she married she contracted polio and was left confined to a wheelchair. She managed to resume her career and sang for some time afterwards. She even travelled overseas to entertain the troops after WWII and I think even during the Vietnam War. Marjorie died in 1979.
The movie starred Eleanor Parker as Marjorie. Dear Eleanor I believe was nominated for an Academy Award. I can only think that it was either in the category of "most overacting actress" or "worst lip synching by an actress in a muscial". Hey Brittany Spears wasn't born yet! [In case you missed it in other parts of the world, little Brit is in Australia and audiences are walking out because she is lip synching her way through the concerts and badly at that!]
Anyway, the movie was the usual Hollywood bad retelling of a great story. Marjorie was disappointed with the result saying that it did not represent her life at all. Bad movie, as it may have been, the subject, Marjorie Lawrence, really interests me. I want to know more about her now.
I went online and was able to track down a 2nd edition copy of her autobiography "Interrupted Melody" which is what the movie was called also. The blurb says it is a little damaged, but heck it was published in 1949! It claims to have been signed by the author also, so I am a little chuffed. I don't usually buy second hand books as I love the feel and smell of new books, and I worry about introducing book worm into my own library, but in this case there was no choice, To get a copy reproduced through a library would be more expensive.
So, I hope all goes well, and hopefully the book will arrive in a week or so. I hope Marjorie told the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth....more than what can be said for the movie!
Well, Lizzie's school report came home today.
And before I start I just have to point out that she did lose her mojo this year. I dunno what happened. Friends, boyfriend, parties, turning 17. Shit happens.
But it came back, so she told me we have to ignore this report.
So the first subject I came to was Maths.
And I really didn't get past that because it was the funniest Teacher Comment I think I've ever read on a report.
it said.
Lizzie is a student with the ability required to do the work but finds it very difficult to fully concentrate on a task and is always talking with peers and occasionally eating.
I said to her - what are you occasionally eating?
But he is a bit of a nutter. One day there was a girl in the class using one of those vicks inhalers. You know the white sticks you put up your nose and inhale to clear your nose when you have a cold?
Anyway he rang up the girls mother and told her that she was sticking tampons up her nose during class.
Now I must admit that Lizzie did tell him that it was a tampon. But she was joking. And you'd think he would check before he rang and told the girls mother.
Son has just driven off to his univeristy exam. I am more nervous than when I go to exams myself. I guess that a parent always wants the best for their child and even if they are 24 and a big hairy man! I kept a low profile until Son left so that my nervousness wouldn't freak him out.
Daughter2 ran a 5.2km marathon after work last night. It was a twilight marathon. This is the same girl who climbed two of the Glass House Mts last weekend. [When we say mountain in Australia, take it with a little grain of salt. Our Mountains are sometimes more a description than an actuality]. This is the same girl who spent her 15th year horizontal in her bed, with severe chronic fatigue. She is 28 years old now and doing things we never dared hope for her. This weekend she is buying a bike so she can go riding with Daughter1 and The Boy. I can't believe these are my daughters. It has been a long road for her, but damn, nothing is going to stop her. I am in awe!
Mr FD is on the road in his new car. He keeps phoning me and singing me "I'm driving in my car". Springsteen has nothing to worry about. I would still be his in a blink. I am happy that Mr FD is enjoying the thrill of a new car ...before they repossess it at least! Hopefully he is doing more than just drinving in his car, but making some money as well!
I am feeling a strong desire to start baking again. My nesting instinct is coming back. Damn. First I have to rediscover my house under the filth and dust of the past 12 months. I was going to take before and after photos to show on my blog to motivate me into action, but I fear you would all tell me to change my name to Pig in Mud instead of Flamingo Dancer! You will just have to be content with my written crowing about my domestic superiority instead.
Daytime television viewing is really bad. Well the advertising is really bad. I think I missed out on the Snuggies as it is now summer, but I can still get in on the shamwow offer. I can't help wondering how one washes a shamwow if they absorb all the water? I can also buy life insurance before my medical results come back from the doctor to make my husband happy, and buy funeral insurance so that my children don't have to worry about throwing me in a hole. Then I can lemon detox and shed a dress size [and my health] in two days. After that I can buy Nude cosmetics and hide all the ugly bits - does it come in a drum? I won't mention the range of sports equipment that I can have delivered to my door either. It is a full regime being made dissatisfied with myself and fearful of life in general.
The crow has left his post. I started lying on my bed with a pile of pillows blocking its view of my face. I did hear a noise at the bathroom window early last night, like a bird clawing against the screen, but I didn't investigate. I am starting to feel like I am in a remake of The Birds! Between magpie season and being told to walk around with an ice cream container with eyes drawn on the back of it, on my head to avoid a pecking attack and now the Crow Stalker , I feel like I am an endangered species.
Isn't Al Gore looking good these days? Lost weight, better haircut. Does he have a girlfriend?
My mother phones to say that her sister, my aunt, is to have chemo after her bowel cancer surgery. At least that is what I think she said. She told me "you know those tablets you have after you have an operation". Chemo, Mum? "I don't know, I don't ask questions!" Then she proceeds to make all sorts of wild claims and predictions based on no information and no fact. I guess it should be no surprise to anyone that I have a mother who is rampant, but it still surprises me. Was she like this when we were growing up? Surely not. Yeah, probably. Explains a lot doesn't it?
I have spoken to my sister 3 times by phone this week. I love my sister. She doesn't understand me at all, but she loves me. What more can you ask from a big sister? I on the other hand understand her too well, but I still love her. That is what younger sisters are for.
Another niece engaged. Two family weddings planned for next year. We are expecting at least one more yet - wedding that is. The changing of the guard generation wise. We are becoming the elder statesmen/women. It is a nice thing. I am ready to hand over and be dotty and allow them to take the pressure.
I think I will lie here in bed a little longer and think about house cleaning and baking. It is a life and someone has to live it. I sacrifice myself for you!
`
Do you ever wonder what might have happened to people who are essentially strangers to us?
Next door to my office building is a retirement & assisted
living place - it used to have the word "Alzheimer's" in the name and
we joked about just trading one place for the other as our minds went; usually with the assumption that too much work was going to cause such a decline.
Anyway - over the last couple of months every morning, as I've walked past, an elderly man has been outside hiding behind a pillar enjoying a cigarette. Every morning I would say "good morning how are you?" and he'd respond with a loud and cheery: "Good morning to you and I'm great"
The last few mornings he was not there and I wondered if he had died or been caught. It crossed my mind that I might never know - I don't think I would've gone inside to enquire about the health of a man having a forbidden cigarette.
I was so relived to see him back this morning that I almost said "oh thank God you are ok".... I really had been quite concerned about someone whose name I don't even know.
*******
The bike below used to appear near the office during the day and
then be gone by evening. Then it arrived and stayed. And stayed and
stayed. If this had been anywhere near I live, it would've
been stripped within a few hours. After more than a month the rear
tyre is flat but no-one has stolen the helmet or attempted to steal spare parts from the bike.
So, where is the owner? Did they die at
their desk? Did they walk to the shops at lunch time and get run-over
crossing the road? Or perhaps they developed Alzheimer's and forgot they owned a bike.
I hate not knowing..... and unlike the missing elderly man, where I
could've enquired if I'd wanted to, there is no-one to ask about the bike's owner.
November 6th
Not feeling altogether healthy today, so have been lying a little upon my bed. I have the blinds open and a crow is spending large amounts of time sitting on the lamp post outside my bedroom window and looking in at me. It flies away and then returns to take up its post again. I am not overly superstitious, but I am starting to get a little spooked out by the damn crow. I would indeed like to stone the damn thing.
Look you saggy bag of black feathers take your business somewhere else! SHOO!
There's a certain je ne sais quoi about dumplings. I'm fascinated by dumplings of all cultures, shapes, and forms. From matzoh balls to pierogi, from momos to gnocchi, they are the perfect comfort food.
The fact that they are usually a hundred percent carbohydrate is completely irrelevant.
I always though gnocchi were made with eggs, so the discovery that they don't have to be came as a pleasant surprise. In fact, some traditionalists say that eggs make for a chewier gnocchi, and that is not good. Three large sweet potatoes in the CSA box, some sturdy sage from the herb pot, and we're all set!
What you need:
2 lbs sweet potatoes, roasted (45 minutes in a 450 degree oven), peeled, mashed well
2/3 cup ricotta cheese (throw it in a fine sieve to allow water to drain out, a couple of hours or so)
1.5 cups or more of all purpose flour
salt and pepper to taste
The idea is to make a dough out of the above, using as little flour as possible. To make that possible, use the firmest variety of sweet potatoes you can find. Roast them in the oven instead of boiling. Dust all surfaces with generous amounts of flour and keep dusting.
Bring a huge pot of water to a boil.
Mix together the mashed sweet potatoes, ricotta, flour, salt and pepper. Don't overwork the dough. All you want is for it to stay together and not stick to your hands. Divide the dough into six pieces (a dough separator/scraper comes in very handy.)
Roll each piece out into a half-inch thick string and cut into gnocchi a bit larger than your thumbnail. Then press a floured fork into the back of the gnocchi to create grooves for sauce. Go here for a technique video.
Cook the gnocchi in three batches. Simply add them to the boiling water and fish out with a slotted spoon as soon as they start to float. Place in a platter.
At this point, you can spread them on a sheet, freeze, then store the frozen pieces in a ziplock bag. Or you can saute them in a sauce of your choosing. I melted a couple of tbsp of butter, fried ten sage leaves in it and added 2 tbsp of maple syrup, before giving the gnocchi a quick saute. Delicious.
Yesterday Mr FD and I experienced two ends of customer service - the good, the bad and the bad was ugly.
As mentioned in a previous post, Mr FD and I have been in the process of buying a car for the company that Mr FD is currently setting up. He started some two week ago on this process and he told everyone involved that he needed the car to leave on an extended trip last Monday. He just wanted the basic car, happy to choose from the colours on the show floor. Wanted no extras - oh except floor mats which now cost $180AUS for 4 rubber floor mats! Mr FD made call after call, repeating his need and his deadline. No one listened. They all heard what they wanted to hear, and then covered up with excuses of "fax didn't arrive" , "missed the deadline and head office won't process until tomorrow" and "they are out of the office and I'll leave theme a message" . Where do you leave the message? On the toilet wall of the business next door?
Anyway, we finally got the call to collect the car. We made an appointment for 2.30pm. When we arrived our saleswoman was nowhere to be seen. She was out on a test drive with another customer, even though we had an appointment and knew Mr FD had to leave that afternoon on an extended trip. A number of salesmen walked by us without even acknowledging that we were human and breathed. Eventually we made enough noise to be noticed and demanded to be served. A very junior member of the team took us through signing the papers and then she found a poor salesman who had a leg in a cast and couldn't make an exit to go through the car with Mr. FD. I made little effort to make small talk with Junior Girl as she kept up this charade of our Saleswoman returning at any moment, weeping over her unintended absence. Oh yeah.
An hour later we are driving out of the show room and Saleswoman appears. She throws herself in fron of our car and reefs open Mr. FD's door and screams "Congratulations " as though we had just given birth and not gone into spasms more of heart breaking debt. Then she plants a big lipsticky kiss on his cheek, something that normally would have his heart go into overdrive. THEN she runs to the otherside of the car and reefs open MY door, and rubs her cheek against mine. I take particular note of her name badge and facial features to add her to my stick list. I had never met this woman before, Mr FD had only ever spoken to her over the phone. Not a word of "sorry" even though "I knew that you were driving an hour to get here, and had an appointment with me, and were short of time". Nope, She had our money and she was onto the next sale. Customer service? I think not. Next company car, and there will be one or two or three, won't be bought from her.
On the other side, earlier that morning, a real estate salesman left his comatose mother to drive over an hour to bring some papers to us for signing as he knew Mr. FD needed to sign them before he left yesterday. [We are renting warehouse space]. While we were signing, the LOVELY [HANDSOME] Salesman received a phone call to inform him that his mother had just woken from the coma. She had been involved in a car accident a day or so previously. So this man spends 3 hours away from his possibly dying mother as he knew how important his role was in the next step of Mr FD's business. [If we had known before the meeting we would have gone to his office]
Wait there is a 3rd tale of service. Mr FD is in the seed business, pasture seed mainly. He had bought some seed and organized for it to be sent to a depot for delivery. Yesterday morning there is a knock at our front door, Mr FD goes outside and there is a delivery truck driver outside. The delivery man says "Got a pallet of seed, here for you, mate." They sent the damn seed to our residential address despite Mr FD making it obvious the residential address was for billing purposes only! The poor delivery driver had in fact alerted his office that they were sending him to a residential address with a pallet of seed, but they wouldn't listen or double check the details, so the poor delivery driver drove across town only to be told that "yes, that is right, this is the wrong address", and to have to drive back across town to the depot.
So not only are they giving bad customer service to their customers but they are giving bad customer service to each other. Your co-workers deserve as much as your customers, if not more.
To me, it is easier to do the right thing, and to do the right thing first time around than to do to the pretence dance. And if MR FD asks you to help him make a deadline - just remember there is a Flamingo Dancer with a stick list standing behind him.
[Stick list : list of names of all the people I am going to hit with a stick one day soon]
Daughter1 just sent me the following quote of the day. Needless to say I agree with it!
'Whatever you give a woman, she will make greater. If you give her sperm, she'll give you a baby. If you give her a house, she'll give you a home. If you give her groceries, she'll give you a meal. If you give her a smile, she'll give you her heart. She multiplies and enlarges what is given to her. So, if you give her any crap, be ready to receive a ton of sh-t.'
After looking through old photos of myself and my sibs when we were kids, I have come to the conclusion that we must have worn the most ridiculous, daggy swimmers you could ever hope (not) to see.
Now I myself only saw my mother sew once, when she sewed my bridesmaid doll a dress and cape. But these definitely have a home sewn look to them. And we seemed to wear them for years.
Take me here for instance. Determined to get to the beach. And nothin', not even those baggy daggy swimmers is going to stop me. I mean mother, you could've taken in the legs a little. I bet if I keep looking I'll see one of my sisters wearing these before I got them. Probably both of them.
And one of my favourite photos. Emjay, the oldest, with our brother and sister. Sporting a very unfashionable blue suit with a matching home done fringe trim.
And here she is again, what maybe a couple of years later, still wearing it.
Move forward another couple of years and my other sister is now wearing it and Emjay has a much nicer, yet still loose fitting pair of swimmers on. As you can see I'm still wearing the same pair I had on in the beginning. Because I had penty of room to grow into.
OMFG. And I was right. Even though I was only half joking. Here is Min, wearing my baggy pink swimmers. I wonder if I ever owned a new pair.
I have this vision of my mother, searching through her wardrobe every year the day before we went on our summer holidays, pulling out a bag full of atrocious old faded swimmers and handing us each a pair. Mind you it wouldn't have been a very full bag. We seemed to last through our childhoods with three of four pairs between us.
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