Hola, Niñas y Niños

I've decided to start learning Spanish. I've always loved the sound of Spanish, and as much as French is supposedly considered the language of love, Spanish is the one that still sounds sexy, even when you're being yelled and/or sworn at.

I've wanted to learn Spanish for the longest time, and I always put it off, because I don't like classroom environments, and when a teacher is standing up droning on for any length of time, I get distracted and start writing stories to myself in my book margins. I learn best through reading, and then trying, not through being told. I think this ties into how much I desperately wanted to be home-schooled as a kid. I was under the impression if I were home-schooled they'd just send out a years worth of work and I could read through it all on my own and send it back when I was done. I was so disappointed to find out it didn't work that way.

My sister who has taken a Spanish course, because her sister-in-law is from Chile, has said she thinks I could teach myself from a book, and that she'd help me with pronunciation if needed.

I downloaded a book to the Kindle application on my phone, Getting Started with Spanish. It claims to be set out for use by homeschoolers, and it includes a website address to download sound clips of the words being spoken, if pronunciation is a problem.

I've read the first couple of mini lessons, and have learned how to say 'girl and boy' - 'niña y niño' 'the girl and the boy' - ''la niña y el niño'. I think one of the hardest parts may be remembering which form of 'the' to use. We only have one, they have a female 'the' - 'la' and a male 'the' - 'el'. Easy when refering to people, not so easy when talking about objects.

Still I shall persevere, and hopefully before too long I will be able to converse in Spanish.

It's Award Season...

...and once again I wasn't nominated for a Golden Globe or an Oscar. I've been snubbed, y'all.

As is the case every year, when some people don't get nominated, magazines and websites everywhere start putting up slightly hysterical sounding articles outlining all the people who were 'snubbed' by whomever is choosing the nominees.

Now correct me if I'm wrong, but I was under the impression that when you snubbed someone, you deliberately excluded them with the express purpose of hurting their feelings, and then engaged in all kinds off passive-aggressive behaviours to convey the fact that they have been snubbed and they should feel bad about that.

I suppose it's possible that the people choosing the nominees are doing just that. That they each have someone they particularly hate, and now that they've successfully blocked the nomination, they are following that actor around Hollywood, laughing at them about how they could have been nominated, but they weren't, because they're not liked. I don't know exactly what goes on over there.

It just seems to me that it's far more likely, that when you only have six available spaces, and hundreds of actors submitting 'for your consideration' tapes of their work, some people are going to have to be left off the list. (Meanwhile can you imagine how hellish the Awards shows would be if everyone who submitted a tape got nominated. They're bad enough now with the six person limit.)

I wish that unless the media had actual evidence of someone not being nominated solely to hurt their feelings and make them feel left out, they'd stop saying people were snubbed. It's ridiculous.

I'm not...but...

Ever notice how often people will say "I'm not (whatever)" and follow that right up with "but (whatever)", pretty well proving they are what they say they're not.

"I'm not racist, but I don't trust Asian people." Guess what, you're racist. Not trusting an entire race makes you racist. And I don't want to hear what you're planning on saying after that opening sentence.

"I'm not homophobic, but I don't want me and my family to be around gay people. They'll probably try to convert us." You're homophobic. And I don't want to hear the rest of what you're about to say.

"I'm not trying to offend you, but you'd look so much prettier if you put on some makeup." You don't start a sentence with "I'm not trying to offend you", unless you know you're about to say something potentially offensive. Don't say it.

I don't know what kind of person you think I am, and I don't know how you got the impression that it's okay to say that stuff to me. Don't. I don't want to hear it.

Buying One Should Be The First Thing You Get Fined For

Zooey Deschanel's current TV show New Girl, has something called "The Douchebag Jar". Basically if you act like a dick, you have to put money in the jar.
An American clothing company, Urban Outfitters, is now selling the jar.

And people are buying it. An empty jar, with a money slot in the top, that retails for $8. I can understand buying one of those money tins that you can't open just by twisting off the lid, because those are probably really hard to make. This is just a normal jar. For less than half the price you could buy a jar of spaghetti sauce, and after you've used it to make some delicious spaghetti, you can wash the jar, cut a money slot in the lid, and put on a sticker labelling it a 'Douchebag Jar'.

If you go to a store a buy one pre-made, your change should automatically have to go in the jar.

Shirtless Adventures In Mystery Land: Part 5

Because River reminded me I hadn't worked on this in a while.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
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The mermaid's tail turned into a pair of legs. Really nice legs, Joshua noticed, as she stood, stretching nakedly, before walking over to an alcove near the back of the cave.

She came back to the pond carrying a large, shiny sword. Joshua felt slightly panicy seeing it. Was she going to kill him? What did mermaids eat anyway? Before he could get too carried away with his own thoughts, the mermaid nakedly offered him the sword.

"You'll be needing this on your journey," she said. "The key to your castle has been taken by a nasty tribe of Brownies."

"...little chocolate cake things have my key?" Joshua asked hestitantly.

The mermaid laughed at his question. "Brownies are a type of faerie, somewhat related to goblins. Ususally they're nice, helping people with harvests and housework. This tribe has gone bad, we don't know why. Don't lose the sword Joshua, you'll need it."

Joshua sighed nakedly as he weighted the sword in his hands. It was a good fit. Well balanced, felt like it would be easy to swing and stab. He'd just prefer not to have to use it.

"Good luck Joshua." The mermaid smiled, leaned forward, and kissed Joshua softly. There was a flash of sparkly light, and suddenly Joshua found himself standing shirlessly in a forest, holding his sword. (Not a metaphor).

He was a tiny bit disappointed, as he'd kind of been wondering what mermaid sex might be like. As long as her legs stayed legs of course. Joshua shrugged shirtlessly, adjusted his messenger bag so it was sitting more comfortably and headed off through the forest.
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Nearing the edge of the forest, Joshua shirtlessly came across a stream with a huge waterfall. Pausing to stare at the breathtaking image, he decided this would be a good place to take a break and eat lunch. Shirtlessly setting down his bag, he was knocked off his feet by a small, slender man with very sharp teeth. The small man sat on Joshua's shirtless chest, biting his flailing arm.

Realising this must be one of the Brownies he was meant to find, Joshua heaved himself upward, forcing the man away. Five more Brownies rushed at him, trying to knock him down, biting him anywhere they could.
Joshua scrabbled for his messenger bag, managing to snag it, and retrieve his sword. Backing away from the rabid-seeming creatures, he swung the sword menacingly.

"I don't want to hurt you," he shirtlessly tried to explain, "I just need my key. If you give it to me, I'll leave you in peace."

The Brownies ignored this, snarling and advancing on him, looking to attack. Reluctantly he stabbed at the nearest one, spearing him in the chest.  As it fell to the ground, the five remaining Brownies shrieked and leaped on him, biting and scratching. Joshua fought back stabbing and swinging the sword.

Finally Joshua stood, shirtless, wounded and bleeding, surrounded by the bodies of the dead Brownies. He turned away, horrified by what he'd just done. What he'd had to do. Joshua walked down to the waterfall, standing shirtlessly under the cascading water, washing off the blood. He stayed there long after he was clean, until he felt he could face the bodies again.

Joshua shirtlessly searched the Brownies until he found a large iron key hidden in the clothing of the first Brownie to attack him. It warmed in his hand and seemed to be pointing him in the direction he needed to go to find his castle.

Joshua started walking.
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TBC.
Hopefully this time it won't be a five-month wait before the next part.

Taking A Break From My Break...

...to bitch about stuff, and also ask a question.
The bitching first (because obviously that's more important), and just to note when I use the word 'you' it's in general.

You may be the nicest person in the world. Every single thing you have to say may be fascinating, and maybe I'd be crying bitter tears of disappointment and regret if I ever found out what I didn't get to hear. Maybe you're lonely and want someone to talk to. I'm not that person. (I understand that makes me sound horrible).

If I'm sitting at a bus stop, wearing headphones, and reading a book, don't tap me to get my attention, start yammering about your kids/grandkids/pets/whatever and then get offended when I politely say that I don't feel like talking and I'd just like to listen to my music and read my book. I'm wearing the headphones for a reason.

Question time (reason for question first) I have a running joke thing with a few people where if one of us says something that could be considered mean or offensive if it were said to someone else, we respond with 'that's going in my diary'.

I've never kept a diary. I made a few half-hearted attempts here and there because friends were keeping them, but I could never get past a couple of days. I've never understood why someone would write all their dreams and secrets down in one place, where someone else might be able to find them and read them. I like to keep my secrets in my head, where they will stay secret, unless of course, the government and/or aliens have mind reading devices. (some might suggest a blog is a diary, and for some people it may be. I don't put any of my really personal stuff on here so I don't think it is for me.

So today's questions are: Did you ever keep a diary? Why? Do you still keep one? Are you ever worried someone will find it and read it?

Taking A Break

I'll be taking a break from blogging. I'm finding it harder and harder to come up with things to write about.
I may return with the occasional recipe or movie review. So keep an eye out around the end of March when The Hunger Games movie comes out. I'm sure I'll have a lot to say about that one.
And if you haven't already, read The Hunger Games trilogy. They are really good books.

Shuffle Your Feet So We Know You're Not Dead

We've all been there. Going into a public toilet, the next stall is occupied, and there is no sound at all. Not that we're listening for it, but the complete absence of noise is noticable, and kind of eerie.

We know it's just someone who is so bladder shy, that not only can't they pee while the surrounding stalls are occupied, they're holding themselves completely still, trying to not even breathe, because they hate people knowing they're in the toilet. Of course we know that's what it is.

But...once upon a time, a long, long time ago - or 15 years back - Scully told Mulder that people die on the toilet all the time. Regular people! Not just fat, drugged up, jumpsuit wearing rock stars. So I always kind of wonder if maybe, just maybe, the person in the next stall is actually dead.

Dilemma. Knocking on the wall and asking if they're okay is out of the question. If they're dead, they won't answer. If they're alive, but excruciatingly shy, they also won't answer. So then management gets called, because there may be an issue in the toilets. They knock and get no answer. Security gets brought in to break down the door....revealing some poor woman, pants down, completely mortified by the whole thing. Lawsuits follow, because they're now so traumatised they can't leave the house in case they need to pee while they're out, and they can never use a public toilet again. It's a terrible thing. *<-- As far as I know this scenario has never actually happened. Really though, it's only a matter of time. I can't be the only person wondering if people in other stalls are dead. *

So, if you're one of those people, hunched in a stall, waiting desperately for everyone to leave so you can pee in peace, shuffle your feet a little. Or jiggle the toilet paper holder. Something to let us know you're actually okay in there.

Cooking With No-One: Tomato Sauce

So I made my tomato sauce and it worked out really well. Here's how I did it:
Cut up around 2.5kg of tomatoes.

And 2 large sliced onions. (Also what is with the onions and tomatoes in Australian stores. I had the hardest time finding decent ones.)

Mix together in a large bowl, cover and leave overnight.

...The next day
Peel and cut up three large granny smith apples. Crush one head of garlic. Add 1 tsp of ground ginger.

Put tomato/onion mix and apple mix in a large pot. Cook on a low-medium heat for around 2 and half hours, stiring frequently so nothing sticks to the bottom of the pot.

In a bowl, combine 2 cups of sugar with 1 tbsp of salt.

I just realised that photo looks kind of like a face.

Make a basic roux. I used 4tbsp of butter and 4tbsp of plain flour.

Stir over a low heat until it resembles icing.

Add 1 cup of balsamic vinegar. (This whole bit with the roux and vinegar was my departure from the original recipe, which said to use something called 'Ezy Sauce'. I decided to make my own.

Pour in sugar mix, stir until sugar is dissolved.

Add to cooking tomatoes.

Cook over low-medium heat for further 30-40 minutes. The vinegary smell will blend into the tomato smell.
Use hand mixer or food processor to blend until smooth.

Dip bread into sauce to sample taste. Yum.

Let sauce cool, then transfer into storage container. Refrigerate.

My Weekend Project

I know it's only Wednesday, but projects take planning. And buying stuff. And talking myself into actually doing the projects, on the basis that now that I've bought the stuff, I damn well shouldn't waste my money by not using it.

Tomato Sauce.

My younger brother thinks he has developed an allergy to store bought tomato sauce. He's okay with tomato based pasta sauce, and fresh tomato isn't a problem, but if he has regular tomato sauce from a bottle, he gets a headache. It's really very sad, because as Australians it's practically unpatriotic to not be able to have sauce.

So I have decided to try making my own, where I know what all the ingredients are, to see if The Boy is still affected, or if it is, as I suspect, actually an allergy to one of the preservatives or colourants in the bottled stuff.

I've found an okay looking recipe, and while I usually follow recipes exactly the first time I make them, and then tweak on future endevours, this time I'm making a few changes before I even start.

I'll be making the tomato sauce on Saturday, and if it all goes well, it will be documented here.

Cooking With No-One: Butter Pecan Ice Cream

I got my Ice Cream Maker! Yay!

I'm not really a fan of the colour pink, but Myer was having a sale on these. They were going out for $104, and by the time I got to the store they only had 6 left. 5 in pink, and 1 in a shade of yellow I disliked even more. So I got the pink one.

As the butter-pecan ice cream was the reason I first wanted to make my own ice cream, I made that first.

I am following the suggestion of a friend who already has an ice cream maker, and just storing the freezer bowl part in the freezer so it's always ready for use.

Prepare the pecans.

Melt about 4 tablespoons of butter in a saucepan.

Add a pinch of salt, and chopped pecans. I could only find either whole pecans, or pecan halves, and they were all tucked away, practically hidden by the seventeen thousand different types of almonds the store stocked. Poor pecans. I chopped them myself.

Cook over a low heat for around 8 minutes. Drain butter. Taste one of the pecan pieces. It tasted a little like buttered popcorn.

Start preparing ice cream mix.

In a medium size mixing bowl, combine a pinch of salt, 3/4 cup brown sugar and 1 cup of milk.

Whisk until sugar is disolved. It will look kind of like the milk that's left over after a bowl of cocoa pops.

Add two cups of thickened cream and 1 teaspoon of vanilla essence.

Whisk until smooth. It will look like a milkshake.

Cover and refrigerate overnight.

Make the ice cream in the ice cream maker.
Assemble the machine.

Turn machine on, then pour ice cream mix through the hole in the top of the lid.

Let it mix for around 15-20 minutes. It will look like this:

Add pecans through the hole in the lid.

Mix for a further 5 minutes.

When done, put ice cream in freezer proof container. Yum.

Or eat it right away, whatever works for you.

Reading With No-One: Santa Olivia

They say don't judge a book by the cover, but I really like this cover. Before I get to my mini-review, I will give you the blurb from the back of the book:

'There is no pity in Santa Olivia. And no escape. In this isolated military buffer zone between Mexico and the U.S., the citizens of Santa Olivia are virtually powerless. Then an unlikely herione is born. She is the daughter of a man genetically manipulated by the government to be a weapon. A "Wolf-Man," he was engineered to have superhuman strength, speed, stamina and senses, as well as a total lack of fear. Named for her vanished father, Loup Garron has inherited his gifts.

Frustrated by the injustices visited upon her friends and neighbours by the military occupiers, Loup is determined to avenge her community. Aided by a handful of her fellow orphans, Loup takes on the guise of their patron saint, Santa Olivia, and sets out to deliver vigilante justice - aware that if she is caught, she could lose her freedom...and her possibly her life.'

*******For anyone not familiar with the word, Loup is pronounced Lou. 'Le Loup-Garou' is french for 'The Wolf-Man'*********

Santa Olivia was recommended to me by a friend. I haven't quite finished it yet, I've got probably around another 45 minutes of reading time to go, but I thought if I did the review before I finished, I'd be less likely to over-explain and ruin the book for people who hate being spoiled as to endings and important plot points. (I'm not one of those people, so I sometimes accidently give to much away, when around people who are.)

I'm really enjoying Santa Olivia. It's engaging, interesting, and has a lead character who seems worth knowing. And I love a kick-ass female, who can take care of herself while protecting the people around her.

The story takes place in a world, set sometime in the future where plagues of illness have killed scores of people across the United States and Mexico (and presumably the rest of the world). Santa Olivia is a small town on the US-Mexican border, and has been walled off on both sides. It is technically no longer a part of either country, and as far as the world outside knows, the only people in the town are the soldiers who live there to protect the border. The civilians no longer exist in any official way.

The US army has told the town residents they are being kept safe from El Segundo a rebel Mexican general, who would use Santa Olivia as a gateway to attack the US, but they have reason to believe they are being lied to. That there is no El Segundo and the area is being kept walled off for other reasons.

The leading Army General holds out hope to locals in the form of boxing matches, promising if anyone can beat one of his men in a fight, they will get free passage out of Santa Olivia, for themselves and one other person. The locals cling to this promise, but the one time it seems like one of them may win, the fight is fixed. So we see that nobody is ever leaving.

Up until the boxing match, Loup, who at this point is still a teenager,  had been doing a few small acts as the saint, Santa Olivia. The outcome is what makes her decide to really fight against the army, and for freedom.

I'm sure I'll enjoy the rest of this book as much as I've liked what I've already read.

And I have, waiting, the sequel, Saints Astray, which I will start later this evening.

My Breakfast Cafe

As a time saver, and so I can sleep as late as possible, I grab breakfast on the way to work and eat it when I get there.

A few months back some of the bus routes changed and this meant I got to work about 15 minutes earlier (but couldn't catch a later bus, because that would be too late), so I started getting off the bus two stops earlier and walking the rest of the way.

Back at the start of November I noticed, right near the bus stop I was now using, a tiny little cafe, with a few tables out the front. Apparently it's been there for years, I'd just never noticed it. It's run by a couple of men, brothers I think, originally from Nepal. One of them does most of the counter work, the other one is mostly out the back. They serve breakfast and lunch, curries being their main lunch attraction. I don't have time to get up there for lunch, so I'm yet to try them.

The first day I went in, I got a tall latte, with two sugars, and a maple syrup-pecan danish. It tasted like real maple syrup, and had actual pecans on it. By the middle of the week, the counter guy was just confirming that it was two sugars in the latte, and a danish to go. By the second week he didn't have to ask. I walk in and he starts my making my coffee and bagging up the danish while we say good morning, and if it's quiet in there, chat about the weather, the christmas decorations showing up on the street and other shops, how was the weekend, stuff like that.

It's not just me, there are a bunch of regulars who come in and get the same remarkable service. Some of them stay in and chat, some of them wander in, put some money on the counter with a quick "morning, I'll be out at the tables", and he knows what to bring them. The only people I've seen tell him what they're after are people making a change to their regular breakfast, and they do that before he's had a chance to start getting their usual, (through the door "I'll have a muffin, instead of some toast today mate), or newbies, (well, probably newbies, why else would they need to ask the coffee sizes, or what kind of bread they use for the toast).

While I still love my Hudson's coffee, the lattes here are excellent and the customer service is amazing (which is what really keeps me coming back every morning). One day I'll make it there for lunch and try the Nepalese Curry.