Dear blog

Dear poor, neglected blog

Where shall I start? You’ll be thinking that I don't love you anymore. That's not true at all! You’ll be wondering if I still read (lots), listen to music (all the time) or go places (often!). You'll be doubting whether I bake any more. Rest assured, I bake at every opportunity but don't always get the chance to share my recipes with you as often as I used to. Heck, you're probably questioning whether I can still form sentences longer than 140 characters! No, you have most definitely not been replaced by Twitter.

Please don't feel like this.

Life has been very busy lately and there are heaps of great things happening for me right now. There has been lots of time with friends and family and we've been doing some really exciting stuff, with plenty more coming up. I know I usually tell you all about some of the places I've been and things I get up to so you can share it with the blogosphere. It's a job you do so well and I don’t mean to stop you from doing this. After all, it's almost 5 years since you first said hi and soon it will be time for another blog birthday. I might bake you some birthday cupcakes, just to prove to you that I still know how!

I know you can see all the draft posts I have hidden just beneath the surface. You'll notice that some need a bit of tidying up and finishing while others are just a random collection of notes and links that I plan to develop further ... at some stage. There are also lots of notes in my phone, which you can't see, but be assured that the ideas are there even if I don’t always manage to show them to you.

So, my dear faithful blog friend, I have no plans to abandon you or take a break. I think about you often and thank you for standing by while I seem to be on hiatus, but let me assure you that there are plenty more tales to come.

Please continue welcoming coffee buddies to our little piece of the blogosphere. I'll pop by as much as I can!

Yours always

Café Chick

Bill Bailey - Qualmpeddler

I had been looking forward to seeing Bill Bailey in concert since booking tickets earlier this year. It would seem that Bailey has been looking forward to touring this part of the world, too. Ever since he first swallowed the Little Book of Calm on Black Books, I've been a fan of his comedy. As a musician, I also really enjoyed his Remarkable Guide to the Orchestra along with various musical interludes interspersed in his performances.

Bill Bailey is currently touring New Zealand and Australia with his latest show, Qualmpeddler, and we were at New Zealand's opening night on Friday. Although no qualms were being peddled and I'm told that some of the show is not new, this was an hilarious evening of non-stop laughter. Bailey had the crowd at "hello" and we ate out of the palm of his hand for the next 2 hours. His quick wit dealt to the many hecklers, many of whose lines made it into the show. However, no-one expected to hear someone shout, "I didn't want those grapes anyway!" from the audience and watch it become part of the show.

Naturally, music featured throughout the show including some techno-Jamaican dubs and a spell oe bouzouki, with the finale being played on Horntellica, Bailey's horn set - you've never heard Metallica like this before! A fantastic night out.

War paint

I'm not a morning person. Let me rephrase that: I like the concept of mornings, but would prefer them to happen later in the day. Although I love sunrises and all that they symbolise, I am not someone who naturally wakes refreshed and ready to embrace the promise of a new day. I find it especially more challenging when it is dark outside.

As a result of my aversion to mornings (particularly early ones), my morning routine is as brief as it needs to be: get up, feed the cat, make lunch, quick shower, get dressed and then out the door. Although I love coffee, I'd rather spend a few more precious minutes in bed than up and waiting for it to brew before hurriedly gulping it down on my way out the door. I have never watched breakfast tv either and don't see how anyone actually has the time or nerve for it.

What I also don't understand is where (mostly) women find time in the morning for excessive grooming routines. Given that I don't own a hairdryer and practically nothing in the way of hair product, I am arguably saving myself anywhere between 10-60 minutes (as a very rough guess) every morning.

The same goes for makeup; seriously, who has time to apply war paint while half-asleep each and every morning? Perhaps what is most ironic is the myriad of steps involved in trying to achieve a natural look. Then the are the obligatory touch ups during the day and the truckload of product I'd have to add to my already bulging handbag in order to maintain my 'natural' camouflage. Isn't it a sad state of affairs when an influential woman not wearing makeup makes the news or women without makeup are considered to be vulnerably exposing themselves. WTF?! I have recently watched someone hit her head on her desk as she emerged from underneath it with her GHD straighteners after 'fixing' her fringe. Heck, I know someone who touches up her makeup (foundation, mascara and lipstick) and hair before beginning a gym workout! Don't get me started on what all this product is doing to women's hair and skin in the long term ...

Don't get me wrong - I am all happy to doll up when going out, but I value my precious few extra moments of sleep far too much to sacrifice in the name of 'natural' beauty. Is anyone with me on this one or am I standing alone in a field somewhere?

Juicing a lemon

I first heard this joke about juicing a lemon many years ago and it has stuck in my mind:

A local bar was so sure that its bartender was the strongest man around that they offered a standing $1,000 bet. The bartender would squeeze a lemon until all the juice ran into a glass, and then give the lemon to a patron. Anyone who could squeeze another drop of juice out would win the money. Many people tried but nobody was able to do it.

One day a scrawny, little man came in, wearing thick glasses and a polyester suit. He said in a squeaky voice, "I'd like to try the bet." After the laughter died down, the bartender grabbed a lemon and squeezed it. Then he handed the wrinkled remains of the rind to the little man who clenched it in his small fist.

Soon the crowd's laughter turned to total silence as six drops of juice fell into the glass. As the crowd cheered, the bartender paid the $1,000 and asked the little man, "What do you do for a living?"

The little man replied with a winning smile, "I work for the IRD!"

While making lemon meringue tarts recently, I learned a lot about juicing a lemon. It's not as rudimentary as it looks and there are some small things you can do to yield a lot more juice from the very same lemon. For example, prick lemons with a fork and put them in the microwave for 15-20 seconds - this could yield twice as much juice. Then, roll them back and forward along the bench top a few times to loosen the membranes. If you want to grate fresh zest, cover the grater with plastic wrap and it will stop the rind getting stuck in the holes. Sounds like a sensible way to exfoliate!

I can't help but draw comparison between juicing a lemon and 'encouraging' someone to do something for you. Squeezing harder and for longer isn't going to get the juice out (even if the squeezer works for IRD!), but a bit of warming up, a gentle massage and some exfoliating would work wonders and be almost twice as productive as if you'd just told them to do something while cold. What do you think? ;-)

Colours for boys and girls

A long time ago, I blogged about boy food and girl food. I discovered last week that there are other seemingly gender neutral things around us that actually lean heavily towards being either male or female. Who would have thought?

Recently, I became involved in a conversation between a man and a woman trying to order a diary.
She: What type do you want?
He: I don't know. One about this big, I guess. [Gesturing.]
She: Is that A4 or A5? Which is bigger?
(Turns out he wants A5.)
She: OK, now, what colour do you want?
He: I don't know. What colours are there?
She: Have a look at the catalogue.
He: [Browsing catalogue and mumbling.] Chocolate? Why don't they just say 'brown'? I bet this is to get women buying brown diaries.
Me: Mmm, chocolate ...
He: How about this – WTF colour is fooksia?
Me: Huh? How do you spell it?
He: F-U-C-H-S-I-A.
Me: Oh, fuchsia! That's bright pink.
He: Well, why don't they just say 'pink' instead of *expletive deleted* fooksia, or whatever it is? Men would get that and stay away, but women want fancy names for things so they label 'green' as 'lawn' and 'dark blue' as 'midnight'. Ridiculous!

It was at this stage that someone else mentioned that only a woman can classify and progressively order 50 shades of white and cream. (Don’t mention grey.)

He has a point, though. Thankfully, the days of blue for boys and pink for girls are (largely) long gone, but at what point did pink become fooksia? When did red become 'flame' and blue 'sky', 'powder' or 'periwinkle'? Perhaps these shades were there all along and we have just become better at noticing them? Or is it clever marketing?

Veterinarian's Hospital

One of the many things I love about my iPod is the surprises it can deliver when I set it to shuffle. No matter what music I currently have on the 'little' 16 GB iPod I carry around with me, I always have the original Muppet Show Album on the playlist. Always. I know every word of every song and skit and never tire of the humour. Although I usually listen to the album in its entirety, it sometimes becomes interspersed with the rest of my music.

While I was out walking today, this episode of Veterinarian's Hospital came on in among everything else and I laughed out loud while I listened. That's another thing I love about my iPod: there's no way you can tell what I'm listening to unless my foolish grin gives something away. :-)



Laugh it up on your Friday afternoon.