Always room for a little one...

Well, I've given up the ghost trying to make everything myself for tonight and have conceded defeat. The Gods of Cuisine have conspired against me. So, everybody is bringing something along with them and I no longer have to subject all and sundry to my exploding spring rolls. Phew! My only concern now is that my little table seats six; yet we have seven for dinner. Methinks the person with the littlest backside will be perched on a patio chair and we'll all be a bit squished. Oh well. How very classy, dahlings.

A Lazy Susan. I'd like to know exactly
who this Susan was, and why she was
so lazy. And how could her laziness
have possibly produced a spinning piece
of wood?? We may never know.

I'm off to dig out my chopsticks and dust off the Lazy Susan which I have procured from the Outlaws. I have never used such a piece of dining kit. It screams '1970s' to me but it's really from Ikea. I have spent a considerable amount of time today spinning it to see how fast it can go. (It goes very fast, if you're wondering.) Perhaps speak tomorrow if I haven't poisoned us all...

Toodle (or is it tootle?) pip for now.

How to be a rubbish domestic goddess...

Rant alert.

On Saturday, I am supposed to be having the girls over for dinner. This has now turned into some of the girls plus some other halves for a Chinese New Year supper. OK, I can cope with that. Ordinarily. Except this hasn't been an ordinary week. No. It's been a week of complete and utter culinary disasters. My domestic goddess halo has fallen. In fact, I've Frisbee-d it out of the bloody window.

Earlier in the week I made a big pot of ramen. It always goes down well in my house, does ramen. I just don't think I engaged my brain when making it, this time. Instead of shredding pak choi, in went red cabbage instead. I don't believe I've ever had luminous purple soup before. Radioactive soup. I bet Nigella never has such mishaps. A day later I tried my hand at melty-in-the-middle mini chocolate puds. They were lurrrverly. Rich, but delish. The recipe made four little puds, so I saved two for dessert the next evening. Only muggins here forgot that they were melty-in-the middle puddings, and whacked them in the microwave at full pelt to heat them through. They were no longer melty-in-the-middle puds when I fished them out. More like steaming rubber bouncy balls. Sigh.

Anyway, undeterred, that same evening I set about making a stew to use up all the leftover veg in the fridge. Now, I didn't do anything differently to what I usually do here, so I'd like to know why it all went hideously wrong. Casserole pot on hob, oil in pot, brown off meat and onions, throw in the veg, add stock and simmer for a bit, then bung in the oven. All was fine until I added the stock. Then I heard a sort of popping, crackly noise. Then a gush. The casserole pot had cracked clean IN HALF and a litre of hot stock proceeded to flood the hob, run into the oven and all over the floor...it was a flamin' stock tidal wave. £80 Le Creuset casserole pots should not shatter on your hob. No. They. Should. Not. I have a good mind to take the two halves back to the shop. Which I could have done if only I hadn't shattered them into several more pieces on the patio in a rage.

Last night I decided to practice some homemade spring rolls ahead of Saturday. I've had my three cooking calamities this week, I couldn't possibly be due any more, I said to myself. Ho ho, how wrong I was. I had the recipe in order (a usually trustworthy source - Saturday Kitchen), a very nice gal at work gave me some tips, all the ingredients were lined up and I was ready to go. The filling went well. The pastry - not so well. More bundles than rolls. Now, even though they weren't wrapped very well they still should have been ok. So I'd really like to know how in the name of all that is holy do spring rolls EXPLODE in the oven? What did I ever do to them?

I think I'll have the takeaway menu on standby on Saturday.

All the small things...

Here's a little update on what's been cooking this week:

Being a Plan 'B'
The dating game is a minefield. Blind dates especially. Now, I'm not going to get all sanctimonious here - while I haven't been on one for a very long time, I do know that blind dates can be fun. They can, however, also be a showcase of the biggest rotters and weirdos known to man. This week I was my friend's get-out-of-jail free card, otherwise known as the Blind Date Plan B, should her date have been a psychiatric ward escapee or something. He wasn't - but we still had the code phrase phone call at a strategic time, just in case it went awry. All very Sex and the City, but necessary. He didn't make the cut in the end, though.

2-4-1 equals good times
In these times of economic hardship we're all looking for a few ways to save the pennies here and there. So, when a group of mates and I decided it was high time we met up and had a good old chin wag over dinner, we scoured handbag.com until we found a suitable restaurant voucher. Tight? Us? Never! We're just thrifty every now and then. And what we saved in food costs just went towards the wine bill. Oh yes.

There's nothing like a good bitching session
When you've had a bad work week, sometimes that last thing you need is to rake it over and talk. But sometimes you do. Especially if a few of you have had similar troubles. Anyway, an apres-work drink seemed in order on Wednesday where some coworkers and I put the office to rights. And caught up on the workplace shenanigans - all those juicy little tidbits that are meaningless to everyone else, but to colleagues - they're gossip gold. And all things I couldn't possibly repeat.

My crazy mother
Every time I visit my folks, I come away with random items from her loft. Tuesday was no exception. After a very strange meal that consisted of mashed potato, some oddly spiced carrots and not much else; gossip about people I still have no idea who they are (Mother dearest: "You know him over the road with the bad leg, well he left his wife - the second one, not the one with the bad perm. You know them - you used to go to birthday parties with their daughter." Me: "Who?!"); she produced a bag of bits she 'no longer has room for'. What am I going to do with a school project about the Amazon, a box of Forever Friends stationery and some clay pots I made in school ceramics classes?

Planning for next Saturday
My gal pals are coming over next weekend for eats and drinks. I'm thinking Chinese, since it'll be Chinese New Year. There will be lots of flicking through recipe books and practice sessions in the kitchen, no doubt. And I'm sure The Other Half will happily hoover up the results. Lead-lined stomach, that one.

It's not worth crying over spilt vino...

Remind me never to play board games whilst tipsy with my equally inebriated Other Half ever again. He's just far too competitive. I mean, honestly. It was only Cranium - not exactly high pressured. (Have you ever played Cranium? It's ace. Like 4 games in one.) And certainly not worth going in a strop and throwing a prop from the game - a ball of purple plasterciney play dough stuff used in a clay form of Pictionary - at me mid-sulk. Except he didn't aim properly. Oh no. The stuff missed me and knocked my wine off the table. Luckily my hand-eye coordination is better than his, and I caught the glass. Tsk.

My Facebook graffiti of the Incident. The Other Half was not impressed.

Anyway, apart from that, last night was tres amusant. A wee gathering of chums to celebrate our pal S returning from the Big Smoke. It was supposed to be themed (her idea) and that theme was Italian food (again, her idea. But a crowd-pleaser, nonetheless) and everyone had to bring something. As people arrived, our table became laden with an entertaining mix of garlic dough balls, spinach ravioli, mini tiramisus, teddy bear shaped pasta and more pizzas than in Rome. Therefore this turned into a Pizza Party. And a good time was had by all. Until the flying plastercine incident, that is.

Boys. Honestly.

Forget your troubles, c'mon get happy...

It may be a new year, but things seem to be looking pretty miserable at the minute with the economy collapsing ever more by the day and unemployment soaring. The predictions aren't too good for 2009. So, to counterbalance the doom and gloom we're fed by the news on a daily basis (and because I was a bit bored) I've made myself a happy forecast. All the things I'm looking forward to this year. Here are just a few:

• Feeling 15 again. One of my bestest friends in the whole wide world relocates from the Big Smoke this coming weekend and we'll be living in the same town again. I feel several teenage-homage sleepovers and drinking sessions are on the cards. Splendid.
• The inauguration. A fresh start for those across the pond in a week's time - although I think I along with many others will miss the ludicrous "Bushisms" we're so accustomed to hearing.
• Traveling a bit closer to home. I don't think I'll get away on a transatlantic jaunt or anything this year, but I'm looking forward to days out in places that are on my doorstep really yet I never have time to visit. Edinburgh, The Lakes, maybe a short hop over to Amsterdam or Barcelona, and my friend is getting married in Berlin this summer.
• Making the house our own. The foray into home decoration continues in 2009. Living room is done; porch, kitchen, dining room and bathroom to finish; bedroom and garden next on the list. We'll get there. Room by room, we'll get there.
  
• Vive la France. New Year can be such a let down - nothing magical ever happens when the clock strikes midnight. But I'll be ringing in 2010 with a group of chums in the middle of nowhere in Normandy. Good times lie ahead.
  
• Getting things in order at work. We're due a big office shift-around, and I'll be hopefully sitting with the rest of my team near a window instead of plonked on a row with The Most Annoyingly Voiced Coworker Ever Bar None. Good opportunity for me to get rid of the collapsing towers of paper that appear to have eaten my desk.
  
• Family and friends stuff. Visiting my sister in London Town; a couple of 30th birthdays; a 50th wedding anniversary; a wedding; crazy-themed birthday parties...who knows what else the year has in store?
  
• The Oscars. I love them. Sad but true. I try to stay up late each year to watch them but inevitably fall asleep and end up watching the main winners on the news. Along with the bad red carpet outfits.Hey, I can judge if I want to. They can't hear me.
  
• The next Harry Potter flick. How gutted was I when they knocked the release date back to July '09? Very. And, The Other Half has finally got around to reading all the books - so when we settle down to watch The Half-Blood Prince, he can ask himself what bits they've left out, instead of me. Hurrah!
  
• The longest eclipse for a century. Spacey things have always fascinated me, and this total solar eclipse in July will be lasting over 6 minutes, apparently. I won't be going to Bhutan to witness the event, however - but the t'interweb is a wonderful thing.
• First aid course. I've always wanted to do one and have finally got a place on the big 4-day course through work in February. Tying knots has never been a forte though, so I think I'm going to have to practice slings and bandages otherwise my casualties will look like extras in a war film.

Not too shabby a year, I think.

Scaraboosh, Scaraboosh, will you do the banned tango...

The first week back at work after all the Christmas gallivanting is always a bummer, so apologies for the lack of posts. Not that much has happened this week to report on, as it happens. I'm still weaning myself off the Christmas chocolates; met up with some gal pals on Thursday for some happy hour pizza and a catch up (always a winner when you're broke); took a half-day from work yesterday to attend the funeral of a very distant relative (was more there for the sake of other family members, and to serve quiche and tea at the wake than anything else); and ploughed my way through my bursting email inbox.

In fact, the most exciting thing (which highlights the tedium of my working life, sadly) to happen this week was a funny email circulated around some work bods featuring a catalogue of misheard song lyrics. You could tell who was bored at their desks and trying to while away the hours until home time by the guffawing and erupting ripples out laughter throughout the office. Which led me to think about my good mate S (moving back up here from The Big Smoke in a couple of weeks) and how we laughed and laughed at school over our other friend C - who thought the lyrics to a really bad dancey tune used often on 'Shooting Stars' with Vic Reeves leaping about inanely to it were "My lover has no money, he's on his trampoline." (Actual lyrics: "My lover has no money, he's got his strong beliefs." That's by Gala, if you care at all.)

This all tickled me so much I had to share:


But my favourite one on the email was this:

Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves by Cher
Misheard lyrics: Give these tramps some peas!
Actual lyrics: Gypsies, tramps and thieves!

Hmm. Perhaps next week will be more thrilling?

New year, new resolutions...

I found a list of ten things in an old notebook from last New Year's Day which I promised myself I would complete in 2008. I've been able to tick one of them off. ONE. How depressing. And that one thing was to start a blog. At least I've kept it up, I suppose. So, this year, I hope I'm setting myself achievable targets and the fact that I've written them down publicly should mean they're easier to track (and have people bug me about).

1. To cook something new each week. I love tinkering in the kitchen, and am now armed with an head full of ideas thanks to all my recipe books from Christmas, so in theory this shouldn't be too hard. Famous last words.
2. Keep in touch better with all my friends and family. I'm rubbish at it in general. Facebook is good for getting an overview of what everyone is doing, but it's no substitute for the real thing. This year I promise to meet up with people more.
3. Eat healthier. No dieting (yeech, if ever there was a surefire way to put on weight, it's to mention the 'd' word), just eating better in general and taking lunches to work etc. instead of slinking off to the cafe every day and spending a fortune in the process.
4. Decorate my bedroom. We've lived in this house for well over a year now, and things are starting to feel more like home. The living room certainly does since we've redecorated. However, the bedroom does not. I am not a beige person and this needs to be rectified.
5. Make more of an effort with clothes. I always feel like a grotty student at work (even though I haven't been one for three years now) and need to invest in nicer work apparel. I feel the need for some posh shoes and underwear too. the only trouble is, I hate shopping.
6. Get organised. I have no idea what's in some of my cupboards at home. Likewise I have a lot of crap that I could pack off to a car boot sale/charity shop. Also, if I'm organised in my home - it might rub off in my life. I am constantly late for everything and it sickens me!
7. Enjoy Sundays. Instead of whinging about how boring they are and setting myself up with horrible Sunday night feelings before work on a Monday - actually do more with them. Spend some time with The Other Half. Go out for walks. Do things. Go new places.
   
8. Join in with something. Start a course - maybe pick up a language I left after GCSE, or do sign language. Or first aid. Anything. Take up a hobby or find more time for the hobbies I do have but never get around to. I feel this might be a good way to ease stress, too.
   
9. Write my ideas down. My head is jam-packed with ideas for all sorts of things like trivia books, short stories, full novels - but they're all jumbled up. I need to have a notebook on me at all time to write down weird dreams, funny turns of phrase, anecdotes and the like.
10. Read more. I've been better at this over the last year - I'm getting into a routine of reading a little bit each night. I also want to start a marathon movie-watching session with The Other Half - doing the A-Z of our DVD collection. That could take all year.
    

And there you have it. Achievable, I think. At least I don't have to wean myself off anything horrible like cigarettes...although weaning yourself of Christmas chocolate is a bummer.