Leave me out of parenthood, thank you very much.

Looking after teenagers is hard. I’ve just spent a week supervising my tenacious fifteen year old sister only to find myself behind in work, and the washing. This is what an accelerated experience of parenthood is like? If so, leave me out of it, thank you very much.

I’ve never been excited about the idea of having children, but this week has hammered home the difficulties of following some of my dreams if I do go down that road. But, if I should choose not to have children, what effect will that have on my life as I age?

For one thing, there will be no one to look after me as I get older.

From a wider perspective, in parts of Asia and Europe, family tend to look after their old-folk as they reach the end of their lifespan. Not so in Australia. We’re such an individualistic society, and rarely do adult-children look after their old-folk full-time, including them in their lives, but rather cart them straight off to an old-persons home.

If my figurative children are going to cart me off to an old persons home, is there even any point having some, bringing them up, paying for their schooling and dealing with their crap when they’re teenagers, just so they can forget about me when I’m old? Surely I’d be better saving the money I would have spent on their education, for my own retirement.

Perhaps this is a cynical view of life, and a narrow view of the enrichment of family. After all, family brings us love, support, affection, life experiences and society. However, it also brings headache, obligation, frustration and Christmas dinner missing a turkey because Uncle so-and-so has run off, drunk, down the road with it.

Parents are flawed, including my own. God knows they did their best, but, like the rest of us, they’re human. Mum is currently struggling with Grandma’s dementia and the family expectations placed on her because of this, and because she’s the eldest and a nurse. Couple this with supervising a disruptive and antagonistic teenager, who refuses to go to school; she’s burning the candle at both ends.

This same teenager has been trying my patience this past week, as I put my oar in to help carry the load. Within the next year or so, grandma will probably end up living in a home. Which is sad, but what about the stress put on my mum, to manage grandma and her own life? Both ends of this stick are hard. I don’t want to end up in a home like grandma might soon, but I wouldn’t want to be in mums position, either.  My mum is one of a kind though, and always puts herself out for others in need.

When the time comes, I’m not going to leave my parents to fend for themselves, but I will struggle to manage my life and theirs. Mum is a strong person, but I don’t know that I could manage my writing, work, teenagers and parents at the same time.

I’m the eldest, and when I was a child I helped bring up my younger siblings. Perhaps this is where my lacklustre impression of parenthood started. For me it still represents a lack of freedom and a hell of a lot of responsibility.

It just seems like there’s a lot to juggle, this should-I-have-children conundrum. Will I manage to bring up a child so they’re a respectful teenager and then adult, or will they turn into a nightmare emo-child from hell?
There’s so much about parenthood that’s unpredictable, and while I like that life throws curve balls, the psychotic teenage-child sort is not my cup of tea.

I’d like to skip the whole thing and go straight to having a relationship with adult-children. Then I can have the experience of family, and maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll have some company in my old age.

Albert Einstein

"Creativity is the residue of time wasted."

Review of John Carter

I knew nothing about this movie before I went to see it, and it was only after I viewed it, that I was made aware that it was based on Edgar Rice Burroughs classic comic-book novel, "A Princess of Mars."

John Carter was what the Star Wars prequels should have been – well put together, with solid performances, writing, and direction from Andrew Stanton – and although the CGI was excellent, it was far from being the only redeeming feature of the film.

I have since watched the trailer, and it is not a good indication of what John Carter has to offer. Frankly, I wouldn’t have been enthused about the prospect of sitting through the film, if I had seen the trailer first. I also have a problem with the film title “John Carter,” and think a more evocative title would have worked better. It's a shame that people may decide not to view the film, based on the trailer, because I was impressed and I have added this film to my list of transporting stories, gratifying to revisit every time I wish to escape my world.

The scope of the work is impressive, and the dialogue is tight, managing to successfully meld poignant and amusing moments. It’s action-packed, and the world on Mars is believable, no doubt due to the script being based on Burroughs novel.

The transition between both worlds could have been smoother. Having no prior knowledge of the film, when the first Mars scene-change to Earth had continued for a protracted period of time, I was left wondering if the starting sequence on Mars was a prelude to another movie. This impression was quickly readjusted, when the action shifted back to Mars, and the story flowed well.

The surreal and the other-worldly has been done to death, and done recently; but, this film feels fresh and it’s supported by the aforementioned redeeming features of solid direction, acting and script. I recommend it, and think there’s room here for a sequel. But don’t take my word for it, go see it yourself.

It’s the cashier line up for me

I really dislike the self-service machines in supermarkets. Yes, they’re sometimes quicker, yes, the lines are often shorter, but the truth is, for the most part, they just don’t bloody work.

Shopping is not my favourite task. I become side-tracked, I always forget the damn toilet paper and I somehow manage to come home with broken eggs, after carefully checking the case. In the city, it is worse, people are harried and rushed. As soon as I think I know where things are, management move the shelving. And then there’s the checkout.

Half the time I join that line of resigned, exhausted people, fervently hoping I don’t have to speak to anyone, only to be harassed by an accusing machine, “please put the item in the bagging area, and please remove the item from the bagging area”. The other thing I loathe about self-service is the bagging. Sometimes I will pull out my bag from home only to have the thing shriek out again “please remove the item from the bagging area.”

I then signal the very individual I don’t want to talk too – a customer-service assistant – and point helplessly while they stuff around with keys. Lightning-fast fingers tapping keys and overriding functions, then, satisfied; they walk off to the next exasperated consumer of goods.

Only to have my frustrated hand rise quivering again, then turn to gesturing wildly, as my concerns over the machine demanding the weight of asparagus priced by the bunch, are ignored. Meanwhile, the line of cashier service is flowing faster, and I’m having more of an interaction with the customer-service assistant than I would if I were in front of a cashier.

The one good thing about these self-service machines is that people rarely have the opportunity to do the quick dash to grab something they are missing, unlike cashier service, where the malevolent eyes of the whole line-up behind them glare at the customer and the gormless cashier. The bad thing is that I can’t myself run off, for something I’ve missed.

It’s not all bad, I could potentially put my heritage tomatoes through as regular tomatoes, but somehow when faced with all the choices I feel as if the machine, with its loud, insistent squawk is watching me, and so I stay safely within the frustrating bounds of the law. The self-service machines are sometimes faster, but faced with all the problems I’m now unwilling to take the risk. It’s the cashier line up for me.

Review of The Rum Diaries

When we arrived at The Rum Diaries, there was no sign out the front, so - it being our first time there - we tentatively walked in and recognised the place from the pictures on the website. It was smaller than we'd anticipated, but very cosy. Almost like stepping into someone’s home.

Immediately we were greeted by a friendly waitress, who remembered our booking for five without having to consult a book. She showed us to a round booth table which was comfy and intimate; however had a rather dangerous outcropping that one of my friends lightly grazed her back on, as she struggled to exit the booth.

The wine was expensive, at $10-11 a glass, but it's a price I'd expect for this sort of establishment. The Malbourgh pinot gris was fantastic. We ordered the scallops, poached chicken, lamb and a haloumi entree. All dishes were a bit on the small side, but each was delicious and cooked just right. It's what I'd expect for tapas, and I was pretty happy. Although, we ended up being given the beef instead of the chicken by mistake (the girl took our order without writing it down), we were happy to eat it, and I got the feeling that we wouldn't have had a problem exchanging it, if we'd made a fuss.

All through the night our water was topped up, there was never any pressure to move on and we were politely asked if we would like any more drinks, when a dish was bought out or taken away.

All in all, it's a "special occasion" outing, but I'd definitely go there again.
Rating: 3/5
http://www.therumdiaries.com.au/
http://www.urbanspoon.com/u/reviews/1811750

This one's for you, Nachos

I've been attempting to make cheaper alternatives for dinner and lunch lately. I love cooking, but it's hard to find the time to do it these days. I have constant competing demands on my attention. Some more delightful than others.

Normally, I cook with a very fixed focus and I'm 100% involved in the process. I cook based on what I have in the fridge and pantry and often I start without knowing what I'm creating. This is the theme of tonights dish and the recipe below is the result.

This isn't about to turn into a food blog. There are many people out there more talented and dedicated than I to hold the cooking blog flag loud and proud. But I have a secret love for food and who says I have to choose a narrow field of style for my own creative corner.

I really enjoyed this dish and the pasta I used was amazing. Now I have enough of it for the next three lunches and two dinners (as well as sneaky second helpings tonight). As I had all the ingredients already, this whole dish probably would have cost me just under $15, taking into account the portions of each ingredient that I used. Not bad for my budget conscious (dwindling) bank balance.

And, of course, I always welcome suggestions for improvement!

Sultry Stovetop Salmon with Red Sauce and Pasta or Rice

Sauce

1 teaspoon cumin seeds
1/2 teaspoon fennel seeds
1/2 a bunch of coriander
1 teaspoon paprika
400gm can salmon
1 broccoli head
1/4 of a pumpkin, diced.
2-3 carrots, sliced
2-3 garlic cloves
1 red onion
200gm can of whole tomatoes
50gm can of tomato paste
200gm can red kidney beans
I - 2 chilies w/out seeds
1 cube of reduced salt chicken or vege stock dissolved in 50-100mls water
pepper to taste

1-2 cups short pasta or rice. (one cup will make 2- 2.5 cups of rice/pasta. 2 cups will make 4 - 4.5 cups)

Roast Pumpkin

1/2 teaspoon cumin seeds
1/2 teaspoon fennel seeds
pinch of salt
pinch of pepper

Method

Turn oven on to 200 degrees, fan forced

1. Dice pumpkin and mix with fennel seeds, cumin seeds, olive oil, rock salt & pepper. Put in oven for 20 minutes or until cooked. After 10 minutes, check pumpkin and turn.

2. On stovetop, turn heat to high under saucepan and wait until hot. Put cumin seeds and fennel seeds in pot and swirl around the base until just after they become aromatic. Turn heat down to high/medium. Add tablespoon olive oil.

3. Put chopped garlic and seedless chili in saucepan and stir till lightly browned.

4. Put diced red onion, roughly sliced broccoli, and carrot in saucepan. Stir until combined then put lid on saucepan to partly steam the veges.

5. In separate saucepan, start boiling water for the pasta or rice. 2.5 cups of water to one cup of rice/pasta.

6. Open can of red kidney beans over a strainer and wash with cold water until all traces of bubbles from the can-water are gone. This may take up to two minutes.

7. Add kidney beans to the sauce, stir, then add tomato paste, paprika and drained can of whole tomatos. Mix, then put lid back on.

8. Wash the strainer and then open the can of salmon over it to drain the can-water. When drained, add salmon to sauce and gently break apart chunks slightly as you mix it in. Put lid back on.

9. Dissolve reduced-salt chicken or vege stock separately in 100mls boiling water. Leave for around 30seconds, then stir until dissolved. Slowly add stock to sauce while stirring. Turn heat right down to a low simmer then put lid on.

10. By now your separate saucepan of water should be boiled, so add the pasta/rice and stir. When this reaching boiling point again, add half a cube of chicken stock to flavour the pasta/rice.

11. Take the pumpkin out and check with a knife to see if it's cooked. If it is, then eat one, say mmm, then mix the rest in to the sauce (be careful not to pour the excess oil from the baking tray in to the sauce) and put the lid back on.

12. When the pasta is cooked, drain, run for a quick second under the tap to get rid of any starchiness from the pasta/rice then turn off the heat and serve with a generous helping of the sauce on top.

Viola! You have a saucy Salmon pasta for your delightful dinner.

This whole thing took me about 20-25minutes to cook and prepare.

Tales From The Garden

I've been starting to cook a lot more, recently. I really enjoy it. It's something that I can become completely immersed in, and has so many rewards connected to the delicious pastime. Also, it's a creative pursuit to smooth my worries and help forget the uncreative work of the day. It has immediate gains - praise from dinner guests - cooking can produce beautiful food when done right. I particularly reveal in the challenges I face making something from what most people would consider to be nothing special. The basics: a single carrot, a can of chickpeas, broccoli stalks garlic and chili, tomato paste and of course my herb garden. For me, it's all about the taste.

This mix and others from the depths of my fridge almost always creates the most tantalising aroma from a bubbling pot of Italian inspired ingredients. Italian food being so simple and good - just as life should be. Magical tastes arise from a dish infused with herbs.

Some of my strongest memories are food related. Not fussy, showy food; good, strong peasant style dishes and home made. We had six or seven plum trees, while I was growing up in rural New South Wales. My brother and I use to help pick the plums for an assortment of mum's creations, including plum sauce, stew, pudding, jam. It was glorious.

There's a picture of me under the plums trees from when I was about four years old, a wicked smile on my face, with wild plum blossoms softly nestled in my hair. I vividly remember moments like this; standing on top of our wooden garden table and reaching for plums. But plums weren't the only fragrant plant in my parents garden.

Fennel is a bulbous herb that is coming back in to cooking fashion at the moment, but I'll always associate the smell and taste with the (seemingly) giant fennel bush growing in my parents backyard, in the country. I'd hide under it with the dog panting in the sun just across from me, pink tongue out and glistening. The cat stalking insects of the other side of me, tail twitching with lively intent.

As I reached up and ate bunches of fennel, chewing slowly on the strong, stringy herb, I would hear the murmur of my parents voices floating over me, as they worked in the vegetable garden, and feel comforted by their presence.

Food has always had a tugging emotional attachment with me, and I'm certain I'm not alone in this fact. Food is enough to bring people together and, when good, can silence a rowdy table to occasional slurps and appreciate moans of culinary delight.

I know people who take photo's of the food they eat. While this behaviour on one hand puzzles me, on the other it makes perfect sense. In a world where we can capture every moment, these people are attempting to capture delight and surprise at the colour, smell and sensation of food. Food is a sensory symbol of their emotional attachment and their sense of satisfaction with the social situation they're in. Food brings people together, and in my experience, seems to strengthen the bond of relationships when experienced socially.

Despite my strong roots of a childhood spent in gardens, until recently I was never what one would consider a green thumb, and was more closely linked to that unfortunate group of individuals that manage to kill cactuses.

I had a cactus. I named him Gary and he gave me a good five to six months of cactus love before his untimely demise. I worshipped that cactus. I would greet it as I came home after work, and bid goodbye to it as I left in the morning. Gary and I were getting along fine; but, like any relationship with an untimely demise, Gary couldn't give me the affection I was after, and could often be quite - dare I say - prickly. He suffered under the weight of my constant love and watery affection. And was so infrequently allowed outside, into the warm arms of the waiting / lurking sun.

In short, Gary died from an overdose of affection. Luckily those days are behind me. These days I have my own garden. It's not as impressive or as ambitious as my parents garden, but it has a small selection of herbs and leafy veges. When I grew some herbs from seed, I was fascinated by the slow growth of the green shoots, struggling up through the softly packed dirt, and defying the slow, intent snails, ready to pounce and chomp their way through my baby shoots.

My garden and the plants within it bring me pleasure, and perhaps pride in what I and my neighbours have achieved. I've been cooking a lot more, recently, and the other day I even caught myself taking a photo of my latest culinary creation (my dinner), to send to my mum. I tend this garden with some of the people in my apartment block, and it's one of the many links that ties the building together. We share the herbs, and I have been known to pick giant bunches of rosemary and press it upon people who come to visit me. Perhaps I am becoming a bit of a green thumb after all. Who would have imagined it, but it makes me happy, and that's a fact.