Dark Chocolate

I have been excited about writing this week’s blog entry all week because – yep, you guessed it……I love dark chocolate!

As I sat down this afternoon to write - I received an email from my husband at work entitled ‘YOUR AGE BY CHOCOLATE MATHS’.

Well normally he and I come from pretty well the same school of thought on this one – we highly dislike (I won’t say hate) junk emails – so if we are going to send them on – we either had to laugh out loud ourselves or we had to think it was pretty clever and worthy of sending on. Anyway – I did this one as it was serendipitous to my topic and I must admit it is pretty cool……I never know how these things work though – must be a maths geek thing.

DON'T CHEAT BY SCROLLING DOWN FIRST!

It takes less than a minute.

Work this out as you read.

Be sure you don't read the bottom until you've worked it out!

1. First of all, pick the number of times a week that you would like to have chocolate (more than once but less than 10).

2. Multiply this number by 2 (just to be bold).

3. Add 5

4. Multiply it by 50 -- I'll wait while you get the calculator!

5. If you have already had your birthday this year add 1759........... If you haven't, add 1758.

6. Now subtract the four digit year that you were born.

You should have a three digit number.

The first digit of this was your original number (i.e. how many times you want to have chocolate each week).

The next two numbers are……..YOUR AGE! (Oh YES, it is!!)

Apparently - THIS IS THE ONLY YEAR (2009) IT WILL EVER WORK.

Tell me if it doesn’t work for you!

Cyclamen

Last Sunday we had a beautiful Baby Blessing for our son Milo. We held it up in a place called the Dandenong Ranges which is about 1 hour from our house in the city.

We held it there partly because my in-laws (George & Joy) have a beautiful home and garden there where we could host the gathering but also because it is a totally magical place. I think if fairies were going to live anywhere – they would definitely live here.

George & Joy love gardening and hence have half an acre of the most beautiful meandering garden. Dotted all around where we set our stone circle for the blessing were miniature alpine cyclamens – just popping up through the autumn leaves. Absolutely stunning.

When Kitty was born – we were given a beautiful cyclamen plant and every year since, Sam has harvested the little seed pods and nurtured them into a new plant. We now have quite a number of pots of different coloured cyclamen that around this time are just starting to bloom.

Kitty and I believe that as the cyclamen flowers open a tiny cyclamen fairy is born. It is definitely one of my favourite times of year.

Cubby Houses

Cubby houses as a kid were something that I naturally built and created. Little homes or nests where I felt cocooned and safe. I had a good one under the balcony of my house – it was kind of dark, musty and a bit spider-webby but when I packed my little yellow school case with my belongings and left home (at the tender age of 6) this is where I went. I probably only stayed there for about an hour though before I got hungry and snuck back inside to raid the pantry.

Some of the other cubbies I remember were of course – ones built with sheets and blankets over tables or the backs of chairs. With lots of pillows and cushions inside to make it all snugly or the naturally occurring one I discovered in the tea-tree bushes along the coastline of Mt Martha Beach. I could ride my bike down and hang out in my little nature pad – I loved it.

There was one day though I remember going to visit the home of some family friends. The daughter was quite a few years older than me and out in the back garden of her house – she had a real cubby. From the moment I saw it – I was enchanted. It was like a real little house. With a front door, glass windows that opened, curtains, mini furniture, a sink, tea sets and toy food and wait for it…I think it even had power – and a functioning light switch! I absolutely LOVED that cubby and I just thought she was the luckiest girl I had ever met. It was definitely a case of cubby envy.

When I was looking for a good cubby photo – I came across this one, which I thought was pretty special. As an adult I have no hesitation in saying that I am attracted to living in a tree house and would seriously consider doing so – well…perhaps in an alternate reality (one where I didn’t have quite so many belongings!). It is kind of amazing don’t you think….the ultimate of cubbies but with the added bonus of being a tree house. I’d love to have an afternoon or two there, playing house with my daughter Kitty and drinking unlimited cups of smartie tea (milk with smarties stirred in) and eating the chocolate brownies my Mum used to make.

Crochet

The art of crochet or should I say ‘craft’ of crochet has always fascinated me. When it is done well – it is truly amazing I think.

As a girl my mother always knitted….she could knit the most complicated stitches whilst watching tv – it was incredible, and also for a period of time (in the 70’s) was very skilled at Macramé. The whole family wore her fancy knits and the house was adorned in amazing beaded macramé wall hangings and decorative owls.

So…having told you this…you’d think that I too would possess these skills….but ohh… no…not me…..

I cannot crochet, I cannot knit and I cannot macramé. And it is not for want of desire to or trying. You see it’s all in the tension. My tension is tight. I have been taught how to crochet and knit at least ½ dozen times over my life and it always ends in tears.

I start out on a positive note, but just when my project seems to be going along nicely –somewhere from deep within, I doubt myself and my tension tightens and then well, its all downhill from there…..

Therefore, I can really, really appreciate the ‘fine art’ of crochet when I see it and the example above (for my apple collection) is a fantastic piece, spotted by my husband at the Maribyrnong Makers Market on the week-end. Crocheted by the very talented Rosalinda Casamento – who gets a gold star from me for executing her skill so well.