Recipes in four sentences

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Stairway...er...Ramp to the sky...


Yet again, we find ourselves thwarted by the ignorance of others, in our mission to show our son that the sky is the limit for him as much as it is for them.

Who would think a simple thing like joining a bowling league would be such a pain in the proverbial?

Most league bowlers take their sport very seriously and don't have the time or patience to foster a disabled team player. This we already knew from our previous attempts to have him join an existing bowling league.

So now we find ourselves doing the rounds, yet again explaining, and singing Mr A's prowess as a bowler to the ten pin bowling alleys in an attempt to set up a small league for him.

Why does it need to be so jolly hard?

Stay tuned. Let's hope it's good news this time.

My Dream Home...






My dream home has cosy corners with soft squishy chairs and crocheted rugs over the arms for snuggling, and books, lots of books...real ones.



My dream home glows with the warmth of worn wood, utensils, china and glassware glinting from open cabinets.



My dream home has photos in frames displayed everywhere, reminding us of fun times, cherished memories and loved ones who have left us because their time here in this life was at an end.



My dream home does not adhere to a colour scheme or a style. It is just a collection of things I love in all the colours of the rainbow.



My dream home has furniture that has seen better days, because the 'better days' are the history of our family.



My dream home does not seek to impress those we don't know, but to embrace those we love.



Shabby, never. Well loved, always.

Motherly Advice...Snuggerising your home....


I've been tidying and prettifying with rugs, cushions, mirrors and candles. The change of the seasons is a great time to reassess home and hearth, don't you think?

I knew someone a couple of years ago who called it Snuggerising.


'Snuggery' seems a primarily British term for a cozy corner of the home.

I was introduced to the notion of Snuggeries by a friend, Helen, who always had the most delightful ideas for little indulgences. Helen is a true romantic spirit and inspired me constantly with her sweet and lovely thoughts on living an abundant life.

Well, never being one to do things by halves, I've been snuggerising my entire home. It's funny how the terminology can get you going. If someone had said to me 'let's Spring Clean'...remembering the weather is nippy here...I'd have eyeballed them with enormous suspicion! However, 'Snuggery' and 'Snuggerising' puts a whole new complexion on things.

Starting at one end of the house and working towards the other is my plan, and I'm loving frou-frou-ing every little corner.

Cushions, cuddly knitted and crocheted rugs, faux fur throws, and other pretties are the order of the day....


...a Boho inspired beanbag and cushions...



...A lavish chocolate knitted rug to snuggle into...


Sweet ruffled cushions and lace trimmed sheets...


...A Rosette cushion fashioned from scraps and vintage brooch.

These days, you're either minimalist, or you have every item you own, on display. I prefer a middle ground. Each season (or celebratory season), I choose my most favourite items to have out on display, and store the rest. That way, we never tire of our pretty things, and we can pick and choose, much like shopping at home, to decorate, at will.

Try a spot of Snuggerising or Spring Cleaning where you are. You might discover new favorites too.


What's on your Tray of Bliss today?

Friday, June 1, 2012

I'm over it...Dance school dilemmas...


It all started when the Diva was just two years old. She watched The Wizard of Oz. She was transfixed. She wanted to spend the rest of her life, dancing and singing, just like Dorothy. We succumbed to the notion of our only daughter, treading, nay, flinging herself over 'the boards' huggle muggle like a whirling banshee, singing like an angel whilst pirouetting, holding the audience spellbound.

If only we'd known then, what we know now.

We were bubbling along okay and the Diva was having a blast being a ballerina, when suddenly she decides a foray into local dramatic theatre is in order. See what happened next here.

Well, theatre got into her blood and we were a bit entranced as well. The theatre experience was a good one all round as you'll see here. She has auditioned for more roles and been successful in securing a lead on one, and a major dance role in another, which is currently under rehearsal.

The upshot of it was, we moved on from our much loved but somewhat tyrannical dance studio, to a smaller studio, where the girls are sweet, the Mums warm and friendly and the schedule somewhat less frantic. All this so she could pursue more theatre opportunities.

All's well that ends well as they say. Or so it seemed.

The Diva then stuck her hand up for the Eisteddfod team at the new studio AND auditioned for the aformentioned dance role in the new theatrical production. She was accepted and welcomed into both. So far so good. No clashes of cultures, no clashes of schedules. All nice and civilised.

Well, blow me down then, when we asked whether we could skip one Eisteddfod rehearsal to have a family Mothers Day gathering. This was met with stony disapproval and dire warnings that the Diva would fall behind. I acquiesed and cut my Mothers Day lunch short to get her there.

THEN it transpires that one Eisteddfod falls on a school vacation weekend that we'd booked flights and a short weekend break on, blissfully unaware of the clash, not having performed in this particular Eisteddfod before. Can't cancel the flights as they're booked on Reward points, can't change them as it's school holidays and there are no seats. The only clash is one item that we hoped might be suitable to be 're-spaced' which is what they do if someone is sick or injured on the day.

Email the teacher, explaining the dilemma and saying that, regrettably, the Diva will have to withdraw from that item in order to accompany the family on a holiday.

Well, hells bells. The world is ending. The teacher is not happy because it sets a precedent (I do see her side of it) and Husband is not happy because he wants the family to go on holiday together. Being as how he's so gracious about the dance and theatre schedule for the most part, I see his side too.

Blinkin' hell.

Where to from here????

Dance school. I'm over it.