A strange skinny guy in a wacky orange lycra, a tardis like boom box, Elijah Wood (the thinking womans hobbit) making a tit of himself for the amusement of random children, my favourite internet sensation (Dragostea Din Tei – also known as Numa Numa), peculiar dolls come to life, and orange fake fur.
Just the thing for cheering me up when the world looks impossibly bleak.
…but this is an abomination.
Anyone got a vegetarian slow cooker recipe that I could actually eat without blowing an artery?
Kris – I’d love your baked bean recipe!
The imaginary counter has been reset again.
He woke up at 1am with a fever, struggling to breathe through the coughs, so off we went to Westmead. Eight hours, one dose of steroids, one dose of panadol and one nasal swab later, we’re home.
Apparently, it’s a virus, and the swab should tell us what sort. THough we cant’ really treat it, they don’t give anti-virals to little kids, so we just have to hope it isn’t pig flu.
Mark is taking today off (of course), the boys are having breaskfast and we’re all going back to bed. I hope we get some sleep!
With Daddy in the waiting room.
4 Cups chickpeas
3 tblsp vegetable oil (I use peanut)
2 tblsp Cumin Powder
2 tblsp Tumeric Powder
2 tblsp Coriander Powder
1 tblsp Cinnamon Powder
1 tblsp Garam Masala
1 tblsp Cardamom Powder
1 teaspoon Chilli Powder – to taste. Mine is really hot!
Salt to taste – I used almost 2 tablespoons.
Boil chickpeas until al dente. Be careful nit to overcook, as the skins will come off and look horrible.
Add oil to a large wok, heat, then add spices and salt. Fry until spices become fragrant and are well mixed.
Add drained chickpeas, and mix thoroughly. Make sure each one has a good coating of the spice mixture.
Line a couple of baking trays with baking paper, and spread the chickpeas on the trays. Its ok if they touch, but make sure they are in a single layer.
Put the trays in a slow oven for a few hours, until chickpeas are crunchy and toothsome. I put mine on about 150 degrees for about 2 hours. Be aware that they get more crunchy after you take them out of the oven, so wait until they are cool to make a determination about crunch factor!
Enjoy with beer or a dry white wine. Or a martini. Or whatever!
Inigo’s favourite book this week is Fancy Nancy. I love this book. I love it so much that we gave it to Lara for her birthday, so now I can’t read it without crying. But Inigo still needs it read to him fifty brazillian times a day. And we have to stop on one particular page and read one particular word over and over again.
Today, I caught it on video.
The other word he loves in this book is “Merci”. He’s going to love our new car language lessons – I have downloaded a podcast so we can all learn Bahasa Indonesia before September.
The coroner hasn’t found any reason. More results are pending, but no answers yet.
I’m still feeling like a complete train wreck. Disbelief seems to be the dominant emotion, followed by rage, nausea, desperation, and then fear. Because if this can happen to Anna and Rob, the nicest of people and the best of parents, it could happen to me. Or you.
It probably won’t. It probably won’t. And probably is about as good as we’re ever going to get. And though that isn’t nearly good enough, that is all we can hope for. Acceptance, and hope. Hope that it won’t happen to us, and hope that someday Anna and Rob will have joy in their lives again.
So I am taking this opportunity to share some joy.
Five minutes after “that” phone call last night, there was another phone call, from Christine, Mark’s sister, Ella’s mum. Ella is going to have a brother or sister later in the year, and that news couldn’t have been more welcome, or more badly received – due to it coming so hot on the heels of such devastating news. We are absolutely thrilled that Inigo is going to have another cousin. Ella and he are exactly the same age, so this is as close as he will get to a little brother or sister. Unless something radical happens!
Secondly, our family has been tossing around the idea of a holiday, mum and dad, Adam and Sarah, Mark and I, and Alex and Inigo, all in some tropical island setting, with beaches and daiquiris and pool boys relaxation. Yesterday, that became a concrete reality. Mum has booked flights to Bali, and we have 2 weeks here. More info here. It looks too good to be true. Throw in a driver and a childcare worker on top of the staff of seven, and I think I’ll be pretty happy.
And the other news? News so great that on any other day I’d be jumping up and down and shouting from the rooftops? Inigo is cured. No more reflux. No more antibiotics, no more tests, no more month visits to the expensive paediatrician. We have to see her once more when he turns two, and then probably never again.
Cured.
I’m off to drink myself into a stupor. Goodnight.
I don’t believe in prayers, but if you do, please pray. If you don’t believe in prayers, please send vibes, healing energy, good wishes, light, whatever it is you do believe in.
My darling friend Anna and her husband Rob put their little girl Lara to bed on Tuesday night, and on Wednesday morning she was dead.
I am still in shock as I write these words, and I know that nothing but time will make Anna and Rob breathe again. I also know that the next days weeks, months and years will be unbearably painful for them, but that they must go on for the sake of their other gorgeous daughter.
We celebrated Lara’s 3rd birthday on the third of May this year.
Disco Knitter 
