Showing posts with label India. Show all posts
Showing posts with label India. Show all posts

Kitchen.

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This is my kitchen this morning, complete with my sidekick:


This is my kitchen now having just cooked chocolate brownie for afternoon tea:



I cheated and used a packet - if you know me pick yourself up off the floor as you know that I have NEVER done this before as I usually cook EVERYTHING from scratch. For $8 I bought this:



After five minutes of everyone having a stir, followed by half an hour in the oven (the box said 40 minutes yet mine was possibly a tad overdone even after 30 minutes) we ended up with this:


And considering the almost zero effort that was involved, it was not bad. Although I shudder to think of what might have been in it. I couldn't help myself and tried to salvage it with organic butter and free range eggs.

I spend a significant part of my life in this room:







I always coveted a chandelier in the kitchen and this house came with one in every room. My mum said it was a ridiculous thing to have in a kitchen as chandeliers are notorious dust collectors. She was right, but I still think it's beautiful.

This is the view of the backyard from the window:


You can see my veggie patch reproaching me for it's neglect. As are my cumquats which are desperate to be turned into Moira's cumquat compote:



This is my narcissistic collection of 'R's':


I bought the elephant as a souvenir of our trip to India last year:



On our way out of Udaipur I had the car stopped so that I could run into the shop to negotiate it's purchase thinking I would never see it's like again. I shouldn't have bothered as they were for sale at Mumbai airport......for less. It was worth it though as it conjures up memories of this.......sigh:





Because I am a creature of habit, I went to Bikram Yoga this morning.....my sixth class in as many days:



It may have been five degrees in downtown Hobart yet it is always 40 degrees in the hot room. So if you feel like a tropical interlude that also works out your mind and body, why not give it a try? I go for preventative healthcare and because it is cheaper than therapy. I take my medicine here. If you live somewhere other than Hobart, find your closest Bikram Yoga studio here. Later tonight, once I've fed the masses, I think I might go back for a second dose. Well, I'm wagging tomorrow as I'm going out for lunch.

R

Addicted.

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I knew better yet I just couldn't resist. While packing school lunches this morning I ate the merest sliver of baked chocolate cheesecake even though I knew I was going to a 9.30am Bikram Yoga Class. Big mistake. By Standing Head to Knee Pose I felt the full consequences - faint, nauseous and tingly in my extremities all at one. It is a bad, bad feeling.

So now I have declared a moratorium on doing our tax until after the school holidays which start this afternoon. I'm not going to kid myself - four children and time to do tax...it's never going to happen. Sometimes I think about back in the day when I used to manage the Trust Account for our business, how did I ever do that? I've never been gifted at maths  - l'll fess up that I did veggie maths at school. Then I  console myself that I did manage to get a First Class Honours Degree........the problem being that it is in Art Theory.

Anyway I digress. I have been musing about addiction and what I might admit to being addicted to. This is what gives me heart palpitations and sweaty palms if I go cold turkey. You are welcome to either laugh or cry.

1. Green Tea:


To be honest, most days I knock back five or even six cups. I know this is too much because if I don't drink it, I get a headache. Don't be put off by my teacup, it is a 'breakfast cup' and has the dimensions of a bucket. Actually, I used to like coffee (a good old Australian flat white). Actually, that would be an understatement. We took an espresso machine to hospital when I had Mimi. And then three years ago an old school friend and I went and had a week at The Golden Door in the Hunter Valley. There was a time when we would have roared with laughter if someone from the future had told us that we would move heaven and earth to have our families looked after so that we could detox, diet and exercise our heads off. We used to be a tad hedonistic when we got together (she has lived in Melbourne, London and Launceston to my Sydney, South of France and Hobart). So, for a whole week, we gave up caffeine, alcohol and red meat and got up every morning in time to do tai chi while the sun rose. For about six months I drank no caffeine and then it started sneaking in in the guise of green tea. Alcohol, unfortunately was another story, I'm ashamed to admit that we broke out the bubbly on the flight home from the Golden Door, much to our fellow inmates glee!

2. Bikram Yoga:


I try and go to Bikram Yoga classes at Studio Newtown at least five times a week. Otherwise, I get the above listed withdrawal symptoms. I have been a convert since my first class in Hobart three years ago. As it is an international phenomenon, I have been to Bikram Yoga classes in Hobart, Sydney, Bali and I tried to go in Paris yet was turned away as it was only five weeks since my fourth caesarian. I tried. I have also been to garden variety yoga classes in Bali, in the gorgeous gardens at the Ayana and overlooking the ocean at the Karma Kandara and in India, on the roof of the Lake Palace and on a hilltop at the Devi Garh. Not last year, but the year before, when I was pregnant and living in the South of France, I used to lug myself into the cobbled streets of Beziers at least twice a week to go to classes at the Yoga Centre. It was a world away from extreme, sweaty, scantily clad Bikram Yoga (which was three hours away in Marseilles). Genevieve must have been in her sixties yet looked twenty years younger. In class, her hair was always 'coiffed' and she wore full 'macquillage' and colour matched her toenail polish with her yoga outfit - her fingernails were always an immaculate French polish. Are there any other Bikram Yoga practitioners out there reading this reading this to appreciate the humour?! I learnt the French words for every body part along with stock standard yoga poses - Chien qui Tombe, anyone?


Earlier this year I did a week long seminar with Bikram Choudhury himself. You can read all about it in graphic detail here, here, here, here and here. Say what you will about him but he really is a walking advert for the yoga that he sells - can you believe that he's over seventy (that's him in the middle of the picture in the speedos with his hair in a bun)? I think I'd rather have yoga than botox any day.

Bikram Yoga is a ninety minute open eye meditation where you also get to work your body inside and out. As extreme as it sometimes seems, in class, I have NEVER seen anybody come to any physical  harm. At my last Body Pump class at a gym in town, they had to get an ambulance for someone who was having a heart attack.

3. Gowans Auctions:


Thursday is viewing day. Yesterday, I had to fight every fibre of my being to stop myself heading out to Main Road, Moonah to check out what was on offer - maybe this week that unknown 'thing' that I didn't realise that I couldn't live without just might be there. My reaction caused me to investigate the whole addiction question. Let me tell you, in my life, on Thursdays all roads lead to Moonah, either by car or, I have even been known to rollerblade from the Cenotaph along the Cycleway, which conveniently runs just behind the auction sheds.....with a double pram. Last Thursday, I mistakenly took the children and bought a Wendy House. It maxed out the credit card. It has to be the ultimate way to go shopping, the stock changes every week and then there is the rush involved in trying to choose the price. Unfortunately you can't always call it cheap thrills as it can be ruinously expensive....and everything in between. Last week you could have bought the entire six volume set of Gibbon's 'The History of Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire' or a brand new, stainless steel, freestanding Smeg cooker, if you were so inclined. I bought the Wendy House:


Note to self, remember NOT to take the children out to Gowans. However, I might just have a quick look at the catalogue for what's up in next week's auction.....online.

R

Library.

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I have been trying to drag out the memories of our amazing trip to India back in November not only with Indian food, but also with Indian literature.

I'm ashamed to admit that over the last three weeks I have been chipping away at this tome yet am still not even half way through:


I'm starting to loose track of who's who and that is a tad of a bad thing as I still have so far to go. While I'm really enjoying some of the characters and genuinely wondering who will Lata Mehra marry, I'm finding some of the characters tediously boring.

As usual, I have been using the State Library of Tasmania online catalogue to feed my book fetish. It is the best thing for book addicts and it's free except that we have to pay the mortgage and the rates and the water and the electricity etc etc on our address.

If you haven't tried it this is how it works. All you need is a library card and then you can place holds on books as you find them on the online catalogue. Don't think that you need to be restricted to just books, they also have vast collections of DVD's and CD's. Magically, they will then find it from any library around the state and email you as soon as it arrives. Even better, they will hold it for you with your name on it, on shelves especially for that purpose, so that you can just drop in and pick it up.

So today I led an expedition to the Library itself to pick up the books I have on hold. My children consider a trip to the Library to be one of the biggest treats - right up there with an outing to the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery.

After picking up my holds I then had a trawl around the shelves and found these magazines (for that elusive time when I get to sit around and drink tea):


I was curious about Traveller magazine, having never spent money to take it home. This issues headlines shouted 'Hobart: Could it be the next cultural capital?' Could it? Good news - now that we have MONA and the Henry Jones Art Hotel the journalist who wrote the article thinks that in time it could be.

Anyway, time for a quick read before bed.

R

 
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