Best Band-Aid of All

I was a little rough on everyone last post.

I am very sorry.

But ... it kind of had to be done, had to be written.

I needed to clear the air, and I simply couldn't ignore various readers' pleas for an update, or Tuffy's right for his short little story to be told. He's got a special place in my heart.

.

Are you OK?

Can I do something to make it better?

.

You know I think I might already have a little something

tucked away here that might help....

Ah... here it is.
The very best band-aid of all: A BABY.

Not MY baby of course -

Violet gets violent if I refer to her as my 'baby' any more -

a borrowed baby.

YOU know who I'm talking about:

Paris.

My clever sister's divine little being who loves to point her pinky.

My gorgeous niece Salina's scrumptious little sister...

Oh, and I believe my brother-in-law V may have had something to do with her too...

(No photos. V is shy. But his father's love for this newcomer is so great it almost busts the walls from his home!)

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JOB WELL DONE, PEOPLE.

.

But wait... there's more.

My brother, his wife and their three children will bring THEIR new baby home this weekend.

And oh, he is a CORKER.

Texted snaps and emailed images already have me clucking.

I cannot WAIT to hold him and inspect him and adore him.

.

Just as this one was held, and inspected and adored.

Isn't it amazing how babies can steal your heart by doing nothing?

And how love and arms can extend so easily to encompass one more?

Some of the sweetest mysteries of the world...

.

Hope that salves the sting of Tuffy's tale...

Oh, and HAPPY NEW YEAR'S EVE.

Today

It's a big day today. A day filled with a certain bush blogger being on tenderhooks (or a cat on a hot tin roof) awaiting a phonecall from a certain hospital somewhere near Paradise...
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Yesterday we farewelled Salina, who journeyed back home to Paradise, courtesy of Nana's taxi service. We have adored having our niece visit for a few days - she is an important part of our family and is a delight to have around. I was there when she arrived into this world - all massive dark eyes and olive skin. She was the most solemn, fattest-cheek, gorgeous baby you ever did see. Doted on. Still is.

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She has been a surrogate big sister for Dash and for Violet. She plays, she bosses, she loves, she organises, she encourages, she rides with, she swims with, she bosses (did I mention that already?) and she is generally their favourite person in the world...

And today she will become a 'real' big sister, as Jeanie gets induced sometime today (we think). The newest addition to our clan is being very shy, requiring some encouragement to make his/her entrance to the world at 12 days overdue! We are all excited and nervous and filled with anticipation.

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For Salina it'll be a huge transition - but we know she will be a wonderful sibling for this new arrival into our ever-spreading family. She's had seven-and-a-half years of practice on my two, and she gets A's all round from us!

Sending my love to my baby sister, her hubby and my niece.
A world of wonderful changes await you all today.
Somewhere just over that ridge...

Me 'n' Ree 'n' She - or Why Bush Babe Should Never Blog Recipes

As I think most of you know, I fantasise a little about being the Pioneer Woman.

The Aussie version anyway.

In reality, I fail miserably at this ambition...

Sure I take photos of people riding horses,

and document my life on the land...

and I suppose I can be quite gourmet when it comes to eating...

Creating cuisine of the level that Ree whips up, however, is a little beyond my grasp.

And documenting the creation of such cuisine...

Oh honey.

I am clueless.

..

So in true self-flagellating BB style, I bring you

HOW NOT TO BLOG A RECIPE: CINNAMON ROLLS

(I would apologise to a certain Mrs Ree Drummond, but she is pretty much unaware of my existence!)

Firstly you set your laptop up on the old kitchen table in the corner of your kitchen, and search for Cinnamon Rolls. If you live anywhere but the USA, also make sure you have a site on conversion of measure at the ready. I learned that I have no clue what the heck a pint is the last time I attempted this sure-fire recipe.

It was not pretty.

Don't waste too much time wondering what on earth that cable tie is doing on one of the kitchen chairs... remember it's been there for months. It's not hurting anyone.

Next, get you your very best cookware.

After all, you are sharing your kitchen with the whole Internet world, so best foot forward! Or, if you are like me, just pull out the oldest darned saucepan you have (regardless of the fact its handle disintegrated years ago).

Also try to keep the current cup of coffee out of shot. It helps with the polished, professional look you are shooting for.

Now get your sister to agree to be the hand model for your cooking shoot.

She won't mind after you assure her that NO you will not put her face or body in the photos.

Then tell her to clean her fingernails.

She tells you to photoshop the dirt out if it worries you.

You agree (cross fingers firmly behind back).

Run back to laptop to check what on earth you are supposed to do first in this recipe.

Shout instructions to sister, who suddenly realises that she is going to be the one actually doing all the work.

Smile nicely at her.

Assure sister she has very nice hands, especially while pouring oil into handle-less saucepan of milk...

Next, get shot of brown sugar plopping into milk.

Realise how very groovy this looks.

Get another close up.

Realise how very groovy the plop is in close-up.

Get completely carried away with the 'plop factor'.

Ignore sister's eye-rolling activities.

Realise you have not done the obligatory 'ingredients as a group' shot.

Take a snap of the yeast sachets. Try to ignore the use-by date. I did.
Get a different angle of the handle-less saucepan....

you can never really document this too much.

It will keep you grounded and possibly be an effective hint to your man that you need some new cookware for Christmas...

Realise that naked flame photos are always good...

then get a bit distracted by how much better your kitchen looks reflected on the side of an old saucepan.

Snap out of it.

Then realise sister is actually continuing on with the cooking without you.

The minx.

Randomly snap away at the action...

(Silently note that Ree would NEVER show the crap accumulated in the background of her action shots!)

Try for a slightly better angle.

(Floor even looks clean with enough bokeh involved!)

Chuck in a groovy action photo...

(this is totally deliberate blurring of the stirring... hey, that rhymes!)

Run back to laptop to check at what point the recipe turns into porridge...

Slump shoulders dejectedly upon realising that Ree would never allow such a lumpy mess into her kitchen, let alone her blog... Then watch in fascination as one's darling sister bends her elbow to the task at hand to haul back recipe from brink of disaster.

Yeah, I know I PROMISED no faces or body shots, but I did blur a little, Jeanie...

that counts, right?

Time to plop dough onto bench ...

try really hard not to ask sister do it again to get full effect of flour puffing up...

you'll need her with humour intact for following steps.

Help roll out dough.

Forget to take photos of this step.

People have seen dough-rolling photos before, for heaven's sake!

Then drizzle melted butter onto rolled out dough.

Run back to laptop and check recipe amounts for butter.

No, that was right.

Try to ignore arteries hardening just looking at the melted yellow drizzle.

Get shot of daughter's mouth hanging open at the sight of cups of sugar being dumped on top of butter.

'Cause she will LOVE you for it in about 10 years time.

Then help roll up verrry long dough rectangle...And try not to giggle like a schoolgirl at the giant, um, sausage on your bench.

You are over 40, for heaven's sake (oh, is that just me?)

Mix up coffee-ish icing concoction to pour over.

Try a close-up shot to make it look more tasty.

Fail.

While you are waiting for the buns to rise... take another photo of the mess.

Why should you be the only one to suffer the view of chaos?

Share and share alike, I say!!

Then try getting arty-farty with the rising buns...

and try not to giggle at that mental image.

How old are you again?

Get a grip, help cut up sausage, and try another camera angle of action...

Sorry.

Couldn't help myself. I'm not Ree, OK?

*sobs silently and pathetically*

Then lift head in wonder as something permeates the room...

The smell as these babies are pulled from the oven, despite all the disgraceful mess and half-baked guesses at measures, and distractions with naked flames and plopping... is...

YUUUUUUMMMMMMMM...

You could possibly, at this point, sweetly ask your sister to pose with a soft, warm, delicious cinnamon bun, with the steam of her hot coffee wafting across the lense and her eyes closed in sinful anticipation...

or you could just know when to give up already.

And eat a dozen of them yourself.

The End.

PS Anyone actually wanting to cook these wonderful rolls should go here.

My sincere apologies if you were hoping for something useful when you read this post! But honestly, you should know better...

The End again.

Really.

Technology beats the dust: I dream of Jeanie

Some of you may have been wondering where the illustrious/notorious Jeanie has been over the past couple of days... well, folks, I have solved the mystery!

She has not been kidnapped and held for ransom... she is, in fact, here. Actually she is sitting on the couch beside me, blogging on her laptop as I am blogging on mine. The ultimate in sibling communication - SSB has given up on us both and 'hit the hay' (gone to bed, for you city-ites) as a pair. He thinks we are emailing each other!

...

But really, I needed Jeanie here. Much more than V needed her (really!) or Eddie, or anyone! I needed her here for numerous reasons, not the least is the delights of her company (she will be rolling her eyes by this sentence). Among these fine and varied reasons for calling her from her sickbed to the bowels of the bush, is that I am doing battle with technology. And I don't mean just swearing when the internet connection fails (again!). Broadband satelite can bite my B*tt. Anyhoo, where was I? Oh yeah. Technology. Me. Fail. Call Sister. Jeanie.

...

And like a knight (OK, princess!) on a white steed (OK white station wagon) she came!

And did a little bit of this...

And a little bit of that...

And shake it all around...

Anyone chicken dancing yet? Oh. I do get a bit easily distracted around computers... you may have noticed? I get distracted by things like this...

And this...

Now that IS distracting...

And so my poor Jeanie is knee-deep in Bush Babe bulldust (of the curly technological kind) as we attempt to sort cows (in reality and in the laptop) and get their danged progeny registered and performance recorded (blah, blah, blah!)...

...

So I'm SORRY for stealing her... but you ain't getting her back properly til Monday at the earliest. I'm holding her hostage until the internet backs down, the programs currently revolting against me surrender, and all my poddies get their graduation certificates by email!

It's not too much to ask...

Yours Truly (Madly Deeply)

Bush Babe

I love (Happy) Damp Endings...

Things have been a little full-on here at Granite Glen over the last week. It's school holidays here in Queensland and we have had visitors galore. I adore having people to stay, but drive myself to a standstill preparing to have them (read: attempting to de-clutter and de-dust and de-mice the place). To say I undertook a major transformation would be an understatement. And I nearly got there. As you shall see.

...

Our first batch of guests were Salina and Jeanie. As you may know, these guys are pretty regular here so they don't get the full benefits of the GG makeover prior to arrival. Sorry Jeanie! Beds were made and rooms cleared in general, but the ironing and laundry piles were still mini-Everests in my living and laundry rooms. Salina played hard with Dash and TLW and vanished regularly with Pagi, mustering up a storm on Yvette (S won a promotion, with poor Lacey suffering a sore eye).

...

Jeanie slaved her little heart out sorting cattle on our computer (tricky, you say, but I am of course speaking metophorically...I think!). She is a genius, and was a sight to behold conducting figurative symphonies with TWO laptops in front of her at our kitchen table.

...

My city SIL and three children plus one 17-year-old nephew arrived a few days later. Now my SIL's in general are a rare breed - gorgeous, fun, domestic goddesses. Cows. No, really, I love 'em but just one dag among them would have been nice. To keep me company and all. Anyhoo... P and I had planned their little Granite country sojourn well ahead. Maps were faxed. Directions dictated. Travel times estimated so no night-time driving would be needed. Appropriate clothing and footwear discussed. Progress calls dialed in on schedule.

...

Then, as I prepared for State of Origin (football) night whipping up pizzas for a few more guests (I am a glutton for punishment), I got a call from SSB's brother (not the one that is P's hubby).

BIL R is a bit of a prankster and had been on a social bull inspection trip with a mate (translation: regular pub-stops at various small country towns) when he said:

'P's broken down, I've just come across here south of the Springs'

(The Springs are a good two-hour drive from his home)...

Well, call me cynical but I just didn't believe him.

He insisted. I asked for details. He stood by his story.

...

Apparently, P's very flash 4WD wagon had come to an abrupt stop 350km into their journey. She had popped the hood to indicate to passing traffic that she needed help. No-one stopped. She called on the two-way radio. No response. She was shocked - this is in the country where everyone is supposed to help everyone. But no. Lone woman with kids does not attract Knights in Shining Armour. Then a car finally pulled up and her brother-in-law stepped out. Surreal. And so BIL R dashed off, White Knight-style, and got some oil and called me.

...

As dark fell, our city visitors nursed their car the final 150km of their 500km journey with BIL shepherding them. SSB went in to escort them the final 20km on our dirt road.

Poor P couldn't see a thing in the dark and dust - she thought she was driving into the depths of bumpkin hell, I'm sure.

...

She finally pulled up at the gates of Granite Glen, and piled into the warmth of our living room, already crowded with people and home-made pizzas.

The fire was blazing in the fireplace and the State of Origin blaring on the TV. Without even asking, I poured her a well-earned chardonnay. I've never seen anyone so grateful for a cool drink in my life! The very least I could do was have a glass or two with her... I may not be a great housekeeper, but I know this part of being a good hostess!

...
The following days were packed with horse and pony rides...

Bullseye... is that you under there?

... and bull feeding...

(Trust me, they P is enjoying all that hay in her shoes. Really!)

We also did paddock tours, more cooking, catering for more family members and a couple of very late nights into the following 48 hours. With 11 people sleeping over, and another 28 visiting for night-time gatherings it was slightly chaotic but lots of fun.
And exhausting for little possums...

While cousins L and E were all smiles after dark, TLW was gallant but bit the dust in front of the TV at night.

And through it all, with people whirling through a big old house, cyclonic-fashion, with food-making and raucous conversation thrown in, Jeanie was still tapping away silently on her laptops in the eye of the storm. Her focus was something to behold.

...

P and co seemed to enjoy their bush bash... although I am not going to discuss the various 'Ooohh, you stood in poooo!' conversations... or the dead mouse discovered by cousin J's mattress as we packed up. We are all still recovering from both the sight of the still-warm rodent carcase about three inches from J's pillow and Cousin L's screeching reaction to it. (I could have said something about the many dozens who had already been cleared from the general vicinity before their arrival, but decided against this tack. The mental images might have done them in.) And, like I said, I am not discussing these issues any further... you can't make me.

...

The aftermath of having visitors is always a weird stillness. And piles of laundry. And lots of smiles at mental images gathered during our rellies stay. Of kids sliding around on trotting ponies, tentatively holding out sheafs of hay to belching bovines, and the startled expression on my weaner bulls faces at the technicolour get-ups brought by Dash's cousins for yard attire. Our city visitors certainly assisted in my weaner-quietening endeavours. Purple paisley holds no terrors for them anymore, that's for certain!

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As I take stock, my chardonnay levels are looking a little low. My laundry powder seems to be down to the last scoop. And my waistline almost completely vanished. But it was sooooo worth it. Thanks for Braving the Bush P and co! Looking forward for the Real Deal at Christmas!

...

And thanks Jeanie for proving again, you have the best set of mental blinkers of any individual I know. Your blood is totally worth bottling! And I mean that sincerely.
...

And now there is one week of holidays to go. Bullseye is happily recovering from teaching city kids to ride, and enjoying the steady drizzle of rain that arrived as our guests leave.

But the kids are cooped up and missing their cousins and the Big Question is:

Can BB and co survive rainy holidays at home?

Only time will tell.

Wish me luck!

Hugs all

BB

A Better Woman...

You know how you have a day when you think you're doing OK? Then you are reminded just how incredibly normal and unremarkable you really are... and it's alright. Well today is one of those days. I often read the woman-who-has-it-all and was in awe, and I have just finished reading my baby sister's post and she made me cry.

She often does bring tears to my eyes, but not this way! You often think of little sisters as pesty, annoying shadows, or defiant, tetchy little co-backseat-dwellers (not you of course Jeanie! I'm speaking hypothetically...) and then you get old/grow up and you realise they are REAL PEOPLE. It's a shock that takes a while to get over. Then they become a vegetarian (just to piss Dad off!) and go all hippy. Then without realising it, you realise they are REAL FRIENDS in spite of being your sibling. Another shock (but a nice one). And then the sugar hits the fan and you realise they are made of the stuff of LEGENDS. And the dust settles and its time to step back and applaud.

You have done it the hard way girl, and taken paths I would not have chosen for you (I AM a big sister, after all) but you are worth your weight in gold, your blood is worth bottling and every other weird compliment Dad ever used.

I love you and thank God you grew up!!! What a woman...

Here is a little gift to you for when the going gets tough and we forget the REALLY important things in life:

(Our) Kids, grins & ponies

one of the greatest salves for the soul of all time!

With love

Bush Babe