UTTERANCE

new blog

noreply@blogger.com (Theresa) — Sat, 04 Jul 2009 01:30:00 +0000

I have an announcement to make.
I'm starting a new blog. Yup, you heard right. It's name is G is for gluten.
I don't think I'll be posting here after transferring to it, it's still kind of in it's baby stage at the moment but it would be cool to have support for it while it grows.
Oh, and by the way; I don't have coeliacs. I know what your next question is; why am I starting a gluten-free blog if I'm only gluten sensitive? Well, G-sensitive people need to live gluten free too [and actually may find it kind of difficult because we don't get a government subsidy for our food... boo! gluten still makes me sick! bah!]
I'm not going to start a rant, you can read my 'story of gluten' here.

Anyway, peace out 'the utterance' and hello 'the G.' Looking at the above picture you can tell that I need to load fireworks onto this computer ay, it's way too fluffy. Oh well, lets hope my cooking skills are better than my web design ones.

Check it out at: www.gisforgluten.blogspot.com

The biopsy.

noreply@blogger.com (Theresa) — Sat, 20 Jun 2009 02:52:00 +0000

Ok, I know that many of you will be like "here she goes again!" but I feel obliged to offer an account of the operation [yes it's an operation] I underwent last Thursday.

The day started off with mum poking her head in my door, "It's 7 O'clock" she said. It was still really, really dark so I turned over wondering why mum decided to wake me that early. It wasn't like I had to have time to eat breakfast before we left.

Before an operation like a biopsy the patient isn't allowed to eat anything within six or so hours before the operation. Considering this, I finished off my last packet of squiggles [the best bickies in the universe] the night before.

It was really frosty when we left and I was feeling nervous even though I tried not to. But I was armed with the 'waiting room bingo' cards that I'd made the day before so at least the wait would be good.

Mum and I didn't get lost on our journey to the Gastroenterology department like we usually do in hospitals. It was nice, so I sat down and we started giggling a little, ticking off the boxes on the bingo cards.
Suddenly, only minutes after we sat down, a turquoise clad nurse named Jo came over and said my name. I gulped.
After a little interview with the nurse [where I asked for a copy of one of the pictures of my gut] mum went back to the dull waiting room and I was lead away into an airy ward a few meters off. It was pretty empty but I was told that later in the day they may have to top and tail patients. I was glad that my appointment was brought forward. By this time I was thoroughly enjoying myself, apart from the odd twinge that buried nerves give. I read magazines and felt like a lady of leisure as the nurse tucked the blanket around my feet.
I was also glad that I didn't have to wear a hospital gown. My ski pants were nice and snug under the thick hospital sheet.

Someone said the word "Theresa" and I gulped once again. There was a huge flood of nerves, then a second later resignation and a determination to enjoy this strange experience. Being wheeled into the special biopsy room really helped with the enjoyment part, it was so much fun that I started joking with the nurse who's name was also Theresa.

She clicked one of those cool finger pulse checkers onto my finger and I watched my pulse to up and down on the blue machine to my right.

I wasn't sure how painful or scary the biopsy might be. Considering one of the complications listed in the brochure is "awareness of the procedure"- I was hoping that the drugs would do their thing.

"This tastes gross but it numbs your throat." The nurse said. I told her that I'm all for pain killers and opened my mouth, she sprayed then said, "it makes it feel like you can't swallow but you actually can."
Cool.
She walked out of the room in search of the Dr. My mouth went numb and I felt a bit like I was choking, it felt like I couldn't swallow. Bleugh! And the nurse had deserted me. Oh great.

She came back in with the Dr who, by his appearance and voice instilled in me the feeling that I could trust him and wouldn't mind him shoving that long licoricey cord down my throat. He looked like he knew what he was doing. I didn't trust the nurse the same though and made the "I have bad veins" speech as she pulled out the lure gear. Considering that I had bad veins, she tightened the tourniquet really, really tight. I hated having the lure put in my hand. A lure is one of those things that you see on patients, like a permanent blood test needle + that plastic outer for the vial. It really hurt and bruised quite a bit. She put that plastic sticky stuff on top which made my hand look like it belonged to an old lady.
I felt like a real hospital patient now, with a numb tongue and blood smeared around the ugly lure in my hand. I looked away as the Dr busied himself with something down near where my [now sore] hand was. This was the bit that I'd been dreading, the injection. Surely, it would hurt like crazy.
I felt something funny in my hand and turned toward the Dr, "It shouldn't take too long," he said gesturing, "to get from here" - my hand, "to here," he pointed at my head.
Cool.

I was turned over right onto my shoulder and they put a green mouth guard into my mouth. By that time my eyes were closed and I was drifting out.
That going to sleep feeling was so awesome, I really, really liked it. That's possibly not a good thing, but hey.
I have a slight consciousness of stuff happening, but don't remember anything about the procedure itself.

Half an hour later I opened my eyes a little bit, then closed them. It took about fifteen minutes for me to become fully awake again. I know this because there was a clock right near my bed. I was in the ward again, with the pulse checker still on my finger and the lure still in my hand. But I knew that it had finished, so just lay there, content.

The biopsy itself didn't show any visual damage in my gut, so I have to wait for a week till the results from the lab are sent to my Dr. But that's ok, my sister who has coeliacs didn't have any visual damage either.

Ok, that post was really long, but it gives you an idea of what it's like. If you are ever going for a biopsy/endoscopy - don't freak out. It's a really easy procedure and if you lie back and observe the interesting things you should enjoy yourself.

noreply@blogger.com (Theresa) — Mon, 15 Jun 2009 09:31:00 +0000

Week 3.

I think a good word to describe how I feel is "bleh" - although google doesn't think it's a word.
Some symptoms that I'm experiencing from eating gluten: [warning: these are for the interest of science and not for the squeamish]

Almost complete loss of brain function. For example, instead of putting hot water from the zip into my Milo, I turned on the tap and poured cold water into my cup. Oops. It didn't taste very nice. Umm, what was I saying, oh yeah, bad brains. I feel like a zombie: always saying "braaains!"
Excessive augh... wind and occasional gut aches/discomfort. I'm feeling really bloated and without my huge hoodie on I look like my sister who is six months pregnant.
A bit of weight gain too, but it's not surprising considering my lounge lizard and almost gluttonous lifestyle for the last three weeks.
Really, really, really tired.
Money. Yeah, I've been living it up with squiggles, crumbed fish, fairy bread, gingernuts and other good things. All this creates a little dent in my bank account, but hey, why else do I get money from the government! haha! I even bought some English muffins just so I could quote Oscar Wilde. ["I'm particularly fond of muffins."]

All of those things make assignment writing very difficult, plus now that I've got most of the symptoms finally written up here for everyone to admire, I'll stop complaining and give you a little science lesson.

So, I'm having my biopsy on Thursday. What is it? Simply put it's me lying on a table under general anesthetic [whoop!], tube with a camera on the end shoved down my throat and into the small intestine seen here:

[psst: It's the grey squiggly bit by the way.]

After a short sight seeing tour they grab a sample of the intestine lining and it's over. Now they just have to test the little sample to see if I have coeliacs.

How do they do that?
I don't know. Some involved microscopic method probably. I don't care, as long as they can tell me whether I've got the disease. However I am curious as to what gluten actually does to my gut lining. So, I looked it up.
Like the controversial "Dr gluten" said, "open your mouth and you see wet skin." [or something like that.] That skin lines all of your insides, [taking a few different forms in different parts actually, but it's all wet.] Anyway, the lining of your small intestine looks a bit like that, however on a microscopic level you can see this, in a cross section of your gut lining:
Ok, this is a healthy gut lining. The crypts [haha, I know! It's not at all gang related...] make the Epithelial cells which sit on the villi absorbing nutrients. They take about two weeks to travel up the villi. The whole of your small intestine lining, taking into account the contours of the villi is about the size of a tennis court. It is really important that everything works well so that you can absorb vital nutrients, like vitamins and minerals.
However, if a person with coeliacs eats gluten this is what happens [over a couple of weeks]:

Gluten kills epithelial cells which causes the villi to collapse [reducing the size of your gut lining by heaps] and the crypts become really deep because they are working overtime trying to produce more epithelial cells, which of course are killed off as soon as they are produced. Without the special cells doing their job the person who owns the intestine finds it really difficult to absorb nutrients. That's why heaps of coeliac people are anemic, because their gut can't absorb the iron.

So, if my gut looks like the latter: I have coeliacs. If not, I'm just gluten sensitive.

Did all that make sense?

noreply@blogger.com (Theresa) — Wed, 10 Jun 2009 22:26:00 +0000

Next week about this time I will be probably lying on a bed somewhere in the hospital, trying to recover from general anesthetic. A few minutes before that I would have been lying there with a tube going down my throat into my intestines.

And guess what, I'm looking forward to it.

In fact it can't come soon enough. You see, the more gluten I eat, the worse I feel. [That's not to say I don't enjoy eating gluten... no, I like gingernuts] So, the sooner the better!

You can tell my brain isn't working ay, I can't think of anything else to write.

noreply@blogger.com (Theresa) — Tue, 09 Jun 2009 03:44:00 +0000

You know how I'm always talking about food? Well, I'm going to give you another reason to think that I have gluttonous tendencies.

I don't really want to be a glutton, it's one of the 'seven deadly sins' and therefore not on my "one day I would like to become..." list.

To be on the safe side, these are the definitions of 'glutton.'

 1.a person who eats and drinks excessively or voraciously.
2.a person with a remarkably great desire or capacity for something: a glutton for work; a glutton for punishment. 

As you may know, I'm feasting on gluten at the moment because next week some medical geniuses are taking a sight seeing trip in my small intestines. The plan is that they take a souvenir back with them for the lab people to admire. My job is to provide an ugly enough gut for them to peruse.
And poor me! to provide that damaged gut I have to eat all kind of good things. Like gingernuts, ginger kisses, cheesy crackers and liquorice. You didn't know that liquorice had gluten in it did you?

Not only was I snacking on all of these delightful things between lunch and three O'clock but I also stopped my [not]exhausting studies for a snack.

Mmm! Crumbed fish! Oh, how I love it! Especially with a bit of melted cheese and toast sandwiched on either side. I wasn't brave enough to go outside in the cold and retrieve a piece of lettuce, so I'm planning another one of these [including lettuce] before my biopsy next week.

I'll let you decide whether the word 'glutton' refers to me. While you think about it I may go and have another snack... this could become a habit.

Actually, I'm probably a glutton for punishment, eating all this lovely gluten. It makes me tired, spaced out and gives me heaps of gas. [Sorry, I had to put that last bit in there].

noreply@blogger.com (Theresa) — Mon, 01 Jun 2009 01:43:00 +0000

Earlier I wrote about my "top 10" heroes of literature [that I've read.]
It's never fair to leave the girls out of sweet lists like this so here is my top heroines of literature, [books that I've read only though!]

In no particular order:

-Elizabeth Bennett. She is smart, witty, beautiful and confident. She is quite an unrealistic portrait of a woman, however she is really awesome, apparently everyone wants to be like her; especially because she ends up catching the coveted Mr Darcy!

-Rebecca. [Sir Walter Scott's Ivanhoe. She is really compassionate and kind even though she knows that she will get no reward. She is a Jewess, beautiful and Ivanhoe has a thing for her.

-Jane Eyre. She is, dear reader, the heroine of a truly fantastic story.

-Eowyn. Forget Arwen because apart from being beautiful, owning Aragorn's heart and making him a gigantic flag thingy, she just isn't as awesome as the warrior princess Eowyn [who is also cooler than Xena]. The girl from Rohan has major skill with the blade, is a great leader, marries Faramir [yay!] and seriously kicks the witch king's butt.

-Elinor Dashwood. [Sense and Sensibility] She is sensible, holds her family together but you can tell that she still feels things and has a heart.

-Lady Blakeney. [the Scarlet Pimpernel] I liked reading the book and liked Lady Blakeney too although she became a little frustrating at times. She leads the fashion in London, is highly regarded and highly gossiped about however she still does crazy stuff - especially when she finds out something about her husband.

- Anne Elliot. [Persuasion] I like how we read the novel from her perspective, she puts up with so much! She is really nice, giving and everyone relies on her. But also when you read the book you get a better idea of what it would have been like for Jane Austen or other women over 25 back in the day. Anyway, it looked to me like Jane Austen really knew what she was talking about when Anne had to watch younger girls flirt with a guy she liked, knowing that she had no chance.

-Catherine Morland. [Northanger Abbey] Another Austen girl, this one is great because she shows us that you shouldn't read too many novels! Or who knows? You may end up in your own horrid story and the consequences might be terrible! [I love Northanger Abbey, it's so funny.]

I know, I know. I couldn't muster enough favourite girls. The fact is that I usually don't really like the girls in books, I mean, often they kind of annoy me or just don't stand out as being awesome. [Or I haven't actually read the book/play. I wanted to put in Beatrice from 'much ado about nothing'...]
Anyway, have I missed someone out?

noreply@blogger.com (Theresa) — Mon, 01 Jun 2009 01:25:00 +0000

I've been eating gluten again for five days.
Breakfast on Thursday morning was so weird. For six months I was happily blocking out bread and all that good stuff from my mind and suddenly there I was pulling out the bread container and making myself a piece of toast!
And yes, I had tuna on my toast. It was delicious.

Thankfully the symptoms haven't been that bad, I've just been a bit tired and spaced out.

I've got a list of all the things that I want to eat in the next three weeks, however I'm in the habit of writing longs lists so need a bit of input from you; what would you eat if you only had three weeks left to eat whatever you wanted? Whatever, it can be anything. Perhaps gingernuts? crumbed fish? or just a good old sandwich?

noreply@blogger.com (Theresa) — Wed, 27 May 2009 03:59:00 +0000

I got the letter.

Have you ever been waiting for something, perhaps something not very nice, and it when finally comes you still feel a little lost and it takes you awhile for the facts to sink in? It takes a bit of diary writing and thinking to just actually realize that no, it's not a dream. It has happened.
Finally.

I've been waiting for six months to the day for that letter. Finally it's come and I can try and get my head around it.

You see, today is my last healthy day for over three weeks. Tomorrow I'm going to start eating gluten again [I have no idea what it'll do to me] I've got to eat it for three weeks to produce enough damage for them to see it on the biopsy.

For those who don't know what a biopsy is it's basically taking a sample. The kind I'm getting is a tube with technology at the end shoved down your throat into your gut to look around and take a sample. No, not nice at all.

Guess where they're heading... yup, that dark squigly bit [unless I'm mistaken.]

One one hand it's great, I'll finally find out whether I've got coeliacs and I get to spend three weeks eating my favourite foods. My little sister just reminded me that I can eat crumbed fish, and lets not forget the legendary tuna, lettuce and mayo sandwiches. I'm going to write a list of all the foods that I love that perhaps, if I have coeliacs, I will never be able to eat. Never again in my whole life.
I'm so eating several packets of gingernuts and squiggles.

However on the other hand it's quite scary. It's kind of like a Dr telling me that I have to drink poison every day for three weeks, but in this case the poison tastes nice. I could get a bit deranged and not be safe to drive. Or perhaps I'll puke my guts out after every meal. It's more likely though that I'll get really tired with a slightly mushy mind and have regular gut aches.

I think the worst part of stuff like this is the anticipation. I've been in that boat for that past six months and it's getting really tiring.

I suppose all I have to do is wait till tomorrow.

I'm going to blog about my experiences with this, so if you're not gluten free you can learn to understand what it is like to be on 'the diet' and if you are... well, you know what's going on and you can feel for me.

internet fasting, books and food.

noreply@blogger.com (Theresa) — Wed, 27 May 2009 00:37:00 +0000

The title says it all, I've put myself on a little Internet fast. Obviously I'm not breaking the rules, the fast has been broken and now I'm binging. I've got a little bit of paper blue-tacked to my monitor that says "no distractions allowed. EVER." It reminds me that I was only allowed to view websites to do with study, use google only for study research and keep to the limit of two visits to gmail per day. Only two.
Imagine that! For a person like me who snacks on the Internet all day, constantly grazing by having multiple tabs open at once while doing study; the diet was quite extreme.

Anyway, enough of that.

The annual library book sale was last week. It was truly a momentous library sale and will go down in the library sale history book as being one of the most legendary since we first went to the sale.
My brother arrived first. He had come from tech and though he isn't really that much of a book nerd he was first in line. I took the girls with me earlier than mum and dad just because I can. We obeyed what we felt was good que etiquette and dragged Mark back 10 people in line to play cards with us.
It was going to start at 4:30, we kept checking out watches and txting mum and dad to see how far they were away because they had the card we needed to get in. It was almost 4:00 and I was probably going to win the game of cards. "Oh, we're moving!" Someone behind us said. Frantically we threw the pack of cards in my bag, gathered up our shoes and everything to head for the entrance. The others were nervously glancing at me with questioning looks. It was up to me to get us in. I couldn't try the "I'm gonna cry if you don't let me in!" thing, no, I had to be logical and nice.
Flashing last years card which dad had so kindly bestowed on me before we left I pleaded with the un-intimidating bouncer. [Like you need a bouncer for a book sale! You'll only get nerds and old people trying to get in!] She wouldn't budge. We had to wait.
We looked through the glass doors mournfully at the old people bypassing our favourite table as they flooded into the room. We talked to the bouncer, explaining how mum and dad would soon be there and how we had a tradition of visiting the 'AV' table first to find dvds.
Then suddenly she said "Ok, I'll break the rules and let one of you in."
I turned around to do 'paper, scissors, rock' but the others all looked at me expectantly. It was unanimous. I walked into the hall, determined to make a little show of it I raised my arms in triumph before heading quickly to the favourite table.
Then Katrina was beside me. My triumph was greatly lessened, mum and dad had arrived just as I walked into the hall.

I managed to find lots of cookbooks [as you would expect] and a few novels. Nothing of much amazingness really, it was just generally a good haul. I found a few dvds of operas and musicals which I'm looking forward to watching. Perhaps I'll eat some cupcakes while I watch them? Like these ones perhaps, they make great brain food.
Then also I'm going to show off my first ever gluten-free battered anything. It's sweet and sour battered chicken. I used to love this meal when I could eat normally, and it's just as nice when you use chickpea [Channa] flour for the batter.

So tell me, have you had any scary: 'they're not going to let me in! Oh no!' moments and how did you overcome them?

Dreaming about bread.

noreply@blogger.com (Theresa) — Thu, 14 May 2009 00:58:00 +0000

I don't know if I've told you this before; but I used to dream about food. I'm not talking about the "day dream" kind, this was the real thing. I feel like a real food geek because these dreams happened quite often. My most regular subject was tuna, lettuce and mayonnaise sandwiches. Perhaps a slice of tomato would be added to the mix, but only sometimes. It was probably my own fault because I would go to sleep thinking about what I was going to have for breakfast. Don't get me wrong, I loved the dreams. I would wake up wanting food which, on other days, was strange for me because I'm never hungry before 10am.

However when I started on the gluten-free diet I knew that, should I dream about sandwiches again; I would probably wake up depressed or in tears. How could my own mind treat me so cruelly? How could I expect to stay strict with the diet if every night I indulged in imaginary eating or just looking at delicious sandwiches?

Thankfully I was aware of the possible problems so had the opportunity to prepare myself. Actually, when I started on the G-free diet I made up my mind to hardly even look at real bread. When the others were eating it I would use every ounce of my self control and other resources to think on other things, or just ignore them. I'm pretty good at it now, I must admit.
With that conscious decision not to think about bread the dreams stopped.

The good streak didn't last that long though because the other day I woke up and realised that I had just had my first bread dream since being G-free. I remember sitting in the lounge, feeling like eating something and walking into the kitchen. I looked in the pantry and my eyes were drawn to our bread bin. I knew that we had lettuce, mayonnaise and a tin of tuna that I could open. No one else was in the house. I was alone in the kitchen and the temptation was immense. I got out the bread bin, took a slice out and looked at it. It would be so easy to just make a simple sandwich. It would taste so good! I could easily imagine the texture, taste and the beautiful sensations that would go along with a prefect tuna sandwich. What would I do? Would I eat some, hoping that it wouldn't affect me much and that no-one would know?

Why didn't I just dream about rice or potatoes? When I started on the diet I thought it would be hilarious if I dreamed of an unreachable sandwich which would always elude my grasp in the way common in dreams. I would be running, arms stretched out but the sandwich would always be too far away. I would probably wake up, arms stretched out screaming "SANDWICH!!!" I would feel like a fool, giggle then tell everyone and it would make a great blog post.

It didn't happen by the way.

Back to my dream. The temptation was huge. In the back of my mind I knew it was a dream so it wouldn't hurt to have a bite. Surely?! Still, I as the dreamer couldn't do it to my dream self. It would have been so easy! But somehow I resisted. Why didn't I just do it?
I still don't understand.

I woke relieved to discover that it was a dream. I also noted that if I can withstand a sandwich in dreamland where I have considerably less control of my actions than in real life, I can withstand any onslaught of gluten temptation in real life.
I used to be concerned about a bread dream making living the gluten free live more difficult. But the real result turned out to have the opposite effect. It turned out to be one of the most encouraging things ever. Now I know that my self control in that area can handle the bread temptation.
It is such a relief!

Review: Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.

noreply@blogger.com (Theresa) — Thu, 07 May 2009 23:05:00 +0000

I finished this amazing book last night, in fact I was reading it during most of yesterday. It's been a long time since I have read anything that was so light and amusing so as to allow me to read it through most of the day without getting a severely muffy brain. That kind of tells you about the stuff I read ay: quality literature. Sadly however it can only be taken in small doses.

Last night before heading to bed I wrote a couple of lists, one detailing the good things about the book, the other bad.

"A few of the guests, who had the misfortune of being too near the windows, were seized and feasted on at once."

Lets start with the good things.

Zombies, you have to admit, are unorthodox. Do you think a book called 'Pride and Prejudice and Vampires' would sell quite as well or get quite as much hype and publicity as the strange occurrence of Zombies in a Jane Austen book? I think not. Zombies do not have characters, are not suited to the era the book is set in and are altogether... strange. That's a good thing. If they traded zombies for a monster or vampire I probably wouldn't have bothered to read the book. Zombies are a novelty, that's nice.
Although Jane Austen's name was on the front of the book [along with Seth Grahame-Smith] you had the awareness that no character was safe from becoming 'stricken' or perhaps eaten. The new co-author was allowed to insert amazing fight scenes just where you as the reader would have wanted them. [Think Darcy's first proposal to Lizzie, she kicks him in the face. Lady Catherine and Lizzy try to kill each other and Wickham... well, Kitty and Mary decide to kill him but he gets his just deserts from another quarter - so does Lydia.] It was great to read through a book that I know so well but yet not know what was going to happen on the next page.
Lets face it, there aren't many people who, [after seeing the cover and actually reading the book,] don't enjoy watching fictional people kick butt. The Bennett sisters are famous warriors, Lady Catherine is more famous though - she once beat up 1,000 Zombies with nothing but her fists and a wet envelope. Awesome.
It was very, very entertaining. That of all things this speaks the loudest of all. I like being entertained as I am sure do you.

Now for the bad things:

I wasn't a quarter through the book before I decided that it could have had a better editor. Perhaps one who may have read it twice? It certainly didn't look like the editor read much of it at all. Ok, perhaps that's being cruel but I found too many mistakes for my liking. Also some of the sentences were a little hard to understand, not because of the vocabulary but because the co-author didn't know what he was doing.
Seth Grahame-Smith had quite a different style to Jane Austen. Granted, it must be very hard to mimic Jane's style, especially if you like writing about zombies. However I found it a little distracting.
The co-author also had a thing with vomit. Why? Surely the steely Lizzy Bennett wouldn't have to delicately vomit into her handkerchief so often and if so, where did she put it afterward? That was my question anyway.
I think that, although it was entertaining, he could have made Lizzy a little less violent. I'm talking about strangling people with their guts, holding a heart in your hand [or biting into it], perhaps even thinking about coating yourself in someone else's blood? Hmm... not very Lizzy Bennett, especially when Jane Austen's kind of Lizzy steps in. I didn't have too much of a problem with it, just there was too much contrast within the main character which could have been avoided.
And now, the final and probably most serious [not counting the editing] bad thing of all. I thought that the co-author didn't gain much from his crude, sometimes rude jokes or references. Although they were, admittedly funny, I couldn't help feeling that Jane Austen would turn in her grave to know that her name was put on the front of a book containing things that she would have probably been shocked to read. Perhaps she will jump out of her grave and go running after Seth Grahame-Smith screaming "BRAINS!" - That would be great!

However after all of those considerations I would still recommend Pride and Prejudice and Zombies to anyone who has read the book several times and seen at least one zombie movie. Or if you have seen the movie at least 10 times and are also a fan of stuff like zombies [as in my brother's case.]

Bragging about food.

noreply@blogger.com (Theresa) — Tue, 05 May 2009 01:28:00 +0000

When I got back from the library this morning I didn't know what to eat for lunch so I sat down and looked at all of the cook books that I had just loaned. I didn't gain anything from them, in fact I only lost time. The headache was getting worse and I didn't want rice.

So I looked in the fridge. Trust me, there is nothing like looking in the fridge for inspiration. Right at my eye level were a whole bunch of eggs, I remembered the salmon I had opened the other day and the pastry/pasta I had stowed away in there somewhere.

Check out the result:

When I was taking the photos Dad said "Ooh, another blog!" I insisted that I take photos for the fun of it and no, these little quiches are not blog-worthy. But then I ate a piece and it changed my mind.
I also made one with a crust [below]. Next time I'll stick to the self crusting version [above.]

I also made gluten free cupcakes the other day. They turned out better than the gluten version[evil laugh].

And while I'm bragging about my food conquests, I will tell you about my mini cheesecakes. I know that I should have used a recipe because I've never made a cheesecake before. However I just couldn't be bothered. I used paper muffin cases and they worked out amazingly well. Oh, and the taste! AMAZING!

And this is what they looked like on the inside:

Are you hungry yet? Are you going to raid the cupboard in search of yummyness? I know that I am.
Ahh, those cheesecakes were so good!

noreply@blogger.com (Theresa) — Thu, 23 Apr 2009 03:12:00 +0000

Phew, today has been quite legendary. Let me start from the beginning, I've been sick since Saturday evening, that's four days of suffering from an unidentified complaint. Perhaps I ate some gluten, perhaps it was a normal bug that manifested itself in a strange way or perhaps it was just my body telling me to stop. It does that sometimes.

So, I've been ill but I'm in that recovering state that is half sick, half well and all together weak and tired. Add onto that two frantic hours on my feet doing the little sisters makeup, hair and jewelery. This had to be done in a hurry, so I missed the usual lunch time.
I sent them off soon after 1pm, they looked very pretty and I was very proud of myself. Now for lunch.

Nothing was in the fridge and I didn't want to defrost rice. If you are ever in the position I was in, I fully recommend making yourself, as I did, an amazing lunch. What I wanted was something fast because I was so hungry but also something that screamed up from the plate "eat me! I'm delicious!"

So I set out to make a frittata. No one else was around so I turned on some sweet Frank Sinatra. To fully appreciate what it felt like, run around the block several times and do thirty pushups. Then open this link and listen to Frankie sing "I get a kick out of you" while you read the rest of this post. Now you have the sweet music and are exhausted just like me.

Here is the recipe for the easiest and yummiest frittata ever.

Fry up half an onion, chopped fresh tomatoes and bacon in a small [omelette] fry pan like so:

When it's looking nice and cooked whisk together about a tablespoon of milk and one or two eggs.

Pour it into the frypan, covering all the good fried up stuff with that funny looking yellow and white goo. Give it a tiny little stir to ensure there are no air pockets.

Put a lid on and cook like that for about five minutes or until the top looks cooked.

Then put some cheese on top. If you are like me and your frying pan has a plastic handle you'll have to gently slide the frittata onto an ovenproof plate. If you have a blow torch it would come in handy, but alas Dad probably wouldn't let me use it inside so in the oven the food goes. Shove the plate into a pre-heated oven to grill and brown the top up. I use an ancient little toaster oven that also gets boiling hot on the outside. When my frittata was all brown on top, I reached over to turn it off and pull the plug. My arm brushed against the metal lid, now the spot that hit the metal is all red, sore and swollen underneath the wet facecloth that is tied, bandage style around the affected area. Let that be a lesson to you, don't put food first before tending to a burn!

Yay! It's done and is absolutely delicious. It'll serve one greedy Theresa or alternatively two people with a salad on the side. Feel healthy.
Hungry yet?

I had the urge to blog about this lunch partly because I've been sick and have been eating who knows what during this past week. Making this is a sign that I'm getting better, hurrah!

noreply@blogger.com (Theresa) — Wed, 15 Apr 2009 05:04:00 +0000

A fellow blogger did this on her blog and I was inspired. Why not make my own list?

Read on to find out about my 10 favourite heroes of literature [the fictional ones, not the authors. The winner of that contest would be Shakespeare.]
Oh, and I'm not talking about which characters I might have [or had] crushes on, it's not about that... no, not really.
Listed in no particular order because tomorrow I'll likely feel different about one or two of them. I know, I'm changeable.

1. Ivanhoe. He is a knight, therefore he is awesome. Words like chivalry come to mind. He is the main character in Sir Walter Scott's 'Ivanhoe'.

2. Mr John Thornton. Yup, the guy from North and South. I liked him in the book before I saw the film, however the film one was almost pure awesomeness too. [swoon warning: Bright blue eyes and northern english accent.- nuff said.]

3. Henry Tilney. From Northanger Abbey, his character is such a breath of fresh, amusing air that he has become the object of adoration from many females around the world. I don't adore him but I'm a fan. Read the sequence about the ball when he meets Catherine Morland. If you have already read it you'll know what I mean when I say: "Muslin".

4. Fred Vincey. A more obscure character because he is from Middlemarch which is truly a monster of a novel. But, plow through George Eliot's slightly boring scenes and you'll encounter a very sweet guy called Fred. Ok, he is a bit lame sometimes and slightly helpless on the money front. But he is on my list.

5. Hamlet. Tragic, complex, deranged. Not exactly the kind of guy I'd like to meet in real life but on the page [or stage] he just shines out. He doesn't treat poor Ophelia very well, but hey, he is fiction. I'm trying to find another word that means awesome. Fantastic? Really great? Nope. Awesome it is.

6. Mr Darcy. I can't write a list like this without including him somewhere. His character is interesting and whenever I read the book or watch one of the films; he is just pure awesomeness although a bit too moody and unreal to be in the top five heroes to come to mind.

7. Prince Rillian. I haven't read the Silver Chair in ages and can't remember it in detail. All I know is that I'm a Rillian fan. Guy trapped in a huge chair screaming his head off in agony? Yea-uh! [Can't wait till the film!]

8. Aragorn. The one in the book [Lord of the Rings].

9. Roger Hamley. I didn't much like the book as a whole, but I liked Roger becuase he was so very frustrating[what a paradox]. When you read it [as a girl] you look through the eyes of Molly and become, for the period of reading the book, almost enfatuated with poor Roger. Why doesn't he do what you know he should?! I won't spoil it for those sad readers who haven't seen or read it yet. But if you have you know what I mean. - Roger, get a grip! I like you!

10. Oh I don't know! For the first time in ages I'm at a loss. I have no idea who would be awesome enough to fill this spot. Suggest someone for me!

I was about to put in Almanzo Wilder [Laura Ingalls books], but he isn't fiction. Then Mr Bennet, but he is old and not a hero. Then I thought to include Captian Fredrick Wentworth [Persuasion], but he doesn't really have a character at all. His role is just to be watched and adored. It fascinates me that he would have made my list if I hadn't realized that he doesn't have a character!

Ok, I'm at a loss. Tell me who should finish off the list!
"Who would be right for her? William Cox?... too pert?" - Emma. [Gwenith Paltrow's version.. haha.]
And by the way, who are your favs? Would you have included Hamlet - or am I weird...

noreply@blogger.com (Theresa) — Sun, 05 Apr 2009 22:31:00 +0000

Have you ever been waiting for something to finally come true and that waiting time feels like forever?

I get that quite often. I have to wait while my lunch cooks, wait for Christmas, for summer so I can wear sleeveless, for winter so I can wear boots and scarves, for my assignments to come back with a good mark, for studylink to sort out my student allowance and I have to wait for the the district health board to get a move on and send me that letter telling me when my biopsy is.

But there is one thing that I can stop waiting for because it has finally come. My big brother got married so therefore moved out. Hurrah, a spare bedroom! Ooh, and a little brother moving into that bedroom. Therefore he gets the spare bed from my room [giving him the guest room... mwahaha] and I now have a small enough amount of furniture to fit into the sunny bedroom. Yay!

On Saturday we did 'the move.' I switched with my big brother who had previously occupied the coveted sunny bedroom. In the process of moving I discovered these things:

1) I have heaps less stuff than my brothers. That's one myth about girls busted.

2) I have heaps of little useless things which take ages to move.

3) my room, once vacated and empty was amazingly clean. It needed only a vacuum before the brother moved his gigantic mound of stuff in.

4) the sunny room, [whether it was a trick of the light or the fact that it has always been a boys room] was filthy when the walls were uncovered from their shroud of shelves and other junk. It took us three girls an hour and lots of elbow wax and chemicals to scrub the melted cheap blue tack and strangely distinct footprints off the walls. [I wish cleaning was as easy and cheerful as that girl on the right makes it look. Bah, I bet she never cleaned much in her life! - unless she is Cinderella in which case I forgive her way too sweet cheesy smile and pink ensemble.]

5) being in a relatively clean, sunny room with only one bed makes my room feel really nice. I like it. The question is though: where do I put my jumble of clothes and other half used junk when there is no spare bed to dump it on? What a wonderful question. Whenever I dump my stuff on the floor, thus making the room look untidy, I will sigh with relief. I only have one bed. Yay!

6) My room is my own. It's not the guest room anymore so I don't need to clean the room and move out at the drop of a hat for some random visitor that I don't know. What freedom! Hurrah!

So, is there anything you are waiting for? Oh, and have you ever had trouble with that great bureaucratic mound of evilness called studylink?

noreply@blogger.com (Theresa) — Tue, 31 Mar 2009 21:27:00 +0000

The Gluten Free Food and Allergy Show is coming to Christchurch!

Anyone else excited?

The first one they ever held in New Zealand was held in Auckland last year. It was such a great success that they have decided to hold it in Auckland and Christchurch this year.

I'll definitely be there!

Check out the website: www.glutenallergyshow.co.nz

[Thanks to my brother's workmate for telling my brother who told me.]

noreply@blogger.com (Theresa) — Sun, 22 Mar 2009 21:38:00 +0000

I had to refill the coffee jar this morning because the amount left in it was only about a teaspoon and not enough for my kind of drink. I watched as the little coffee granules poured into the jar and realised something which made me smile.

I remember when I was little, whenever Nana and Grandad came to visit mum would buy slightly more expensive coffee especially for them. I remember looking with awe at this different stuff to what my mum would drink: it came in little lumps instead of a thin powder. I always held that coffee with a special reverence.

Who knew that today I would be a big coffee drinker in my house? That today I would be looking at the brand and strength of coffee my mum bought with slight disdain? The thought that I once held those simple little granules in awe of their awesomeness makes me laugh. Since then I have experienced the caffeine shakes many, many times; often because I couldn't resist another delicious espresso.

This week we are going to need all the coffee we can get, it's going to be pretty busy. My brother is getting married and we have to sort out food, family, outfits, parties, presents, food, more food and more parties. I'm looking forward to it.

"Oh, it's a disaster isn't it!?"

noreply@blogger.com (Theresa) — Mon, 16 Mar 2009 00:19:00 +0000

A couple of years ago my little sisters and I decided to try and make a sponge cake. We followed some random recipe, plonked the mix into the oven and waited. It came out flat, hard and gooeyish on the outside. Not like a sponge at all.
There and then I decided that I didn't have the talent for sponges, so have restricted my egg-white baking to Pavlovas and meringues for the last couple of years. Until the other day when I watched a YouTube video about how to make a sponge. She gave such wonderful instructions and it was naturally gluten free [made with cornflour.]

Another background aspect to this story:
The other day I was lying on the floor thinking about food [as you do]. I realised that I hadn't had any cooking disasters in ages, or that if I did: the disaster always turned out for the better [like my scones that turned into delicious crackers.] "What if I'm a kind of cooking invincible?" I thought. It would be awesome, but still it's not a very cool superpower. "What if that thought of invincibility gets to me and I try all sorts of nonsense and get stung in a probably very humiliating way?"
"What if I tried to make something, like a pav, fail and then have to turn it into something nice? [not traditionally with heaps of cream of course, that would be cheating.] Hmm, that would be an interesting game."
I went over in my head all the hundreds of things I could do with a failed pav. Still, the word "invincibility" had been placed in my head and was now in my subconscious.

So I planned to make a sponge cake. If I had thought logically I wouldn't have done it without more research into 'the secrets of the sponge'. However that little invincible subconscious voice was doing it's thing.
So this weekend while my parents have been away I have planned to make this wonder sponge.
This morning straight after breakfast I started baking. It was fun, I love the recipe - it looks like the batter should produce a sponge when you pour it into your cake tin.
I was excited so took this photo of it in the oven:

The thought of failing again did cross my mind. Something about not counting chickens...

But I ignored it. How hard could it be?

But check out the result. It reminds me of a huge lump of soft hokey-pokey. It also has a slight baking soda taste, perhaps my heaped teaspoon was too much?

I suppose I got my wish ay? "Invincibility" went to my head. Cooking superpowers indeed! Huh! My little brain is still screaming: "But you don't have disasters! How could this happen to you?"

Now I get to decide what to do with this failed sponge. [I'll keep you posted.]

So sponge people [not saying you are spongy] what did I do wrong?
Let me list some things that may have been a problem:
-opening the door during cooking.
-leaving it in the oven for half an hour after it was turned off, [but not till the oven had completely cooled. I didn't know -thought I'd treat it like a funny Pav....]
-too much baking soda? is that possible?
-I had it on fan bake, it never has been a problem for Pavs - or is a sponge more sensitive [perish the thought!]

Please enlighten me! If you don't know anything about sponges how about you try guess who said the quote in the title of this post?

noreply@blogger.com (Theresa) — Thu, 12 Mar 2009 02:06:00 +0000

At the moment I'm waiting on the phone, listening to study link's holding music. I don't think it has been updated in years. I think that because I'm currently listening to "Loyal" - you know, the little theme song for the kiwis [that seemed like it was on continuous loop in every public place] two America's cups ago? [2003] We lost, so obviously the song has never been heard since, excluding only sports reviews which look back on the sad occasion.
Until now.
I heard it while waiting for the queen of all bureaucratic bodies to answer my call.
I think they must have a procedure to rid themselves of useless callers, fifteen minutes minimum before anyone answers - whether they are free or not. No student in their right mind could possibly withstand the onslaught of old easy listening music being blasted into their ear drum without a real burning cause to ring.

I've got little reason to complain really, I mean they ARE processing my information. It just takes them a whole week to process a simple fax. In the meantime they send out a [second] letter to me; demanding the information that I had sent a week before.

So I ring up again. I've done this lots because I know about bureaucracy, you have to keep ringing it and shouting at it's ears [the poor call center people] to get anything done. I don't shout, but I certainly wouldn't mind a bit of forceful talking. Just a few minutes ago, when I was talking to a studylink representative I shockingly reminded myself of my dad when he rings people [he probably enjoys talking to bureaucrats]. Speaking very firmly with the clear idea of making the other person feel like a complete idiot; I explained the problem. But I failed. Perhaps I'm a novice at forceful talk, or perhaps she was just a very experienced professional who sounded like a computer. Probably the latter.

This is only study link. Legend has it that our whole Justice system is even worse. Perish the thought! That is what will stop people committing crimes, the threat of getting caught up in endless and very slow bureaucracy and not the punishment at the end... when it manages to come.

Anyway, I am still waiting for that student allowance.

More waiting... [ok, ok, it isn't a hospital waiting list... so? How hard is it to get people to shuffle paper? It's not surgery!]

Hopefully there wont be any more problems and I can settle down to concentrate on study. [And food. I just made some gluten free hot cross buns!]

So, do you feel my pain? Have you had any unfortunate run-ins with scary bureaucratic form filler-inners?
Have you had any contact with bureaucrats prior to 1999?
Please send us verified proof of your contact with the bureaucrat[s]. Faxes from unverified fax numbers are not valid, please get a JP to sign all papers and forms. In triplicate.

noreply@blogger.com (Theresa) — Sat, 07 Mar 2009 00:01:00 +0000

I had another dancing moment the other day. I seem to have lots of them at the moment, perhaps no gluten is having a good effect on me? Perhaps I now have the energy to express the triumphant moment with some sweet moves? A few months ago I would have said "Yay!" - but dancing or any kind of enthusiastic arm waiving was beyond the threshold of energy that I was willing to expend.

I've been dying to try and make some gluten free bread for the last month or so. Somehow the diet is getting a bit boring and I just want a sandwich.

I really, really want a sandwich.

So I begged Mum to buy a bread flour mix for me so I could at least attempt to make something that resembles bread. I knew that it would most likely end up as a savoury white cake-like thing. But like mum explained to the others: 'whatever she makes she HAS to eat. We can chuck our food out to the chickens if it tastes gross, she can't.' Gluten-free ingredients are quite expensive, by no means is mum going to let me throw anything out. So with slight trepidation about the muck that I might possibly have to eat should my exploits fail, I put an apron on and started baking.

It was an awesome recipe, the smell of yeast was so nice. As I mixed everything up and waited for it to rise I started scheming about hot cross buns - one of the special foods that I think I'll cry if I can't eat.
The three 'glutenous' things I'm not willing to do without on special holidays:
-ANZAC biscuits
-Hot cross buns
-Oleballen [dutch doughnuts on new years eve]

Apart from those three things I think I could survive. But the approach of Easter has been on my mind, hence the bread experiments.

Have a look at the results: [make sure you ooh and ahh, because these babies really deserve it.]

Not counting lame scone impersonations, this was my first sandwich since the 25th of November. Oh, it tasted so good!
I'll keep you updated on my hot cross buns. By the way, I used the Bakels bread mix, it is amazing! Unlike most gluten free breads [in my big sister's experience] it does not resemble: cake, wood shavings or really, really stodgy gross doughy homemade bread.
It was nice and soft. My sisters and mum even said that it tasted like normal bread. W00t! My taste buds aren't warped after these few months!

For all my fellow gluten freesias

noreply@blogger.com (Theresa) — Mon, 02 Mar 2009 23:56:00 +0000

I can't help it, I just have to share my amazing muffin experiences with you. Yesterday I did some amazing study and was finished heaps earlier than I anticipated. As a little reward and because I have been dying to chew something of that texture for the last fortnight - I made muffins.

When I tasted these first ones; I danced. I have eaten the gluten versions before [love them!] and these don't taste any different. Sure, like most gluten free stuff they don't keep very well but I'm freezing them so it should be ok.

My coeliac sister loved them so much she demanded the recipe as soon as she bit into her first . I'll share it with you too.

Shannon muffins:
1 C flour [I used simple baking mix]
1 tsp baking powder [edmonds is gluten free]
2 eggs [the original recipe says 1, but I thought that 2 was better]
Salt and Pepper
1 C grated cheese
1 C milk
2-3 rashers of bacon - chopped finely
Herbs - as much as you like, chives, parsley, oregano or basil.

Mix all together. Place in well greased muffin tins, bake 10 - 12 minutes at 220c. [for mini muffins I turned it down to 200 instead.] Makes 24 mini muffins or 12 normal sized ones. If you are making normal muffins cook for 12-15 minutes.

I also made these other ones that I have dubbed Healtheries healthy looking berry muffs. It was another dancing moment when these came out of the oven. I was so amazed, they didn't fail! The recipe is on the back of the simple baking mix packet.

noreply@blogger.com (Theresa) — Sun, 01 Mar 2009 08:28:00 +0000

I just realized that I've told everyone [who bothers to read this] all about my food trials and evil medical experiences but I've only done one post on my study. This year study is going to be a really big feature in my life, so here goes: listen as I proclaim the wonders of sitting at home and reading dry text books.

You might know that I'm studying information and library studies. The only way you can do it in New Zealand is through the correspondence polytechnic. I keep telling people it's fine with me because "I'm pretty much a correspondence girl." Truly, I was home schooled since before I knew there was such a thing as school. For me home school meant this: do housework, do boring maths and English, rush to read the material mum set out, write the project and have lunch. Then you get the afternoon off.
Ahh, the joys.
Sadly, it's not like that when you're doing 'real' study. I'm going to study full time, a weird concept for the correspondence tech who's major users work full time, have kids, have a life after that and also manage to study in there somehow.
But I still get to lounge in the sun on a beanbag while I study. Jealous? I hope so.
I don't mean to brag, but not only am I doing a diploma... I'm doing two. Mahaha! Hurrah for cross crediting! Because I chose my papers well, after this year of hard-core boringness, I'll only have one paper to do before finishing the first diploma and then two more to finish the second. W00t! That's all I can say.

This week is the beginning of my full time study.
This means that:
1) I'm going to get up before 9 every morning.
2) I have a plan mapped out and even checklists to tick off to keep me motivated. I love checklists.
3) I'm going to get heaps of creative ideas and have a major urge to go shopping, read a long novel, cook heaps of food, play the piano for hours or pretty much anything that I can't do because I have to study.

But hey, I'm looking forward to being qualified and getting the bits of paper. Look at the majesty of the rolled up parchment! I hope I get a hat, if so I also hope that I can keep it. [doubt it though, sigh.]I think that I find studying from books and correspondence the easiest form of study. How about you? Do you like listening to people droning on about something bland? Or are you like me and prefer to read it? [no doubt so you can skim over the extra boring bits...]

noreply@blogger.com (Theresa) — Tue, 17 Feb 2009 07:49:00 +0000

Today I committed one of the most heinous automobile care crimes ever. Well, it seemed like that once I got home and confessed.

I was aware that my tyres were in need of pumping up, but kept putting it off because it was too scary and time consuming an undertaking. I'd never done it before, only watched as others did it quickly. However, realizing that it is just one of those things that need doing - like filling up with diesel, "arrgh" even dumb girls who don't know what an onomatopoeia is can do that, then so can I. - I went on the mission to fill the tyres after a rather uneventful morning at the library.

I did the normal tyre thing, unscrew - try not to loose the screw cap - stick the air thing on to the hole thing and wait for the beep. I won't tire you with all the details. [sorry, couldn't help that one...] I wondered why the second tyre was taking so very long to fill up. I looked down at it and gasped. It was flat as! Because I hadn't bothered taking any notice of any real flat tyres in the past I wasn't sure about the level of flatness my tyre was at. So I drove home.

That was my crime, driving on the flat tyre.

How could I?!
It was only a four minute drive, my logic was that it would surely hurt less than me ringing up Dad and all the fuss that would ensue.
But apparently I was wrong. Thankfully Dads and brothers aren't so harsh when it is revealed that ignorance was the cause of the misdemeanor. They changed the tyre for me and then discovered that I am a useless person to care for cars in yet another way. My warrant of fitness had run out [months over, gulp!].

[This isn't actually a pic of my tyre, thanks google.]

It's not officially "my" car, so it had never occurred to me to check those kind of things. I'm not making any excuses I'm just telling the plain truth. I think all these issues stem from my attitude towards cars. Although I think they can be rather pretty in some circumstances, or even very, very fun to drive; I still only think of them as a vehicle. They are just my vehicle to get somewhere, it's just a thing that you use and it serves you. It's breaking down or having issues never really crossed my mind because it just takes me from A to B, it just does it's job I ask nothing more.
"Just work car! Or, if you are going to break down make sure you give me full warning like a computer generally would."
The problem is that I just can't detect those warnings. I don't have a good person to car relationship. On my little drive home with the flat tyre I concentrated, gripping the steering wheel and feeling with all my might. But based on that feeling I wouldn't have been able to tell you if all my tyres were pumped up or flat, let alone one being so flat it bowed to the pressure of fingers.

I think it's weird because I can usually tell when things don't work/how they work or whatever, but with cars I am at a total loss.
I was going to say that things don't usually break down for me, but then I remembered that Mum's stick blender broke [it started smoking] in my hands this afternoon. Augh, perhaps I just break things? What a horrible thought! Perhaps my problem is that I just don't care enough to take notice or take care of things unless their breaking down would put anyone in danger, so I push them so hard or let them get in such a bad state that they just break. How about that for a hypothesis? [Yes I know that flat tyres cause crashes.]

Are you a lame car person like me? Or do you have an innate sense of exactly when to change the oil and what a cam belt is? Any embarrassing stories? Please tell, it would make me feel so much better.

noreply@blogger.com (Theresa) — Thu, 12 Feb 2009 21:59:00 +0000

Today it is raining and definitely not summery weather. I am wearing a jersey and struggling to resist the wintry urge to put on a pair of socks.
The question of what to have for lunch is an easy one in this weather; rice risotto. So at twenty minutes to twelve I put on some sweet Beethoven and looked for an onion. I know that mum is growing shallots and spied a bulb thing on the bench. Thinking that it would be a nice little bit of onion and not too extravagant [although I really love big chunks of onion] I peeled the outer layer of dirty skin off it. "Strange!" I thought, "Shallots must have a slightly different texture and... smell... to them." I chopped it up into fry-able slices.
Overcome with the lack of onion smells which weren't wafting off the chopping board I second guessed that I had actually been attacking an onion. I asked the little sisters who giggled and said that it might be a bulb. Visions of someone handing over some precious bulbs as a gift to my mum came into my head. Oh no! What if it was a lovely lilly or something that I had just destroyed!
Although I was feeling guilty, I ran outside giggling at the strangeness of the situation.

It turns out that I almost ate a daffodil bulb for lunch. Thankfully it wasn't precious, mum had apparently rescued it from a bad spot in the garden.

What a relief. But I still feel very stupid. But hey, who knew that onions and daffodils looked that similar!

Here is the rice risotto that I had for lunch. I managed to find an onion after all and those black bits are it... yup, I burnt them which is why the rice has that healthy looking orangy glow about it.

noreply@blogger.com (Theresa) — Mon, 09 Feb 2009 00:04:00 +0000

Hey, have a guess at what these are:

Can you feel my excitement!?