Look what I made on Saturday night:
I made a beef rendang… from SCRATCH! The large pot was filled with coconut milk, chilli’s desiccated coconut + the mass of ingredients slow simmering for hours… I kid you not! I commenced cooking before 6pm and only just finished at a smidge over 9.40pm… that’s right – the whole time I spent standing in the kitchen either watching over this/giving it a stir or cleaning up after cooking it! It was well worth it though; I made it for Mr A and his folks and I they loved it! I had Mr A actually attack the last bits of it with a spoon from the serving bowl!
The only bad thing about cooking this is that it is SO good that it goes quicker than it is to cook… Mr A was like “oh you should make more next time” I shot me a not so nice look and asked if next time I should perhaps use 6 or 7 tins of coconut milk instead?? Oh my god – could you imagine how long it would be simmering on the stove for!
The beef was SO tender that you didn’t need a knife; you got your fork close to it and it fell apart it was that tender… hmmm
But then I decided to prove myself a brilliant wife in the making and make a chocolate, coconut and cherry slice with chocolate frosting!
It was delicious! Mr A is in fear that when we have our own place that there will be a high probability that he get fat from my cooking!
His mum and dad loved the slice!
And I totally enjoyed cooking for them and having them rave about it and fill up their tummies on my delicious rendang!!! I know it sounds strange but there is something beyond joyful that overcomes me when I see Mr A devour my food with such happy gusto… it is like I have somehow won this wonderful prize… lame huh?
Wednesday Dinner
So normally since I’ve moved out from mum’s place I will go to her house for dinner on the Wednesday. On this night I will be forced to eat til busting capacity, contend with menial tasks that my mum has saved for me to do (which I admit in the grand scheme of things I seriously cannot be bothered with), have to hear consistent lamentations about a distinct constant ‘lack’ of money coupled with the ever mounting bills along with how much I am being “driven” away from her by ‘that man’.
Last night when I was dealing with the chaotic mayhem involved with dark, rainy and windy rain + peak hour traffic + the maddening inability people seem to have to merge lanes properly I was on the phone with mum (with my hands-free of course). So there I was; up until that call all calm and serene, happy with the fact that I was going to have a gloriously cooked dinner at Mr A’s place (his mum slow cooked lamb shanks – yum) then go to the movies to watch The Year One movie (starring Jack Black). So I’m on the phone to mum asking her how her day went and I must admit that I cannot remember the whole conversation but I began to get pained, frustrated by what she was saying; even more so that I have been silenced into not responding to her ‘claims’ – I looked at the silver Toyota Kluger in front of me and for some morose sickening reason I desperately felt an overwhelming urge to drive into it… fast… HARD!
I was listening to what she was saying; how when I tried to interject how she had misinterpreted things I was told to listen to what she had to say – that she didn’t want to argue with me but that I was being driven away from her by Mr A; that he had made me leave her and that I was being taken away from her.
Ugh – there was a few other things but with each word was getting more and more frustrated at the futility of this all – they way my mum will not talk to family members about my engagement as its “none of their business” but tis more than happy to rain hail guilt at me but if I attempt to respond I made to feel like a worse daughter than I already am.
I told her ‘goodnight’ – I said to her that I was busy (I was – I was driving). I wasn’t going to talk to someone who doesn’t let me talk at all (and then when I do talk refuses to listen) and that I was tired of going over the same old ground without making any progress.
I got off the phone feeling TIRED. And ANNOYED… with myself for letting her get to me! for allowing her behaviour to make me feel tired and drained and frustrated and terrible and making me feel like I did want to drive over the narrows bridge.
But I didn’t (obviously).
ALL night I felt like I seriously would rather do anything else instead of having dinner/go see mum the following night (Wednesday/tonight). the missed calls from her at 8pm, then 10.30pm and then again at 1.45am and 4.45am did nothing to quell my feelings. I woke up this morning and although the feeling had slightly subsided (so that thoughts of driving off a bridge were no longer at the forefront of my mind) the thought of spending Wednesday night with my mum filled me with a heavy sigh…
Then I went to work and got a missed from her… and another missed call. I called her back;
It was about a water bill – why were they sending her a letter? What is it about? Let me read it to you so you can call them and fix it. I cannot do this – I have too many bills. My phone bill too high. I am stressed.
Yep – because I have no bills, and I am totally stress free. And why don’t you sit down and relax and then read the letter? Why do you assume the worst? Maybe if you stopped calling overseas so much then your phone bill wouldn’t be so high? Umm – do you know that this is not categorically thought of as an emergency and therefore does not warrant you calling me at work…
*HUGE deep sigh* So I take the number for the water corp. and her reference number and sort it out… for her and tell her I’ll call her back. And I discover that she did not pay the bill and that it’s a notice as it’s a bit late.
Yet another thing for me to do.
Yet another thing that she will not be thankful for because it will be assumed that doing these things are my responsibilities. That I am here to fix and pay for this stuff and that heaven help me if I bring it up to her that essentially she’s the parent and it is her responsibility but to her its not because she gave birth to me and that therefore everything that happens since that and her raising me is what I should be doing (sorry; I’m ranting).
So I call her and tell her that I am not coming tonight for dinner because I am not the happiest person to be around at the moment; that I am tired of the way she assumes the worst about Mr A (when really a major factor I keep trying to reconcile with her is because Mr A tells me to because if I had my way I’d have lied and told her I’ve moved to the UK or something) and that although she says she won’t mentions anything I am still tired of it all and that I will call her later on that night… oh AND that I’ll be paying this bill (too) along with the insurance for the house I don’t reside in anymore.
Then 2 hours later she calls me… and calls again.
So I call her back as it could be an emergency – but its not. its her telling me that she’s stuck in front of the supermarket as she decided to walk there and that now its pelting down with rain and that she was calling me to tell me not that she expected me to pick her up. And when I tell her that I wouldn’t be able to pick her up anyway (because I’m at work) she said that she knew that and that she was just telling me because she was all alone and that it was wet. *sigh*
And even as I write this I see one missed call that I just got from her…
And even though I am filled with this feeling that knows that going to see her tonight is a terrible idea based on my mood I still feel like I am a terrible shit of a daughter who is killing her mother.
Guilt is a strange creature…
Guilt is sadly my shadow…
How to make friends & influence people
I find it interesting how people react so differently to the same situation.
I find it all the more interesting how Mr A and I seem to react very differently to the same situation!
Friday I finished work a little early and was lucky enough to have Mr A come and pick me up. I got down towards the little corner from where he sometimes picks me up and saw his car patiently waiting for me (with him in it)…. And a parking inspector nearby… printing out a ticket!
I picked up my pace so I was walking/jogging as fast as my high heels would allow (which I must admit I have a knack for running in heels!) and got to the car – I saw the inspector putting the ticket under Mr ‘s windscreen wiper and saw Mr A switch on his wipers so the ticket flew off and saw him clearly lamenting at the parking inspector. Anyway I picked it up (the ticket) and get into the car; at which point I hear him (Mr A) ‘going off’ at how parking inspectors are the scum of the earth etc and saw that he was reaching for his golf ball (he had played golf a few days before and a few balls were rolling around at my feet).
Me: what are you doing?
Mr A: I am going to throw a golf ball at that idiot! I’m sitting in my car – he can’t give me a bloody ticket!
Me: you cannot throw a golf ball at him – that’s assault… listen, I’ll talk to him (as he was still outside about to write a ticket out to a car behind us)
Mr A: You won’t be able to do anything – that’s $100 I have to pay for nothing! Its crap – its just because I’m a guy & I have a car with a turbo.
Me: *internally rolling my eyes*
Meanwhile during this ‘conversation’ (read: Mr A getting more and more frustrated by the millisecond and me trying to soothe him) Mr A is watching the inspector, at which point the owner of said car behind him has returned to her car (it’s a woman) and is talking to the inspector. We then both see that he lets her off! Mr A is now inconsolably livid! I tell him to calm down and that I will ‘fix’ the situation.
Me: hi – umm… you just gave us a parking ticket but he was actually still in the car and was just waiting for me. He would have only been there a few minutes.
Inspector: I saw his car from across the road and he was there for more than a few minutes… in all honesty I didn’t even see him in his car because of the tinting.
*Mr A is now storming out of the car*
Mr A: (*in a rather loud voice*) What the hell is going on? I was sitting in my bloody car waiting for my fiancé; I was there for bloody 2 minutes…
Inspector: Listen mate – you were there for bloody longer than 2 minutes and based on your attitude you deserve the ticket!
Mr A: You can’t give me a ticket – you let that woman off but you’re giving me a ticket? What do I have to do; show a bit of boob or whip my d*#k out so you can cancel it?
*I am cringing at this point… wishing him to be quiet as this is NOT helping the situation*
Inspector: Mate… you’d better step off!
(Can I just say – who says ‘step off’ if your white/Caucasian? Seriously – all credibility is now gone! I mean who does he think he is? Jack Black?)
Mr A: What are you talking about ‘step off’?
Me: (*now sort of positioning myself in front of Mr A a little*) Listen, I’m trying to be the nice one here – it’s clearly not fair that you let that woman off and not us when she was actually parked here and we weren’t. It’s not really fair to any parties involved; seriously you can’t just let her off because she’s a woman… I mean – I’m a woman (*I looked at him and gave him a smile*). I’m sorry about Mr A but I’m trying to do the right thing here – you should either give that woman a ticket or cancel ours…
The inspector looks from me to Mr A….
Inspector: ok – I’ll let you off this time. But it’s because of your fiancé mate – not you! (*that was aimed at Mr A*)
Me: thank you so much… have a good weekend…
Mr A: *walks towards car and is grumbling lord knows what under his breath*
In the car I try to explain that really you do get further by being nice. That you get more bees with honey rather than vinegar; Mr A is silently driving on the freeway. When he can clearly take it no longer he comments; “He only let you off because you’re a girl!”
I don’t want to tell him that I hate to admit it but he’s probably right!
Thanks Sunshine!
I went to a friend’s little girl’s birthday party on Sunday…
It was a Madagascar (the movie) theme…. It was all so cute; all these little kiddies dressed up; there was a little batman and a Darth Vader…very cute indeed – and let’s not even get me started on all the babies! Ooohhh, its enough to almost make me clucky and have a baby all my own! ALMOST… not quite though – ‘chicken before the egg’ and all that stuff my dear… its strange how sometimes I will completely be ‘in the moment’ and be totally enjoying myself and then I will get this thought/feeling wash over me and it’ll feel like a ice cold bucket of water has been thrown on me; I sat there watching all the kids and Sunshine and her family and I couldn’t help but wonder how my mum would be when my children have their birthdays?
Sunshine – thanks for inviting me honey! The food was delicious and I hope that the birthday girl had as good a time as we all did… thanks honey!
Gym… the agony continues
Last night I went to a pump class with Mr A’s mum – she thinks that is definitely not cut out for step classes while in all honesty I could take it or leave it (I am working on the premise that after a few classes that I would got the rhythm of it all and my body won’t ache as much)! Mr A’s mum goes to pump class quite regularly and she said that she really enjoyed that – I thought that I’d give it a go.
Mr A goes to both the gym then a squash game with the boys on Monday’s but wasn’t going to the gym ;last night (I have no idea why) and thought that it would be a lovely idea if we both went on a leisurely bike ride before I went off to pump class with his mum and he went off to squash.
So I went… lord knows why…. All I can say is: Leisurely my foot!
There was nothing leisurely abut the bike ride… except maybe the first 5 minutes when we slowly rode away from his house… then once we turned the corner it was all ‘game on’ from his end and me trying to keep up! Ggggrrrrr – I fear that this was his plan all along because I had not been on the Wii Fit for the last 2 days. The frustrating thing is that I quite like bike riding and I think I’ve got the stamina to maintain a certain level of speed and endurance for a long ride… but he was riding off so fast it was like my mum was chasing us with a scimitar or something!
Anyway; needless to say I wasn’t particularly raring to go to pump class. Although I suppose that I was warmed up! So after a whole other hour of abuse on my body I am amazed that I managed to get myself into bed at all last night – amazed that I was able to drive home and even more amazed at the amount of pain in my upper arms! Then I get told by someone at work that the amount of muscle pain I feel today is nothing compared to what I will be feeling tomorrow – gee thanks!
My solace is that the instructor was impressed at amounts of weights I was lifting, my posture and my flexibility… always one to please – my body is currently paying the price of the overzealous approach I took to said weights!
More info to follow:
I think one of my friends is turning “Single White Female” on me!
Like they say: Imitation is the highest form of flattery!
First step class ever = pain
I had the day off work yesterday – it was to take mum to her specialist (doctors) appointment; it’s been 3 months since her last eye operation and the doctor just wants to make sure all is well and that her right eye is fine.
Remember how I said that on Monday evening I was going to a step class with Mr A’s mum? Well – the fruits of my labor have been double edged:
Firstly, yesterday my body/muscles seemed fine and I was beginning to think that I must be fitter than I first thought (considering the fact that I felt like a complete un-co about to have an angina right after the class!) but then I awoke this morning! Oh the pain in my calves! My arms feel a little fragile but my calves!
The upside though is that yesterday afternoon I hopped onto the Wii Fit and I am happy – nay jubilant to announce that my Wii Fit age is my actual age!!!!!! Woo-hoo! You cannot fathom how frustrating it was to be initially ‘told’ that my Fit age was 31 then when I did the same test 3 days later I shot up to 42 then down to 38!!!! All these digits made me feel terrible… I mean, there is only so much I can do to kid myself and say “well; I’m not fat – I am European size 1/Australia size 8 and generally range between XS and S in the clothing stakes so clearly I am fit” Well; I’m not really that fit… the step instructor was 6ft tall and clearly a few sizes bigger than me but wow – this gal was fit! She managed to remain scarily upbeat and happy for the full hour; jump around, step across and do hand movements, talk and at one point sing along to the music! It was indeed a humbling experience! She had this remix version of Beyonce’s ‘Single Ladies’ track which was faster than the album version… Oh the agony of it!
Meanwhile Mr A is keen for me to go again…..
I’m telling myself that when I finally go dress shopping and the wedding date is upon us that I will be ever grateful at all the exercise I will have done by that point!





