Alive and Lazy
Hi, yet again!
A schoolgirl has done a wonderful thing! Her name is Evelyn. She sent me five very interesting questions which I answered on video. It’s the most interesting thing I have to share at this point in our complex, boring Covid lives. See it here:
Honestly, I don’t have a lot to say. There’s very little book news, which is perhaps what you were looking for, so my apologies for dragging you, for no particular reason, from whatever you were just doing. (I won’t mention our government and its handling of the epidemic. I want this post to be entirely cheerful. Hah.)
I thought it best to indicate I was still alive and well, given my lungs and Covid and all that. Thus far, Covid has left me and my family alone, probably because I rarely step out of my front gate other than for the morning walk with my neighbour, or to take our grandson to the school bus. My husband does all the shopping. As you may know, guys always buy more than is on the list, which often means hasty changes in menus to use everything up, but hey, whatever it takes. I’m grateful to be safe. Our daughter and grandson are back in their relevant schools after the long summer holidays, so who knows what might happen next, even though both of them have to wear masks all day long?
I had a funny experience a few weeks ago. There’s a new restaurant in our local area and I wondered if they’d changed the seating arrangement from the previous owners’ way of doing it. It was early in the day so it wasn’t open. I stared, nose to the the glass door, into the gloom and almost had a heart attack because an elderly woman stared right back at me. I was mortified for a split-second until I realised it was me! I was staring at myself. Did I mention it was funny? It was horrifying.
But then I realised that my elderly face matched my elderly right hand: old and scrawny. Sad! I don’t really mind. That old head still has its ideas. That old hand still writes its stories. And both my hands and arms still lift a 6 kilo weight high, 20 times every morning: first in the left hand, and then the right. I’m doing OK. And I can still cook with both hands!
Food and its preparation is one of my greatest pleasures. Whenever I provide good-for-you-food for our twelve year old grandson (almost daily) I pay close attention to its presentation, to the way it looks: bright colours in architecturally-happy patterns that completely disguise the otherwise terrible Sensible Diet thing. I do the same for ourselves. It’s fun. Obviously I have time on my hands, given the fact that I live in a self-isolated Covid cocoon at the moment. But as always, Covid or not, the height of our South Australian summer lends itself to the Mediterranean diet of Greece and Italy, which shrieks of good health, so here’s my version of bruschetta, last week: simple and delicious.
As you see, our garden is a controlled jungle, an ordinary suburban garden in which we’ve planted many native trees and bushes over the last 25 years. The bird life is amazing: orchestral magpies, and hoarse Eastern Corellas and cockatoos, and ever-present, ever-maddening mynah birds, whose demanding babies should be told to leave home right now and fend for themselves instead of squawking for tidbits all day long, like spoilt children. We do have flowers and fruit trees but I felt there was enough colour in the food for one photo.
Books are being worked on. There are three or four in the pipeline. I’m not just cooking and gardening, I promise.
Wishing you safety and sanity in these mad times.