Welcome to Another Weekend Coffee Share!
If we were having coffee today, you’d be wanting to throw out your slippers and put on your dancing shoes. I spent the afternoon at a my daughter’s somewhat casual mid-year dance concert and we stayed on to the last session to see the teens dance, which totally blew me out of my mind. I didn’t think the human body was capable of such movement without snapping. For someone who lives and breathes inside their head, to see the human body explored and extended in this way was incredible…especially as I battle with a debilitating muscle wasting disease, which has fortunately been in remission for two years and while I’ neither nimble or graceful, I’m walking…and I’m still breathing. These days, I can easily forget how far I’ve come.
How was your week? Hope things went well.
Last Wednesday, I attended a local Authors and Illustrators Forum. This was the second year it was held and I met a great group of writers and illustrators while taking some valuable tips away from the talk. Probably the most important take home for me, was deciding to get my manuscript for “The Quest: Letters To Dead Poets” professionally critiqued. I decided to put it aside to stew after writing it during the A-Z April Challenge and to be perfectly honest, I had to have a break from that phenomenal intensity and get back to the “real world” for a bit. Working towards this professional critique gives me an interim, achievable goal rather than shooting straight towards publishing. This still means I have a lot of work ahead.
Meanwhile, just for something chillaxing, my frustrations with my family history and trying to find where John Gardiner came from continues. I’ve hit some brick walls with my research before but nothing like this. Until I find John Gardiner’s death certificate or possibly his arrival details, I have no idea whether our Gardiner family is English, Irish or Scottish. While this might appear semantic, when you have an Irish Australian identity, it could ruffle a few feathers.
However, as frustrating as it’s been, there is a significant upside of NOT being able to pinpoint our John Gardiner out of the plethora of John Gardiners who were living in 18th Century Sydney. It means all bets are off and as I’ve been trawling through the old newspapers online, any one’s a possibility. I’ve also tried to find other family members with a hope of finding him via the side door. So, I’ve been left to ponder whether we’re related to George Gardiner of Albion Street Surry Hills who tragically hanged himself at work for no known particular reason or his daughter, Florence Young whose husband tragically cut her throat having a mental snap or perhaps even mistaking her for a burglar in the dark, while she was holding their 6 month old daughter, Sadie? There was also John Gardiner, a digger shell shocked during WWI, who stole a coffin and slept rough on Queen Street Brisbane and planned to take it for a sail along the Brisbane River. Apparently, he also stopped off at pubs along Queen Street, placing the coffin on the counter asking: “Where’s the dead man?” He was usually given a few drinks before he moved on. Thank goodness for the Salvos who gave that John Gardiner a home.Terrible to think that we couldn’t look after someone who fought bravely for our country when they returned home.
I’m not sure how much I’ve mentioned that I’m totally addicted to watching Australian Masterchef. We’re now on the homeward strait and we’re down to the last three contestants. You can view past episodes of the show here and if you are much more daring and capable than I, you could even try out the recipes but I’ll wish you good luck. It’s not called Masterchef for nothing and these creations are miracles on a plate. Just spectacular!
While I haven’t even considered trying out the Masterchef recipes myself, the show has definitely helped me lift my gave on the home front. While I might not have crunch, creaminess and acidity in every dish, I’ve definitely been spreading my wings.
Last night, I finally found the courage to try making waffles from scratch and was thrilled with the results. I might have left the butter out of the mix, but they were great and also represented a small triumph over my paralyzing perfectionism. It only took me two years to find the courage to actually try making waffles in my waffle machine. You can click here to read how I went and check out my grandmother’s recipe.
Now the countdown’s on until I have another birthday. Next Saturday, I clock up another year. Hip hip hurray…I think!
How has your week been? Hope you’ve had a great one!