Cook

I have this picture of my nana in my kitchen. I have so many amazing memories of her and I in a kitchen. I would sit on the floor (Gigi and I looking for scraps no doubt), and we would chat away. I didn’t realise it at the time, but she was showing me how to cook. I can hear her voice “Alison, when you make vongolle.....” “Alison, when you boil milk....”
This picture of her sits in my kitchen, but not this week as I’m getting a new kitchen. And as it takes shape, I realise her influence in the scheme I chose. I realise her influence in most I do. It took a village to raise me...4 strong women and 2 awesome men. I hope she’s proud of the lady she helped to grow.

So that was a blog I thought I had posted but turns out I didn't... was written about a month or two ago. Def last year anyway around November time. I have a new kitchen now - it's pretty darn fabulous and while it might be too pink - not the pink I chose, I'm enjoying cooking in it.

And teaching CG the little things my Nana taught me. Maybe I'm giving him memories. He is very competent in zucchini - rejoice in the Italian heritage! ;-)

Yesterday we did sushi - for the 500. Could never have done it in the old kitchen. I sat today at my parents and realised how much cooking together is a part of who we all are. And how much I love that about my family.

Ode to the K

I’ve lived here since September ‘98. I first recorded CG’s height two months later. And ever since. On the eve of a new kitchen, I’ve just realised the door frame is going and I’m hit with emotion. I am  excited for a new kitchen, it’s long overdue. But the door frame can stay. Please.

The kitchen looks like I did when I moved in, a kettle and some cups, washing up liquid. How many happy times has this room seen, how many meals, how many tears and tantrums (me and CG)? It’s always been my go-to room. My place to write, concoct new things, work out my head. It’ll be the same, it’ll just look different.

How much have we grown in that time....Cg and I were babies when we moved here. Him literally and me yet to mature.

Thank you walls for letting me paint you colours that shouldn’t exist. Thank you cupboards for holding my goodies. Thank you boards for letting me kick you in grief. Thank you shelves for holding my memories. Thank you windows for holding my daydreams.

Be pretty, my little kitchen. Just let’s keep that height chart.

Hallowed

Why am I such an elephant? And I don’t mean in the size sense, I’m purely about the memory here. Nhandi got married on this day. No arsehole remembers. By arsehole, it’s clear who I mean. And why should any arsehole remember? When he’s gone and got himself a new wife.
And she was beauty personified on that day. All pink and gold and glittery.....to quote a lyric. There’s a picture of her and Lani dancing on that day.
If only we COULD see the future. If only, if only, if only.
People say you shouldn’t tinge the past with regret. But I cannot help but feel regret the things I never said to my girl. Or the things I did say, but didn’t push her on.
So she got married on Halloween. No treat.

Harking to the past for the future....

6 years ago I believe I found myself. Not in an Eat, Pray, Love kind of way. More like a East, Beast, Feast kind of way. I had found a song that resonated with me in the months prior. Something about the lyrics, the tune, the artist singing all just went bam! boom! whallop! into my head/heart.

And then I was given an opportunity to go to Thailand. Not a place that I'd ever thought of going to. I flew alone, I travelled alone, halfway across the world. I did that. I arrived alone. Not lonely, you understand but in my own company. When I got there, I was stunned into silence - not something that happens all that often. I was in awe of the heat, the vibrancy, the scenery, the cow-sized ceramic chickens, the everything. But it also felt comfortable, like it was familiar.

On my second morning there, that song from months ago, was playing in the breakfast floating island thing. And again with the bam! boom! whallop! and I realised this was me, this is who I am. I'm happy in my skin. Ah well yes, the skin may change - or rather the volume of it - in fact this is direct correlation with me finally managing to put on weight. Gone was the nervous energy, gone was the constant on the move. I calmed down. And that was a good thing.

Maybe Thailand wasn't the cause, maybe it was the end result. Whatever it was, it helped.

Weird, I always think that I enjoyed Thailand on my own. I guess I did.

.....Landslide 

As to the future, well sometimes I need to remind myself, that I know what I want and I'm happy enough getting it. And that my road is a different path to travel than others. That I'm not content to stay here, behind this desk. But also that I'm gentle, I'm soft and kind hearted and to remember not to lose that trait, for it is a good one.

"For although I cannot fly, I am not content to crawl" - 9 days

Lets have a word - open letter

Now c'mon Bread... how can you do this to me?
I love you. I truly loved you.
I love all the different types you can be.
I love your softness, your soft bits, your warm and delightful bits.
I love the way you go with everything. Soup, eggs, bacon, all my favourite eating things.
I love the way you can be so many different types. You're the global staple. Without you, there would be starvation and famine and world wars (for'sure)
And yet you turn on me like this... like a horrible thing.
I hurt Bread, I hurt so deep inside my head. If I had known that my love for you is so unrequited, I would have taken my pennies to the gluten-free aisle.
Your chemicals run deep. My brain constricts like a snake with a juicy pig.
Bread, it's over. Be gone from my lips, my belly, my life.

Family

It's a global community we have. Especially if you come from a country which isn't very old and has most of it's roots based in immigration. I'm first generation South African on my dad's side and 3rd on my mothers. It's pretty much a given that family is scattered around the world. And even although I don't live in SA anymore, I have family there as well and friends. I'm quite often torn between two places - not so much in later years as previous.

So when one of the most influential people in your life, who currently live so many miles away, comes to visit - it's like Christmas and your birthday are on the same day (with double presents). It's beyond amazing, emotional and makes your heart explode with love and fun times. And makes you yearn for maybe the day when she's not a12 hour (minimum) flight away... when she's at most an hour flight away or a hour's drive. So that you don't have to work out time difference, so that you can get 'puppy' love from the dawgs, where you can surround yourself with familiarity and family. Where you can snort like a warthog and cackle like an hyena and it'll be okay because she knows you and is more likely snorting along with you.... I want that day to come soonest.




Soonest. Hurry. 

Ice ice baby

Sometimes I feel jaded and experienced and old. Not often mind you, but sometimes.

Then I come to this office. It's 14C outside, it's raining, I'm wearing winter garments. And yet, every single flipping window is open. I think there are even two fans going. My fingers are going blue, my feet encased in ice and yet there are several women bemoaning how hot they are. FFS, go to your doctor, get the HRT - it's not hard to do.

I'm not exactly sure why I have to freeze to death because your temperature is governed by your hormones. Why should I have to think about bringing hat/gloves/scarf/coat to work in the month of August? I'm not impressed.

So today I feel not so jaded, not so old. It's a result of sorts.