I’m a bit of a fan of having a sweetie to munch on the run, but I’m not a fan of ALL OF THE NUMBERS that seem to be on that stuff we call food these days. So most Sundays I do a bit of a bake to make things for me the kids to eat during the week.

This week I discovered got this in my Facey Feed. I can’t remember who it was from (sorry) or the proper name (who cares) so I’m calling it Big Batch Big Biccies, for it makes shitloads of biscuit (dare I say it? Cookie) dough.

Decorated by Coco. I said ‘just a couple’…Hmmm…

So here it is:

Ingredients

• 500g butter (let it soften to room temperature for ease in the next step)
• 1 cup sugar
• 1 tin of condensed milk (minus the spoonful or so you scoop out for yourself- cooking requires sustenance, no?)
• 5 cups of self raising flour

Method

• Cream the butter and sugar-  however you like. I did it with the beater because: lazy and also, lickers for the Evil Geniuses to lick afterwards.
• Add the condensed milk and flour and mix for ages, to form a dough.  Yes it takes a while, but it’s worth it.
• Bake at around 170 degrees for 10-15 minutes or so, depending how soft or brown you like them. Personally I’m all about a light brown and a bit gooey, like those Mrs Field’s Cookies I used to gorge on whilst shopping at Chadstone back in the day.

You will have HEAPS of dough, so what I did was to divide it into four.

One lot I let the kids decorate with Smarties, I know, I know, they aren’t healthy, but kids love the colour. The good news is, Smarties have removed the Nasty Six colourings, which for the record are: 102, 104, 110, 122, 124, 129.

Another lot I added a splash of vanilla essence and desiccated coconut, then put a dob of jam in the middle. Yum.

The last two batches I let my mate Sue (who was milling about the bench and generally just being a waste of space) roll into logs for freezing. She did a stellar job, wrapping in baking paper and cling wrap. If you are anti-cling I reckon they could just use the paper. Then they are all ready for thawing and cutting off for biccies at some future lazy* date. I reckon I’ll let the kids pop some chocolate nibs in those ones.

So there you have it: GO.

*Lazy? Did I say lazy, I meant busy of course.

Got any lazy recipes to share? 

Did you know about the Nasty colourings?

…From The Ashers xx

It’s 7.45am, and this is me.

Still in PJs, bucket of coffee in hand (it IS international coffee something-something day today you know) and on the couch. We have all breakfasted on eggs and smoothies (not green, and definitely not in jars), the second load of washing is on the line, I’ve replied to all of the emails and texts about work, so I should be basking in my industriousness on day off.

Yet somehow I am feeling strangely guilty.

The kids are at my feet playing Lego together, making up some block shaped other-worlds of their minds. They are happy.

We have had a really fun weekend of activity in Brisbane, so it’s not as if they have been cooped up in the house. I just asked them if they want to ‘do something’ or are they happy to play, and they said, “Stay here. Play! We love home days.”  I made some adventurous suggestions, just in case, and they declined. They just want to stay in their PJs and play here.

Yet somehow I am feeling strangely guilty.

What is this guilt, where does it come from, and why do I question it?

I suspect it stems back to my first boyfriend- Rod says the first cut is the deepest- and without ever knowing it, he made some incisions that have never really healed.  That boy was kind, and he would be surprised and probably even saddened to know that some of his words still open me up from time to time. There was no malice intended- we were just figuring ourselves out. And of course, we aren’t together, which means that we were of different philosophies anyway.

Today, as I sit here, the very picture of comfort and repose, I have a snippet of a sentence worming it’s way under and over the sulci and gyri of my grey matter: You NEVER want to DO anything.

And I guess in a way he was right. If doing means going out, running around, seeing things, walking places and immersing my physical body in unfamiliar places, then yes, I often doing want to “do” anything.

So many of the things I like to “do” involve me sitting still, looking slothful. So many of them are constructs of the mind. I love to read, to write, to meditate, to dream, to play mind games with myself, to think about the future, to dream, to remember things and people in my past, to make up stories, to reflect, to make connections, to dream, to recite song lyrics as poems in my mind, to take photos in my head, to design new businesses for other people to do, to dream. Always the dreaming.

And dreaming takes time.

Do you have time to dream? Do you have a dream to share with me today?

…From The Ashers xxx

Some hits and misses this week, but if you’re playing along, you’ll know that already. Here are the hits:

1. These beauties from a gorgeous friend. How kind are PEOPLE?

Sunshine in a vase

2. This:

A drink by candlelight

A Floris to drink, in tribute to my friend. Drinking it on the balcony of my spesh mate. Candles were lit. The dearly departed did not blow them out, so that was annoying. Perhaps they were too busy visiting the homes of the beautiful children and husbands they left behind, so I guess that was okay.

3. This little fella.

Kermit the fright

He makes a racket every time there is a tiny skerrick of rain, but I’ve never seen him before. He thoughtfully chose last night to hang out on the gate when I was trying to stealthily sneak in after curfew, and almost made me squeal. I do like his “roaawk, roaawk, roaawk” though.

4. School holidays. How good are they? How sweet is it to do what you want, when you want and stay in pjs much later than what is socially acceptable? Bloody good is how good.

5. My Mum. I don’t talk about her on here because firstly, she is insanely private, and secondly, doesn’t read the blog, (and she would be cross if she knew I was talking about her on the internets), however I’ve just gotta say how lucky I am to have such a strong, centred, loving, helpful and kind lady around. She is a rock, and an awesome babysitter to boot. I couldn’t ask for more (other than for her to keep the Evil Geniuses at her joint for another week)*

*Some statements may be coloured by the fact that she is currently in possession of said Geniuses until Saturday.

So what are your hits of the week?

Did you also have a shit week, but were able to get some good stuff out of it anyway?

…From The Ashers xx

Today was a bit surreal. But I made it through, and that has to count for something.

I only mildly embarrassed myself when I was giving blood and I saw the poster calling for stem cell donors and had a cry and the phlebotomist thought I was crying about the needle so she came running over to check on me, and I said, “No, no it’s not the needle, I love the needle, well not love it, I don’t like it at all, I’m not some kind of sickie you know, I’m crying about the stem cells, but not really the stem cells, but about my friend, who is dead, and has been for ages, a year today in fact, and it feel like so long ago and hardly any time all at once.”

So that went well.

And I only told off two innocent people for things that were mildly annoying, but as Liam said about one of them, “Don’t worry Mum, he was a bogan anyway. I knew he was a bogan because he had a whole arm of tattoos, and I’ve found that you don’t have to be a bogan to have a tattoo, but most bogans have tattoos.”

So that went really well.

And I only completely and inappropriately poured my heart out in the comments section of someone else’s blog, but it was Eden’s and she won’t mind. In fact she will totally get it, because Eden gets me, and this deathaversary stuff.

So that’s not so bad.

And then I drank the cherry beer that I’ve been hoarding for a year, over on my mate’s balcony, and I didn’t cry, and we chatted about Hayls and life and death and the afterlife and souls and how people look when they’re dying and then later when they’re dead, and how I met Hayls and how I friended Hayls and how I miss her so much more than I would ever thought was humanly possible, and how I don’t feel even one tiny step closer towards accepting that I won’t ever hear her laugh again.

And then we saw a shooting star, and it was around the T.O.D, and we took it as a sign.

So that was pretty good.

…From The Ashers xx

Cheers Mate.

Love you. Miss you.

Vale Hayley

…From The Ashers xx

I have been a bit off the bloggy RADAR at the end of last week and then again yesterday, because I’m feeling a bit weird.

We had a big end to the week, with a big relief.

We are lucky.

When we go to the hospital, we are in the Paediatrics ward, so obviously there are lots of sick kids, who are mostly admitted with things that are acute but transient.

The kids go home.

And they go home well.

Sometimes the kids have chronic things, like our kid does.

Those kids go home too.

And they go home pretty well.

But then there are the kids that have a thing that doesn’t fit into either the acute or chronic category. They have a thing that fits into the terminal category.

By and by, they go home too.

But they don’t go home well. We all know why they go home, but we won’t think it-won’t imagine it-won’t say it.

Instead we will light candles, say prayers, make wishes, bargain with a higher power, get Facebook likes for them, send quotes, stay positive, raise money, raise awareness, send positive thoughts, share their story, wear a ribbon, do anything except think about the reality.

There is a local kid who has been popping up in my Facebook feed over the last little while. I don’t know him, or his family, but I know people who know him. So I know he has come home. Just like we did last Friday. But we came home to laughter and energy and relief. Sweet relief for another few months. We felt the heaviness pushing on the backs of our necks evaporate like so much vapour.

They didn’t.

And that makes me feel a bit weird.

I hope you heal little dude. I hope your parents get to feel the heaviness leave. I hope it with all my heart.

…From The Ashers xx