grabbing little minutes . eclectic collections . bonkers

This post is so adorable. Busy people grab minutes to write as they go about their day. Leading to a bonkers collection of conversations.

You know, I write to you every day. Yup. Every day. I grab little minutes throughout the day to add a word here or a word there. Sometimes a whole sentence - sometimes even a complete thought. I take garden photos that are out of date a day later.

Yet - once begun, a post like this grows its own wheels and rumbles on.

I read a lot here in SubStack when I am not writing and find laughter and fortification and instruction here and today I bring you a few of the posts that stood out for me.

Leave a like (that little heart) as you go past it helps a lot with - well - everything!

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Job applications

I apply for a new job every day. Messing around with my formidable resume so it shows the experience I have in whatever field I am applying for and writing the most hilarious honest readable punky cover letters that no one ever reads.

Writing knowing no person will ever get to read a thing is quite freeing you know. Any of us who writes in Notes, here on Substack, know about this. What happened to notes anyway?

After Christmas I take up the position of Nanny for our new baby. But I will have a few days spare a week to make some money to live on. Some ready cash as my Dad would say. Something close by that does not take too much brain power. So I have been applying for a range of ordinary jobs like customer care or family care. Here is what I am up against ⬇️.

This job pays $60 AU an hour - part time customer care for an online tutor service.

I have been informed that they have reviewed my application. But - yeah - 6,912 applicants!! Hmm.

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OK. Job seeking has become a kind of game for me now. I literally do it for fun and to keep myself current on what is around. But - yeah - at my age I don’t expect much to come my way. But that’s ok - I am a dab hand at managing a frugal life and growing my own food. And I have been responsible with my savings over the years. No bitcoin!🤣

And I do make a little right here. I have a group of generous readers who have upgraded - literally paying me to write and plant trees and feed the rescue pigs back on the farm. I am grateful for you. And incredibly grateful to you all no matter how you subscribe.

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Magpies

It’s about this time of year that people start wearing funny hats around here, when they are out biking on the street. The magpies are dive bombing!

So people here attach long zip ties to their bicycle helmets so the dive bombing birds - protecting their nests - don’t smack the helmet with their beaks. Causing the bicycle rider to startle and wobble off the road. They even go for riders ears and draw blood!

And yes - the people bicycle about like this with absolutely straight faces.

One magpie swooped on TimTam the other day and wacked her walking harness with a loud thwack.

It gave me more of a fright than her I think. She is a rescue dog who grew up on the streets of Melbourne. Quite used to aggressive magpies.

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Learning from poppies.

Photos do not clearly show the mess in my little flower garden. The poppies have hit the deck and have continued to grow horizontally. We had one flower but the rest seem to stay in their unopened state and rot.

I keep thinking that I have never seen such an unsuccessful flower. Why can’t they break open. They sit with their heads down and their petals trapped which makes me want to call out -“ buck up - it really is not that bad”. Sorrowful poppies. Who knew.

I suspect some kind of failed depressive genetic engineering.

Here is the one flower that broke free. A throw back.

Compared to these flowers that just hang unopened.

I had to crouch right down and look up to get this shot for you.

I don’t want to seem ungrateful. It is not the end of the world but the wind just keeps on winding. And these long awaited poppies are just - well - disappointing. I have resigned myself to just collecting seed. Though we will see if the seed germinates. Much of the seed from genetically engineered plants will not grow. If they are, (GMO and yes it even exists in the world of flowers) then they might be fatally flawed.

The gene is commonly called the “terminator gene,” part of Genetic Use Restriction Technology (GURT), which renders seeds sterile so they cannot germinate. Found in GMO soybeans and field corn.

This is so farmers (especially field corn and soy bean farmers) cannot save their own seeds for next years planting - driving the farmer back to the seed seller every year.

Which is another reason why I took all the farmland owned by the family in Illinois out of conventional corn and beans and into organic small grains.

Anyway, I think that, in the case of these poppies, the seeds might take us back to the original poppy plant. Which frankly I would rather grow because these fluffy pink ones are a disaster. I will be collecting seed anyway. It will be an interesting trial. And to be fair any GM poppies being experimentally engineered are for the drug market. (Opium my Lovelies). And unlikely to end up in my garden. So I think these have just been selectively bred for these massive flowers.

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Irreverent humour

This post ⬇️ made me laugh last week. It is a very real subject. Self esteem and self love are fragile. Women have an hard time with loving one’s natural self. And I for one would like to age disgracefully and naturally without feeling out of step with the beautiful people. I am beautiful goddammit! But I know women who are afraid to be seen exactly as they are - because we have been trained to not trust each other.

Anyway - gave a read - forgive yourself and have a chuckle.

The Anti-Cosmetic Surgery Essay Every Woman Should Read

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Is the power grid going to keep up

An important read below - ⬇️ - AI is not just about literary authenticity- it feels as though the battle with the AI monster centers that are hauling themselves onto our landscapes are a battle I cannot face. They feel like one step too far. Big, big money is behind all this. The minerals, the water for a system that has so quickly imbedded itself into our daily lives. I don’t know. Will these centers eat our resources then eat us, then eat themselves?

It feels apocalyptic right? Like a really dark movie?

And as Justin reminded me; you and I are virtually meeting inside these monster centers.

But we must shake off that feeling of doom and work even harder to protect our little corners. Work to support the local authorities who keep our air clean and our water clean and our communities healthy. Work to save green spaces and local food. Work just a little harder to conserve energy.

What We Burn to Speak to Machines

Poor Man’s Croquettes:

I call recipes like this peasant food. With huge respect for peasants. Family found. Made by heart and by feel. Cheap. This one is adapted from a Jamie Oliver recipe.

Here is a little story about Jamie Oliver. When he was young (remember The Naked Chef), he was doing a piece of work in the Weta studios where my fourth son was a runner. This was years ago. Fourth Son is now a producer, but starting at the bottom gave him an extraordinary well of knowledge. And runners are at the bottom of the film industry ladder.

Anyway, he was one of the runners assigned to Jamie Oliver when he was filming a segment in the Weta studio in Wellington, NZ.

For some reason Jamie needed an extra-big whisk for the shot, and so Fourth Son was sent out for the whisk. He used to work in the restaurant with me; he worked as sous chef at sixteen, and being a good cook knew exactly where the pro chef shops were. He borrowed a studio vehicle and roared through the tunnel, where he spent good studio money and brought back a sturdy, shiny, new, extra-large whisk for Jamie - exactly what he (Jamie) had ordered.

After the show was shot, reshot and packed out - everything packed down into boxes -,Jamie found my son and gave him the whisk, thanking him for his work.

Remember, my son was a runner. They work super hard, are paid terribly, and are on the bottom cut-throat rung of the movie business. For Jamie to share his tools and have a chat with this group of young people lifted them up. I could have kissed him.

Isn’t that a lovely Jamie Oliver story?

Anyway - to the recipe. Ok, usually when I make croquettes I make the little rolls then I roll them in flour then in egg then in breadcrumbs and fry in a deep hot oil.

In this recipe the breadcrumbs and eggs are IN the mixture and fried in just a little oil.

Quick and simple.

Ingredients for Simple Croquettes

• 4 medium-sized floury potatoes, peeled and quartered. Boiled. Mashed.

• 2 large eggs, beaten

• 50 g dried breadcrumbs

• 2 tablespoons plain flour

• 3 tablespoons finely grated Pecorino Romano cheese or good old Parm.

• 1 tablespoon chopped flat-leaf parsley

• Sea salt

• 60 ml olive oil, plus more as needed for frying.

Once the mashed potatoes have cooled a little - add everything else. Mix. Shape. Pan fry in a little olive oil. Serve straight from the pan for the best crunch!

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We are making a list of all the meals we are going to make for the family that is coming to Melbourne for a week long visit over the Christmas period. And these croquettes will be on the lunch menu. Again and again and again!

I will share more as the days go by!

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These cheddar thyme, pistachio and pepper shortbread are so good.

So peppery and cheesy and savoury. I made them from Will’s fabulous savory shortbread in this post ⬇️.

A metaphorical postcard #7

These are quite perfect with a glass of wine. With a charcuterie board or simply stolen out of the container late at night and crunched in the dark while staring out the window.

My second food suggestion for the coming festive season.

We are on our second batch.

I have included a link to an old blog post. I was looking for my old croquette recipe but came across this instead. It is about goodbyes. About saying good bye to Hugo my French farm intern who was absolutely and completely wild. But I still miss him. And today I miss the farm.

Go HERE.

And this photo is for Helen Freeman the only farmer in the world who loves (and misses) her pigs a much as me.

Take care now!

Talk soon

Leave a comment because your comments are the heart of a post. I write for you and love to hear from you. We are all cogs in the wheel.

Then pop back later today and read everyone else’s comments and talk amongst yourselves - I love it when you talk amongst yourselves.