One of my dearest friends I have ever had is an in-law. When I was one month old, born into a world at war, she was born in another country occupied by enemy armies.
Who would ever have foretold that future friendship…
She rang me this morning, telling a tale of woe about how she had gone to get her passport and bankbooks from the place she always hides them, only to find none of them was there – and she has no memory whatsoever of moving them. Nor can she find them now. And her house has not been broken into.
I sympathise. Age does that sort of thing to you.
So after this morning’s phone call, I go into the kitchen to put on some soup. I made the stock yesterday out of some beef scrag ends (yes, there are still housewives who don’t buy their stock in cans or cubes) , but shoved it in the frig afterwards without straining it or anything because I was on my way out to a birthday party of an even older friend.
I go to the frig , get out the stock and strain it over the sink, throwing away the stock and preserving the useless bits and pieces.
Definitely an aargh moment.
And this from someone who thinks she can write a 3-book trilogy containing over half a million words spanning 10 years in the life of four complex interlocked lands with different cultures, a story of war, love, magic, hope, courage and battle in the lives of four main protagonists struggling against the machinations of a group of amoral villains with a totally greed-oriented agenda.
Talk about hubris. I can’t even strain the soup stock properly.
Happens to us all Glenda. At least you can write books. Think of all the other poor souls who have nothing much with which to exercise their brains and no idea what to do about it.
That’ll teach you to buy prepared beef stock LOL. I buy the liquid in packets these days, its so easy. Its always there and keeps forever.
Never mind, Glenda. It’s the Artistic Temperament. That’s my excuse, anyway, and I have no actual proof of having any ability at all to write books. However, I have great faith in your ability to turn out that trilogy.
My first husband, BTW, was a chef. He quickly realised that not only couldn’t I cook, but I had no interest in learning, either. However, he did manage to impress two things on me – always clean as you go and always, always, keep a stock pot going. I’ve tried to follow his advice but little good has it done me:-)
Keeping a stock pot going is fine for a professional chef, but not so practical for a housewife.
I used to buy two chickens and make chicken stock regularly, but the bought stuff is so good, I just don’t bother any more. Not sure what would be available to you in Malaysia, but I am sure in Oz there must be good stock.
By the way, is your husband home yet Glenda? I keep hearing more news about Bangkok.
Home, with a ripped open suitcase.
Pity about the suitcase, but so long as he is home safely.