They Can't All Be Gems

The loudest clap of thunder I've ever heard boomed last night, without lightning offering its typical courtesy flash as warning.  Sam, who had been snoring peacefully a minute before, said it sounded like the building next door collapsed.

Needless to say, we didn't wake up to a bright and sunny Saturday.

With all this talk of the weather, I should change the name of this blog to The Adventures of Annie and Her Seasonal Affective Disorder.

I had been dreaming of a nice weekend coffee...when they look like this at the wonderful little cafe Lee and Me, how could you not?  That's a spa day in a cup right there, folks.  It's less about the caffeine and more about the fact that I'm treating myself to something that's just for me.  Okay, although I'd like to think it's not, it's also about the caffeine, but still.  Who's paying attention to the fact that it's raining on another Saturday and that it has now been thirty-seven days since the elevator in our building has been broken (not that I'm counting or anything) when there's a swirly design in my frothed milk and a sprinkling of cocoa powder?  Not this lady.

Unfortunately, the dearth of parking spots in town and my groceries that needed to get in the fridge thwarted me from my side mission for coffee, the image of which was left drifting aimlessly in my brain and souring my mood.  As I opened the door to our condo (after lugging bags of groceries through wet puddles around the building, through three doors that need unlocking, and up flights of stairs), the first thing Sam said to me was "You didn't get yourself coffee".  That's what nearing 10 years of marriage gets you--coffee intake status upon first glance.  He mercifully got some going on the stove, and I made a poor substitute of my dreamy vision at home.  Not worth taking a picture of, that's for damn sure.

We did get outside, despite the rain, and searched for beach glass around the rock pool, known as Old Man's Pool.  We had the pool to ourselves; I'm guessing grey skies and rainy weather don't necessarily make the average person think 'beach!'.

the old man in the pool.  I KID!

 A few years ago, a baby shark was found in the rock pool.  Today, we only saw a sea urchin here and there. 

Not that I'm not complaining about the lack of sharks.

In my eyes, the day was basically a wash, but they can't all be gems.  Tomorrow, there will be beach.  And sun.

And you better believe there will be coffee.

Bundeena to Cronulla (Weekend, Part Two)

Being the cruel parents we are, Sam and I chortled wickedly as we forced our children into the car, ripping them from their beach paradise at Wattamolla (or at least that's how they'll tearfully relay it to their therapists twenty years from now).  We drove a short 15 minutes down the road to Bundeena, a cute town with an art trail held on the first Sunday of every month.  We didn't have time to explore the art trail, because we had our sights on the ferry.

The Curranulla ferry that runs between Bundeena and Cronulla is the oldest commuter ferry in Australia.  Cronulla is a beachside southern suburb of Sydney, set on peninsulas that jut out into the water creating plenty of space for gorgeous seaside homes.

A home perched above carved-out rock steps that wind their way down through greenery to the awaiting boat on a private dock in the sea?  Yep, I could be happy there.   One passenger commented that it would be quite a lot of work to keep all those windows clean; I had a hard time conjuring up an image of the homeowner lugging her teetery ladder out of the garage and reaching with a spray bottle in one hand and a squeegee in the other, because an image of a woman with freshly manicured hands delicately clasping a steaming cappuccino while telling her assistant to call and schedule the window cleaning kept jumping to the forefront of my brain.

I pulled out a crumpled receipt and jotted down a quick note to self regarding a sure path to riches (and thus my future seaside home in Cronulla): Purchase Lottery Tickets.  After I underlined each word twice to make it look more official, I felt pretty good about my financial planning efforts.

Then I looked down at my own unmanicured nails, and across at this face that I could stare at all day every day and never be bored, studying each square inch and marveling at his beauty, and figured I already had won the lottery.  Being a mother three times over is a big win in my book.

Months ago, I had purchased a LivingSocial deal for the Cronulla Pie Shop, so we headed there for a snack before wandering around a bit.  The town has tons of the kind of shops that I'd like to wander in and out of on my own or with a friend, but not with the family in tow.

The rain started again on the ferry ride back, which was just fine.  I had my sunny weekend day, which will be enough to get me geared up for another week of what is predicted to be wet weather.

Wattamolla Beach

We heard of a possibility of seeing the sun on Sunday and optimistically ventured out to Royal National Park, the oldest national park in Australia and the second oldest in the world (after Yellowstone).  We're fortunate to live just a short drive south of the park, and after winding our way through lush, palm-filled greenery, we pulled into the Wattamolla Beach car park and saw this:

Now, we could have been very happy spending the day right there in the car park, exploring the expanse of rock and water and watching the water dragons skitter through the trickling pools.  And seeing the patches of blue in the skies growing larger by the minute, we were all psyched.

We tore the boys away from rock-hopping with the promise of the actual beach beckoning below and began the walk down the path.

see the water dragon towards the bottom?

Just a moment or two into the walk we caught a glimpse of this:

The name Wattamolla is an Aboriginal word for 'place near running water', and this area is a perfect congregation of the waterfall flowing into a lagoon, which then runs out to meet the ocean.

After taking the above picture I blinked, looked around for my family, and spotted them down at the water, already crossing where the lagoon runoff meets the sea.  I took a moment and was so thankful that the sky was now almost all blue with only mere wisps of white clouds.

postcard-perfect

Alex added the Wattamolla notch to his boogie boarding belt.

Sam and I had a moment to enjoy each other.

I played Kenyon's 'count to five and jump in the water' game, his 'count to eight and jump in the water game', his 'start from really far back and jump in the water' game, and his 'start really close and count to three and jump in the water' game.  Then Sam played; Sam didn't capture any pictures of me but imagine me jumping really high and athletic-like just like my husband (and while we're at it, imagine me as tan as my husband as well).

So much fun, and only the first part of our Sunday 'holy crap, it's finally sunny' adventure was over...

Any Australian Child Labor Laws On the Books? Hope Not.

Ahhh, Saturday, the start of which holds so much promise as what seems like a limitless weekend ahead.  I live for Saturday.  Saturday is my stop-by-a-cafe-for-a-coffee day, my lift-Kenyon-over-the-waves day, my play-in-the-surf-with-Jackson-and-Alex day, and my relax-while-the-family-builds-sand-castles day.  There is no room for wind and rain on Saturday, but alas, the rain that had plagued us all week held firm, not budging during this wet, windy Saturday.

Forced to switch gears, we took care of business and did the mundane tasks of grocery shopping and laundry.  And cleaning, but folks, the cleaning that is happening 'round these parts is far from mundane.  Because let me tell you something, there is a little miracle taking place each weekend within the walls of this flat on Corrimal Street.  It all started when Sam told the boys they would be responsible for cleaning their own bathroom.  Instead of an outcry of complaints, there was....excitement.  How curious.  Now, you'd think that the novelty of donning rubber gloves and arming oneself with cleaning fluids and a sponge would lose its luster shortly after the first wipe of the sink bowl; the toilet bowl for sure.

Not so. *said in a fairy whisper so as not to jinx myself*

For some reason, the boys interpreted being responsible for cleaning their bathroom as 'cleaning both bathrooms', and Sam and I conveniently haven't found the time to correct them.  Jackson and Alex scrub these bathrooms top to bottom, and regularly call to each other to come inspect their work before showing it off to us.  "Beautiful," I say as I nod admiringly (and secretly gleefully) as they mop the floor, and tell them I'm going to need to wear sunglasses to inspect the toilet because I can see how shiny it is from all the way across the hall.

Even Kenyon got in on the action--the older boys are a little possessive about their bathroom territories, so he tackled the sliding glass doors.

Sam and I are giddy, wondering why the hell the boys enjoy these tasks.  One theory is that they are so seriously deprived of video games and other electronic toys that even the use of a simple spray bottle feels like they have their hands on advanced technology.  I would come up with another theory, but I'm too busy sitting back with my feet up and admiring my sparkly clean bathroom.  I'm going to enjoy this while it lasts...

Birthday Outing to the Taronga Zoo

My littlest one turned 4 yesterday.  It has been four years since Kenyon emerged into the world sunny-side up, with the doctor exclaiming that he had the longest eyelashes she'd ever seen on a newborn.  In that moment, our family became complete and Kenyon has added something wonderful to it.

Back in Denver while we planned this year-long exchange, we talked often about how Kenyon was going to be the first one in the family to celebrate a birthday in Australia.  To celebrate the occasion, we decided to head to Sydney and spend the day at Taronga Zoo (thanks, Nana and Papa!).  We are well-versed in the best of what the Denver Zoo has to offer, so we were all looking forward to checking out a different city's take on the animal kingdom.

I don't enjoy partaking in the futile and painful exercise comparing the cost of living in Australia, but friends in Denver, consider this--a day pass to the Taronga Zoo for our family was $112.20 (and this involved craftily being on Denver time to make Kenyon still 3 years old, or the cost would have gone up another $22).

For $2 LESS, we could have bought a family membership to the Denver Zoo and enjoyed countless outings over the span of a year.  Laugh or cry, right?  I laugh, with empty pockets gritted teeth.

Granted, the Taronga Zoo is beautiful, and we enjoyed the ferry ride over and the gondola ride up to the top.

an aerial view of the elephant enclosure as we  headed up the hill in the gondola

photo credit: Taronga Zoo

The Taronga Zoo offers a camping experience that sounds absolutely amazing--sleeping in safari tents with real beds, up-close animal encounters, and behind-the-scenes access to the zoo experience such as feeding giraffes and petting seals.  It is wildly popular, already booked through March and much of April, so as I planned our day trip I excitedly checked the booking information to see if we should camp there as well.  Well, the fee would be $1120 for the five of us, so unless the Taronga Zoo is providing scholarships for an earnest, animal-loving family visiting from overseas, the above picture will have to suffice.  Looks pretty spectacular, though, doesn't it?

The Denver Zoo has all the animals you'd expect at a good quality zoo--tigers, lions, elephants, giraffes, penguins, chimps, gorillas...so what we enjoyed the most about Taronga was seeing animals we don't see at home.

Not only had I never seen a tree kangaroo, I'd never heard of one, either.

Of course, I had already seen the cutest animal to ever grace the Earth (discussed in this post), but you can never have too much wombat, can you?  The one at the zoo didn't look quite as fluffy and adorable as the one I almost snuggled at Wilsons Prom, but this one did look pretty darn endearing looking up with little corn bits stuck to his nose.

The free-flying bird show was amazing--firstly, with this view as a backdrop, it couldn't be boring--

but with an Andean condor, red-tailed black cockatoos, a Brahminy kite, and an owl among many others, the show was entertaining and really impressive.  I didn't know Australia was called the Land of Parrots, but it makes sense because what kind of paradise has gorgeous parrots and cockatoos flying around the neighborhood?  This here paradise does, folks.

A cassowary is alternatively one the most striking and imposing creatures, clearly a remnant of the dinosaur age.

I could live at the gorilla enclosure, looking into the eyes of our distant relatives.  The silverback was exceptionally massive, even when he daintily bent over and scooped up a carrot nubbin during feeding time.

He sat with his back towards us as he ate as if he couldn't be bothered to engage in any niceties with his houseguests.  None of us were willing to call him on it, either.

The momma gorilla had a curious one-year old baby that repeatedly tried to wander out of her mom's watchful eye and explore a bit, but each time that momma immediately outstretched her long arm and scooped that baby right back onto her lap.   I mentally cautioned her about helicopter parenting and suggested she might have a look-see at Free Range Kids.  Look, lady, nobody was hovering over me and intervening when I was cruelly and unfairly made to be Boss Hogg every single time we played Dukes of Hazzard growing up, just because I was the youngest, and I turned out ok.  Whether she was a protective helicopter gorilla or a Tiger gorilla not wanting her daughter to be engaged in a frivolous activity such as frolicking when she could be learning the apeviolin, I could tell she was not the kind of mom I'd want to be stuck with at the playground.  But I digress.

Later, I was admiring the stout adorableness of Kenyon the pygmy hippopotamus.  When we are around various animal species in the wild or in captivity, we inevitably wind up having the 'if you could be any animal, what would it be' discussion.  While different animals come up now and then, the longstanding popular answer is a seal or otter, because they are always having heaps of fun and are so effortless in the water (although for Sam it's also a toss-up with a bird because of the ability to fly factor).  Looking at the pygmy hippo lazily relaxing its bloated body in the water, I thought that wouldn't be such a bad life, either.  And then just as I was thinking that, the hippo made some sort of explosive bowel movement in the water (the nearby ducks wisely moved away quickly) and continued to lie in it.  Ok, I changed my answer back to otter.

Before the poop explosion, my eyes glazed over a bit as I dreamed of my next incarnation as a pygmy hippo, and when they refocused I happened to see this:

A golden orb spider.  While I do appreciate the interesting yellow web they weave, he clearly didn't read the memo that was sent out after the visit from the monster beast from hell huntsman spider, which forbade any spider from coming within a 10 foot radius of me.  What's that you say?  I came into his territory, not the other way around?  Don't bother me with these pesky specifics, all I know is I don't want any of these things near me, period.

Kenyon was able to choose something fun from the gift shop from Nana and Papa, and I used every tactic from my undergrad Psych courses (that degree has got to be useful for something!) to get him to choose the wombat stuffed animal, to no avail.  He is the proud owner of a koala mom and baby (named Climber and Eucalyptus--I'm guessing he gets his naming creativity, or the lack thereof, from his mother), and they have been inseparable ever since.

On the way home, Kenyon fell asleep on Jackson and Jackson said he was keeping still even though it was uncomfortable for his arm, because he wanted Kenyon to rest peacefully.  That's true love right there, buddy.

We capped off the day with the standard 'Happy Birthday To You' and, as requested, a cake with berry frosting and blueberries on top.

Kenyon, as you enter this next year of life, you are feisty and sharp as a whip, smoothly reading BOB books as long as you're in the mood to do so.  You've resisted writing until last week at school, when a successful 'K' on paper led to a flurry of workbook letter practice at home until your father came through the door from work.  You have the biggest internal woodstove, and excitedly strip off all your clothing before any nap or bedtime.  This makes for delicious snuggles, and I'm soaking it all in because your brothers don't do that sort of thing anymore.  You recently said you were going to cut your eyelashes because they were too long and got in the way.  I know sometimes when you cry and rub your eyes, your upper lashes are so long that they do fold down and get caught in between your eye and your lower lid until I carefully help you extract them, but like a male peacock strutting his gorgeous train, be proud of those eyelashes that strangers comment on every single day.  While you still do inexplicable toddler things like fling toys at your brothers for no reason, you also are equally as thoughtful when you want to be.  With the confidence of having your two older brothers leading the way, I am so enjoying watching you grow.  I love you more than life itself, kiddo.

Culinary Adventure Series--Rabbit Stew

When I picked the boys up from school, Jackson asked the question I hear every day from at least one of the kids: what are we having for dinner tonight?  When I was a kid and asked that question, my mom would answer, "Poison."  (love you, Mom!)  That annoyed me as a kid, but now I can totally relate.  Today, when I said we'd be having rabbit stew, he said, "What does that mean, is it stew that has lots of carrots in it?"  I told him no, we weren't alluding to rabbits by having a carrot-filled stew...we were actually having a rabbit in our stew.

Prior to living here, I had never thought about eating rabbits; I had a grey lop-eared rabbit (aptly named 'Fluff'--I was quite the literal child, and clearly lacked creativity) as a pet when I was 8.  I'm not particularly fond of rabbits per se, and in my mind, meat is meat is meat, so if you're going to be eating one you might as well eat the other (with some exceptions--I'm not keen to eat a squirrel or a rat).  I really had no idea people even ate rabbits, until I happened upon a whole, skinned rabbit in its package on my first trip to an Australian grocery store.  Even though rabbits are not a quintessentially Australian animal, I do want to spend this year eating as many new foods as I can, so rabbit stew hopped (ha! see the creative pun!) its way onto our weekly dinner menu.

I like the fact that both kangaroo and rabbit are wild-caught; no kangaroos or rabbits spend their lives in terrible, cramped conditions with the sole purpose of being killed for food like the vast majority of cattle used for beef sold in grocery stores.  That alone makes it worth trying, in my book.

Armed with a few different recipes that I took a little bit of this and that from, I set to work.  And work it was, in the beginning--I've never dealt with the dismembering of an animal before (other than peeling and deveining whole prawns), and it's a bit uncomfortable and awkward to hack with a knife, tear at joints and separate vertebrae and ribs, etc.  I'm saying this, even though I spent a semester in college fully dissecting human cadavers, examining every inch of the bodies, inside and out.

ANYWAY; that is a whole other blog post.  This introduction has surely whet your appetite, so let's get going.  I've included my recipe just in case you find yourself with a whole, skinned rabbit anytime in the near future...

Chop carrots, onions, and bacon (I would have also used celery but I didn't have any)
*side note--Australian bacon isn't nearly as tasty as American bacon; it's one of the things that all of us miss here.*

Cook the bacon, and then sear the rabbit until browned.  Remove from pot and set aside.

Add the vegetables and some garlic and cook, stirring, for a few minutes until softened.  Add about a cup of red wine and deglaze.

Place the meat back into the pot, along with a bundle of fresh thyme, marjoram, a bay leaf, and a cinnamon stick.  I also added about a cup of chicken broth because Sam likes his food saucy.

I left it to simmer, covered, until the meat was cooked through, about 45 minutes.  Add salt and pepper to taste.  Meanwhile, I made polenta for the base.

A scoop of polenta, a scoop of stew, and dinner was served.

The verdict?  The stew was amazing; delicious, flavorful...the rabbit meat was great where the meat was thicker, but a little chewy on the thinner parts by the ribs.  Not gamey at all; it really resembled chicken and I think if the meat was off the bone I wouldn't be able to tell the difference between the two.  I loved the polenta.

Sam ate the meat--he's no animal activist but couldn't quite get past the cute rabbit side of things, so although he thought the stew was wonderful, he'd prefer to have it with veggies only or with chicken.

Jackson, who is thrilled by free airplane breakfasts, ate his whole portion.

Alex ate the meat and stew but wasn't a fan of the polenta.

Kenyon wasn't a fan of the polenta either, but man, he knows how to put away the meat!  A massive rabbit boneyard was heaped next to his bowl.  And I'm guessing he didn't have a problem with the fact that ate an adorable, fluffy little creature, either--while brushing his teeth tonight, he said, "Mom, there's bunny between my teeth that won't come out!"

If that isn't a ringing endorsement for this dish, I don't know what is!