The House Of Hot Kettles

Oh, and one more thing:

Boxing Day was so awesomely fabulous that Arlo's nap schedule went like this:

Wakeup: 6.30am

Nap:  Uh...

Bedtime: 7.45pm

I have no idea how he managed to sustain 13 hours of wakefulness without completely losing it - apart from the presence of 10 of his 13 cousins, and his BFAM* Arthur.  Without them, he would have been toast.

Thanks so much to all of our marvellous guests, we had a completely wonderful day and could not have done it without you all.  Mwah!

*BFAM = Brother From Another Mother

That crazy time of year

Is almost over.

We had a fabbo Christmas Day with my family, Arlo was a bit stunned mullet about the whole multiple-kids-bureid-in-wrapping-paper bizzo, but he handled it all quite well.

Boxing Day was a big BBQ at our place, with lots of delicious food and wonderful people not the least of which was my good friend Simon whome I haven't seen in some time; he up and disappeared inland one weekend.  The day was capped by a trip round to the little nearby beach which was the perfect swimming area for the kids - low tide, huge sandflat and shallow waters, evening summer weather so not too hot.

The only downside was the fashion confusion of the random other beachgoer, decked out in white boardies, slung below the bottom of course, combined with purple satin boxers.  Who wears boxers and boardies at the same time?  Strange.

For family photos on Xmas day we, for some reason, ended up with various facial decroations.  Here is Mark as the Dread Pirate Roberts, and Arlo as a faded Frenchman:

Two of Arlo's zillions of cousins, these two born within days of each other in June - on the left is Owen, from Mark's side, and on the right is Darby, from my side:

   

This chocolate galette is fast becoming my signature dessert: 3 or four layers of choclate meringue sandwiched with layers of choclate double cream and cherries and topped with double cream and pashmak.  Scrummy!

My boy

And me, arms raised:

Ouch

I have a proud history of burns, not the least of which was 2nd degree burns to my legs, approx. 30% of my body, during a kayaking holiday.  Fun times.

Last night Lilu and Brynn and Arthur came over for dinner (shepherd's pie and sesam spinach) and I cooked a peach tarte tartin for dessert.  The whole thing was done in my frypan, including the baking, and maybe you can see where this is going.

The handle of the pan doesn't get hot, even when it's been on the stovetop for sometime.  So after I got it out of the oven, my automatic move was to pick it up by the handle.

Ouch.  210 degrees C.

My left hand, at least.

20 minutes under the running tap, with every minute seeming like an eternity knowing it was the last day of spring and who knows how much rain we'll get this summer to top up our tanks?

I slept in the spare room as I was sure I'd have a restless night and I certainly couldn't tend to Arlo with my hand in that state.  A bowlful of cold water by my side to dangle my hand in, and I woke up this morning with my hand slightly tight, but fine to use, certainly in better shape than it should have been, by rights.  I was even able to knit this evening - paper Christmas lanterns, which I may have finished in time for Christmas 2008.