The one that got away

Phillip had most of last week off work. It's been slow the past few months, moving people, since the economy isn't fantastic and now, we're at the end of the tax year.

But for the most part, we enjoy his days off and use them to our advantage; either staying at home getting things done with each other, "shopping", or visiting people. The weather was so wonderful this last week though, that we talked ourselves into some fishing.

See, you can buy a fishing licence here for freshwater fishing and fish for a whole year (August to August) with that licence. Or you can go sea fishing for free. I'm not clear on the benefits of one over the other other than price and that you really can't catch trout as they only live in fresh water (and Tasmanian trout are apparently quite wonderful). 

But I digress. We went fishing at Port Sorell. The Jetty, to be precise. (Last time we went, we were at Squeaking Point at Port Sorell).

So when we got there, there was a kid standing around, looking to be between 12 and 14. And it's a school day, mind you, so my husband tried to make conversation with him (we found out he only goes to school Tuesdays and Thursdays, and was asking for a light for his cigarette), before he wandered off. We began fishing and caught a few very small flat heads (which, I found out the hard way, are 90% spines. Even when you grab them flat on the head, they're just full of spines) and the kid showed up again, this time with a rod and reel, and a small lure he began to randomly cast into the water, wandering all about the pontoon. 

I may have problems myself...

Then, as I reeled in to check my bait (we'd been getting lots of small nibbles and loosing our bait this way) I get a NICE bite, and reel in a decent sized Cocky Salmon! Phillip scoops the fighting thing into his net and the kid appears out of nowhere to reach into the net saying "I'll get it for you!" and GRABS my fish! TAKES the hook out, and runs to our bucket HOLDING MY FISH to get water into the bucket and put my fish in. 

He then starts poking at the fish, absolutely obsessed with it, and saying he wished he had something to catch fish with because his lure just won't work. So Phillip offers him a hook, sinker, and some of the chicken we've been using because, really, we've got plenty. This amuses the child for a good half hour or so, until his sinker slips because he tied it on wrong. So he gave up and, instead, started picking and biting at his finger. To bleed himself. "To attract the sharks" he said. 

Ok.

And he was OBSESSED with my fish. He even grabbed it out of the bucket again to get it fresh water. And sat over the bucket watching it and playing with it. Which... you just don't do. You just don't mess with someone elses fishing things or fish unless they give you explicit permission. And here in Australia, they seem to really have a thing about "this is MINE" and you just don't touch other people's things. For example, in the States, it might be a compliment, something desirable, to have a stranger come up to you and ask to pet your dog while you're taking it for a walk. Here, you just don't. Don't do it. That's someone elses dog. Do not touch. So, if it's someone elses fish, and possibly expensive fishing equipment, you REALLY don't touch.

Phillip also caught a few crabs

So I convinced Phillip to just bleed it already so we could pack it up. Because by this time, I was afraid he would throw my fish back in. So he does, and the kid wants the head to fish with, to try and catch a skate. And at this point, we just want the kid to leave. It's one thing to hang around, talk, fish with each other, but he's getting far too hands-on with our things and we're not quite sure how to nicely tell him he needs to back off. But we give him the head and toss the bloody water from my fish into the water. 

10 minutes later, I'm reeling in again to check my bait and something SLAMS into my hook. I start reeling whatever it is in quickly, letting it run JUST a little, so I don't snap my line and I can tire it out a bit. Phillip grabs the net and runs to the side, looks in, reaches, and the kid steps in front of him. They're both yelling that it's a barracuda. Barracuda! Over a foot long! As Phillip reaches to get it in the net, and I continue to reel it in, the child GRABS MY LINE AND PULLS. If you don't know, this releases all the tension that is keeping the fish on the hook. I stop reeling because I'm afraid I'll cut this kids hands with the line with all the tension on it, and he lets go, stands in front of Phillip again (Phillip was trying to figure out how to scoop up the fish without knocking the kid into the water), and grabs the line AGAIN. 

RELEASING MY FISH.

We were.... upset. To put it mildly. 

And really, when you go fishing, how often do you really expect to catch something? Much less something you can keep? Much less something so COOL as a barracuda?

Olive oil, salt, dill, slice of fresh lemon

We went back to the same spot the next day, but ended up not staying because four people there had eight rods. Jerks. There was no room on there and I've never gotten such icy glares from old guys before as when we walked up to check things out. And the kid came back, too. He told us he couldn't fish there either because one of the guys had pushed him in before.

But, we got to eat at least one fish. And that's cool, right?

Random stir-fry of whatever veggies are in the fridge?
Left-over mashed potatoes?
Delicious rice and fresh fish?
Yes PLEASE!

One-Year Anniversary

We celebrated our one-year anniversary.

Which, while being totally awesome (I mean, it's the FIRST anniversary of being married for one whole year, meaning we're officially no longer newlyweds), is just a little bitter-sweet to me. Mostly because it has now been (over) a year since I've seen any of my friends or family.

But more with the good memories of one year of marriage.

Phillip showed up, home from work, dressed in his full wedding suite. Tie, shoes, everything. With a massive bouquet of pink and white lilies, daises, and three roses (one for each of us, and one for our first year anniversary, he said). 3 days later, the rest of the lilies are still blooming and smell absolutely wonderful.

I made our rack of lamb (from that lamb we bought) so rare I think my mother-in-law would cry. It was DELICIOUS though. Best lamb I have EVER had. We ate it with plenty of roasted pumpkin and garlic-basil mashed potatoes. Phillip said that, with food this good, how are we ever going to find a restaurant better to eat out at? (since we very rarely eat out). I'm not trying to brag, really, but it was the best meal I have ever made. Or the lamb was, at least. Oh, and the lemon brownies we had for dessert. Which I found via pintrest. And have had tremendous success with.

So what have we learned in one year of marriage?

• Phillip has an unhealthy obsession with pancakes. Which is partly ok because I make them pretty excellently, with oatmeal, linseed, and home-ground wholemeal flour.

• NOT taking yourselves seriously all the time really helps, well, a lot of different situations.

• Being honest with yourself first and then with each other helps smooth over a lot of potential (and actual) disagreements and arguments. 

• I am a control freak in the kitchen and I have to leave the room if Phillip is going to make anything.

• Men (or, Phillip) need to be told EXACTLY what is needed or wanted. Hints just don't work. Period.

• We don't always mean what we THINK we're saying. Or what we say isn't what we mean. Asking and clarifying without malice solves a lot of things.

• Talk. A LOT. About anything and everything. Genuine communication really is key to keeping things running smoothly. Even if that's saying "I just need 15 minutes of my own time." or, "thanks for leaving your smelly socks in the laundry room so they don't stink up our room."

• It is O.K. to NOT spend all your free time together. 

• Do things together.

• The need to be romantic never stops. For BOTH of you.

• Every day you CHOOSE to love each other.

• You choose to fight. You can choose to defend your pride or respond to anything hurtful that's said. Or you can choose to show love and not say anything negative or retaliate. Walking away to let things settle down is O.K., as long as you both understand that that is what is going on. Sometimes, you'll realize whatever was making you angry, wasn't all that big a deal.

• Pray for each other.

• Find married couples who seem to have it together. Talk to them. Listen to them. You're not going crazy, what you're experiencing is normal. Or people have had it worse than you.

• Unite over a common enemy if you're fighting with each other. Like the cat who decides to poop in the hallway. 

• Laugh at things. Like the cat who pooped in the hallway. Or nearly burning down the house.

• YOU, as a couple, are more important than anything. More important than family drama, more important than work and money, more important than assembly and church duties, more important than friends.
• It's nice to just be with someone that accepts you for who you are, whether that's slightly crazy, obsessive, slightly controlling, or just plain weird.

• We are both bigger nerds than we let on when we were dating or engaged. It's pretty awesome.

And... that's about it for now. Otherwise I (or we, Phillip has been sharing and laughing over this list with me as I write it) will start to sound superfluous. 

While it hasn't been a terribly hard year of marriage, it's had it's downs. But overall, I'm really looking forward to many more just like it or (hopefully) better.

And, I'm curious, have any of my few readers any advice for the years to come, or things they themselves have learned? Share in the comments if you'd like, we'd love to read them.

Fourth... no, Fifth of July

We had a somewhat belated Independence Day celebration here.

I'm not overly patriotic (though a good rendition of "The Star Spangled Banner" will bring tears to my eyes, and no, I'm not going to give up my American citizenship unless someone forces my hand), but I like celebrating. Even a tiny little bit.

But, since the Fourth of July is not a world-wide holiday (though some Americans might be surprised by that), there were no fireworks, special town celebrations, or BBQs to go to. Instead, Phillip and I spent the day (he DID have the day off work, but more because no one was moving) at his parents house splitting more wood to help replace what we take to heat our house, and help clean up all the wood that, well, needs to be split.

And only 84% MEAT! Pork and beef. Mmmmm....

We ended up eating a Fourth feast on the FIFTH of July (though that would have been the Fourth back in America anyway... so if you ignore the whole time-traveling thing, it still counted. And anyway, most towns don't seem to actually set off fireworks or do anything celebratory until the weekend before or the weekend after the Fourth if it falls in the middle of the week).

So we found a new brand of hot dogs to try. They come in a can, and we were somewhat hesitant to try them, but figured they couldn't be that much worse than the ones we'd already eaten. But, I decided to make burgers on top of that, as well as a mountain of baked regular and sweet potato fries, in case the hot dogs were more than we could handle eating.

6 hot dog, 2 burger, and some random little bits to dip in jam.

While my hot dog buns didn't really turn out well for hot dogs, they tasted FANTASTIC (to be fair, the recipe called for potato flakes, which I had none of, so I just used more flour. And I probably used to much butte). Really, all that was wrong with them was they weren't flexible enough to open and hold a hot dog. I didn't care, I'll make them again just to eat with jam they're so yummy. The hot dogs though. Oh my. They're the best we've had so far, I think. Still not a great dog, but really good. Definitely a repeat.

We ate ourselves into oblivion. Fresh baked fries (though I'm now in the habit of calling them chips... assimilation), spicy Tabasco mayo for the sweet potato ones, fresh baked rolls for the dogs and burgers, and watching Psych with the hubby. It was a good night.

This isn't even half the amount of fries I made.
We operate on the thought that one can
never have too many sweet potatoes.

Hobart: Day 3

A small bit of Hobart and Mt. Wellington in
the background, topped with snow.

Our last day in Hobart pretty much revolved around my visa medical, which mostly involved a lot of waiting. All in all, the thing was less invasive than a middle school sports physical. Well, other than the blood draw, which still mildly freaks me out for some reason. I'm actually quite intrigued by things like that, but my body seems to refuse that the person with the needles and vial knows what they're doing and it will only hurt for a moment and starts to panic. I mean seriously. I have to mentally force my hand and arm to relax, do yogic breathing, lean back so I don't pass out, all that. When I'd much rather be looking at the blood pump into the vial thinking, "Oo! It's so DARK and NEAT looking! That is MY blood in that vial there!". Stupid body.

But the person who took all my samples, weight, and information was nice, as was the doctor who made sure I had normal health... things. He was actually really friendly and interested in how we'd met (through a Bible conference), and then our faith, God, and was just generally really nice.

Then the x-ray. we had to trek (not a long trek, really) to the private hospital, wait for my turn for an x-ray (to check for TB), ask them to put a rush on it since we didn't live in Hobart (we had to bring the results back to the medical center I had my physical at, and I guess it's common practice to just wait for days for results to come through. But that's a whole different issue that I know next to nothing about). So we spent several hours walking around Hobart's central business district again.

The ketchup was for the chips.
Vinegar went on the fish.
Well, the half we hadn't eaten already.

We walked a few kilometers to an army base that had an old hospital you could walk through.... for $10 a person. Which we skipped and just walked back to Mures, favoring food over touring a small building. Yes, we went back to the same place to eat. We just wanted more of that fresh well prepared fish, and for the price, they seemed the best. Again.

So we split an order of fish and chips (again, the fish was so fresh and clean tasting!) and ate in the crisp sea air in front of the very ships that caught it (at least I like to think they were the ships that did so. I really don't know).

More walking back to the hospital, receiving my x-rays, driving back to the medical center, dropping them off, and then finally heading back home over another 3-hour drive through, again, some of the most beautiful scenery I've ever seen. Really, I haven't gotten tired of looking at most scenes here, yet, after almost a year.

A lot of seeming emptiness. And fences. And mountains far in the background.

I couldn't help trying to take photos through the window this time.
The gum trees, surrounded by nothing, in the sunset, are beautiful.
Also those bumpy things are sheep.

This photo does NOTHING to give this scene justice.
I mean nothing. It was just beautiful watching the scenes go by in the fading light.

And yes, even though we were only gone two nights, it felt nice to come home to our own bed, and our pathetically needy kitten, who greeted us with much mournful meowing and didn't stop purring for hours.

Hobart: Day 2

Our hotel room was nothing fancy. Pretty stan dard and cheap. But we weren't really in Hobart for a grand get-away. Just the visa medical and some tourism. We stayed at Motel 429. The staff was wonderful. We even got a call before we reached the hotel to see what time we would be there so that they could be sure there would be someone to greet us and give us our keys (I'm assuming that this is because it was a Sunday and most things, if open Sunday, close early). The room was small and, I later noticed, had the exact same brownish-red laminate that our kitchen has. It also had the same shower door we have. This isn't really astounding, honestly, except it helped assure me that my dating of things in the house was fairly accurate. The was nice, warm, clean, homey, and comfortable.

And, it was stocked with your basic Australian necessities, like Nescafe instant coffee in travel pouches. This seems to be the coffee of choice in most homes we go to. People here like it, I think it tastes terrible. I mean just terrible. I avoid drinking it when we visit anyone for a hot drink if I can, unless I am in desperate need of a caffeine pick-me-up. Thankfully, we had some instant coffee of our own, all the way from the U.S., thanks to a wonderful friend back home. While I may not like Starbucks, their Coffee Via is wonderful. Especially for instant. So Phillip and I were able to enjoy some delicious sugary caramel coffees (a real treat, for sure), rather than endure Nescafe, or have to pay for coffee. Because we're just a coffee family and it's more than just a caffeine boost in the mornings.

The mini fridge also came well stocked with Tasmanian's own Boags Draught (visit the site, it's fun). But,. neither of us wanted to pay $5 for a beer, or are particularly fond of Boags anyway. But hey, it's Australian, and Tasmanian! So of COURSE the hotel needed to stock it.

Monday was our sight-seeing day. Unfortunately, the big attraction, Port Arthur, was closed that day, so we trekked 20 minutes out of Hobart to Richmond, instead, to visit another convict gaol (which is apparently how ye olde England spelled "jail" back then). Also, ALL of Port Arthur is gated off, and you pay a lot to get in (though I guess not a lot based on the amount you get to see), and can't see any of it without paying. So no self-guided tours. Someday, though, we hope to make it there.

The Richmond Gaol, built in 1825

But Richmond was just as old, if not as historic and famous. But it was interesting and fun and a beautiful little town. The gaol was fascinating. You pay $7 per person to walk through it, and they have very well placed signs that you actually WANT to read because there's JUST enough information on them to make them interesting, but not enough to make you want to stop reading (or I'm just a nerd and I'm really enjoying learning about the history of this island). Then there are interesting tapes playing in the background. Either bits from trials or the mumblings of angry prisoners. The Richmond Gaol is also pretty run-down and used looking, but in a nice way. It's kept up, but hasn't been restored. So you get that real old and historic sense from it.

Click to enlarge, but man did England come up with
harsh sentences for things like, stealing bread

Really the gaol was probably the highlight of the trip (well, that and eating at Muers and celebrating with my husband). It was just interesting. Reading bits about some of the prisoners who were more notable, the treatment (or mistreatment) of men and women in the gaol, how most of the people RUNNING the gaol were actually former convicts themselves and were sometimes still just as corrupt as the prisoners themselves (though, does that ever really change throughout history?). Also, you could shut yourself in the solitary confinement cells. They were TINY. And DARK. And the day we were there, COLD. It was icy that day. And heat or cold, all the prisoners got was a wool blanket, their woolen garments, and maybe some sort of pillow-thing. Of course, when Phillip went into the solitary cell, he ca+me out of the darkness talking about how you would still be able to do body weight training in there. There was also a man-trap. Imagine a bear or rabbit trap. You know, the kind from cartoons with teeth and a spring. Now imagine one large enough to trap a man's leg. And probably totally destroy it. And big enough you can't drag it off into the bush while it's attached to your leg.

Phillip playing prisoner

Down the hall to be clapped in irons

Richmond Bridge, on the "Convict Trail"

We toured around Richmond a bit more, and, pretty as the town was, there wasn't much more to see, except more old buildings, and it really was just cold. So around 2PM we ended up driving back to Hobart, but not without a stop at Wicked Cheese for a free cheese tasting. It was GOOD. Good enough that, on our budget (though mostly because I convinced Phillip to splurge for his birthday because he loves cheese) that we bought some whiskey cheddar.

Walking around Hobart more, we ended up in a free museum, the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery (TMAG) with some surprisingly good exhibits for, well, a free museum. They featured some Tasmanian art work, old and new, and then we wandered into their Arctic exhibit celebrating... something. The first Australian expedition or science or something. I was mostly taken with all the equipment, stories from scientists, and the display of taxidermy baby Emperor Penguins. They even had a case that opened and you could touch two specimens. Kind of gross, maybe, but still, cool. The museum was just really neat, and again, being the nerd/geek that I am, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. we overheard a little girl (3 or 4) ask her dad where the dinosaurs were and an attendant telling her dad that they were in storage at the moment, because the museum was undergoing some construction and expansion. So as impressed as I was at the little they had, this place sounds like it might be much more interesting.

Disturbing? Maybe a little. Interesting, educational, and fascinating?
Yes. 

Also, we treated ourselves to coffee. Really good coffee. 

We ended our cold day out of walking scarfing down massive burgers at a place called The Hogs Breath, because it was a good mix of lots of food for not a lot of money, and after walking all day eating only fruit, nuts, and some cheese samples, really hit the spot.We spent the rest of the night watching Olympic Highlights and Bear Grylls, wondering how in the world that man manages to drink and eat the things he does.

Hobart: Day One

Part of the requirements for applying for my new permanent residency visa are having a health check. This health check, however, can only be performed by doctors/centers who are certified to perform such a check. The only place in Tasmania that contains said doctors and centers is the state's capital: Hobart.

By car, it's about a three-hour drive (as opposed to driving by truck, which my husband does on occasion). This meant that we could either make a day trip of it, waking up ridiculously early and leaving whenever the health check was finished, or we could spend the night at a hotel.

Phillip and I decided that we would go for two nights, spend an extra day doing the tourist thing (since I haven't seen much of Tasmania or Australia other than the few towns we live by and one night in Melbourne), go out for a nice meal, and just enjoy ourselves and relax together, almost like a sort of mini vacation/ celebration of our nearly-one-year-anniversary. And to kind of make up for the fact that, in spite of our "one date a month" rule, we have allowed ourselves to get too busy or taken up with things this year to keep that up, even with very small at-home dates, and just wanted to spend some time together with no distractions. At least for one day.

We arrived Sunday night, after driving through what is some of the most beautiful and breathtaking scenery. Tasmania is just plain beautiful. And this is just the small portion of it that I've seen. Driving on the Heritage Highway was stunningly beautiful. Rolling misty hills surrounding golden or green plains, massive gum and other eucalypt trees scattered across pastureland and eventually joining into small clumps of trees and meandering into forest. The sky was nearly completely clear, except for a few massive clouds, so sunset was spectacular. And the thing about Tasmania is, the air is just CLEAN. There really is something about the atmosphere here, the air, that is just clean. So colors look crisp, clear, un-muddled, except by natural fogs or rains, and sometimes the smoke from houses. So driving along this highway through almost nothing but pastureland, what I saw was just... natural. I saw why Tasmania is called "Your Natural State".

Not that this highway went through nothing. We did go through a few towns. Like Baghdad, Epping Forest, and Brighton. We even passed The Walls of Jerusalem and the Lower Marshes (that last one made me feel very in the mood to read Lord of the Rings). But they were all so small, a few seconds and they were behind you.

But it was all only three hours. It was... weird. I'm used to 5+ hour road trips with, mostly my cousins, and a few friends. Depending on who I travel with, we have very few, if any, stops in that 5 hours. And pass a lot of nothing. Traveling 3 hours with my husband was, well, an entirely different experience. Especially when you get into a road-trip state of mind (you have to mentally prepare, you know), and you're done before you even feel you've started. But that's Tasmania, for you. At least the habitable parts. Small.

Unfortunately, we had dinner reservations we had to make, so we didn't stop to take photos of the beautiful scenery. You'll just have to take my word for it. Or look stuff up on Google Earth or something. I can't even do the "roll the window down and take photos while moving fast and HOPE they turn out well" because my brother-in-law broke the window a few years ago. It doesn't roll down ever. It leaves you with a nice trapped feeling.

Us, after a very satisfying meal

Dinner was at Mures. I larg-ish place on the docks in Hobart that apparently has it's own fleet of fishing ships. So, fresh seafood DAILY. Phillip and I were starved and ordered the two-tiered seafood platter that had cold dishes on top and hot ones on bottom. Basically a nice sampler platter for two. It. was. Delicious. Everything on there (except for maybe the first oyster, but only the first as the second was one of the best things I've ever tasted, and the muscles) was delicious. And FRESH. I mean, I've had fresh fish before when I've gone fishing with my dad and actually managed to catch something big enough to eat. But this... you could taste the difference. And prepared really really well. Really, I could rave about it all day, but that'd be more boring than the rest of my writing. So we'll just leave it at fresh and delicious, shall we?

The next day, Monday, we spent wandering around Richmond looking at historic buildings and landmarks, and further wandering around Hobart itself. But that is for a later entry, as I am tired and want to go to bed.

Marry HAD a little lamb...

One of the (surprisingly many) benefits to living in the middle of nowhere is plenty of land and having friends who raise animals on it.

My husband's family is friends with just such an family, and we just bought a yearling lamb from them.

The lambs were delivered to the abattoirs last weekend, and this Friday, we got the meat. Came out to about $6 a kilo for the lamb (which is what the sale price is on BBQ lamb chops at the butcher we frequent).

Not only is the a free-range lamb (not sure if there is any other kind?), raised by people we know, but it's cheap. And tasty. We ate some last night, right after I'd divided up the cuts into two-person-meal sized bags and put them in our freezer. The whole lamb, by the way, will provide us with over a months worth of meals.

Back to cooked lamb, though. Neither of us are big fans. Unless it's roast lamb. Roast lamb is fantastic. Lamb most other ways I'd had before, not so much. It's just... gamey, tough, and, well, it's lamb. But it's everywhere here (the unofficial meat of Australia I think. I haven't looked it up), so I looked up and invented a few recipes, and now we quite enjoy eating lamb (which is good since, you know, we bought a whole one).

The first night of lamb was something I have affectionately titled "Goin' on down to Egypt Lamb". Because it's made with as many leeks and garlic as I can put into it. It's a funny name if you like Bible humor.

But anywho, I chopped up some of the undersized leeks from our garden (I'll be the one planting the leeks next season. Or at least making sure it's done properly by a certain husband of mine). Salted and seared the lamb chops a bit, threw in the leeks, chopped some garlic and threw that in, and then used the chops to kind of stir the whole concoction to coat them a bit with leek-y garlic-y goodness. Put in a tablespoon or so of water, put the lid on and let them cook away.

It's delicious. Unless you don't like leeks or garlic or red meat.

*Note: I am aware that you're not meant to use the green part of the leek. But these leeks were severely undersized. And we really really wanted leeks, so I caved a bit and used only JUST a little of the green bit, right were it starts to go from white to green.

Also, those mashed potatoes were full of New Zealand spinach, also from our garden. I've taken to putting it in mashed potatoes because it's a really bitter, and sometimes it's just easier to use one pot instead of two, or adding a steamer.