Joke was on us (Huge grin!)

So, why haven't I blogged in over two months?

Well, it turns out that, when I wrote my last entry We're Expecting, titling it as somewhat of a joke to get people to knock off with the jokes and question, "When are you having kids?"... I really was expecting.

A baby. Not chickens or a velociraptor or anything like that.

So, yes. I'm pregnant. We're pregnant. Coming sometime around Early May or late April (because babies just choose when to come, if all goes well). And no, we were not aware (fully, anyway) that while we were joking around about expecting little fuzzy fluffy babies, we were in for our own little bundle.

Until a week or so ago, I had ZERO energy. Or, if I did, the half hour I had was put into doing something semi-productive, like washing dishes, or cooking something for dinner both Phillip and I could stomach. So, between near constant nausea (motion sickness bands, anything ginger, and lots and lots of bread helped most of the time!) and the feeling like I just needed to sleep all day left little time and energy for blogging. Add to that two months of pretending like I felt absolutely fine so people wouldn't suspect a thing and time home was mostly spent in a haze of fatigue accompanied by DVDs and much reading.

At the moment, I still seem to go only every other day with having a close to normal amount of energy. But, praise the Lord, I can eat again. I WANT to eat again. A lot. And again, thank God, I have been blessed with a husband who is good enough to me to let me give into my naughty cravings (potato chips, fries, Dominos pizza) only once in a while, and helps keep plenty of fruits and veggies around the house that I actually enjoy snacking on. And no, no abnormal or odd cravings. Nothing really I wouldn't NORMALLY eat either, just a more... intense desire to eat said foods. Like tomato soup at the moment.

Phillip has also decided to cook for us at least two days a week. Real, full meals. He's getting quite good too (last nights roasted chicken legs with potato and carrot with thyme? YUM!). He's just a wonderful helpmeet.

We're expecting....

Chicks!

Ok, so I might have some family members and close friends who read the post title and are a little mad about the fact that I'm talking about chickens and not babies (but really people, who breaks THAT kind of news to close friends and family via a public blog post?).

Explanation:

You may remember that last year at New Years a dog killed all but one of our chickens and our two ducks (I still get a little upset about the ducks.... they were cool ducks). A few months later, we ended up taking two pullets (young hens who had not yet started laying eggs) from my in-laws. We took one beautiful black Australorp and a half Silky half some other breed of chicken we're not sure of. Phillip ended up naming them Cypher and Hawk (but we usually end up calling them by their breed or their color and not their somewhat stupid names).

The thing about some breeds of chickens is that they can be good layers (like our red Iser Brown), good for meat (our little Australorp, though they're good layers too), and good for going broody. There's also breeds that are well known sitters (once they go broody they will not leave the nest unless you force them) or good mothers. Basically, chicken breeds are as diverse as dog breeds, and depending on what you want in your chickens, you get various breeds.

Hawk, aka, the yellow/tan one, sittin' on a whole bunch of eggs.
Spoiled girl, I bring her her own dish of food and water.

Hawk has tried to go broody once before, but outside of their shed, so we had to try and move her at night (chickens are funnily calm at night) so that she wouldn't get eaten by quols. Silly thing.... She decided she didn't like being moved to safety and got off her eggs. Which... was ok since we get to eat the eggs. This is the second time she's gone broody and she's chosen one heck of a spot to hatch her chicks again. It's about four and a half feet off the ground, where our chickens roost at night. So, chicks hatch, try to walk out of the nest and.... not pretty. Phillip is building a small enclosure to put her and the eggs in, to keep them cosey (and safe from plumets to death and out idiot cats, and neighbor's idiot cats) from scraps of wood and chicken wire. We'll move her there sometime this week since she's only got maybe a week left until the eggs hatch.

Apparently the nesting boxes I make sure are full
of soft, fresh hay are not good enough.
It must feel safer to hatch babies 2.5 meters off the ground.

Another fun fact about chickens: once they go broody, you can get them to sit on any eggs, not just their own. So, since our hens have been tandem nesting the little Silky has some Australorp eggs under her as well. We also were given a few eggs of unknown type (two were probably Australorps) from my in-laws  two days after she started sitting, and chucked those under her. (Well, next to her, because to put them under her you'd probably loose fingers she's so angry if you get near her). She (and the black one for some reason started helping) immediately started moving them underneath her.

The good thing? We should end up with a few chicks of multiple possible varieties. I'm hoping for at least two healthy hens to share with people or, well, more eggs, which we also share with people. The bad thing? Our one laying hen, little black Australorp, is still basically sitting on top of the broody Silky and laying eggs. Which that dumb hen then takes under her. So... we have no fresh eggs and will end up with a bunch of rotten and un-viable ones at the end of this sitting. The little lady has already pushed two very rotten ones out from under her, but is sitting pretty on at least seven more eggs.

Ch-ch-ch-Changes!

Hmm, so there have been a few big things that have happened since my last "lazy blog". Perhaps I'll spread them out so as to encourage my lazy self to blog for my... 5... readers.

We bought a car.

It's a very Australian car. And it was from a family friend here who was, sadly, recently diagnosed with cancer and is quickly "going home to glory" as he says. This little old man is quite lovable, really, and I've only seen him and his wife maybe 5 times? But he knows my husband's family very well and the both of them are just... sweet.

So he said that he wanted to give my husband and his siblings first go at the car when he was gone, and, since the other two boys already have new-old cars, they thought Phillip and I should take it. Which was... quite a blessing (a very mixed blessing because, little as I know this couple, it's sad to think of him leaving us). This lovely little man decided that he'd rather be rid of the car and know someone was enjoying it before he died, so, we have it now.

$1000 for a '93 Holden Commodore. In very good condition. And... it's an automatic, which means I'm now really learning to drive here. Phillip had a little manual when we got married, still have it, but, I never learned to drive an automatic (hangs head in shame). And what with having to learn how to shift gears, as well as sit on the right-hand side of the car and drive on the left-hand side of the road on roads that are much narrower and have little to no shoulder to slide on to and are, at times, chock full of blind corners and people who like to drive in the middle of them because there is no middle line in the road... I just didn't learn much in his car.

Driving in an automatic here on the left-hand side, while easier than a manual, is still tripping up my brain a little. I may be used to it from the passenger side, but when I go to make a turn, instinct kicks in and I start to go into the wrong lane. Or if not go into it, instantly think "wait, no, that's wrong" and have to turn off instinct and actually really THINK about how I'm driving. It's almost like being a beginner driver again. Which is annoying.

But I can DRIVE! At least into Sheffield (the town closest to us) for minimal (and more expensive) grocery shopping, and to the in-laws place and my few friends that live, well, within walking distance (but only when it's rainy. I still enjoy my walks).

I am... very behind in blogging. And emailing.

I'm sure I have plenty of legit excuses, but really, I'm mostly really lazy about those things lately. Also, somewhat addicted to Pintrest.... If you've never heard of it that's probably a good thing (I console myself with the knowledge that I have tried at least most of the recipes I have found through it).

But hmmm.... so many mildly interesting things have been happening lately.

Firstly, the family over the hill that employ my husband and are also fairly good friends of ours just had their ninth child! The second girl. She's a quiet little thing (at least the few times I've visited) and, well, like most babies I suppose. (Really I am SO downplaying this because I think she's adorable and even though her mother seems to think that when I hold her and put her to sleep it's some sort of pain for me to keep her that long, I could do it for hours. She's just precious. As with the rest of her siblings, I'm completely in love with her). Now that they've got a routine back in place, I'm back to going up Fridays to spend a short amount of "woman" time with mamma and then play with the kiddos while she rests. At the moment, we're reading Eight Cousins, which we started months ago before girl number 2 came along. I... persuaded them to choose that one because it was about a young girl with seven cousins, all boys, and I thought they might find it amusing. And while it might be more tuned to female readers, the boys seem to like it so far, too.

Secondly, the OLYMPICS! We don't have a television. And things like Hulu and most other internet-aired television shows only work in the U.S. And I really wanted to watch the Olympics this year. Phillip knew this months before we even got married, and I reminded him frequently that I wanted to watch them this whole year we have been married. Why did I want to watch, you might wonder? Well, it's the Olympics, and it seems you just kind of HAVE to watch something, at least in part, that only occurs every four years. Also, Michael Phelps. I love the swimming.

Well, Phillip found a way that we pay a small fee and get to connect to a U.K. server and watch the Olympics through the BBC online. Or something to that effect. We still haven't watched most of it live, because of the time difference, and when things have to buffer it's really annoying. But it's the Olympics. And I got to sit, with my Australian husband, and watch U.S. swimmers just cane Australian swimmers. (Neither of us is overly patriotic, but this little rivalry we get going while we watch has been kind of fun). And... I still haven't gotten fully caught up on the events I'd like to watch. It involves our downloads and them being used up and our internet speed dropping back down to basically dial-up. It's annoying and seems primitive to me, but oh well. I'll see Phelps kick major booty late, but at least I'll get to see it.

Also gymnastics and judo. Possibly track and field. And basketball. I've really missed basketball.

Then there is the weather. It's been.... cold. But then I read some novel that takes place during a Russian winter and I'm ashamed that I can barely handle what I've begun to call "perpetual February" weather. It's cold, damp, and cloudy. With occasional bursts of sun and warmth, but mostly it's just been cold and damp. And it's been like this, it seems, almost the whole year I've lived here.

Yes! I have now officially been living here in Tasmania for a year!

And that, is the end of my lazy update. Here's to hoping it's the end of my laziness.

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.