Playing with candle fire

December 20, 2015December 20, 2015 / smikg / 3 Comments

Women and shopping, can be trouble. Maxed-out credit cards, anyone?

Women and online shopping – hell, that’s playing with fire. “Click, click, click, add to trolley, add to trolley, add to trolley – that’s how much? Where’s my other credit card?”

Women and online shopping and Christmas-time – WOAH.

Let me just say this: when I went online to buy a simple advent candle from kikki.K, all I intended to buy was the damn candle that had sold out in stores.

But then, free shipping over $50 happened. (Who wants to spend an extra $10 for shipping when their entire purchase amounts to $10?)

So anyway, days later, this box arrived at my doorstep:

In my defence, the majority of the box was pumped-up bubble wrap, with the additions of my new 2016 dairy, a family planning pack with organisers and to-do lists and stuff, and of course, the highly-sought after advent candle (my precious).

Christmas, is the most wonderful time of the year.

5 nights to go…

I’m sorry I told off your child…

November 23, 2015November 23, 2015 / smikg / Leave a comment

… but, actually, I’m not.

Baby girl is usually in the trolley as I whiz around our local shopping centre doing the weekly grocery shop. I stopped at Baker’s Delight, and my precious girl stood obediently beside me as I waited in the long line, occasionally pointing to the endless sweet and savoury treats showcased behind the glass before us.

Another young girl, at least 2 years older than my one, was nearby with You. She looked really sweet and innocent, holding no malice at all, only cheekiness and curiosity as is so prevalent and totally necessary at that young age. She spotted my girl and, as all older kids are, became besotted with the image of a younger child to ‘play’ with.

At first she came and stood really close, almost eye to eye with my baby girl. This is really confronting, and I can understand why baby girl gets freaked out by a total stranger doing this, albeit it being a young girl such as she. But I understood Your girl’s intention, her amusement, her willingness to play, and I said “it’s ok honey, she just wants to play.”

You continued chatting away to the woman selling bread behind the counter.

I was next and soon ordering my own bread, plus a bit of a snack to keep us going on our seemingly never-ending mammoth shopping trip that day. As I started ordering, I became aware of baby girl crying out in protest, gripping my legs and standing behind me, while the other girl jumped out at her, playing a kind of peek-a-boo, at the same time doing a kind of scary/wobbly face at her to see her reaction. I looked down at them, trying to settle baby girl, looking up to listen to the young girl as she responded to my question about bread, while also peeking a glimpse to see if You would say anything and stop your girl, who was only having fun, from making My Girl, upset.

You and the bread lady laughed and I heard you comment that your girl was playing, while my baby girl was getting upset. It was a flippant and light-hearted comment, and just like that your conversation moved on.

My baby girl was getting distressed by your girl’s playing. You obviously don’t know to what extent, but only I could feel her grabbing at my legs and trying to avoid your girl as she jumped out and around at her, again and again. As I waited for my bread, growing increasingly frustrated, I knew what I had to do, in the presence of YOUR lack of doing.

Your girl pulled a really scary face at my baby girl again as well as a bit of a “roar”-ing sound, and I’m sorry, but you think of how it feels for a big kid to do that to a little kid. You picture a 6 year-old doing that to your child – is that considered bullying? At the very least, it’s not fair.

“Excuse me, can you please stop doing that to my daughter, she’s getting upset.”

My tone came out short, brisk and firm. Perhaps I shouldn’t have let frustration rule me; perhaps I should have taken a deep breath and thought ‘this is someone’s daughter’ before I let the young girl know how I felt; perhaps I should have started with ‘Sweetie,’ and used more “please’s’ and really sugared up the request with ‘I know you’re playing honey but my girl is a bit upset, do you mind not doing that?’

But all I could think of was how You, had laughed off my girl getting upset from Yours. You didn’t stop your child. So naturally, it fell within my jurisdiction.

Your girl heard my tone, and immediately withdrew and went close to you. I know you heard. You went silent, paid and then walked off with your daughter. The girl serving me heard. I reckon a few people around us heard. And I know you were upset. You were upset that someone you hadn’t known had told off your daughter.

But don’t be upset with me. Be embarrassed, as I hope you were, that you didn’t do anything about your girl sooner.

And yes, it was slightly awkward as we crossed paths 20 minutes later, both of us with our girls buying fruit and vegetables. It was totally in your right to confront me, even though you didn’t.

But you know what? I know I told off your girl, and that was perhaps inappropriate. But as you should know, I am the Mummy Lion… and no one messes with my cub.

Uma Thurman as ‘The Bride’ in Kill Bill: Vol. 1

“It was not my intention to do this in front of you. For that I’m sorry. But you can take my word for it, your mother had it comin’. When you grow up, if you still feel raw about it, I’ll be waiting.”

Salmon and Rump

October 16, 2015October 16, 2015 / smikg / Leave a comment

Ribs and Rumps
Northland Shopping Centre, 50 Murray Road Preston

That Thursday night we were looking for a feed, because neither one of us wanted to cook, plain and simple. We ventured out to Preston, in particular Northland shopping centre, because we had discovered that

a) There were a whole lot of seemingly new restaurants situated on the walkway leading into the centre, and we thought we should give one of them a try, and
b) The thought of shopping after you’ve eaten and just wandering about on a weeknight, just feels like you’re living on the edge. You can tell we’re parents.

So off we went, and soon after arriving outside the centre Hubbie got intrigued with the door menu for Ribs and Rumps. We went into the large room asking for a table, but the very sweet waitress informed us as we had not booked, and they were currently very busy with their other patrons, that we would have to wait to be called back in 15 minutes. She was exceptionally kind and sweet, it was hard not to smile and walk off happily, with a wait and all. Besides, it meant we did the window shopping before, not after.

Spot on 15 minutes later, and I received a phone call from them telling us they now had a spot. We went in to a table with a high chair, and baby girl promptly received a little colouring book with crayons. Aha! TGI-style. Tick, regardless of the establishment. Yes they ended up on the floor more often than in her hand scribbling, but the entertainment factor is all that matters.

Ribs and Rumps is essentially a large, warehouse-type room, with coloured rope ends hanging from one side of the room, and great big ufo-style lights suspended from above.

It had some character, it was loud, and it could certainly house a few people alright. It was the school holidays, which is perhaps why it was so busy… but then again it was a Thursday night, and with the centre open later, and the nearby cinemas upstairs, it’s probably a place that’s always rocking just a bit at the very least. There was an open view into the cooking station on one side, and every so often a sky-high burst of flames would rise up only to be diminished by whatever was cooking there. It looked a sight.

The loud sights and sounds suited us just fine. We love the loud atmospheres, keeps us at ease when baby girl inadvertently vocalises her displeasure with something – usually from being seated for too long. She was good that night, thankfully.

We shortly after ordered drinks – wine and beer – however they took a little long getting to our table. Again, they were probably busy that’s why.

Soon after that when no one came to take our orders, we flagged down the first waiter we saw and he came over. This was a place where you had to be a bit proactive, and fight for your right to get your order taken against the hundred others doing the same.

A while later our meals came:

Baby girl got the chicken schnitzel with vegetables – that means carrots

I got the King Salmon – cooked to your ‘liking’ and served with steamed golden rice and an oven-dried tomato coulis

While Hubbie got the Grain-fed MSA rump – from the Riverina region in NSW, with a marble score of 2+ – served with chips and an additional Greek side salad.

Ho ho ho, I feel like Santa. Boy do I have a review and a half here.

First things first. Bay girl’s meal. The menu prices this meal of chicken schnitzel at $15. In fact all kids meals are $15, bar the pricier pork ribs at $17. At first glance you go ‘what the?’ but then you discover that kids receive bottomless soft drink and two scoops of ice cream. Ok that sounds good.

Next: the sides. All kids meals come with either chips, a baby garden salad or vegetables. So you can only pick one of the three: chips, a baby salad – which I admit is a considerable serve for a child – or vegetables, and this one is misleading because I ordered thinking ‘great, healthy veg’ when the waiter then asked me “carrots or beans?”

I think you guys should do both.

We, in this circumstance, chose the honey carrots. Which is why her plate looked fairly plain, on top of the fact that it was served on a large plate, which the waitress admitted to when she came with our food, saying they had run out of small plates. Fine. Whatever.

I get the $15 pricetag, I guess I just wish someone had made me more aware of the bonus options (like the ice cream) when I ordered, so that baby girl had had the option to have some, since we paid for it and all, instead of just going home straight after.

Onto my meal. I will begin by saying I don’t think I will ever order salmon again in a restaurant, but I add that I don’t think it’s the fault of the salmon, or the chefs, or the restaurants. I love salmon, in fact I have had it three times already in the last 24 hours in the writing of this review. But I like it when I cook it.

I had an interesting discussion with the waiter upon ordering. When I told him how I wanted the salmon cooked, I was actually finding it hard to describe what I was after, and that’s me, I know, but I did say I didn’t want any raw parts. I wanted it cooked. It didn’t have to be well-done, but I wanted it cooked through, no jelly please.

“What if I put down chef’s choice, that’s what we put down when the customer doesn’t mind.”

??? I had just told him I minded, how could me saying “cooked through” mean ‘I don’t mind!’

And by the way, we all know how chefs like to cook things, I’ve seen them plate up salmon on My Kitchen Rules – if it ain’t raw in the middle, they consider it a waste. I just can’t eat my salmon like that though, food blogger and all.

“As long as it’s cooked through, no raw bits,” I reiterated.

And what did I get?

A lovely cooked salmon on the outside… jelly in the middle.

I picked at it as much as I could, without actually eating any of the rawer meat in the middle. I ate my rice, the side salad I also got, dabbed the salmon into a bit of the sauce too… and as much as I enjoyed the cooked bits, I still had a really upset tummy 30 minutes later. I just can’t do it. I can’t do salmon not cooked through, because even on previous occasions in other restaurants, I’ve had slightly undercooked salmon, avoided the ‘jelly,’ and still been ill. I can’t do it.

A note to your waiters. Listen to the customer, and don’t push ‘chef’s special’ like some know-it-all. Because the paying customer might just go home sick.

(I’m not saying their salmon made me sick. I’m saying every undercooked salmon makes me temporarily ill).

Hubbie’s steak. Now this is a mystery. He enjoyed his meal he did, and he ordered the baby Greek salad on the side, which for $3 is a very decent serve and price in amongst the other menu offerings. He enjoyed it, and it was cooked to his liking (medium) and even I enjoyed the taste of it too…. But he doesn’t believe it was char-grilled.

“What? You can see the fire rising up over there!” I said to him.

“Nup. They’re tricking us. I know char-grill.”

And this is why all chefs should run out of their own kitchens screaming when a butcher enters the premises.

I’ve perused the website, and immediately in the steaks section I see ‘char-grilled’ in many places. So don’t listen to Hubbie. Maybe the way they char-grill, is different to the char-grill he’s experienced at other restaurants. I don’t know. I did suggest that maybe the steaks are already cooked, and then put on the grill as they’re ordered, but that is an utterly ridiculous thought, and would be way too confusing in the kitchen. So let’s go with the thought that they char-grill, and Hubbie is way fussy. It was enjoyable nonetheless, and he ate all 380 grams of it, saying it was juicy and tender.

After we finished and my stomach started churning, we quickly up and left.

Food: 6.5/10. This takes into consideration the jelly-middle salmon, and the appearances lacking in most of the meals. I liked the board my meal came out on, however there was a big space left in the middle while the components were placed around the sides. I kind of get why they probably did this, but it still looked bare.

Coffee: N/A. I’m always a tad iffy at the thought of trying a coffee at a steak place, or fish and chop joint, or a chicken shop… the thought of all those meat scents infiltrating the coffee beans just doesn’t seem right. However if I were to lunch here again, I may just be curious enough to go down that path.

Ambience: Bustling and loud. Great place to be with your child amidst other shouting voices.

People: All kinds were there on that night. Kids, families, couples, groups of older men eager to cut into some manly meat, even a sweet Japanese family spanning 3 generations, quietly picking at and sitting around a tray of ribs in the middle of the table.

Staff: The girl who initially seated us was sweet as pie, really eager to please. It made me think ‘gee, they’ve had some bad reviews.’ Just looking at how fast they moved and how quick they responded when you flagged them over, gave me further proof of that. It wasn’t just doing their job, it was proving something to someone. Our waiter was ok, he said all the right things, but I just wished he hadn’t influenced the chef’s choice for the salmon on me. I’ll need to toughen up for next time. The girl who brought our bill over was exceptionally sweet to baby girl, so really it was a mixed bag.

Price: $94 for the lot. 3 meals, a baby salad, and 2 drinks. I think considering our experience, it’s a tad steep considering the area. Hubbie loves sauce, yet considered the additional $3 (for sauce) ridiculous. The overall price would have been somewhat acceptable if the food quality had matched the set prices.

Advice: Be firm with your choices, and be aware of what you get if ordering a kids meal (and make sure you get it).
Also, their page on Zomato says ‘Reservation Recommended.’ Along with our experience, I can attest to that.

In a nutshell: Look, I would go back. I wouldn’t drive out of my way there to eat, but I wouldn’t mind going back if let’s say I was at the centre and was hungry. The menu options are fairly wide, it’s a good noisy environment for kids, and also, I think this place is still finding their feet. I’m also diplomatic enough to realise this was just one experience, and there was nothing solely horrific to keep me from going back. So I probably will, I’ll just order a steak next time.

Happiness Is… # 12

August 14, 2015 / smikg / Leave a comment

Coffee.

(I’m seriously baffled, mind-boggled, and stupefied that it’s taken me 11 previous attempts in this series before acknowledging this life-saving, world-changing, cure of all evils, magically attributed powers brown liquid)

I’m walking over with some colleagues to get the usual morning coffee. Conversation turns to “what would you buy with the $60 million on offer in next week’s Tatts draw?”

We’re talking the usuals:

money to family and friends

charity

holidays

houses and investment

shopping (my addition)

But then we throw in some exciting extras:

Getting a ‘good accountant’ so that we don’t have to pay tax on our fortune (my addition again)

Setting up a shelter in the CBD to help the homeless and get them back on their feet

Buying a football club

Walking into random bars at night and shouting “drinks are on me!”

And this is all happening BEFORE we’ve had a taste of our caffeinated beverages. That’s just how damn good coffee is. It gives you a burst of energy, in its anticipatory excitement of having it, before you’ve even had it.

Thank you person who discovered coffee beans. 🙂

Now I will proceed to list the many things I would do with my $60 million winnings:

Give a considerable amount to my immediate family and friends, so that they could live debt free and enjoy some luxury. Excluding the people considered in my recent posts Round and Round and Things that shit me… well there are consequences for being a dickhead isn’t there? Oh what the hell, I’ll throw a couple thou their way so they can buy some expensive shoes.

Buy some lion cubs, and set them up in a huge jungle-like enclosure so that they wouldn’t feel confined like the lions in zoo-type scenarios usually feel roaming along the fencing line, and I’d visit them on a regular basis so that they would know me and protect me against the arseholes of this world.

Set up my family overseas who are doing it really tough. Make it so that they don’t have the hardships and struggles that many living in difficult economic times over there are having.

Go shopping. I have this intense feeling of wonder, of how it would feel to go into your favourite clothes shop, and buy every single item that’s desirable to you, even if it’s just a “hmmm, maybe” item, and not ask about any of the prices. Just pay at the end. And comment to the salesperson on payment “that’s cheaper than what I thought it would be.”

Set up a shelter for unwanted animals. They can receive treatment for any ills, and just laze about for the rest of their days, living in happiness and comfort, with an abundance of food and love and attention and walks, yet the shelter would also serve as a rescue house where the public can come in and save an animal for free. Unlike other shelters, these animals would not be put down due to excessive overpopulation. These animals will live as long as they are possibly able to, because they would be in a huge mofo of a shelter.

Buy a holiday house on the beach, in Mornington Peninsula, Victoria; Opatija, Croatia; Positano, Italy.

Set up a shelter in Melbourne CBD for homeless people. The shelter would provide food and shelter, while also providing training for basic tasks like cooking, to more advanced career skills to help them get back into the employment field and get them back on their feet, and any other necessary life rehabilitation. It would provide this assistance until they were employed and able to support themselves, living from their own means and off the streets. Follow-up visits would ensure these people are checked up on and kept on track with their life goals.

Give money to cancer research. Employ the best scientists and tell them to kick cancers butt out of this galaxy and beyond.

Buy a really, really, really nice house.

Employ a full-time cleaner for life.

Get my Nissan 370z (I don’t need no porche).

Buy A LOT of cats.

Organise investments with my full-time for life ‘good accountant.’

Okay buy a porche.

Set up the underprivileged villages in African countries with clean drinking water, organise education and training, and help these children and their families make something of their life, far from the poverty they currently experience.

Walk down the streets, randomly handing out $100 notes with the catch phrase “Hi! I’ve been looking for you! Here’s my overdue payment” and then walk off.

Get a professional coffee machine (barista style) installed in my really nice house.

Go into bars and yell “drinks are on me!” and make friends for life. (Note: do this in my three holiday house locations).

Hire a bodyguard for life.

And with all my free time not working, I would drink coffee, do yoga, indulge in red wine, holiday, and just write write write!

Ahh. What a life.

(And all that from the anticipation of coffee!)

*Try it, it’s a fun game, and leave your comments below!*

Cadbury on Toast?

May 27, 2015May 27, 2015 / smikg / Leave a comment

In the first (and possibly last!) of my solo food product reviews I have had to review this:

When I first feasted my eyes upon this unbelievable sight on my facebook feed, I had to question whether it was in fact, a joke. Vegemite, and chocolate? You’re kidding me. But in the land of the Aussie, anything is possible here.

I love chocolate (uh, hello!) and I do love vegemite. The correct application of vegemite spread across some freshly hot, straight out of the toaster buttered-bread is H-E-A-V-E-N. Note this is in italics because the angels even sing it. Those yanks who eat vegemite straight out of the jar with a spoon – puh-lease, you are SO not doing it right. You need a true blue Aussie to show you how it’s eaten correctly (see above) and not some shit-talker just trying to get the maximum facial effect out of you.

But chocolate, and vegemite, together? A reliable friend posted this online, and as soon as I saw it I knew I just had to try.

At the end of a very busy shopping trip last week, a trolley FULL of groceries with an increasingly impatient baby girl chomping on rice cakes in front of me, I headed to Coles (which is one of the places they are stocked, I believe) and searched the entire store before finding them conveniently located near the front registers. A huge sign with a massive arrow should suffice next time, guys. (As if they’re not well acquainted with that oh-so-cheesy ‘finger pointing sign.’)

At home, after baby girl had gone down for her afternoon nap, I fixed myself a tea, and sat down to discover if this unlikely combination was indeed, up to scratch.

What I didn’t realise was there was a caramel addition, and it is this that probably makes the vegemite acceptable in the chocolate. The caramel camouflages the strong vegemite taste that you’re used to, and only after you’ve chewed your way through most of the piece of chocolate do you get the vegemite after-taste, as it kind of very subtly lingers in the back of your throat. It’s interesting, is my best and not so specific verdict of it.

Being a massive fan of salty + sweet (think Reece’s chocolates, and peanut butter cheesecakes, uhhhh drool), I could see how this combination may work. I cannot for the life of me imagine which food invention guru actually came to the insane idea of gelling vegemite and chocolate together though.

The caramel addition is a bit of a cheat. The true way to have vegemite and chocolate, is to literally smear some vegemite atop a block of solid Cadbury’s. That would be harder to swallow, but are you a true blue Aussie or what?

Having said that, the stuff wouldn’t sell. The caramel makes it edible.

So my verdict? I went back for more. And then said I wouldn’t buy anymore. But then went back for more…. and then said I’ve had enough… and now I’m still eating it.

I think I’ll stick to my standard peanut butter and chocolate for contradicting flavour combos, thanks. I will not be buying it again. I’ll have my beautifully toasted butter and vegemite on bread, and on the side have chocolate on its own.

(I have not in any way been sponsored or paid by Cadbury for this review… however with the amount of people who have bought the stuff as a result of my facebook post about the above said venture, I am certainly open to payment. Cadbury, anyone? 🙂 )

Happiness Is… #9

May 19, 2015 / smikg / Leave a comment

Living so close to your parents that you bump into them at the local shops.

I’m pretty fortunate (and it is truly convenient) to have my parents, oh, a 7 minute car drive away. Bumping into my Mum today while doing my weekly grocery shop was truly sweet. Having her run up to me from behind to surprise me, baby girl in the trolley staring at her wide-eyed like “What? Where did Baka come from?” was a really happy moment.

It was an unexpected, beautiful surprise. Often it’s the things you don’t expect, that make you truly grateful for what you have. I count my blessings.

Women vs. Men #1

January 5, 2015 / smikg / Leave a comment

January sales are on. I spot a men’s rack with the beautiful sign: “50% off already reduced prices.”

“Hubbie,” I say. “Have a look here, your brand is half price.”

Hubbie glances over.

“Nah. I don’t need any of it. I’m looking for shorts.” Off he goes.

I stand with baby girl. But it’s 50% off?!

Half an hour later, I’m looking at dresses.

“What about this?” I hold it up to him.

“But you just bought a dress.”

I put it back down.

WOMEN’S CLOTHES FACTS OF LIFE
1. You can never have too many dresses.

2. You can never have too many clothes (or shoes, bags, accessories, jewellery…)

3. The previous dress was a going out dress. Now I was looking at everyday casual dresses.

4. I was on a roll. Don’t stop a lucky shopping spree.

I didn’t buy the second dress. But I bought a skirt. And days later, summer shoes and a top.

Women vs. Men, part 1.

Happiness Is… #8

December 23, 2014 / smikg / Leave a comment

“When I’m on holiday, you’re not cooking – and I’ll only cook if I want to.”

This is what Hubbie said to me a couple weeks back in regards to his upcoming Jan holidays.

I spread my arms out: ‘Praise the Lord.’

“Seriously,” I said, “You don’t have to buy me any Christmas presents. You’ve done it, just there.”

(But I happen to know he’s jacked up the credit card walking into a very lovely shop by the name of Mimco… so all is good there 😉 )

Meeting Santa

December 21, 2014 / smikg / Leave a comment

This is the tale, of a little girl who met Santa.

My little girl. My baby girl, in fact.

She had actually ‘met’ him at the photo op during last year’s Christmas lead-up, when coming up to the big festive day I had popped her on his knee and stood back to grin at the stunned expression on her face as the camera went snap snap snap.

She was 4 months old then. She didn’t really know what was going on, let’s be honest.

Over a week ago we went to the same shopping centre, to see the same Santa. This year baby girl is grabbing at the Christmas tree and baubles we have at home, running into the presents underneath, and currently she will not, EVER go into the arms of someone she doesn’t see often, as unbelievably friendly as this girl is. Bar my Mum and MIL, it’s a no-go for her.

These thoughts were all going through my head as we stood in line to meet the man in red. I picked her up and told her to wave at Santa, telling her that he’s the guy that brings her presents. But presents, to a 16-month old? The thing she loves about presents is ripping the paper, that’s about the best present in the world for a 16-month old. She watched though, and listened. She looked at Santa, and pointed to the huge Christmas tree behind him. She gave me hope.

When it finally came our turn to go over and meet Santa, I was feeling really anxious. “Say ‘hi Santa! Wave to Santa!'” I said with as much excitement I could muster, trying to swallow my nerves.

We inched closer and Santa said hi to her. Now that we were within a metre of him, her eyes widened. She really stared at him, hard. And as I wondered, how the hell am I going to get her on his knee, she grabbed at me, turning her head towards me and clutching at my shoulders for dear life.

I said to Santa “I think she’s going to cry.”

And Santa said “well Mum the only way to do it is for you to get in the photo with her.”

As I went to sit beside him, baby girl started to wail. Like a real decent cry out.

Silence across the room. Time hung in the air as I plastered a smile on my face.

“Hey, baby girl, it’s ok,” I said, trying to soothe her, not daring to look up and see the pitying faces around me. I shifted her from arm to arm, finally positioning her so she was farthest away from Santa as possible, and amazingly, she calmed for a fairly decent photo.

We actually came up good.

As we walked off Santa gave baby girl an Elf hat with pointy ears on the side. As we were waiting in line to pay, I popped it on her head and she promptly ripped it off, and one of the pointy ears as well.

So that’s our second Christmas.

O Come, All Ye Thickened Cream

December 16, 2014December 21, 2014 / smikg / Leave a comment

I came home from work yesterday, to the beautiful smile of baby girl and the expectant and relieved glances of my parents. They love their bonding times with her when they babysit, but after entertaining baby girl for 11 hours, I know they need to just go home and relax.

I quickly went into the kitchen to drop off my stuff and organise a few things, to find a container of thickened cream sitting on the bench. I touched it, and it was still cold.

I asked my parents about it, and Mum said she’d been walking up and down the street with baby girl when an older woman caught up to her carrying her groceries. She told my Mum she’d bought an extra lot of thickened cream, and offered it to my Mum. In my Mum’s humorous words, she just wanted “to be rid of the woman,” looking after baby girl and all, so she took it.

I could see it definitely hadn’t been opened: it still had that ring part fastened underneath the lid. But still, I said to them “don’t use it.”

My Mum had wanted to see if I in fact wanted it, even though she was going to advise me of the same thing – not to use it. We had a brief to-and-fro about how it’s best to not take things from strangers, and how it’s better not to risk your health than save $2 before I promptly threw the entire thing in the bin.

This however, made me sad. Maybe 20, 30 years ago, you would have trusted the woman walking down the street who offered you an extra item from her grocery bag. You wouldn’t have questioned its authenticity, or her motive. It would have been a thoughtful and kind gesture from a neighbour, a generous and impromptu token absent of any ill intentions or malice.

Instead. Instead we’re living in a world where you could go into a coffee shop to buy your daily caffeine fix in between work, and suddenly be in the middle of a hostage situation, with the eyes of the world fixed intently on the café you are in waiting to see if you’re going to come out alive.

That was the terrible reality of yesterday. A man, a lone wolf, using God’s name to justify his unearthly and inhumane actions to hold many people hostage in a cafe on a beautiful Monday morning in Sydney. I, as many others, was glued to the screen, watching the rolling coverage unfolding in Martin Place live on TV. I kept it on up until midnight, in the meantime thinking of how fortunate I was to be safe and warm, in my home, with Hubbie and baby girl sleeping peacefully upstairs. I knew where they were and they, in their dreams, knew where I was.

I thought of the poor hostages. They were not safe. They were not in their homes. While I was getting ready for bed, they were experiencing anxiety and terror like never before. They were wondering if they were going to ever see their families again. I put myself in their shoes for a moment, and felt the stark horror of their situation. I thought briefly, of how horrible it would be, to wonder if I were ever going to see my husband or daughter again. It made me feel so, so sad, and also so sick. I hoped there was not a Mother being held hostage. Not to say that a Mother was any more worthy than another individual, more underserving of being a hostage, but I could only think that, because I could relate. Someone to separate a Mother from her children… it just breaks my heart.

I went to bed, praying that when I woke up, they would have captured the selfish bastard keeping these innocent people hostage.

As soon as I got up this morning, I got baby girl, and I carried her downstairs. I turned on the TV immediately. I gasped at the headline I saw: “Three dead as siege ends.”

I almost cried. I did, when I heard one of the victims was a Mother, of three young children. The other victim was the café manager, and the third was not a victim. He had brought it all on himself, so that was expected.

How was this incident, any different to any other that had befallen innocent victims? Why was I hurting so much? Why did the thought of going out and doing my weekly grocery shop with baby girl make me feel sick? Why did the thought of finishing up my Christmas shopping this week suddenly seem so insignificant?

There had been fear and terror in other parts of the world. People being held hostage, acts of terrorism, and I can’t believe this word is even in existence in our day and age, but, beheadings. I had felt sadness, and anger, and bewilderment when these things had happened, but not like I experienced today. Was it because it was happening on our front door? Our neighbour, Sydney, being rocked by such tragic events? Was it the simple act of going into a café that threw me? A simple task so known to me, so familiar, a part of my routine while out and about and at work… to think, something you do so, so often, could become the last thing you do. Was it all of these things? The patriotism I felt ran deep. I think to live in Australia, being of such easy-going and friendly nature, all of this just didn’t feel right. This wasn’t meant to happen. It was never meant to happen, anywhere, but here in Aus it felt truly out of place.

I went and I did my grocery shopping. And at the beginning of my trip, I went past the Santa photo set-up where kids line-up excitedly to tell Santa what presents they want this year before smiling happily before the camera.

Instead, I found a primary school choir setting up, their teacher coaching them while Santa ran around passing gifts out to the children watching on the sidelines with their parents. I did my usual bit with baby girl, exclaiming excitedly “look, there’s Santa! Can you see who that is? Wave!” Santa spotted us and a few others as newbies to the scene and came and gave us a gift. I was so happy, watching baby girl receive the present and smile shyly at Santa. Meanwhile the choir started up their rendition of “O Come All Ye Faithful” to photo flashes going off in front of them, Santa continuing her trek through the crowd,
spreading joy with her generosity and also by posing for photos and chatting to people.

I watched the scene, and listened to the school kids (their correct pronouncement of “Sing in Exultation”), getting very teary eyed. While Sydney mourned, here we all were getting into the festive spirit. Santa was in full swing attending to every single child and baby there, carols were in the air, and everyone was smiling and laughing. It was a beautiful sight that I had unexpectedly walked into.

We soon walked off, and I had to pull over to the side and gather myself. I felt like crying my eyes out, sobbing in fact. I was overwhelmed. I was so touched by the display I had come across, and yet was sad for the victims and their grieving families in Sydney. More than anything, I was happy that my faith and hope, though not absent had been wavering, was now fully restored. Australians are a beautiful people, and we have an unwavering, fighting spirit. Terror may try to come here, but anything that tries to shake us will only make us stronger.

I am so proud to live in this lucky country. I am so, so inspired by the genuine reaching out of humanity I have witnessed recently. Yes, there is bad in this world. But there will always be more good. The willingness to keep going and keep up, keeping positive and helping out your fellow human, will always win out.

I hope, that one day soon, we can accept some thickened cream from our neighbours. Just because.

R.I.P. Katrina Dawson and Tori Johnson.