So to say I have been avoiding writing this post is an understatement. In the last few weeks I have managed to distract myself with several seemingly important tasks such as re organising my tea cup collection, making batch after batch of popcorn, and sitting down at the computer to look at websites devoted to dudes with beards eating cupcakes. OK so maybe that one wasn't such a waste of time, that website has brought a lot of joy into my life, but fairs fair and I'm just using these bearded men to avoid getting down to business.
I'm trying to write about the meeting of the families at our engagement high tea and it's as if everyone involved is hovering ghost like in the room as I type. I don't think it's possible to truly share or express the emotions of this event and that's not a bad thing. As public as I like to make my life some things are just private.
Luckily in my family there is a skill of using food to express what we can't say or write. Once I was really sick and my dad was teasing me while I was curled up in a miserable ball of lurgy on the couch. Half an hour later he brought me a beautiful hearty soup, and it said everything I needed to hear.
So let's talk about the food at Mary and Chris' (I get to be put first since it's my bloody blog!) engagement high tea.
Mum was churning out sandwiches when I arrived, all white bread with the crusts cut off and looking oh so country women's association. Daddy Paul was slicing up his Sri Lankan love cake and moaning about the fact that it was too dry (honestly I love that spicy cake so much I would have eaten it if you had to snap pieces off).
I had decided that it would be 'oh so easy' to just throw together some mini quiches for my contribution. As I began preparations it became painfully clear that this was not going to be the case. Chris had just arrived with his mum and her beautiful scones, sensing my rage he tried to hide on a couch. All present parental figures were discussing important matters such as scone/tiered cake presentation and their lack of attention only heightened my anxiety. Let's just say I'm not a very good wall flower. I vented by yelling at Chris to commence making his contribution (fairy bread) certain that if he didn't start right now the entire event was going to be a disaster and the house would probably implode and kill us all. Patiently he pointed out that there was no room on the kitchen bench, and I wondered about stabbing him in the eye with a fork. I was sure that if he truly loved me he would have gotten on his hands and knees and started making fairy bread on the floor.
This is when it becomes clear that a relationship can not consist of just two people.
My brother Theo has weathered many of my stormy moods and has an almost uncanny sense of what needs to be done to prevent a torrent of tears being unleashed on everyone. Quickly he jumped into the production line along with my dad's housemate Marilyn and suddenly many hands were making light work. A space was made for Chris and his mum to make the fairy bread and someone provided me with a glass of champagne. Finally I could breathe again.
Chris' sister Michelle arrived with an actual army of cupcakes and my aunts added Sicilian sweets and lemon tarts. As I looked around the room at everyone mingling and getting to know each other I realised that the table full of this delicious feast was a food representation of our families support of our relationship. Without all of these beautiful people in our lives the table would have been bare and I would have been hungry and probably butchered Chris and eaten his heart.
In short - Family rocks and without their love your relationship will starve.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Sunday, April 10, 2011
The engagement party, round one
For our engagement Chris and I decided to have one party with friends and another with family. Having them together would have required almost as much organizational focus as the actual wedding, so we decided to split it and keep our sanity.
Round one was for our friends, and as I cycled around centennial park again, and again, and again (there are A LOT of one way streets in that park. And some very irate park rangers who don't like you to go the wrong way) I congratulated myself with how great the weather was, sure that the sunshine could only be attributed to my no backup plan plan (In the last year or two I have come up with the ultimate event planning system - never have a backup plan. Having a backup plan is admitting the possibility that things may go wrong, so if you don't acknowledge the possibility, how can it happen?). I was also sure that if I didn't gain a little more courage (due to a bike accident I am a bit of a slow cyclist) and finally overtake the rollerblading mum and her tricycling daughter I would probably die of shame before reaching the picnic. Luckily they pulled over and I was able to emerge victorious (I'm not sure they were aware we were racing).
Our chosen spot was Lachlan's Reserve and it was .......nice......... the problem was that Claire (my picnic set up crew) and I had just walked past another amazing spot near some pretty purple flowering trees and we couldn't picture ourselves picnicking elsewhere. 'It will be fine,' I reassured Claire, 'it's just around the corner and everybody will be lost anyway'. We settled down to picnic under a lovely shady tree. The phone rang. 'I'm at Lachlan reserve, where are you!?!’ It seems that everybody didn't get lost; instead they all found their way to where I had said the picnic would be. New rule - it's OK to not have a backup plan, but it might be a good idea not to move the location of the event without telling anybody.
People began arriving and with them came one of my favourite things, picnic food. Cheeses and tarts and cakes and fruit and dips and bread and brownies and meat and pastries and a million other different goodies were placed on the picnic rug. I had a brightly coloured metal tumbler full of wine in my hand and there was nowhere else in the whole world I would have rather been. Even if someone had rushed up and yelled 'Quick Mary we need you to come and be the new star in Neighbours as Dr Carl's long lost daughter!' I would have even regretfully declined. I say regretfully, because Neighbours is the best show ever and you should never disrespect it in my presence. Ever.
Much like neighbours we were all being good friends (I think it was easier for us because we don't try to kill or rob each other all the time. Is it bad that I'm turning this piece into a discussion on neighbours? Because I think it's lovely). Chris had brought a game called Jokari which involves two people hitting a little rubber ball as hard as they can (into the atmosphere, not at each other) to have it jerked back to them on a rubber string held down by a weight. It then bounces on the ground and the opponent hits it out again Men folk bonded over the challenge of getting a rubber ball made to bounce on concrete to bounce on soft grass (nothing says male bonding like a challenge), and the bonding got so intense that there was even what appeared to be a Harry High-shorts match.
After the games had finished we had an engagement photo shoot under the purple blossoming trees. The engagement photos mainly consisted of a bunch of us running and jumping up in the air together, or hiding our bodies in hedges and sticking our heads out. It was very post modern conceptual Dada and did I mention brilliant? Exhausted from so much modelling (and others exhausted just from watching us) we all lay by the pond or lake or whatever you would call it and drank our last beers as the bats poured out from the tree and into the dusk colored sky above.
We packed under darkness, re-gaffa taping the esky to the back of my bike (how else was I going to get an esky there?). Chris and I had been completely spoilt with gifts and as we tried to fit them all on Chris had a pot plants hanging from his handlebars and I had a bonsai in my handbag. We made it as far as the park gates before giving up and hailing a taxi.
When discussing the picnic later with a friend she remarked that it was perfect because it really represented what Chris and I are as a couple, two people whose favourite thing to do is gather those that they love, and share food and wine with them. Well maybe she didn't say it quite like that and maybe I romanticized the quote a little, but the message was there. We love each other, we love our friends and we love an excess of food and wine. And all of this combined means happily ever after.
Round one was for our friends, and as I cycled around centennial park again, and again, and again (there are A LOT of one way streets in that park. And some very irate park rangers who don't like you to go the wrong way) I congratulated myself with how great the weather was, sure that the sunshine could only be attributed to my no backup plan plan (In the last year or two I have come up with the ultimate event planning system - never have a backup plan. Having a backup plan is admitting the possibility that things may go wrong, so if you don't acknowledge the possibility, how can it happen?). I was also sure that if I didn't gain a little more courage (due to a bike accident I am a bit of a slow cyclist) and finally overtake the rollerblading mum and her tricycling daughter I would probably die of shame before reaching the picnic. Luckily they pulled over and I was able to emerge victorious (I'm not sure they were aware we were racing).
Our chosen spot was Lachlan's Reserve and it was .......nice......... the problem was that Claire (my picnic set up crew) and I had just walked past another amazing spot near some pretty purple flowering trees and we couldn't picture ourselves picnicking elsewhere. 'It will be fine,' I reassured Claire, 'it's just around the corner and everybody will be lost anyway'. We settled down to picnic under a lovely shady tree. The phone rang. 'I'm at Lachlan reserve, where are you!?!’ It seems that everybody didn't get lost; instead they all found their way to where I had said the picnic would be. New rule - it's OK to not have a backup plan, but it might be a good idea not to move the location of the event without telling anybody.
People began arriving and with them came one of my favourite things, picnic food. Cheeses and tarts and cakes and fruit and dips and bread and brownies and meat and pastries and a million other different goodies were placed on the picnic rug. I had a brightly coloured metal tumbler full of wine in my hand and there was nowhere else in the whole world I would have rather been. Even if someone had rushed up and yelled 'Quick Mary we need you to come and be the new star in Neighbours as Dr Carl's long lost daughter!' I would have even regretfully declined. I say regretfully, because Neighbours is the best show ever and you should never disrespect it in my presence. Ever.
Much like neighbours we were all being good friends (I think it was easier for us because we don't try to kill or rob each other all the time. Is it bad that I'm turning this piece into a discussion on neighbours? Because I think it's lovely). Chris had brought a game called Jokari which involves two people hitting a little rubber ball as hard as they can (into the atmosphere, not at each other) to have it jerked back to them on a rubber string held down by a weight. It then bounces on the ground and the opponent hits it out again Men folk bonded over the challenge of getting a rubber ball made to bounce on concrete to bounce on soft grass (nothing says male bonding like a challenge), and the bonding got so intense that there was even what appeared to be a Harry High-shorts match.
After the games had finished we had an engagement photo shoot under the purple blossoming trees. The engagement photos mainly consisted of a bunch of us running and jumping up in the air together, or hiding our bodies in hedges and sticking our heads out. It was very post modern conceptual Dada and did I mention brilliant? Exhausted from so much modelling (and others exhausted just from watching us) we all lay by the pond or lake or whatever you would call it and drank our last beers as the bats poured out from the tree and into the dusk colored sky above.
We packed under darkness, re-gaffa taping the esky to the back of my bike (how else was I going to get an esky there?). Chris and I had been completely spoilt with gifts and as we tried to fit them all on Chris had a pot plants hanging from his handlebars and I had a bonsai in my handbag. We made it as far as the park gates before giving up and hailing a taxi.
When discussing the picnic later with a friend she remarked that it was perfect because it really represented what Chris and I are as a couple, two people whose favourite thing to do is gather those that they love, and share food and wine with them. Well maybe she didn't say it quite like that and maybe I romanticized the quote a little, but the message was there. We love each other, we love our friends and we love an excess of food and wine. And all of this combined means happily ever after.
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