Talks to Strangers

'Is the 10.30 bus to Wellington leaving from here?'

Somehow that single sentence started a conversation that lasted 2 hours and the duration of my bus ride from Palmerston North to Wellington.

I met a girl called 'Addie' from Boston. We talked about 'college', New Zealand, Politics, Drinking, school, snobs, fashion. I think we almost covered every topic possible. It was enlightening to talk to someone who lived so far away from my little Palmerston North bubble and knew absolutely nothing about me.

I guess that's a big excitement about talking to strangers. They don't know anything about you. They haven't heard your favorite anecdotes or your description of the dangers of horse riding or your addiction to colour blocking. Strangers seem interested in these little spiels, although that may also be because as you get to know someone then the level of required politeness decreases. Moreover the conversation is fresh and unpredictable. There's no way to know the experiences that the person has had or their personal opinions. You start the conversation with no idea where it's going to end up. They may be interested in ultimate frisbee or fire twirling. Nine times out of ten it's usually something that you know very little about so you get an opportunity to grow your own knowledge. I can now proudly say that I actually understand the rules of ultimate frisbee (despite being a club member for the last year...)

The big point of this post is to say that you should talk to strangers.

They're often quite interesting people with interesting things to say. If it seems intimidating then simply think to yourself 'would I like someone to start a conversation with me?' The answer is probably 'yes' unless you hate conversation which is very antisocial. The stranger is probably quite glad to have a conversation with you during a bus journey to help pass the time.

Plus the best thing is that as you talk to a stranger then they slowly morph from a weird, scary, potential murderer into a friendly, funny person.

Song Addiction of the Day
Radio - Lana Del Rey

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Vintage Pants

If you've been following my blog since the beginning then you'd know that I decided to make a new years resolution that I wouldn't buy any new clothes for the entire year. I figured that I was spending too much money on clothes and that it was time for me to have a bit of a challenge.

I've been quietly finding different pieces of clothing during January and February and expanding my wardrobe. I'll probably post about the pieces of clothing that I made eventually but for now I want to squee in excitement about the pants I bought.

Sunhat - Glassons $20, Sunglasses - Sunglass Hutt $10, Necklace - Trademe $12, Shoes - Op Shop $6, Trousers -  Dress for Success Sale $12. I've always wanted to do one of those. 

Yes, I bought the crazy groovy pants in the photo. They're chiffon, flare trousers with... pockets! Now when I first plucked them out from the rack I thought to myself 'Goodness Lily! These pants are insane there's no way that you could possibly wear them!' Then another voice in my head said 'why not try them on?' So I followed the second voice and after a host of compliments from the women working at the stall they were sold.

Part of the reason I grabbed the pants out from the rack in the first place was because I'd seen these pants in Fashion Quarterly. 

Of course those pants are silk pants from Stolen Girlfriends Club and happen to retail for $460... A little bit more than I can afford. I must also reiterate at this point that I'm don't treat Fashion Quarterly as a bible in that I must follow every trend. Some of them are just ridiculous.

For example, the whole crop top thing. I'll eat soap if I ever saw a regular person looking good in a crop top. I think that whole trend should be confined to haute couture fashion shows in that it looks good on gorgeous thin models but it should never actually be worn. 

However I must say that I am a fan of following trends that suit your body shape. A very obvious example is the high waisted skirt trend. I've got a slight hour glass shape in that my top half is balanced by my booty. This means that I always follow trends that highlight my waist and reinforce this silhouette instead of masculine clothing that hides it (eg those hideous sack dresses... they just make me look pregnant.)

You see the glory of those 'groovy' pants is that they come in at the waist and then because they're made of chiffon they don't cling to any parts that they shouldn't be clinging to and instead their silhouette delicately runs to the ground. Yes, I'm rather pleased with that purchase.

Oh and I feel like I should try to encourage op shopping! Fashion is very cyclic case in point the drop waists of the 1920's which are coming back with a fury. So if you hit up an op shop you'll never know when you might be lucky enough to find that an old Granny has just decided to clear out her wardrobe full of seventies treasures. Then you'll be on style for about 5% of the price.

Can't make Pancakes

It seems like a stupid thing to say doesn't it? I mean who can't make pancakes? I remember when I was about five years old making pancakes during choosing time. They're very straight forward. Don't you just whack all of the ingredients together and cook the pancakes?

Buttermilk Pancakes

+1c Buttermilk

+1 c self raising flour

+2 tbsp sugar

+ Rind of 1/2 a lemon

+2 tbsp butter

-Combine all ingredients.

-Cook

Hmm... that's where you're wrong. It's the cooking that I always find difficult. The picture on the buttermilk container always looks something like this

And somehow everytime I make pancakes they always end up looking like this. 

I follow the instructions and watch my pancakes attentively but for some reason they just always end up looking like reject pancakes.

Being the scientist that I am I started analysing all of the variables that go into making pancakes in order to determine the cause of the problem. I knew that the recipe was perfect (otherwise it's incorrect advertising and all that jazz) so it must have been one of the cooking factors. I tried changing the way that I prepared the pan for the pancakes.

Yes, it's a very technical process. You see my Granny recently taught me the way to make a perfect omelet. 'One should always add a walnut size piece of butter to the pan and then wait until it's bubbling furiously before one adds the omelet mixture.' My Granny always says 'one' instead of you or I. Using this idea I dutifully added a walnut chunk of butter and waited for it to start spitting at me. I then added the mixture and hopefully waited for a beautiful batch of perfectly cooked. It didn't work. My pancakes would be most accurately personified to be teenagers with bad tan lines and a serious bout of acne.

The only other issue that I could possibly think of was the pan. You see we have one of the 'non stick' pans that was advertised on TV with the person cooking rocks in it. The theory - 'this pan never scratches!' Hmm well if they really wanted to test that then they should have sent that pan to our house. Within six months the pan was scratched and well and truly a 'stick' pan. This could've made me decide to go out and get a new nonstick pan if it weren't for the fact that in the movie 'Pleasantville' (which is set in the fifties well and truly before teflon was on pan surfaces) the pancakes look perfect and golden. Yes i know that I shouldn't believe everything that movies tell me but my year 11 English teacher told me that 'Pleasantville' gives an accurate representation of the fifties. 

Anyway that little clip means that I can't blame the pan.

So now I find that this morning I'm serving my family a batch of speckled pancakes. Hmm I think that making a perfect batch of pancakes should be another new years resolution. Although that may mean that my flatmates will have to deal with a lot of ugly looking pancakes ibefore I perfect the art.

Now I know I haven't blogged for quite sometime so I thought I'd post some pretty pictures which I've taken recently.

Song Obsession of the Day

I haven't done one of these for a while so....

D.A.N.C.E -Justice

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Pink Macaroons

Heavenly.

I think that's the best way to describe macaroons. They look almost ethereal with their beautiful glossy sheen. In fact I reckon that when I do kick the bucket then the Big Guy will be waiting for me with a box of macaroons. He'd probably even make them himself and I'm sure they'll be the most delicious ones I've ever tasted. You see the thing about macaroons is that

a) they're expensive; ground almonds, real vanilla, real chocolate, a ridiculous number of eggs all of these things really aren't that cheap.
b) they're temperamental; if you beat the egg whites a little too hard then they'll collapse or if you incorrectly measure the amount of icing sugar then they'll probably end up looking like chewy, stretchy bubblegum cookies.
c) They take an eternity to perfect. Hence why the Big Guy would be so good at making them...

Macaroons are definitely the kind of thing you can't decide to make on a whim. That's what I did when I first used Nigella Lawson's pistachio macaroon recipe. I ended up guilt eating the entire batch of gungy macaroons. They still tasted good but I was left thinking that I really shouldn't have skim read the entire recipe...

After that 'experience' then I decided to enlist the help of a master to show me the ropes. Today my darling friend took me through the steps to making a good macaroon and that they really can't be underestimated. As soon as you let your guard down the BAM the egg whites collapse or BAM there's egg yolk in the whites or BAM you've got a square macaroon. It's a very stressful exercise and I think that once you've perfected making macaroons being a security guard would be a cinch.

I'll post the recipe that I used above soon but at the moment I'm off to bed so I'll leave you with a youtube video as a consolation prize.

Lost her Phone

I'm an optimist. I always like to believe the best in people. So I kept telling myself that my cell phone was 'lost' rather than 'stolen'. See I kept on thinking to myself that noone would want to steal my phone. It's a rather crappy old one after all. The phone has sentimental value more than anything else. I wanted my phone back so I even sent my phone a text saying that I was willing to pay a $20 ransom. I know the police say that you should never 'negotiate with kidnappers/phone nappers'. But I just really wanted my phone back. I actually thought that would work.

Look, I have a simple philosophy. Most of the time people do the right thing. If I was the person who'd found my phone I know exactly what the 'right thing' would've been. To begin with I would've answered one of the million times when the owner rang the phone. If they didn't call their phone then I would've gone to the person that the phone had contacted. Then I would've called that person and told them that I'd found their friends lost phone. The important point here is that I would've returned the phone. If I didn't then I would've felt simply horrible about it. Plus there's always the good karma benefit. Unfortunately my phone-napper was heartless.

Now I'm rendered phone-less. I'm so used to it that it's almost as if someone decided to hack off my index fingers. I keep on wondering about how anyone managed twenty years ago without cell phones. Whenever I want to hang out with someone/assure my mother that I'm still alive then I flick off a text message. I no longer have that convenience. So instead I've had resort to old school land line calling. That's improving social relationships according to Dr. Phil. Hmm...Well at least I'm improving my relationship with their answer phones  Although I must admit that I do actually appreciate my current cell phone free state. It means that I'm saving hours in my day. No longer am I spending precious minutes checking my phone, which inevitably won't have any new messages anyway or spending hours hunting for my misplaced cell phone. In an attempt to be all happy and glass half full-y then I have to say that although that filthy criminal stole my phone he gave me the gift of time. Cheers mate. Although I'd also like $100 for a new phone.

Song Addiction
Ships in the Night - Mat Kearney
 

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One girl who gardens

'When one of my plants dies, I die a little inside, too.' - Linda Solegato

Todays big activity was starting my new herb garden. I've grown plants before. I remember I had a swan plant once upon a time although I rather lost interest when the one monarch caterpillar that lived on it turned into a butterfly. Then there was the time that I had a basil plant in a pot until I kind of used up a little bit too many of the leaves. They were so delicious, but unfortunately that meant that it died. This time I've vowed to pay attention to my new herb garden. I shall water it every day, prune the leaves neatly and keep it alive for at least three years.

The entire reason behind my garden is that I'm a student living in a flat this year. That means that I can hardly afford buy fresh herbs for my exotic cooking. Unfortunately as my cousin told me 'you've got champagne tastes on a beer diet.' Something's inevitably going to give. My herb garden is my way of making sure that that doesn't happen to be my bank balance. One early birthday present should ensure that I have delicious herbs indefinitely.

How can I be so sure of this? Well I've decided to treat my herbs as children, since I don't have any children I think that's perfectly okay. My theory is that the reason children manage to grow so big and tall isn't because of genetics but rather the ridiculous amount of food and love they receive. My theory is that a persons height is directly correlated to the amount of love that their parents gave them. That makes sense since Kim Jong Il was only 160cm. He wasn't a very nice person, so his parents didn't give him enough love and so he wasn't very tall! Whereas by comparison Nelson Mandela who was a wonderful fellow is 1.93 m, nice and tall because of lots of love.

So I'll parent my plants so they grow nice and tall. First step of parenting is naming. My plants from left to right in their little rectangle pot are Pablo (Parsley), Benjamin (Basil), Millicent (Mint) and Tally (Thyme). I decided to keep the male and female plants separate so I wouldn't get any hanky panky/cross pollination action. Then I'll feed the children, which is what every good parent should do. All sounding rather good? I'll make sure that they don't spend all of their time watching TV and go outside every so often to get some sunlight. Oh and I guess I'll have to read to them too. You know grow their minds as well? Wait do plants have brains? That's a big question which opens a rather philosophical door that I really don't want to open.

I've now introduced you to my herb garden which I'll probably write about incessantly (like every other annoying parent) and with whom I'll probably grow to have an unhealthy attachment. What can I say? I'm single.

Song Obsession
I think this song really sums up the last two episodes of 'Chuck' and most importantly the Charah dynamic. Fark I'm going to miss that show.
The Scientist - Coldplay

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