On birthday food

This is the cake from the inside:

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This is the tray of potatoes, carrots, onions and, most importantly, parsnips ready for roasting:

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They were SO very good, the steak was a little bit unnecessary – but who turns down a steak when they’re offered one??! It was a very good steak too.

Here are the posh new christmassy tablemats (plus flowers and my new clock):

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– It goes anticlockwise, because the Brits drive on the ‘wrong’ (!?) side of the road…

On unhappy dogs

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His owner’s on holiday. He is very unhappy, and unhappiness is best twinned with hiding in small places. This was small place of choice today.

On improvisations on a swede

I found a swede in my local supermarket last week.
That is a big deal here in Berlin where people generally don’t eat them.

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A picture for RosieSmrtiePants (Stolen from http://mkalty.org/swede/)

Anyway, I didn’t eat it last week because I wasn’t home in time to peel, chop, boil and mash it before my DB died of starvation.

Yesterday was my chance.

I spent almost 10 minutes noisily looking for the peeler (and sorting out the drawer it should have been in but which was full of Schneebesen* instead) before DB came and dug it out of a different drawer so he could go back to watching TV in peace.

It only occurred to me once I’d strained the water (and reopened and messed up the schneebesen drawer) that my masher was still in a box marked ‘kitchen’ in the depths of my in-laws’ cellar.

I like to think I’m open minded and easy going. Sometimes I convince other people to think so too. Yesterday wasn’t one of those days. I assume one can eat swede cubes without mashing them. I can only assume because I always eat mine mashed and I wasn’t prepared to change my swede eating experience just because I hadn’t got round to unpacking yet.

I armed myself with a spatula and set upon the arduous task of squishing 3 million cubes against the side of the saucepan.

I was approximately a third of the way through when DB started prowling. He has a special kind of prowl reserved for when he’s hungry and I haven’t finished cooking yet, and this was that kind of prowl.

He asked if he could help so I pushed the saucepan in his direction.

This is what happened next:

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I was speechless.

I’ve seen (and participated in) a lot of improvisation, but I’ve never seen (or thought about) anyone mashing a swede with a cup.

It worked though, so I was also very impressed.

I truly have a man of many talents

๐Ÿ™‚ ๐Ÿ™‚ ๐Ÿ™‚ ๐Ÿ™‚

* Schneebesen literally means snow brooms but physically means handwhisks… And DB says English is a silly language ๐Ÿ˜‰

On bookshelves

I moved to Berlin in January.
Most of my things moved in after me.
Most of them still live in the boxes we moved them in.

For the last few months my bookcase looked like this:
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No[t much] longer!

First, the DB chose a good space for a bookcase.

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Then we measured it.

Then I used Draftsight to make a plan of the space and of the way I wanted it to look and a separate plan of how to get all the lengths into the fewest number of planks (with the least waste).

Then we (the DB, his Dad and I) went wood shopping. We got the people in the wood shop to cut the planks for us, because we spontaneously decided to buy oak instead of pine* and would’ve burnt our way through it instead of cutting it.

After all that, we spent the weekend sawing, glueing, drilling and screwing. DB’s mum spent her weekend cooking for us and making sure we remembered to eat.

I would love to say I had to tragoon them all into it, purely for the sake of the word, but they were willing victims. I think wanting their respective houses and cellars back helped.

First we built this:

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Then we built this:

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And then it was finished. ๐Ÿ™‚

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And that was the end of another good weekend.

Now all I have to do is oil it, sand it, oil it again and wait for it to dry (or soak in or whatever oil does) and empty my books into it.

No rest for the wicked, huh?

Still. My mother says only boring people get bored…..

* it was half price ๐Ÿ™‚

Day 8 – pictures – dedicated to Miss Happenence