The bread recipe not even I could mess up!
Recipe :
200 grams of Almond Flour
150 grams of mixed Seeds (I used a blender and turned it to flour consistency – purely personal preference.)
25 ml Fibre Husk
10 ml Baking Powder
7.5 ml Salt
100 grams Full Cream Greek Yoghurt
250 grams Smooth Cottage Cheese
6 Eggs
50 grams of melted Butter
I am not much of a baker at all. I mixed all together with a wooden spoon, used spray and cook for 1 hour at 180 degrees and it turned out fabulously!
I honestly did not know I would survive 21 years without you. It speaks volumes for the human spirit, for I did not think I would see morning that night. It took seven years to say your name without crying.
Today a lifetime of smiles around my eyes play, when I explain about the man who gave me the name “Wenchy” before the tears come.
The free falling long blonde hair as you came into the room wearing black jeans, a white T-shirt and the smile that captured me forever when you saw me.
I hate that I know grief so intimately. I miss you intensely. Love you.
Tim Duffy
13 June 1973 – 17 March 1999
#25forever
Dear friends and other interesting creatures,
When I started reading “Her Daughter’s Cry” by M.M. Chouinard I was not aware it was the third book in the Detective Jo Fournier series. It carried itself well as a stand-alone book and I did not feel lost at any stage. Although the book is a police procedural, it reads like a thriller.
A woman appears in a shop, injured and covered in blood… but the blood does not belong to her. She suffers from amnesia and detective Jo Fournier must figure out how she got injured and who the blood belongs to. The police establish it belongs to a blood relative; a daughter and so the hunt to find the daughter begins. Since the woman has amnesia, I personally thought they were in search of a baby or a young child, but I guessed that one wrong.
Who is this woman and is she innocent or does she have something to do with her daughter getting injured?
Zoe (a name given to her in hospital) is trying to piece her life back together and remember what happened, and the Police are assembling evidence. Who will get to the tipping point first?
Fast-paced, interesting plot, great character development and well worth reading.
The only bit that remains a mystery to me is the title of the book.
It doesn’t make sense to me.
I wish you enough,
Wenchy
‘Word oud met grasie.’ Wat vir ‘n klomp twak is dit? Daar is niks jollie omtrent oud word nie.
Vat my nou byvoorbeeld. Was nooit n skoonheid nie maar… Daar n swart WALLE onder my oë. Kepe langs die mondhoeke. Eienaardige ken.. Dun lippies gekry (Rensch se TEKEN groter lippe!) En die kalkoennek!!!! Middel (watter middel?) ‘n omvang wat ek nie wil weet nie. My bene .. my gekreukelde voete! Nee mens!
My dierbaarste Pappie het gesê ‘Ouderdom is niks. Maar die lelik word!’ En toe trek hy al by 85!
Nou moenie die pyne en skete vergeet nie. Ek het altyd gedink oumense kan darem kla!
En nou, ‘back at the ranch’ staan ek my plek vol in die klae afdeling! Nie vir sissies nie!
My father was not the most reliable man. Much like our Liam James who may go out to buy milk and see you in a week because the opportunity to go to the coast (ten hours away) came up between home and the buying of said milk. It sounded like a plan and off he went only to return in a few days, fresh as a daisy. I would have had Liam chipped if that was legal. My Mammie says my father was a Liam. No ocean too deep, no mountain too high.
A car accident took the life of a 30-year-old, white male at 19h00 on 14 December 1984 – my father.
My eleven-year-old self did not believe my father actually died. An assortment of visitors began arriving. Non-stop people. He was clearly loved. So many tears. In my mind, my father may disappear for a while, but he always comes back! It never felt him not being there was something to forgive. My dear Mammie never hinted at anything negative about his behaviour or him as a man and neither did my Oupa Mike and Ouma Chrissie who raised me. If the love of Christ was people, they were my Grandparents. Nothing was too much to forgive.
Leading up to the funeral on 19 December 1984, a lot happened. It was very confusing. My Mammie was broken in a million little pieces. I had rarely seen her without model makeup so when I was faced with her white, ghost-like, gaunt appearance, it made a huge impression on me.
At some point, we had to go and buy clothes for my sister and me for the funeral. It was not a time to push your likes and dislikes. I guess my Mammie chose my dress. It was white with small purple flowers around the front. I had not developed my love for purple as yet but it seems fitting. Apparently purple was a suitable funeral colour. I know it had a bow around the waist. It was a fine dress, however, it was my reasoning that it was a funeral dress. The dress I would wear to my fathers funeral. Never to be worn again.
There is great detail in my mind regarding the day they buried my father. I don’t want to go into that today, except to say that I was stung by a bee…. and I hated all the fake flower arrangements in those domes. I’m sure the people gave them in love, I remember thinking my father can already not breathe and now you cover him with flowers that can’t breathe either. It was like toilet covers in the Afrikaans community I grew up in. Uncomfortable and bloody unnecessary.
Fresh from the platteland, a few months later I was now living in the City with my Mammie and my sister. There was an occasion for which I needed a dress. I remember my dear Mammie telling me to just wear the white one. For most of my life, I had only seen my Mammie on weekends so I was quite weary. That lady takes no prisoners. Except, there was no way I would wear that funeral dress again. I don’t remember what happened but I never saw the white dress with the purple detail around the front again.
Today, I adore my Mammie. Having been a single Mom, I too, take no prisoners. You did good Mammie. So good. I love you so very much. My gratitude and respect are unending.
I’m 46 years old now. I am still waiting for my father to come back. He remains dead.
Okay, so that was tricky.
#whitepicketfenceofmanycolours
Nou ja, na vele navrae, 🙂 die nuutste om die plotrotte. Staan ek mos op met n kop vol grys hare aan my en onmiddellik gryp ek na Spicey Brown. (Vervaardiger onbekend). Verander my kroon toe na n lieflike PIENK op die wortels… Sweetheart was, vir eens, sprakeloos.
Tay (goed opgevoede kind wat sy is) seg net ‘… en wat nou oumie?’
Het ek met Pappie loop beraadslaag daar waar hulle tydelik skuins lê teen n boks gemerk (allerlei).
Mmm.. sê my alles. Nee wat Vonnie! Steady steady steady! Jy beter regkom voor jou Ma jou sien!’
Maak ek toe maar weer die seil toe. Ek mis julle sê ek. Ek MIS julle…
– – – 💜 – – –
As ek huis toe verlang… deel ek so bietjie van my Mammie, Yvonne sê woorde oor die jare. Van diep lag tot hardop huil, julle gaan haar geniet.
My eldest son Kev and dearest girlfriend, Max left SA to live in the UK just over 6 weeks ago.
Kev is a physically solid guy, with big shoulders. I miss his hugs, although they never last long. I miss our chats and Kev telling me to just “have a day” when I feel the world is heavy.
Since Kev was very little Liverpool Football Club was life. “It is not a game Mom, it is a religion” he said round his 13th birthday. Kev has a tattooed sleeve that any true #LFC supporter would envy.
He visited Anfield recently and wrote it was the best day of his life. His love, commitment and loyalty to the beautiful game and the team, has encouraged strength within me, trusting all will be well.
It is unbelievable the places where one reaches when you need a branch to hold onto.
I watch because somewhere in the world my son is watching. He’ll never walk alone because wherever we are, “This is Anfield”.
I love you. ♥️
#KevLevelsUp
#theoriginalcast
#ynwa
Dear friends and other interesting creatures,
My #SpekboomChallenge started with a gift from The Glass Recycling Company. Thank you so much.
I have an entire cupboard filled with glass bottles with a dozen ideas as to what to do with them. There is a Pinterest board living in my head that seldom actually see the light of day. I am sure some of you can identify. I’m the Mom who bakes cookies from scratch every five years or so kinda Pinterest user.
Deciding I shall save the planet at once, I became quite obsessed with finding an abundance of Spekboom to plant. Organisations are selling them and some are very tempting but being a broke Wench… I went onto Facebook and searched my surrounding suburbs for posts about Spekboom. I came across a post from a very nice lady who offered cuttings to anyone, directly from her pavement.
Well, in two shakes of a lamb’s tail one Sunday morning, I was in the shower, dressed and in my car. Armed with scissors, a recycling green-friendly bag and GPS directions.
Imagine this, I parked (which always looks like I abandoned my car) next to the road, and while the plant I was cutting from was on the pavement and technically public domain, I felt Oh So Gangsta!
I quickly realised that the road I was parked on was actually quite a busy one. The cars were backing up one side, then the other. I went all-in, collecting cuttings from the huge hedge of Spekboom. I pretended I saw none of the traffic jam I was causing. I am blind like that.
After, my Oh So Gangsta excitement, I drove to the only Nursery I know in my area to buy potting soil and pebbles. I felt a little odd asking why there were no purple stones … but what can one do? Apparently saving the planet is more of a green thing.
I know it is unpopular, but I am not the “greenest” person. I do like sea turtles so I’m skipping the straws, so that is a step up you know? However, I love the idea of cultivating new life (… I point to my many children) so much that I have planted 55 Spekboom cuttings in glass jars so far!!
Let me tell you why…
Your next small issue is to make sure you are actually planting Spekboom and not the Jade (also known as the money plant). Not that the Jade plant is not an excellent succulent, it just doesn’t absorb carbon from the air to make plant tissue, like the Spekboom. Boom!
I have started gifting some of my joy to my friends, my dentist, my hair and nail salon. I hope you all think of me when you look at something I planted. (Look Ma, I made a thing!)
I wish you enough,
Wenchy
Dear friends and other interesting creatures,
Some helpful hits on renewing your Drivers Licence card.
Step 1: Go online with optimistic enthusiasm: https://online.natis.gov.za/
Step 2: Click on DL Card Renewal.
Step 3: Complete your details and confirm you are not a robot.
Step 4: Eventually you get to a screen with a drop down list once you selected your Province. It will show you the slots available to book, and where.
Surprise! There may be no slots available.
Step 5: Log on daily and go through this process until you finally find an available slot. Remain optimistic.
Step 6: Take a photocopy of your ID and previous lisence on the same page with to your appointment. Also a black pen. Some lisence departments only take cash. Same take cards. To be safe, I would take both.
You will need photos if you are also applying for a temporary lisence.
Step 7: Arrive for your appointment an hour before. Fill in the green form and get in line. The time you booked will be called and move to a new spot.
Step 8: Next is an eye test. There has been an upgrade since I’ve last been. The eye test administrator also does your finger prints and takes a picture.
Step 9: Move over to the Cashier line and pay R228.
Step 10: Apparently it takes six weeks to when it can be collected. I’ll let you know! 🙂
I wish us all patience,
Wenchy
