Cheeses (said like Jesus)

This was not how I intended to start the new year, but in my search for person dressed as cheese (an image to simulate my good self), I found an interesting cheese-based discussion. I have summarised the key points below:

Cows cheese is made of cows milk.

Goats cheese of goats milk.

So, can you make human cheese from breast milk?

(and then there a bunch of stuff about how the guy initiating the discussion was a wierdo.)

Anyway, you will be interested to hear the answer is no. You can't make cheese because the breast milk doesn't curdle. For a blow by blow account of one woman's attempt (with photos), look here. Kind of gross, but some interesting comments - the biggest weiner sign-off must the person that refers to themselves as a 'concerned human being'.

Happy new year!

Kitty, also concerned x

me but more organised and with nicer handwriting

It is lucky this Christmas-New Years window comes but once a year; if I ate this much cheese in real life I would be the size of a house.

This morning, in a fit of self-flagellation (post drinking/cheese eating) I went to Chadstone, my need for heavily reduced sheet sets and underwear having finally reached a tipping point. I am convinced these, coupled with some tupperware, will help make me a more well rounded person come January 1. i.e. I will be like this, but be clever on other days too:

Alas, my good friend Chaddy was a great disappointment. I was braced for horrendous-ness: no parking, swarms of desperados (self included) stepping over one another for bargains, etc. but it was a bit of a non-event. Not only is everyone out of town, but the economy must be in crisis... I was even able to find somewhere to sit in the food court! Bizarre not having to eat a hot potato while lingering over a table of slow eaters. While this was pleasant enough, I am still without sheets/underwear.

In other news, Carney and I went to the cricket - I gave him tickets for Christmas and learnt a valuable lesson in gift giving: don't give someone a gift you would not want yourself. Thankfully we went on Wednesday. We arrived at 11am and the game was over by noon - 2 wickets in 1 hour! I was left with the (I suspect) false impression that cricket is actually an interesting/fast moving game.

Stay tuned for more of the riveting adventures of a Christmas-New Year spent in Melbourne.

Kitty x

busy bees, the bees knees and other bee sayings

Carney believes in the magical powers of honey. I am bit dubious: a) I don't like honey and b) his winning argument is that his 90 year old Grandmother says honey is good for you. I'm not sure what exactly is the basis for her being an authority on matters of honey - I think it is because she is old.


Anyway, Carney loves honey. He purchased 28 kilos from a honeyman called Tony Bee in Eden while we were on our Honeymoon Mark 1. Tony Bee is apparently his real name; it is just luck (according to Carney) that he makes honey. The 28 kilos is long gone now; even if he gave half away that's about a kilo a month - an impressive feat (assuming you are impressed by the consumption of large amounts of honey... but then, who isn't?).


To sate his appetitie for proper non-heat treated honey, Carney and I went to a beekeeping workshop at CERES for his birthday. Here we learnt everything about making honey - from setting up a hive, to donning the bee hats and pulling out the honeycomb to producing jars of honey. It was pretty cool and people actually do this in the city - you can have a hive in your own backyard and some offices in the CBD even have them on their rooftops, quite amazing. Check us out:
















That hat was very hard to see out of - I can now see why, it is all twisted. I think that women is looking at me with awe, it's hard to discern in this exact photo, but she definitely was.


Kitty x

jingle my bells

Someone has spewed tinsel all over our office. It was Helen the admin lady who now comments on the aesthetic superiority of our area relative to others (a blatent lie). She has placed two half burnt candles in the shape of santa's sacks on my desk. They were purchased (in partial burnt state) from an op shop more than two years ago. They don't make me feel festive, rather fearful of tinea or some other bacertia-type disease.

This is two part arrangement (pictured) - a short fringe of tinsel and fake plant combination - is one of the decorative highlights:

It demonstrates the basic philosophy: more is more and the even most forlorn items should be put on display.

A friend once told me that in their office they had a competition for the best decorations. Second place went to the team that displayed a 'lone baubel'. It was pointed reminder of the commercialisation of Christmas (or something to that effect) and the need to make it simpler, etc. It sounds so civilised, I long for the lone baubel.

In other acts of festive spirit, our team has been distributing toffees to other departments thanking them for their help throughout the year. They are not the nicest of toffees; one colleague remarked that their distribution might actually be a passive aggressive act. I suspect the two (2) individuals that have lost fillings would agree.

Kitty

ode to the angus burger

dear angus burger,

where have you been all my life with your cheesy goodness? i heart you.

kitty.

dear kitty,

not so bad yourself.

angus burger