Wearing sexy clothes is hazardous stuff. Steff Metal technically advised readers to wear a suspender belt with stockings, but:

1. Ew

2. Ow

I therefore chose instead to wear sexy boots to work. These sexy boots (bought for me by a sexy bridesmaid when I was engaged):

The cat comes separately.

I wore the boots on Monday and Tuesday, as I went a-tutoring. Certain problems became apparent rather quickly. Those things are seriously heavy. They’re also seriously tall, sending me towering above the six-foot range. Being hot has never been my speciality.

Since I’m also eating almost no chocolate (huge shock to the system, and always makes me lightheaded), my walking was never going to be graceful. I cunningly managed to almost fall over several times, and I had enormous difficulty getting in and out of the car (you try strapping a five-inch block to your feet and see how it works). It was perfectly clear that if I continued driving in these shoes I’d have a horrible crash and die.

And thus my experiment with being a hot young thing has passed into history.

Fatalities: 0

Play along at home: Wear something you probably shouldn’t. Feel free NOT to share it in the comments this time.

In other news, I’ve decided (literally last night) to register for a young adult and children’s lit festival THIS SATURDAY. I’m more than slightly scared, since my primary purpose is to schmooze with industry professionals (and learn from their seminars, of course). Like all writing festivals, it’s like a giant, expensive job interview with scores of mentally unstable applicants charging headfirst into a genteel brawl.

I’ll blog about it on Sunday!

http://www.nswwriterscentre.org.au/html/s02_article/article_view.asp?keyword=Reaching-the-World-3-July

In other other news, here’s some of the meals I’ve been eating (note the vegies) – a lunch and a dinner:

Tomorrow: 3-ingredient dessert of doooooom!

And. . . action!

For today’s awesomeness I used tasty cheese, fetta, and cream cheese (bought another delicious block yesterday).

This first scene is, OBVIOUSLY, the opening drama of the recent “Sherlock Holmes” adventure. My own small tribute to a great work.

As you can CLEARLY see, there’s a drugged young lass writhing picturesquely on the table, and Sherlock Holmes (clearly Sherlock, since he has a hat. And eyes) is rushing in to save the day. Hurrah!

After assembling the following dramatic climax to the epic Lord of the Rings trilogy (because nothing says, “Arg! Gollem just bit off my finger!” like cheese), I called CJ into the room. The look on his face was priceless. He sat down beside me and simply stared for some time.

There’s a traditional fantasy blessing and/or curse that says, “May you live in interesting times.” Thanks to marrying me, CJ is guaranteed to fulfil that saying. What a lucky guy.

Moving on.

Despite his intelligence, CJ somehow mistook the ring of power (which is CLEARLY shown in the extended features to be variable in size) to be some kind of shield. As if the seething pool of cheese lava didn’t give it away! See it bubble and spark!

Critical viewers may note that Frodo and Sherlock have some features in common. But the truly observant will notice that Frodo has the characteristic curly hair of his race – and, most importantly, he is MUCH shorter. So there.

The rest of my immediate family joined in, in their own way. Here my infamously grumpy cat (the one you DON’T put in a fishtank if you want to live) contributed the FLAMING EYE OF SAURON. Terrifying, I know.

And. . . scene.

Play along at home: Think of the best movie you’ve seen lately. Wouldn’t it be better in cheese?

I’ve written letters. I’ve written love letters. But I’ve never written a love letter in chalk on the side of my house – until today.

This was Secret # 3, for those attempting to keep count.

A few days ago, I bought chalk.

Today, CJ went out during the day. This was one of the rare occasions he’d arrive home before dark. I had to take my chance.

After procrastinating for many hours, I finally bit the bullet – I had to do SOMETHING awesome today, after all – and went outside. Specifically, I went outside clutching a heat pack with one hand, and scrawling a message of love with the other. I’d hesitated for several reasons:

#1. Love is icky. Everyone knows that.

#2. I’m a writer, and meant to be original. And there’s something about love that makes it the world’s greatest cliché (in every possible sense of “great”).

#3. It’s cold outside.

#4. If there’s anything the internet has taught us, it’s DON’T EVER say what you really feel.

#5. We have just one appropriate wall – the car-port wall. It is ever so close to the neighbours, who spend a lot of time in their front yard. There was a strong chance they’d see my epistle before CJ did.

I dragged up my courage, put it where my dignity used to be, and went to work. Sure enough, it was at precisely that point our neighbours decided to deal with their bins. We literally opened our doors at the same time (our side door faces their front door). Fabulous. Their bins, incidentally, are located less than three metres from the wall of love – easily within reading range. So I jammed my beanie a little tighter on my head, clutched my heat pack a little closer, and wrote the first true words that came into my head.

I was so embarrassed afterwards that I could barely meet CJ’s eye. He was so pleased he’s been hugging me at a 350% increase all day. (Worth it!)

Oh, and CJ – you’re now officially allowed to read Steff’s list at http://steffmetal.com/101-ways-to-cheer-yourself-up/

Play along at home: If you love someone, let them know – in chalk. It can’t possibly be as embarrassing as my experience was, so man up.

Incidentally, has anyone been making comments that aren’t getting through? My spam filter reports that it has fielded more spam than it’s actually run past me. If it’s you that’s been vanishing off the edge of the map, please let me know by emailing fellissimo[at]hotmail[dot]com.

The stars aligned for this one.

I have several friends who are serious about their historical dancing (AND their historical costume) and in fact I first met CJ at a ball (which had a theme of “pirates” – the photo of me on the right was taken that very night*). Swimming is one of my main modes of exercise, but it’s far less appealing in Winter, so I came up with the idea of joining proper dancing classes during Winter. And Steff Metal’s list of awesomeness gave me the push I needed to actually do it.

So CJ and I rocked up today for the first of four lessons with John Garden, who is mad as a spoon. (That’s him with the possessed eyes and the vest.)

He possesses a flourishing beard and a brood of young dancers (at least one of whom hasn’t hit puberty yet, but is a perfectly courtly partner). His wife attends all the classes, and makes her own period clothing. The classes always have live music, including John’s hurdy gurdy at every possible moment. The dance company is called “Earthly Delights”.

Only dance masters could imagine so many different ways to walk, hop, step and jump. My mind was spinning within minutes (ah, edumacation). Soon the rest of me was spinning too, as we made hay and minuets and a whole lot of other things I can’t pronounce.

I mentioned John is mad. “As a spoon” was the phrase, I believe.

People grow beards for different reasons. Some simply don’t care for human contact. Some couldn’t be bothered shaving. Others are so utterly wrapped up in their life that the beards just. . . happen. John is one of those. He’s constantly saying things like, “Oh, this dance is based on the first play performed in Australia – by convicts, you know – although of course we don’t know for certain that this exact dance was performed in the play. It was a musical, though, so it’s possible. A funny play, satirising the military. But of course! Are you a lady this time Eddie?”

The phrase “Are you a lady?” comes up rather a lot in his line of work. Not quite as often as “Where were we? Did I say left or right?” and so on. And throwaway lines like, “I was reading a manuscript from 1755 just this morning and IT said that. . .” or, “Something terribly funny happened in 1705. It was in all the papers. . .”

Last but not least, he’s the master of the double entendre. Except he doesn’t appear to notice. At all. Not a quirk of the eyebrow, not a knowing glance, not a cautiously modulated voice. I counted four wonderful lines today. One of them caused another young gentleman to double over in hysterical giggles, at which point John paused, blinked and said, “Oh yes. Very well.”

Community classes: beards, frocks, and misplaced innocence. That, and peculiar new skill sets. Do it, if you possibly can.

*So THAT, ladies, is how to dress to discover the man of your dreams.

Apparently. . .

Tomorrow’s awesomeness: I haven’t the faintest idea. Although I now have the necessary equipment for Secret #3, so maybe I’ll do that.

Steff Metal suggested in last week’s comments that I should grill bread and thinly-sliced zucchini, and combine them with cream cheese (and sneak in some coriander when no-one’s looking). I did (minus the coriander, since I don’t like it). But, since I was experimenting, I also tried THIS:

I washed and peeled the potato and sliced it into pieces about half a centimetre thick (or a quarter inch), then baked them (20 minutes in a flat tray on high, then turned over for another ten minutes as the zucchini cooked). I sliced the zucchini as thin as I could and fried it in butter (butter as a cooking fat is considered a freebie ingredient by the rules I’m using – ditto for the spray oil I used on the potatoes).

Then I slightly-microwaved the cream cheese to make it spreadable, and made potato/cream cheese/zucchini sandwiches.

Most. Delicious. Thing. Ever.

Remember that block of cream cheese in the first photo? Most of it is now in my belly. I ate these things constantly for three days. I’m eating them again for a side with dinner tonight (this blog is usually a few days behind real time), and I can’t wait!

Next Thursday: Dessert.

Today’s fruit: mandarin for morning tea; dried figs for dessert (figs = fibre)

Today’s vegies: Avocado with lunch; celery and hommus for afternoon tea; mushrooms and potato-and-zucchini things with dinner (celery = cool food).

In Australia, we just switched Prime Ministers. Strange but true – and yes, it was just as sudden as it seemed (and yes, we’re having an election later this year). I wrote about it at http://felicitybloomfield.wordpress.com (my slightly less child-safe/cheerful blog, which is still G or PG rated).

*deep breath*

I promise, for a period of four weeks, to eat for maximum digestive health in the following ways:

1. Begin each day with a tall glass of tepid water (with a squeeze of lemon), then fifteen minutes’ exercise – all before breakfast.

2. Continue exercising six days a week, except when I’m sick.

3. Drink over a litre of water each day, in addition to other liquids.

4. Eat every meal and snack at a table (not the couch), and remain upright for half an hour after every meal. Take small mouthfuls and chew them properly before swallowing.

5. Never go four waking hours without eating something (and eat small meals).

6. Eat five vegetables (at least one green) and two fruits each day (tomatoes, pumpkin and avocado can fall into either group – my resolution, my rules – and chickpeas are a vegetable).

7. Eat 50 grams or less of chocolate/lollies each day (a giant or deep-fried meal counts as 30 grams, and savoury snacks count as 20g). I’ll have nothing unhealthy for at least the first seven days, beginning today.

8. No soft drink and no artificial sweeteners.

9. I’ll attempt to go without iron tablets – instead I’ll have a vitamin C at breakfast and dinner (dinner is when I tend to eat meat, which is the most absorbable source of iron followed by chicken or fish). I am anaemic, so it’s likely I’ll have to take the tablets, but we’ll see.

10. At least one high-fibre food each day, and at least one does-something-cool-for-your-gut food each day.

High fibre:

bananas, berries, avocado, oranges, figs, pumpkin, mango, pear, prunes/plums

lentils

zucchini, brocolli, carrots, green beans, celery, potato

wholegrain foods eg brown rice, brown bread

nuts

Does cool stuff:

mint

tofu

fish

garlic

ginger

grapefruit, apples

cabbage, celery

Here’s all the fresh fruit and vegetables I have in my house (after a mighty preparatory shop), plus some other good gut foods:

At the back there’s high-fibre breakfast cereal, wholegrain rice, chickpeas, tuna, ginger, garlic, tomato, hommus and garlic, mint, beetroot, grape juice, and lemon juice.

On the left there’s pumpkin, carrot, celery, potato, cauliflower, green beans, brocolli, choko, red and yellow capsicum, squash, zucchini, onions, mushrooms and sweet potato.

On the right there’s tomato, avocado, bananas, strawberries, apples, mandarins, grapes and dried figs.

Best new year’s resolution ever! Although. . . I already have a pounding headache from caffeine withdrawal (I estimate it’ll last three days), and I want to kill folks. Oh well.

Today’s vegetables: carrots and garlicky hommus (ie chickpeas) for morning tea; avocado spread on bread with lunch; beans, squash and mushrooms cooked in butter with herbs and last-minute chunks of cream cheese for dinner (which also had a bit of tinned tomato and green capsicum in it).

Today’s fruit: Strawberries and some apple for afternoon tea; probably a mandarin for dessert.

Today’s cool food: fish (tuna for dinner).

Today’s fibre: green beans.

Play along at home: Pick one item off the above list and see if you can join me for a week. Any vegie tastes better if it’s fried in butter and garlic.

Look at a map. Australia is big. Now look at an orange-peel style map (less pretty, more accurate) and take another look.

Australia is big.

In Australia, road trips historically result in drinking your friend’s urine, and possibly using their mummified corpse as a shade cloth. This might be why road trips in Austalia are epic and life threatening rather than fodder for a hilarious comedy (with the exception of Priscilla Queen of the Desert and Bran Nue Day). But I digress.

Because even Bear Grylls describes urine as “not my favourite”, MY road trip was from Canberra to Sydney, on a very nice, very safe, very well-travelled road with beautiful scenery all the way (and no desert). The journey only takes three or four hours (depending on which part of Sydney you want), and there’s plenty to see along the way:

1. The amazing disappearing lake.

Lake George is only thirty kilometres from Canberra (sometimes I drive there and back, because there’s a pretty lookout and it’s nice to get out of the city without having to go far). Every so often, it disappears. Completely. I’ve driven past it many times when the water was right up against the Federal Highway. But for the last eight years, it’s looked like this:

For several years now, it’s been used to graze sheep. More recently it’s been populated by three zebras in an effort to encourage drivers to “Stop, Revive, Survive”. A part of me suspects that drivers who didn’t stop and rest would see zebras, get distracted, drive off the embankment into the dead lake, and end their lives with a curious zebra looking at them. But what a way to go, right?

We didn’t see the zebras, but we saw something even more impressive: water. The far corner had a genuine body of water – perhaps a kilometre long. The rest of the basin looked like this:

At various times it’s contained fish, bombs (seriously! Don’t you just love military testing?) and corpses (although it’s only 1-7 metres deep at the best of times, it’s a killer). It’s also very salty. Rumours abound that it’s secretly linked to Lake Titikaka in South America, but that is clearly just an excuse to say “titikaka” with impunity. It’s possible that it is actually linked to Yass River, but who cares about that? The original name for it is Wirriwa, meaning “bad water”.

2.  The amazing disappearing sculpture.

In November last year, CJ dropped me off at the small town of Collector to meet some writers. It was one of the most terrifying nights of my life. Dust shrouded the moon and stars, and the town appeared deserted. There are no streetlights. The only light spilled from the door of the skeleton- and spider-filled pub (called the Bushranger pub due to a historical gun battle – the kind with unquiet ghosts). We drove along the rough road through the centre of town, and just as we passed the pub faces sprang out of the pool of darkness on the other side of the road. Faces that weren’t quite human.

We’d stumbled across one of the most fantastic and endangered sculptures in the world: Dreamer’s Gate.

It is twenty-four metres long and seven metres high (that’s 120 feet by 35 feet).

It is endangered because the artist is not an engineer (and also not a lawyer or diplomat). The sculpture is literally rubbish – made from scrap materials and chicken wire and concrete. It’s also not stable, and may fall at any time (possibly onto the neighbour’s house – I spoke to a neighbour, and she is Not Happy). The town has begun legal action against the artist – so visit it now, before the dream falls or is destroyed.

3. The amazing moving sheep.

Yep, it’s a giant sheep. It used to be closer to the road, and now it’s in Goulburn. I’m unclear on the reason why they moved it, but I do know it was quite a day. You can go inside and look out through its eyes.

4. The unforgotten soldiers.

Each rest stops along the way is named for someone awarded the Victoria Cross. So stop at one, stretch your legs, and remember someone who sacrificed so much.

5. The amazing unforgettable city.

I hear Sydney has, like, some stuff in it.

Play along at home: Drive from Canberra to Sydney. Or just read Bill Bryson’s “Down Under”. It’s hilarious.

Tomorrow: Make a New Year’s resolution in another month.

Thursday: Three-Ingedient Thursday.

Friday: The godparents (hi guys!)

Jeepers! Gosh! Yippee! Buck up!

I cannot describe to you in any Earth language how relieved I am to have finished today’s awesomeness – reading the Trixie Belden adventure “Mystery on Cobbett’s Island” and the even more thrilling “Gay Dolphin Adventure”. My original squeamishness (and jealousy that I wasn’t born into an era where this. . . stuff. . . was considered to be at a publishable standard) soon turned to horrified laughter. Then just horror. Then helpless laughter. And horror again. *repeat for hours*

Here’s a quick taste of what I’ve been through (Trixie is first):

Observe the rising tension:

“Gleeps,” said Trixie worriedly, “we’d better get going before it hits the island!”

“I’m wondering if we ought to turn back,” added Miss Trask apprehensively.

Observe the incredibly natural voice of this minor character (because minor characters talk like this – seriously. All of them. Villains are similar, but with scowling):

“One of the purtiest spots on the island – that is, on a clear day. Don’t look like we’ll get a clearin’ for some time to come, what with this east wind blowin’ and all.”

And the equivalent from “The Gay Dolphin Adventure”:

“You’ll have been worried maybe,” he went on, “and I’m right sorry I be late, but start she wouldn’t, and I’m not much of a hand at they engines. But we be all right now.”

And back to our heroic Trixie (who, incidentally, is described as being easily mistaken for her brother) as she tends to the caretaker after he breaks his leg. Observe the edginess:

“It’s my leg. . . I’m afraid it’s broken, because every time I try to get up or move, it hurts like the very dev—I mean, like the very blazes!”

Observe the subtle nuances of character:

Dr Holmes was a big man with graying bushy hair and shaggy brows. As he worked, he made gruff noises and said, “Hmmm, hmmm.”

. . . . . . His eyes twinkled merrily. Trixie, who had at first been apprehensive, now realized that Dr Holmes’ gruff manner covered a kindly, good-humored personality.

Observe the totally necessary use of adjectives:

“I’m sorry,” said Peter penitently.

Observe the power of a wide-ranging vocabulary:

“I can taste those ephemeral doughnuts now.”

“Ephemeral?” Jim repeated quizzically.

“Yes, it means anything that’s short-lived or lasts only a day, and when I’m around, jelly doughnuts are sure ephemeral,” Mart chuckled.

Everyone groaned loudly at Mart’s attempted wit. [I know I did.]

And finally, the clever and original use of simile:

“My legs are shaking like leaves,” Trixie confessed.

And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for. . . who or what is “The Gay Dolphin”?

I’m sad to say it’s not an actual dolphin (happy or otherwise), but a ramshackle smuggler’s hotel brimming with secret passageways and hidey-holes. On the up side, the hotel has a sign with a dolphin on it, about which the main character comments:

“Look at the look in his eye, Jon. No wonder they call him gay.”

Both books feature mystery-solving kids who have secret clubs. Both books involve a search for hidden treasure. Both feature terrifying storms, and a lot of rainy days during which the kids sit around and discuss the plot.

In “The Gay Dolphin Adventure” we are introduced to two of the three baddies almost immediately. The first is Clearly Suspicious By Golly because (a) she is unmarried despite being over thirty, (b) she is overweight, (c) she has short hair, and (d) she wears a particularly unattractive orange scarf. Zounds!  

It’s worth noting that after telling off the baddies (and thus causing them to leave the county, apparently – because stubborn kids are so heck darn terrifying to master criminals), the heroic pack of kids stumbles across the treasure by accident. The end. (Really.) Oh! And the vital clue (which turned out to be completely irrelevant, despite being the cause of every single conflict in the book) was from the Bible – giving the kids an advantage, since they knew the Bible and the baddies didn’t. That’s right kids – if YOU pay  attention in Sunday school, you too may soon stumble across some illegally aquired diamonds and get to keep them for yourself! Hurrah!

The other baddie description is so priceless I had to reproduce it here:

“He wore a most sinister hat – the sort of hat that nobody who isn’t sinister wears. He had very black sloping eyebrows, if you know what I mean, and a very small sloping moustache thing on his lip. . . I tell you what I think he is, Jon. . . I think he’s in a band somewhere and I don’t think he’s English either. . .”

This whole experience was, technically, against the Geneva Convention, but Steff Metal turned out to be right in the end (she recommended reading old, awful books to cheer oneself up). It was very VERY funny.

Tomorrow: Go to a wedding.

“Do not kill” is, for most of us, a no-brainer. Ditto for “do not steal”, “do not commit adultery” and we all know that “do not covet” is a good theory. This entry is about the forgotten commandment of the famous ten.

Those of you who are Christian will be pretty familiar with the old testament of the Bible (ie, until Jesus arrives). For those who aren’t, this is pretty much how it goes:

1. God creates world, warns people not to do such-and-such or there’ll be trouble.

2. People do such-and-such. There’s trouble.

3. God warns people not to do such-and-such or there’ll be trouble.

*repeat 2 and 3*

One of the interesting things about the old testament is that one of the ten commandments is the sabbath – a day off every week. And that’s the one that people simply can’t handle – over and over and over. God yells at them for that a LOT.

Once the new testament starts, the reasonably simple sabbath instructions (don’t work, worship God instead) are so itemised that Jesus’ disciples get in trouble with the religious authorities for rolling wheat grains in their hands for a snack as they walk through a field. Why? Because rolling grain between their hands is considered work. Jesus rolls his eyes (I assume) and says, “The sabbath was made for man, not man for the sabbath.”

So since it’s for our benefit, why don’t we do it? Because stopping work for one day is HARD. I’ve been having regular sabbaths for almost ten years. Since it’s for my benefit, I make up the rules the day before – but “no work” features every time.

Yesterday I didn’t do dishes. I didn’t put things away or clean things up. I didn’t write (the blog entry was one I’d prepared earlier). I didn’t exercise. Instead I read a book, ate chocolate, watched TV, daydreamed (which in my case is indistinguishable from prayer) and defrosted leftovers for dinner instead of cooking. Sabbaths are usually really fun until about 9pm, when I run out of fun things to do and start wishing I could do work. I do find that the next day is usually brilliant – things in my head and in my life just work better. 

Play along at home: It’s harder than it looks – if you go with the schedule of the ancient Jews, you make the day before your sabbath “preparation day”. It’s a GOOD idea.

There’s a day off in it for you.

That is all.

The “y” above may be a teensy exaggeration.

Yesterday most of Australia celebrated the Queen’s Birthday (much like New Zealand did one week earlier). Other than a slew of geeky partying options (scroll down for details), this means one thing for couples everywhere: The To-Do List.

Is there anything more wonderful than having a husband home all day with nothing to do but obey your every whim?

*author ducks and covers*

Every Winter and every Summer, I try to do one thing that makes our house cost less in heating or cooling. Probably the most useful thing we did was make wooden frames for all the windows and cover them in clear plastic. It’s a form of double-glazing that can be taken out when you want to open a window, and put back later. Our bills so far have been $250 less than in the first six months of last year!

Yesterday, CJ installed an internal cat door in the laundry. The laundry is one of the coldest places in the house, and is never heated. It’s also where the cats have their food (and litter tray), which means the door needs to stay open all the time. And naturally, the cats push it wide open every time they go in and out, coldifying our whole house. No longer! CJ cracked out the goggles and power tools yesterday with great effect.

Before:

After:

Now we can keep the laundry door closed all Winter, saving on heating bills and environmental destruction – and the cat smells are kept hidden, too. Considering all I did was hold a torch so CJ could see better, the pay-off versus effort is enormous.

Play along at home: Do you have a window with no curtains? A hole under the front door? An office that takes three hours to warm up? Then get curtains, or a door snake, or work on your laptop in a smaller room for a while. Or share your own excellent heat- and environment-saving tips in the comments.

Ni hao!

In his tips for writers, Ian Irvine says, “Remember the 10,000-hour rule. That’s roughly how much work and practice it takes to become accomplished in any field, whether it be sporting, creative or professional.”

According to my calculations, I am now halfway there, so I devoted this whole weekend to “Felon’s Five Thousand” (Felon is my new nickname). Writers, artists and sportspeople all have hideously unreliable incomes, so we need to find ways to celebrate progress that don’t come from outside ourselves. And we also need to take videos of our cats (see below). (No reason.)

Yesterday, CJ and I went to Yum Cha at Ginseng in the Hellenic Club in Woden (yes, here in Canberra we name our suburbs after gods and prime ministers. No reason). Yum cha is also called “Dim Sum” but I think the word “yum” sends an accurate message.

I did actually blog about yum cha not long ago, but the post wandered through the aether for several days before it appeared, so I decided to redo it (oh, woe is me) before I realised the post was not actually lost after all. https://shootingthrough.net/2010/04/21/yum-cha/

For a total of $56, CJ and I ate:

Fried won tons (each had a single shrimp wrapped in a won ton sheet tied in a knot)

Radish cakes (I took a bite and almost retched, but CJ liked them)

Steamed pork buns (sheer deliciousness – there’s something about pork that gets on great with yum cha-style bread rolls. Both wonderfully sweet.)

Spring rolls (which featured kamikaze vegetables attempting to escape at every mouthful)

Fried lobster dumplings (with shrimp too – like the best battered fish ever, but with lobster inside)

Chicken buns (the chicken inside was tender and delicious, the bread was exquisite as always – thick and light all at once – and the bready icing was fantastically crumbly and unique)

Later on we took another photo. You can see: some fried shrimp dumplings; one last, doomed, chicken bun; one steamed combination dumpling (I like to call them “mystery” dumplings, despite the fact you can see inside); and a plate of fried spicy chicken wings. *sigh of bloated bliss*

The down side of yum cha is you often can’t easily tell how much you’ve spent until the end. But when you want a SERIOUS feast, there’s nothing better.

It’s usually offered two or three days a week at lunch time.

*resists urge to link two blog sections using a reference to cat meat*

And here, as promised, is the video of ultimate cuteness (the sound you hear is CJ working on the marshmallow cannon from last Sunday). If you like it, tell a friend.