For example, in Norway, when you thank someone, and want to express extra gratitude, you say “Tusen takk”, meaning “Thousand thanks” or, in better English – “a thousand thank yous”.

Growing up with this saying, you might never question it, it’s what you and others always say. My dad, however, thought it was a funny quirk, and used to respond with “five hundred is enough”, completely baffling the speaker, who didn’t know what he referred to. This made for many an awkward “ddaaaaaa-aaad!” moment on my part, especially during my teenage years.

Interestingly, I do tend to say similar things myself; using the meaning of words to find humour in life. At least I crack myself up, despite no one else getting the joke, right? I am sure if I ever have kids, there will be lots of “mmuuuuu-uum! Gah!” (And not just due to my horrid sense of ‘humour’, I swear.)

I have made plays on words for as long as I can remember; I am obviously more of a chip off the old dad-block than I have been willing to admit.

Whenever I used to chuck a tantrum as a teenager, my mother would say “doe eens gewoon”, which is a Dutch term meaning “act normal”. In essence, “doe eens gewoon” means “chill out, stop making a mountain out of a mole heap, you are overreacting, you are being abnormal” all in one.

My usual response to this term used to be “dit IS gewoon!” (“this IS normal for me!”) and storm out. Not really a very rational response, but you know… teenagers.

Speaking a number of languages thus not only gives you an excellent opportunity to communicate with a much larger number of people in their native language, but it also makes you see those languages in relation to each other.

Languages fascinate me; how did “being normal” become such a lofty goal in the Netherlands? What does that say about the people there?

Or as my dad still says:

“Doe maar gewoon, dat is al gek genoeg.” (Just act normal, that is already weird enough).

Sort of.

I do not believe in new years resolution, mainly because of the appalling rate of failure in sticking to them across the board. And it is not just me, oh no. Many, many of you have made new years resolutions that you will either not be able to keep or that you have no intention of keeping.

Sometimes, they even work directly against you – like one of the bloggers I follow whose new years resolution for 2011 was to write more and to upload more pictures, which subsequently gave him instantaneous writers block, and on average he blogged less in 2011 than in 2010.

Don’t get me wrong – I am all for self improvement. I think there is something noble in recognising areas in yourself that need work. We all have them. To see them, to pinpoint them and to address them is not always easy.

And there is something to be said for good intentions. And goals. And motivation.

I just don’t think 1 January is the magical day of unicorns and fairysparkles that will give you a new lease on life. If you intend to change something, do it. Just do it. Don’t set a magical date when you will start. Start now.

Want to lose weight in November? Start hitting the gym in November.

Want to read more books in the coming year? Fine, turn off the television and start reading.

Most resolutions are actually very good, and I appreciate that people want to enter a contract with themselves to improve themselves, their lives, their outlooks. So resolute away.

I just didn’t join you on 1 January.

Myself, I am continuing the journeys that I started with myself over the past year(s). There is still a lot more improving to be done.

Here’s to becoming a better person. But since I missed the new year rush, I don’t intend to wait 362 days before I start trying.

Have a look at these pictures, and prepare to fall in love. That Christmas feeling I have been chasing? It is coming on slowly thanks to the internets!

HT: whereisacacia

For these cookies, I had to fashion a ‘deflector gadget’ (call me McGyver if you are so inclined, or Inspector Gadget?) out of aluminium foil to ensure that the bottom tray of biscuits did not overheat and the top tray had a chance to cook. Still, the resulting cookies were good, if not perfect. The recipe was delicious.

Ingedients
250 g butter (room temperature, not melted)
330 g sugar
2 tsp vanilla essence
2 eggs
375 g plain flour
1 tsp baking powder
150 g macademia nuts (unsalted, roughly chopped)
200 g white chocolate chips

180C degrees, 12-15 minutes.

Method
- Cut the butter into chunks with two knives.
- Add the sugar, and beat with a mixer until combined.
- Add vanilla essence and one egg, beat some more until combined.
- Add the other egg, beat until smooth.
- Add the flower and the baking powder (sift if needed) and beat until combined.
- Add the nuts and the choc chips, and combine with a wooden spoon until the chunks are relatively evenly ditributed through the dough.
- Place heaped teaspoons of batter on baking paper.
- Bake.

Serve with cold milk.

Enjoy!

And this morning, I had my first glimmer of Christmas feeling. Because I was texting a friend in Norway, and she was describing her evening.

Here in Australia, the sun is shining, and it is getting ever warmer (despite the La Nina warning which will cause December to be slightly cooler than the long term average apparently, and very wet).

I just cannot seem to get used to a warm Christmas. I can deal with the topsy turvyness of having winter in June/July, but I just cannot shake the abnormality of having Christmas during summer. All those cold winter nights, fireplaces roaring, snowball fights, darkness descending. All the little lights everywhere, Christmas decorations staving off the cold, miserably dark nights. There was a reason why Christmas was invented (or rather, that it coincided with winter solstice) and that was to keep spirits up during the long hard slog that was winter. Something to look forward to, something to help you through.

This year, it is all a little out of place. There are the Christmas lights and the Jingle Bells and the I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas playing. There are the manic Christmas shoppers and the commercial rush to entice you with specials and late night shopping. But I am yet to feel Christmassy.

Living in Australia is like being on a permanent summer vacation.

So I am asking my dear readers now – how will I get into that Christmas spirit? Any tips are welcome. Only three days to advent…

I hear sounds that are not there.

This only happens when I am about to get really, truly ill. If it’s just a little cold or a bout of food poisoning, this does not happen. It seems to be mainly a symptom of severe colds or the flu. And as I hardly ever get that sick anymore, it hardly ever happens. But on the weekend, I was completely knocked off my feet by a terrible flu, and it reminded me of this quirk.

It starts with a woozy feeling. I feel removed from the world. Sounds are muffled, slightly delayed. I feel like I am floating. At this point, I can tell it’s going to be a doozy.

Then, other things start feeling odd. If I am lying still, the definition of my extremities seem to become fluid. I know where my hands are, but I can not distinguish between my fingers. Everything feels heavy, impossible to move. Until I try – and I discover that I have full range of motion, full control.

My tongue seems to swell, and my mouth feels gummy, out of touch. My teeth feel soft. A slight metallic taste follows. It is not unpleasant, but distinctive. Similar to all the other feelings described above, this is a very typical “I am getting sick” taste, one which I never get otherwise. It tastes like the smell of electricity in the air.

Lying there, slowly biting my jaws together to ensure that my tongue is in fact not taking over my moth, and that my teeth are not disintegrating, the sounds will start.

They range from whispers near my ears, to loud, ringing laughter. I can never make out what is being said – it’s more of a feeling rather than a conversation. The whispers have sometimes woken me up, because they were so clear, right next to my ear. As if someone leant over me and said something. Yet I have never understood what they have said. As if the act of hearing it has made me forget the meaning of the words.

The laughter, when present, is mocking, threatening. It is always accompanied by a falling feeling. Like I have just been pushed off a cliff, and the laughter is from the person who pushed. Boulders are somehow involved. I can’t explain the assosiation I get from boulders and large rocks. As if there is some meaning there that I can grasp during, but never after the experience.

Despite having had this my whole life, it is still terrifying. When I was little, I was afraid of the malintent in the tone of the laughter. Now, all grown up, I am always worried about the connotations of hearing things. I am not (as far as I can tell) losing grip on reality, after all.  

I can now rationalise the experience, and when it comes on, I can largely ignore it and wait for it to pass. They are always short bouts, and never last more than around 24 hours, if that.

I assume that, because they are always the same (either a whisper or a laugh) they are a type of fever delirium, only present when I have a high fever.

But what a strange thing to have.

Does anyone else have a similar pattern of physiological or psychological signs that a bout of flu is coming on?

Somehow, doing these things, makes me feel like I will have a better grasp on the information presented to me the second time I read it.

But it is not the tilting and the furrowed brow that excite me, it is a little morsel of information I have never before come across, and that I never before considered. This is especially true for things that I think I am familiar with.

Take today’s example:

Honey.

I think I know honey. I have it every day on my breakfast, and my uncle has (many times) explained the honey bees that he has in the garden. At school, we were taught how honey is created by bees that collect nectar from flowers and bring it back to their Queen. I know that when you take the honey, you should give the bees some other food to eat. And I know that honey is gooey, sticky, yellow, clear, and deliciously fragrant. The smell and taste of honey depends on what flowers the nectar was withdrawn from.

And I read somewhere that honey is the only food stuff that never goes off (although I have not tested this premise).

But today, there was some serious head tilting happening when I read about “honey laundring” (HT: Kottke).

Turns out that honey has micro particles of pollen that can identify the origin. You can remove these particles (with a really tight meshed filter I presume) but if you do, your honey will no longer be classed as honey in the US! Fascinating bit of protectionism that I was completely unaware of.

Fascinating.

This turned out the be enough for 4.

Ingredients
Olive oil
1 onion, diced small
1 clove of garlic, crushed
2 cm of fresh ginger (large chunks, should be removed again before serving)
1 can of diced tomatoes
Lots of vegies, at least 7 different ones (I used broad beans pealed twice, cauliflower, carrot, potato, asparagus, pumpkin with skin, cherry tomatoes)
Handful of dried apricots, whole
2 chorizo saucages, sliced about 1/2 cm thick
Fresh coriander
Couscous

Method
- Add the olive oil to a large saucepan over high heat
- Fry the garlic and onion until fragrant
- Add the chunks of ginger, fry briefly while stirring
- Add the entire can of tomatoes
- Fill the can to the brim with clean water, add to the pan
- Recycle can
- Add all the vegies starting with the ones that need the longest to boil
- When the tomatoes start bubbling, turn heat right down
- When all the vegies are in, add the apricots and saucage, place lid on pan, and leave to simmer.
- Leave for ages if you can/ care to. The longer you leave it, the plumper the apricots.
- Make the couscous.
- Remove the ginger chunks before serving.
- Serve with roughly chopped fresh coriander.

Enjoy!

Then, we went bush walking in the mountains, where there were the smells of Australia (wattles, fresh air, melting snow, eucalypts, earth) mixed with its sounds (bird calls, wind rushing through trees, creaking branches, and brooks and creeks gurgling) and sights. We walked all the way up to the top of Mount Gingera, where you can discern Canberra in the distance on one side, and Kosciusko national park (famous for skiing) on the other. (Again, thank you wikipedia for the below picture)

Again, bright blue skies, this time with the contrast of the melting, white snow. After three years in relatively polluted skies and few days where you could physically see the sun (although you could certainly feel it!), to be back in a city that boasts around 300 days of blue skies per year, and to have the bush, loneliness and true beauty so available at your doorstep has just been bliss.

And the nights that we have had rain have been wonderfully cleansing, leaving a crisp, defined rainbow arching through the sky.

And then there’s the birds (thanks wikipedia);

The Cockatoos, with their screetching overhead

Magpies, with their gurgling whistles and song

Choughs, with their busy foraging for food

Flame Robins, with their wonderful colouring

Red Wattlebirds, chasing each other through the bushes

Currawongs, sitting on our Hills Hoise in the backyard watching our every move

Rosellas, in all their splendour

King Parrots, sitting together on the grass in complete domestic bliss as you walk past,

and all sorts of other birds.

And, finally, the one thing I miss about spring on the Gold Coast – Jacarandas.

We just booked some to go to Brisbane on a quick trip soon. And when I realised we would be there for the Jacaranda season, my heart skipped a couple of beats. Oh, how I have missed the purple carpet of little blooms under the tree with the lilac canopy. Oh, bliss.

One of my favourite memories from the Gold Coast was driving out towards Springbrook in November, when the road curled around underneath the biggest Jacaranda I had ever seen, with branches literally enveloping the street underneath. It simply took my breath away.

In spring, when the Jacarandas throughout Brisbane are dropping their blanket of flowers everywhere, the Queensland Art Gallery collects the blooms and spreads them out in front of this painting:

So although I know the Jacaranda is not a native, how could you but have a soft spot for it?

I woke up realising that I had forgotten to set my alarm. Slightly concerned, I looked at my phone, and realised that I had woken up 15 minutes before the alarm normally goes off.

“Take that, technology,” I thought. “Body clock strikes again! No need for fancy spancy shmancy dingelings that wake _me_ up in the morning!”

After a short celebration of the fact that I was so amazing (and a little bit awesome) I smuggly stayed in bed, intending to reward my uncanny ability to wake up by myself by keeping warm under the covers for the additional fifteen minutes, and get up without snooze button or other technology-based superfluous nonsense.

And I promptly fell asleep again.

Only to wake up exactly an hour later, or, rather, exactly 14 minutes before I was due to step out of the house and head to my bus.

What a difference a teeny weeny hour makes.

I can easily get ready in 45 minutes, which is my average time in the morning.

I sometimes negotiate this down to 30 minutes on mornings where I am feeling particularly snoozeworthy, bartering with myself about what parts of the morning routine I am willing to forego in exchange for ‘five (read fifteen) more minutes’.

Apparently, though, I can do it in 14 minutes, too. Priorities were cut or stayed in the routine as follows:

- Swear due to lack of time to get ready? Stay.

- Shower? Definitely stay.

- Wash hair? Quick assessment on state of play, conclusion: not essential. Cut. MUST wash tomorrow.

- Get dressed? Stay (just).

- Make up? Cut.

- Brush hair? Stay.

- Feed dogs? Not their fault I am late, and also not my dogs, so very responsible for the little (erhm) darlings. Sit. I mean, stay.

- Breakfast? Cut. But a mueslibar will do.

- Realise I have an appointment at the gym after work. Swear some more. Pack gym gear that I should have packed the night before. Stay.

- Make healthy, nutritional lunch? Cut.

- Grab apple, pear and mandarins for snacks? Stay.

- Check email, news, facebook, twitter, internet as a whole? Cut, cut, cut, cut.

- Deodorant? Stay. Definitely stay.

- Kiss partner goodbye, wish him a good day? Absolute stay. I’d rather miss the bus than not say goodbye to him.

- Grab keys, and umbrella in case of rain? Stay.

- Run out the door, locking it behind me, realising I left my gym gear, turn around and grab it? Stay.

- Run to bus, and get there in time to catch my breath? Stay.

So clearly, my food intake suffered a little from my time constraints this morning. But I was in luck: at lunch time, there were left-over sandwiches at work from a conference, so I had a very healthy and nutritious lunch after all.

Now, I do not enjoy the stress that comes with running late, and I don’t deal that well with avoidable stress. But I do like the fact that I can get relatively organised in 14 minutes and still catch my bus.

Unfortunately, my phone remained next to my bed at home…