Canasta - a card game of life

I had this favorite game of cards come back into my life this last week.  I used to play it a lot as a kid and teenager.  Then boys, husbands, kids and Foxtel happened and the game was relegated to camping trips and blackouts.

It's a great game.  Strawb and I are the champions at it.

My son #2 has just taught his girlfriend to play it, and last week we introduced her to the giddy heights of a doubles game.

It got me thinking however, how this game resembles life at times.

Here is my version of life according to the rules of Canasta.

1. Canasta may be played with 2, 3, 4, 5 or 6 players but is best fun played with four persons as a partnership game.  
• Yep, just like life.  2 players is the most stable game, 3 can be fun, 4 as partners comes with a lot more rules, and 5 & 6 players just gets messy.  
2. Canasta is played with two decks of 54 cards or a total of 108 cards including 4 jokers
• We all have to play life with the same deck of cards, but sometimes its fun to play with the jokers
3. The dealer shuffles, cuts and deals the cards face down, clockwise beginning with the player to the dealer's left
• Like life, we get dealt the cards in a set order.  We can't change the cards we get dealt - this isn't poker - and so we must be clever with what we have.
4. Each player gets 11 cards in a game with 4 or more players, 15 for 2 players or 13 for 3.
• The lesson here is that you get more with when you only play with 2 people, but a threesome could be a good compromise.
5. The goal of Canasta is to obtain the most points by melding, or creating sets out of one’s cards. 
• Isn't this what life is?  Gathering the most you can before you die!
6. When it is your turn, you may draw the top card from the stock and put it into your hand without showing anyone.
• Pays to keep some things to yourself - the element of surprise is always good.
7. Also, remember that in Canasta, both jokers and deuces (twos) are wild cards. A set consisting entirely of wild cards is not valid.
• Lesson here is not to play with just the wild boys.  They are OK for a bit of fun, but you can't settle down with them.
8. The hand ends as soon as a player goes out. You can only go out if your side has melded at least one Canasta.
• Going out is the whole purpose of the game.  Just ask any teenager!
9. In a partnership situation, you may ask the other partner "May I go out?". If the partner answers "no" then this is binding and you may not go out and if the partner answers "yes" then you may. However, it is important to note that consulting your partner is not compulsory and you may go out without asking your partner.
• Enough said ;-)
10. The game also ends if the stock pile runs out of cards.
• Sad but true - when life has run out of cards for you, the game is over.
11. You can freeze the pack to slow the game down
• Cold shoulders, freezing out players - all has a similar effect.
12. Good strategy involves knowing what to keep and what to discard.
• So glad I found the good cards early on in the game, its a hard game knowing what to keep and what to discard.  Ask any dating agency.
13. You score extra points if you can go out with a concealed canasta
• Probably only score the points with fellow players, not your partner.
14. A player who has accidentally drawn an extra card must discard it in a future turn without drawing a new one.
• Especially if you are playing a partnership game.

Strawb & Jago - Naked!

Wow! It’s been a whole week and I haven't written a thing about the last Strawb and moi day! Has anyone else noticed that as the silly/festive season approaches, time seems to evaporate into yet another week gone?

So Last Friday. Strawb's pick this month, and the darling girl did indeed pick - she picked me up from home! I know what a challenge that is, even though we live in the same city, we are at opposing sides of the city and the river. So for her to travel over bridges and through the city, in just-past-peak hour traffic is a treat indeed. I was glad she came for a little house visit, so she could ooh and aahhh over our recent renovations.

She was being very tricky and not telling me where she was taking me. This has kind of become a trend in our days out - which is fun and challenging! So we drove by Subiaco, Claremont - all potential cafe places (albeit a little bit posh for us Roley Boguns), past the show grounds (few months too late). She had me worried as we approached Graylands - was this an intervention to have me committed? Following the railway line to the sea, she let it slip we were going to a cafe.

 


Aha! It's not the Bookcaffe? I asked. She was shocked and dejected that I had guessed her little plan. Incredulous, she asked how I knew of it, she thought she was being very tricky taking me to two of my favourite places rolled into one! I said , sweety, darling, sweety, I have been to this place many, many times and am even on their mailing list. Books. Coffee. Cake. Come on, that's me in a chubby nutshell. (I then had to admit that the real reason I first discovered this place was that Son #2 saw a specialist whose practice was right next door!)

After a chai latte, a good ole chat, and a browse (and buy) in the delicious book area, we donned hats and Strawb led the way on a very pleasant walk. The idea was to walk the scenic route to the beach, where naked men awaited us, with a cool G&T. We got a tad lost, and after walking up a medium sized hill on a very sunny day, we were sweating instead of glowing and I was in no mood for naked men - but they could hand over the Bombay. We settled for a Naked Fig gin and tonic which was even better.

Why all the references to naked? Apart from the fun factor, where we were was the nudist beach of Perth - Swanbourne. Being a nudist from way back (like 47 years back) and despite a body that legally should be covered at all times, I am more than happy to shed my gear and run about in the buff. Strawb, who has the world’s permission to get nekkid, is not so keen. Actually, I jest, although we were on Swanbourne Beach, the nuddy part was way off in the distance - another long, arduous walk through soft sand - I don't need to see willy's that badly!

A lovely restaurant has sprung up on this part of the beach, with glorious ocean views and even more glorious Hendricks with cucumber. The meal was ho-hum, but the company, gossip and gin more than made up for undercooked prawns and tough (how the hell do you make pizza dough tough?) pizza. The topping was nice, but nothing special. What was special however were the desserts. A pannacotta with passionfruit was divine and Strawb drowned herself in some hot, gooey chocolate lava bath.

Just as well we had lots of calories, as we sure got to burn them on the walk back. Do you think it’s our age that we seem to stare at topless boys unashamedly? And when did school boys start looking like prime athletes? We both agreed that when we were 17/18 boys sure didn't look like these Adonis gods did. The boys we hung about with were puny and tiny and had squeaky voices. That's why dating a much older guy was so kewl!

Of course, we got lost again on the way back to the car and train station. I think we need to stop talking while we walk and start paying attention. That way we can still get lost but at least we will learn about where we got lost. Or take a bread crumb out of Hansel and Gretel's book.

Great day out, something a bit different, good chat, good perving, good gin. Tell me how life gets better than that?

For other adventures ...

Strawb & Jago - The Beginning - Roleystone

Strawb & Jago - South Perth

Strawb & Jago - Art Review

A Story of Seven Summers - Hilary Burden

A book review, with love. 

This book has been a kind of bittersweet affair - I have wanted to read it, but also not wanted to.  So, not one to believe in 'fate' or 'it was meant to be' - I picked this book up last Friday when Strawb and I had a girls day out that started at the match-made-in-heaven Bookcaffe.  After morning tea (which sad to say was ordinary, except for the chai latte) I could not walk out of a bookshop without at least buying one book.  There this book was, begging me to buy her.

Let me explain why this was bittersweet.  I first saw this book review in my favorite magazine Country Style.  I could just tell by the cover alone that it was my kind of book - one that would have me wishing for more in my life, wishing to be somewhere and someone else. Chooks, apples, basket of herbs, a veranda ... yep, my kind of book alright.  Reading the review and the words Tasmania and Writer popped up.  OK, this was becoming like my ultimate fantasy (well the one where I am skinny and rolling about in the hay with a long haired Brad Pitt isn't going to happen anytime soon, so I needed a back-up fantasy).

I wasn't so sure about the red shoes, they don't look they would be much use in a chicken pen, but hey, who am I to judge - it was someone else's biography.  Hilary Burden is actually a very down to earth, warm and talented writer.  She left a career in journalism in London to go back to her home state of Tasmania, buy an old run down farm house, called White Cottage, but what Hilary calls, The Nuns House, as it used to be inhabited by Nuns, to live and thrive on her own.

I love the way she writes with such candor, with a personality and light shone on everyday, ordinary things and places.  It was like I became one of her close neighbours or friends and shared everything with her.  And the bonus at the end of each chapter was a country style recipe. I am going to try each and every one starting with the lemonade as I have an abundance of lemons at the moment.

Although I loved the book, and read it in 2 days, I knew it would stir up feelings of deep longing and frustration that I want to live this lifestyle, but I am stuck where I am for the next 5 years at least.  I have always wanted to go to Tasmania, but I cant bear to go visit - knowing that I will love the place and have to make the tough decision to either come home, or give up my family, friends and life here in WA, to stay.

Mr K has made a joke of it for years, that he won't ever take me to Tassie.  He knows too, that my heart won't come back from there if I go.

So, if you have a stronger constitution than me, do read the book if you get the chance.  It's so well written, uniquely Australian and country.  Hilary has also started a fresh produce business, and this is her blog about it. 

Hilbarn

Red Bull - Another wild ride

I was watching the Gruen Planet the other night, a debate on whether the stunt pulled by Felix Baumgartner, who dropped 39km out of the sky, was a very elaborate advertising campaign or sponsored science. It made me recall a time when my own sons, aged 5 and 7, acted recklessly  - all because of red bull.

My darling Strawb, single, footloose, a career girl - she was not married nor did she have any children.  Not even a dog, some fish maybe, but essentially, at this time in her life, she had no warm-blooded living being to care for.  I had come up to the city to visit her and get a taste of what city life and being single was like - except, I had my sons in tow. 

Strawb took me out for a day’s shopping and lunching in Fremantle and my wide eyed, country boys loved it.  They adore their Aunty Strawb, according to them she is way cooler than me.  After this incident, I am not sure I agree.  I was having a lovely time browsing the shops, except as all mothers know; enjoying shopping with children is a different experience to enjoying it without children.  Strawb, who was nursing a bit of liquid indulgence from the night before, was in need of rehydrating and took the boys off to get a drink while I had 30mins to power shop.

I met them sitting on a bench in the mall - both sons grinning and clutching a can of Red Bull each!!  If they had had a beer in their hand I don’t think I would have been as shocked.  Strawb, I said, what on earth were you thinking?  Huh? she says, confused.  The boys said nothing, adoring looks aimed at Aunty Strawb - but I could see the liquid making its way into their bloodstream - the fallout was coming.  Mean and horrible mother that I am, I took the cans off them both, feeling sick as I realised both cans were empty.

Strawb was a bit put out by my reaction, until I explained to her what was in Red Bull and how this is like LSD to a child!  She laughed.  I told her she could have them both, for the rest of the day, alone.  Then she could tell me how funny it was.  She sobered up at this point, after seeing the boys, now with Red Bull running in their veins, jumping from bench to bench along the mall.  The trip was coming.

Our only option now, was to take them somewhere far away from civilisation and with lots and lots of open space.  We quickly walked them to a park and let them run off the worst of it.

We still laugh at this, especially now that my sons are young men and go out on benders sometimes and need a pick me up the next day. I also look for my revenge but Strawb and her husband chose not to have children - I reckon it’s because she doesn’t want me getting even.  And I am too much of an animal lover to spike her dogs drinking bowl with red bull. (would be funny however!)

I told her I was writing about this incident and she corrected me on one crucial fact. She said it was the boys who told her to buy the Red Bull, she had never even heard of it, so she had no idea of its potential in the wrong hands. The little so and so's had pulled the beanie over her eyes!

So Master C and Master A - the gig is up and Aunty Strawb says you need to make amends for your wicked ways and setting her up like that - by buying her a drink called Sucked In - Red Bull and Gin - served with dinner and remorse.

 

In the interests of public health Red Bull contains:

caffeine ,

taurine,

glucuronolactone,

B-group vitamins,

sucrose,

glucose

The equivalent to 17 cocktail frankfurts, 2 glasses of red cordial, a pack of fairy floss and 5 showbags to a child

Strawberries

It isn’t summer unless there are strawberries.  On pavlova, in champagne, with camembert and rocket and balsamic vinegar, on pancakes and in smoothies.

 

The trouble is, although we can buy many plastic boxes of them at very cheap prices in the supermarkets, they all have a generic, pale taste.  Yes they are big and perfect – at a cost to flavour.

 

 

 

What I want are the strawberries from when I was a kid and Mum grew a patch of them down by the chook pen. We would wander in, barefoot and brown, and pick and munch away on delicious, juicy berries.  Occasionally, we would disturb a bobtail lizard who shared our taste in strawberry heaven, and he would hiss at us and waddle off to find a cool, safe spot.  But mostly we would have the patch to ourselves – taking payment in kind when mum asked us to pick a bowl full for dinner - one for the bowl, one for us.  I don’t know what Mum fed them, but I guess it was just chook manure and lots of water.

 

 

 

Last year I bought 5 strawberry plants.  I planted them in those half round wire baskets and hung them along the fence outside my kitchen window. I had visions of strawberries hanging over the edges, red and ripe and juicy.  Wildlife always seems to be drawn to strawberries and between the possums and rats they all but disappeared.  I did manage to eat a few while I did the watering and they were so sweet and tasty. Small, but just how strawberries should taste.

 

 

 

When the plants did their reproducing at the end of summer, I planted all their little runners into smaller pots.  I now have about 20 plants ready for this summer.  Trouble is, I don’t have any real space for them, and I don’t want to hang them near where the rats and possums can get them again.  I also want to plant them in deeper soil as during the long hot summer we get, I had to water them twice a day to shop them drying out.

 

 

 

There is an old broken down wheelbarrow that I salvaged (much to Mr K’s disgust) from the bring-out-your-dead rubbish collection a few years ago.  Last year I grew rocket in it.  I think it will make a good strawberry bed.  I might even paint it white and make a feature of it.  Yep.  That’s a good weekend project right there.  Might go check out Pinterest for some inspiration!

 

 

 

Do you have memories of summer and fruit?  Does tasting something take you back to your childhood?

 

Strawb & Jago - The Great Art Review

Well it was that time of the month again last Friday.  No, not THAT time of the month, the time when Strawb and Jago hit the streets of Perth for a fun day out.  It was my turn to pick and organise and I was really excited about this one as I had this jaunt in mind the very first time we started this little project, in January! But I was scared it would be like when you have a plan all mapped out and you have imagined in your head how you think it should go (complete with misty mood lighting, skinny jeans and a handsome waiter), then things don’t quite go to that plan and you have two choices :

1. get all spoilt brat like and pout and whine and make people and places be how you want them to be or
2. say, hang it all, go with the flow and find the nearest bar to have a whine wine in.

We chose #2.  But first lets set the scene of what I had in mind ...

He was just a waiter, but those intense grey eyes and handcuffs hanging from his jeans told a different story .... oh. Hang on, sorry, that was my dream last night after the 50 Shades re-cap yesterday. (Read Here) Damn.  Ok.  Here is the Art Gallery fantasy.  He was just the art curator, but those intense grey ... tricked ya! 

Her

Me

 


Art Gallery.  Take 3.  We would be all Bohemian and wear flowing skirts and leather sandals.  The start of the day would be chai latte and some witty banter, soft laughter, dusty sunlight.  Our wooden jewellery would rattle as we motioned languidly to make a point.  We would smile knowingly at each other, like we knew it all and the others in the art gallery coffee shop didn't.  We would take the Picasso to Warhol tour, and stand back at seven different angles and 3 different planes and nod and go ah ah like we 'got' what the artists were saying.  Then a nod and a wan smile to each other, as we got what each other got.  A lot of gotting, getting done?

No words needed to be spoken, the art was a conversation all its own.  Afterwards we would have lunch, duck salad with crisp SSB.  We would say artistic things to each other like 'I think Warhol set out to challenge the idealist visions and personal emotions conveyed by abstraction" or something to that effect.  We would air kiss at the end of the day and she would jump on the back of her boyfriends Triumph and I would walk to my inner city apartment to have dinner with my ten cats.

Whoa Betsy.  Hold on there.  Got a bit carried away in art fantasy land.

So how did it really go?

Strawb got lost.  Which was entirely expected.  By both of us.  I must say however, this poor direction lark of hers may be a ruse ... she ended up at the Moon and Sixpence when she should have been at the city train station.  Me thinks she knows EXACTLY where she is going :-)  I had to bring her in to land via phone and directions past the Green Cactus.  We were both in need of what the Moon and Sixpence specialises in by this time, but it was only 10am.  Coffee would have to do. It was good coffee but crap bruscetta. 

The 'Green Cactus' - a million dollar folley

I presented Strawb with a few surprises.  One was we could go and check out the touring Picasso to Warhol : 14 Modern Masters exhibition.  She liked that idea.  The second was when I pulled out two cartridge books, and two pencil cases with a 2B pencil, rubber and sharpener and to sweeten the deal, musk lifesavers.  The idea was to get all inspired after looking at the art and go and do some sketches ourselves. She didn't like that idea so much. Tough titties - I had bought the stuff and we were going to use it.

The review of the actual art warrants a whole blog post of its own.  Which I will do shortly - stay tuned.  All you need to know for now is this - getting the silly girl giggles in a very posh art gallery is not good form.  Especially when there is a tag team of security guards watching you breathe.  Especially when you are the wrong side of 45 and should know better.   It took us all of 30 minutes to see the entire collection and we really did try to look at the paintings in seven different angles and on three different planes and it still looked ridiculous (as did we).  We tried to be Boho and Ahhh and Ohhh and smile wanly, but hey, who the hell were we kidding?

We were art frauds.

So we went and had lunch.  Authentic Thai. Urbanspoon rated this place 4.5 spoons but we were a tad disappointed.  Especially when we found out it wasn't licenced and the nearest bottle shop was the Brass Monkey.  So we ate up quick and headed there. 

True to our word, we did do some art.  We bought takeaway coffee (loved the little coffee box) and sat on the steps outside the Alexander Library and created (what we consider) better art than any Picasso (without the use of LSD) and Warhol (we actually got out our pencils and DREW something).

Strawb reckons she has got an appointment with the Art Gallery curator next week to take her sketch of the arches in.  That's why I cant share her masterpiece here.  You will see it soon enough on the walls of the gallery.

My masterpiece? ... see for yourself.

For further installments of the monthly Strawb/Jago days check these out:

Day # 2
 
Day # 3

Anyone else daydream at work?

Silly, silly question I know.  Of course no-one daydreams at work - your boss owns your brain for the 8 hours you are tied to the desk!

My 'proper' office (instead of the one I have when working from home - the one where working in my PJ's is not optional) is in the CBD.  That's strike one to this country girl.  Its also in a basement with no windows or connection to the outside world other than air vents (kind of necessary) - strike 2.  I also work in an almost all male domain (I am one of two females) - sounds nice but trust me computer geeks are not the same as working with hunky firemen! So strike three and its OUT!

To make it all more palatable I dream about my one day life on my farm.  Not really farming, been there done that, but more like living on land as a hippy.  I am trying to get my BFF and her hubby to join us in a kind of commune - and this was our email exchange yesterday ... yeah I drag her into my day dreams too!

(maybe some of the words have been changed to protect the integrity of the innocent humour ... or maybe not!)

me to her ...

Ready to sell up everything and move here?

Acreage For Sale

her to me...

Yeah baby!  So cute.

Not sure I could share a shitter ablutions block with Mr K tho!!!  (with anyone come to that, I spend so much time on the bloomin thing!!!)

So affordable!  xxx

I knew I had to sell this a little harder.

me to her ...

One day maybe. 

WE could all grow old disgracefully together - It will be like perpetual camping

WE would stop colouring our hair and shaving our legs

WE would eat raw vegies straight from the garden, even with the dirt still on

WE would swim naked in the dam

WE would pick apples and make apple pie with them the same day

WE would sit outside in the sun in an old wicker chair and just watch the chooks

WE would write about nothing at all and make it sound like the best adventure

WE would be as happy as a pig in shite to just be with the bestest and most beautiful people on this planet.

WE will get you your very own shitter!

Xxx  

her to me...

Ok … SOLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

PS.  CAN YOU THROW IN A DRINKING FOUNTAIN OF BLUE GIN SITTING ON THAT VERANDA TOO, JUST TO SWEETEN THE DEAL? Or set up some sort of Blue Bar as below

Me to her ...

Oooh yeah a gin bubbler!!  Just like at school!

Ok, you have just given me a great idea for a blog.

Love it and love you Xxx

PS: Bit of a fancy shitter for you!

her to me ...

I know I know, the door is abit of a luxury …

As you can see we both work hard at our jobs.  This was all done during our lunch breaks and I am a terrible lier!  Its ok, she works for the big man upstairs and I just work for a big man.

I wonder if one day, when we are indeed sitting on a veranda with a blue gin bar, if we will look back at this blog post and laugh! 

Dedicated to a real ripe Strawberry.

Strawb & Jago - South Perth

It was Strawb's turn to pick the day out.  She asked me to catch the ferry over to South Perth, which sounded lovely but I got Mr K to drop me off instead. 

She picked me up wearing an awesome pair of teal green jeans and a leather jacket - hot mama that she is!  Not bad at all for (cough, cough) almost 50!  Of course she is older than me, so has to try harder!!  ha ha ha - who am I kidding!

It was all a bit of a surprise today, I had no idea what the day entailed, but I can tell you I got pretty nervous as we drove by the South Perth Golf Club - oops sorry ... The Royal (no less) Perth Golf Club.  Unless it was to take me to lunch there, in which case she should have warned me as there is a very strict dress code, then I had no interest being there! 

Phew, we drove past, and parked in a shopping centre car park in Como.  Now I like a spot of shopping like the rest of you, but a whole girly day of it?  There just didn't look like enough shops to keep us girls amused all day.  But my Strawb headed across the road to a lovely old 1930's cinema - Cygnet Cinema (formerly Como Theatre) for a morning movie session.  Now this was novel!

We saw The Sapphires - really sweet and perfect movie for besties to see.  But I saw Chris O'Dowd first and he's mine!!  - hear that Strawb!  Mine!

Feel good movie with great music. 

The actual Sapphires today

Mmmmm nice bit of Irish

Then it was back over the road to the very high brow named The Karalee on Preston for a low browed sports bar (IMHO 3 big screen TVs showing sport makes it a sports bar) to have a really great meal, some bevvies and wonderful service.  It was a perfect end to a already great day.  So I thought!

A few very well poured Bombays (for me) and some generous pours of merlot (for her) and Strawb keeps doing the strangest thing!  She asked me 3 times what time it was?  It was very unnerving, I knew something was up.   She confirmed my suspicions when my request for another drink was declined.  We had somewhere to be! 

A nice walk in the afternoon sunshine, it was 3pm by this time, was well in order and as we strolled down the hill towards the river, I got more and more perplexed what our next event would be.  Strawb did allude to more eating, which was a bit of a concern, considering we had just had a very decent pub lunch!  But I figured I could handle a coffee and maybe share a cake with my girl. 

She started giving me clues about this stage (obviously I was clueless about our fate to come) which was we were going to one of the oldest and most famous buildings on the Esplanade.  The only place I could think of was the Pagoda, which I had always thought of as a Chinese Restaurant or something similar.  Driven past it a million times but never, ever been there.  When she told me I had guessed right, I was just as confused as why would we be going to a Chinese restaurant at 3pm on a Friday afternoon when we had just had lunch?

This is why.....

It's actually now a very posh venue for HIGH TEA!  I asked my darling girl if she knew what High Tea entailed and she mumbled something about a cup of tea and a scone?  Yeah, that's about right - but add the REST of the food.  So when our lovely waitress came to take our order, and she offered the "sparkling" option, we both jumped at a glass of champers to calm our nerves at the thought of a three tiered symphony of food about to be presented to us. 

We vowed to valiantly tackle a few morsels and blushingly we would ask for a doggy bag (or in this kind of establishment - a box with a doily) to take home the bulk of the food we were sure we would not eat.  Bloody good go we had at it tho, luckily we both had stretchy pants (and after seeing what we did manage to eat - stretchy stomachs) on - it would have been insulting not to eat most of it.  I think Strawb took home a small, but delightful sample to Mrs C.  The tea choices were perfect - cinnamon for me and almond for Strawb.

After waddling back up the hill to the car, Strawb dropped me back to the jetty where I had to run-waddle to catch the ferry that had just pulled up. 

Wonderful and delightful day we had - it's my turn next ... how will I top this!

Thanks my girl - it was a super day. 

The Pagoda - History