gloomy sunday

it must be time for some words from my namesake and divine-woman-of-the-moment, lydia. and just fancy, i'm gloomy AND it's a sunday. take it away, grrrl.

Penelope's Medicinal Potion aka Mud Tea

After spending the day at work feeling like a hedgehog's died inside my throat, I've resorted to desperate measures inspired by my friend the witch who dosed me so well last week I sweated garlic all the next day. So,

1/2 lemon, thinly sliced

2 cloves garlic, roughly chopped

an abundance of ginger, sliced

pinch or two black tea leaves

fennel seeds, to taste

Simmer in a saucepan of water until it reaches desired muddiness. It all slips down pretty easy given the somewhat ghastly stench, though a nip of brandy sure wouldn't go astray.

Love Penelop.

lipstick laksa

i lost my laksa virginity yesterday; i lost it wearing bright red lipstick on the greyest windiest drippiest day of winter yet, and i will never complain about being cold and damp and cramped again if only there's a bowl of laksa at the end of it. the whole experience might have been a little more enjoyable without the lipstick - if i hadn't been aiming each mouthful with military precision to avoid looking like i'd just been making out with one of those rotating meat pillars you get in kebab shops - but hey, my lipstick survived, and now bowls of laksa down cobbled lanes on days where the sky is dribbling down window panes and the wind gets at all your corners is my new favourite thing in the world.

on the subject of lipstick, my beloved bubble tea shop has this mystery flavour, "lipstick black tea". i bought one once; it tastes a lot like black tea and not very much like lipstick at all. then i thought maybe i'd missed the lipstick essence the first time, so i bought another one. then i tried googling it, all to no avail. it remaineth a tasty mystery.

and on the subject of weather, en route to the laksa i called it 'bleak'. bff had a dictionary definition to hand: devoid of hope, ie, this weather is devoid of hope. it also means (for useless knowledge and general edification) a european freshwater fish, alburnus alburnus, possessor of silvery scales used in the production of artificial pearls.

peppermint love

take 1 tsp dried peppermint leaves or 1 peppermint teabag

lovingly add 1 cup boiling water

allow to infuse 3-5 mins

remove leaf/bag

add 2-3 tbsp (yes TABLEspoons) sugar

stir

= liquid sunshine.

love penelope.

toad-in-a-hole

... this is why Me and Home Internet should never have met.

i've been sitting here, window open, slowly chilling like a toad going into hibernation at the bottom of a pond, crossing and recrossing my legs to alternate the pins and needles, looking and clicking and not writing the essay that was due a week ago tomorrow, dressed like an american cheerleader in summer in a room i can see my own breath in, so paralytic with shivers i can barely move, for the last five hours (minus one-hour Masterchef and curry-making interlude). this is why i need to be a hermit with a parrot on my shoulder and a beard. this is why i need to live in small hut at the end of the earth, at least until next week. gawd.

meanwhile, there's this daffodil growing in a pot on my windowsill. it only sprouts at night when it thinks i'm not looking. it's so cute, i think it's trying to surprise me with some flowers one morning soon.

The Slug

How long have I known the word? Ten years? Fifteen? Sluggish: adj. slow, indolent, torpid. And there I was, walking to uni one day and thinking, gee, I feel so slow, and indolent, and torpid. Like an upright slug dragging along the pavement. Slug-ish, I thought. I feel slug-ish.

And then it hit me. Sluggish: of or like a slug. From Middle English, slugissh.

Un-believable.

The Boyfriend

So the banshee went one fury too far and suddenly I could never spend another night in that place where she lived, which just happened to be the place where I lived too. So I spent the next week in my bestie's bedroom, hunting for houses and stealing his clothes. I guess I've been dabbling in the giant shirt/jumper + hypothetical skirt look for a while now, but by the time I left (with a bottle of his cologne, a Westwood Man jumper and new banshee-free accommodation to boot) I had to admit to being a newly-converted, fully-subscribing practitioner of the 'Boyfriend' look. The moment of truth? I opened my wardrobe. Skirts, dresses, things I'd been missing all week, but "I have nothing to WEAR," I moaned, and ran to the nearest op-shop to find a giant mens' business shirt.

(Seriously, this guy (the bestie) should open a business or something. A B&B-cum-Tupperware-Party kind of thing, where you go stay at his house with minimal clothing and unlimited access to his wardrobe. He'd make a killing.)

Anyway, so there I was in this op-shop, avoiding the womens' section like small boys avoid girl germs, and damn was it good. Racks upon racks devoted to all possible permutations of shirts + trousers: short-sleeved/legged, long-sleeved/legged, in-between-sleeved/legged, summer-sleeved/legged, winter-sleeved/legged, overalls, singlets, suits, finito. So easy. So simple. None of this short-medium-long-dress/skirt/shorts/slacks/trousers/jeans-button-up-button-sideways-zip-down-zip-up-high-neck-low-neck-turtle-neck-jackets-coats-cardigans-teacosies-too-baggy-too-tight-too-floral-too-bright-everything's-perfect-but-for-THIS. Nuh-uh. It's all too big and it all don't fit and I love it.

I liked to think I was being a touch ironic at first, given the prevalence of the 'Boyfriend' in marketing campaigns of late, but it's so easy to be all superior and think you're mocking a 'look', isn't it. I mean, in the absence of a boyfriend, it's probably the look that's mocking me.