A Tribute to Tutti

Twelve hours before I gave birth to my daughter, Marnie, Tutti made me a midnight snack. Cheese and butter soldiers, lovingly stacked, Jenga-style, for me, her 33-year-old daughter, who has never grown out of thinking that toast tastes better, bite-sized.

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Marnie-in-utero and cheese toast soldiers.

In hospital, as I was pushing, feeling sure I was soon to expire from exhaustion, she held my heavy, anaesthetised leg, to help my baby emerge. Matty offered solid encouragement well away from the business end. (“Don’t go there, mate,” a friend had warned him. “It’s like watching your favourite pub burn down.”)

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In the maternity ward, where the food is not always edible, Tutti brought me my favourite Chicken Tandoori Za’atar toastie and a vanilla milkshake from Café Zivelli, so I could have a delicious lunch and feel momentarily removed from the dreary room, with the call bells constantly beeping and the babies wailing in corridors.

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This is what hospital food looks like.

When we came home with the baby, bleary eyed and shell-shocked, Tutti wielded her brilliant bub-soothing powers to quell the pterodactyl-shrieks of our perfect newborn, ensuring it wasn’t nearly as stressful as it could have been. And when Matty moved upstairs so he could get some much needed sleep to fuel his busy days at work, Tutti stayed up with me way past midnight until baby fell asleep.

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She’s done infinite loads of washing and ironing and grocery shopping and cooked delicious healthy meals and laughed in the face of endless vomming and nappy changing (the baby’s, not mine) and has been instrumental in ensuring that I don’t turn into a pyjama-round-the-clock-wearing, scarecrow-haired, makeup-free hermit. (The refrain of ‘Put some lipstick on!’ ever ringing in my ears).

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And I think that if I can be even a quarter of the mother to my daughter that she has been to me, Miss Marnie will be a very lucky little girl indeed.

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Tutti, me as a baby and Tutti’s mum – my darling grandmother Minnie, who Marnie was named after.

 

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Adventures in Metaphysics

After hermitting myself away for the past few weeks, neglecting my bloggy blog, going to work, getting home and working my butt off editing The Guru’s book, (while suffering from preggers-induced fatigue and evil heartburn that would make the fiery flames of hell feel like a balmy breeze ) I am delighted (and relieved) to say I’ve done it! The Cranky Guru – Adventures in Metaphysics by Paul L Bennett is just about ready to unleash itself on the world.

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Tutti and The Guru dressed for a black-and-white night on the town, on Saturday.

It’s never easy working on a project of this magnitude with a parent (especially when you live with them and there’s no escape from the constant barrage of “How are you going with the book? Are you going to finish it tonight? What? It will take two weeks? But I want it done in one! Are you working on it tonight? Good morning – I know you’re still snoozing and it’s 6.30 on Saturday but I was just wondering how the book’s going. So about the book… is it finished yet? Yes I know you’re on the toilet but perhaps we could have a meeting now through the keyhole.”) but we got there in the end.

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And even though I don’t agree with all of the Guru’s esoteric philosophies, I’m pretty proud of the fact that he’s managed to write something that is warm, funny, candid and engaging.

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I can’t wait for you all to go out and get your hands on a copy, but in the meantime, I shall tantalise you with the back cover blurb.

Are we merely victims of circumstance, or can we actually create our own destiny? Does time exist? Are past, present and future happening simultaneously? Are dreams real? Do our beliefs create our reality? The answers to these eternal questions and many more can be found within. Merging humour and real life anecdotes with esoteric philosophy, this book has evolved over thirty years of study and deep contemplation. It has been a journey of discovery unlike any other, offering assistance to all who seek  answers to living effective lives in ‘Earth School’.

Metaphysics, or the art of ‘Acting As If’, is the universal tool of creation. Its mastery, achievable by anyone with an open mind, will open doors you may not have previously imagined. Whether you want to be the master of your own success, heal past hurts, improve your relationships or simply find a greater sense of inner peace, one thing’s for sure: this book will defiinitely change your perspective. It might even change your life.

Love and light, bitches!

Ceci xx

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Moving house in a hurry

I’m not going to lie. Estate agents are not my favourite people (with a few exceptions, like anything in life). But they became even LESS favourite recently when the agent we’re using to rent out our flat (BECAUSE WE’RE MOVING IN WITH TUTTI AND THE GURU FOR A YEAR) only told us the date our tenant was moving in… in his head.
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The best pickles in the world

Hello friends!

It’s Friday today and I’m all out of puff. So you’re not getting much today. But what you are getting, is a picture of Tutti holding two tins of the very best and most delicious pickles in the world.

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Now you could call me biased, because these pickles are made by my cousins on Kibbutz Yavne in Israel, who, in addition to their pickling-prowess are a talented bunch (inspirational speakers, teachers, children’s fashion designers, pottery geniuses and artists among them). Except that I am actually* a pickle connoisseur. I love pickles. I could chain-crunch through an entire jar of pickles, in one sitting, and I can guarantee that these are the best.

If you’re lucky, you can find these crunchy morsels of delight in your local supermarket Kosher aisle.

*not actually.

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A Jewish Mother’s Lament

Morning loyal followers (er, hi Mum, hi Dad!)

You may have noticed I gave myself a week-long blog-break last week, mostly because I was HYSTERICAL and beside myself after adopting another staffy (now I’m mother to Tiggy and Sherman – so named because he’s built like a tank).

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Sherman and Tiggy, my devil-children.

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