2 weeks back, my brother approached me and asked if we could make sausage rolls. I stared at him for a couple of minutes, remembering the last couple of times he’d asked this question- I’d bought and cut up the sausage meat, spiced it and added onions, made the pastry dough, rolled everything, glazed and baked it, all by myself or with some help from my mom and he’d eat so much more than anyone else. One time, he actually took them to school and sold them. Budding businessman. From then on, I made him buy the ingredients himself so he would have a cost price to deduct his profits from :).
This time, I was not in a baking mood at all, I was still trying to master some things I’d learned in sewing classes. Pictures on that soon. I didn’t forget, Nedoux. He pestered me for a couple of days so I gave in. I had one other condition: He would make everything himself and I would simply direct him. He agreed. I smiled. The haste in which he agreed showed me that he still believed he was going to talk me into doing the work. Well, I thought, we’d definitely see.
The day came around, he asked me what to get, I told him, I made him cut all the sausage meat (the experience has taught him the advantages of using minced meat. LOL 😜), then the onions, then sprinkle ground pepper and salt and mix it all. The process took him 3 days within which he begged and pleaded for my help. I just stared. Then he finished. Time for the dough.
I told him the measurement to use, to sprinkle salt on the flour, mix with the margarine and add water gradually. He did everything right but he dumped a cup of water inside the flour mixture at the last minute. Again, I just stared. I touched the dough, it was firm but watery. He was tired and whiny so i asked him to put it in the freezer until he could roll it. Then it got to evening time and my mom who’d just returned from work saw the mixture and helped him mix it with more flour until it was simply firm and floury, she also helped him roll it and added the beef mixture. He helped her a bit though. Then it was time to glaze. I cleaned and preheated the electric toaster oven. He glazed some, plead stomachache and ran to sleep. I put the rolls in the oven and between me and my mom we polished off 10 that night. (They were small sausage rolls oh). The rest we kept in the fridge. Everyone had some and within 2 days, the lot was gone. It fascinated me to see that he had the same aversion to eating things he had
baked had a hand in baking too. It fascinated me but not enough to still my fingers from snatching some more rolls.
I would have liked to conclude this by telling you that he now has a healthy fear of the word ‘No’ connected with baking, but he’s attempting (minced) meat pie now. As before, he’s mostly doing it alone. If nothing else comes from this, at least he’d have learned how to bake. And I’m proud of him.
I’m no longer a Miss
Tell me congratulations!
No, not because I got shacked up with a dude and am expected within 10 months to show proof that I did not damage my womb. No. I’m no longer a Miss. because I’m now a Barrister (Miss). 😁 👋
If you read this, you might have guessed that last year was a terrible time for me. I had multiple physical and mental breakdowns, plus I cried myself to a loss of 15kg. As I told someone, 2014 was a nightmare I’m grateful I woke up from. Anyhoo, what you probably didn’t know was that I failed my Bar Finals. A little background; I didn’t get a First Class in the University and in Law School, I was determined to get one. I had a strategy-
Step 1: Buy recommended textbooks. Check.
Step 2: Spend a miminum of an hour a day reading one or two of those books. Check.
Step 3: Do the group work on behalf of your group members a couple of times so I got a feel of the practical side of what I’d been reading. Triple check. (I did so much group work, I was up at 3 am most times. I did the work for my subgroup as well as other subgroups. And the questions were HUGE. Extremely voluminous, extremely winding. But one of our lecturers promised that if we did the group work and studied, we were certain of at least a Second Class Upper). Not only that, I tutored 4 people. 3 passed, one with a Second Class Upper.
Where it all went wrong:
1. I read so much and did so much, I stressed myself into forgetting a lot of what I read.
2. I got really sick a week before the exams. With externship and all, I frantically needed a brush – up. And when you’re puking constantly, and your temperature spikes unexpectedly, it’s not difficult to see what your priority is. Stay Alive? Pass Bar Finals?
I hoped I could do both. It turned out that I couldn’t.
So this year, given last year’s brouhaha over the results, Council of Legal Education (governing body of Law School) mandated all resit students to attend a compulsory 8 week lecture to be brushed up and licked until we were bright, shiny and spotless enough to write the examinations. And pass them. Going through “trauma” and failure is okay, WHEN YOU LEARN SOMETHING. I recognised that stress was anathema to me. This time around, I did no Continuous Assessment (it didn’t count towards our grade, there was no guaranteed continuous collection and they were all recycled, already answered questions from last year). But I drafted (can account for 50- 90% of your grade), I solved the necessary equations and read privately. I spaced everything out, had a vision board and used a quota system so I didn’t get swamped. I tutored some people toward the very end, sure, but it was dependent on me and my schedule. Am I saying that it was because of what I’d done? Definitely not. In fact, this time ’round, I worked a lot less, did a lot less, and played a lot more.
After the exams were written, I remember waking up some days with a gripping feeling of fear: would I pass? Would I have to return for a 3rd try at bat? Was I sure of my answers? What if Law School didn’t send my script to the markers because of the people surrounding me who kept talking to each other during exams? …
When I got those thoughts, I’d spend some time on my knees and confess Isaiah 61:7 over my life; I’d reject all thoughts like those. Once I called a family prayer session because the fear was like a thick cloak surrounding me (Prayer changes things y’all. It changes things). I’d declare Jeremiah 29:11 and hold God by His Word. I’d tell Him, “Big Daddy (God) I refuse to let you go if you don’t bless me. I absolutely refuse to”. I would have “Miracle Worker” by Glowreeyah Braimah and Nathaniel Bassey on repeat (that song had healing, calming qualities like no other) and I would play it until the crisis of faith subsided. And look; it paid off. *fist bump*
I’ve thanked God. But now I do have a favour to ask of you, my blog readers- Thank God for me. Praise Him for the Miracle he has done. In my family, this will be the second graduation this year. The first, was my big brother’s Induction. Just call him Dr. Chike.
And secondly, please pray for all the people who are going back a 3rd time. I experienced the pain, the shame of going back for a second time but I cannot imagine their feelings now so I don’t. I block it out. But I pray for them. Please, join your prayers with mine and lift them up to God. And offer them a shoulder and a smile? The loss is crushing. I’ve had firsthand experience. Thank you.
Meanwhile, help me sing this song: “You (God) deserve the glory,
And the Honour,
Lord, I lift my hands in worship, and I praise Your holy name. 2x
For You are Great,
You do miracles so Great,
There is No One Else Like You, 2x
Lord, there is no one else like You”
And for your shame, I prophesy that you will have double. 🙌 Say Amen!
The Re-Enactment of The Merchant of Venice
I found out about my result in the very early morning. I remember going to the living room and telling my dad, “Results are out but I can’t seem to access mine” He later told me I almost gave him a heart attack. Funny man. I finally accessed it and when I saw that I had passed, a flood of pre- celebration calls went out. The first was to my mom, then I dive bombed (Dr.) Chike on his bed and woke him up. Then we prayed.
Then I went on a micro mini shopping spree on http://www.dealdey.com (Nigeria’s Premier Price Slash Website). Then to sew. Then back home where I made fried rice. Then I went to sleep. Apart from an aborted sleep of 2 hours, I’d been awake for 2 consecutive days (Insomnia is a bitch oh! Take it from me). Then my mom woke me up. She wanted to hear one on one about the result.
Then she asked me what I wanted. I asked for a bag she had that matched the shoes in the pic below exactly.
She agreed to the monetary request but refused to give me that bag (it is a Michael Kors, and insanely beautiful. I can and have stared at it and stroked it for minutes on end. Not hours oh. I have a life).
But, she agreed to give me a bag. She brought 2 out. One a deep, cobalt- like blue, the other primarily black with touches of aquamarine at the sides. And she asked me to choose, maintaining a secret smile all the way. I asked my dad, he chose the cobalt. I asked my brother, he said the shoe aside, he’d take the cobalt. Then I stroked both, looked at the tags and everything considered, I chose the primarily black.
And that was how I ended up with my Steve Madden bag.
By the way, Steve Madden > Michael Kors.
Tell everyone I said so!
Happy Sunday y’all.
Hugs and kisses!