"Dcider"

This is a sponsored post, however I won't ever endorse a product that I don't completely love myself.

I'm not a Cider reviewer at all. My only qualifications are limited mostly to small children and writing. Having said that, I believe that also puts me in a great position to be able to write a review on an alcoholic beverage. I have a lot of experience when it comes to drinking alcohol. I'm also a marketers dream, and am a sucker for product placement and labelling. But as an average Joe in the world of Cider drinking, I think that makes me the same as most of you. I'm just like you.

I was recently flicking through Instagram when I stumbled across a picture of a pink bottle of cider. I had never heard of this beverage before, let alone set eyes on its external beauty. In all honesty, I'm not a huge cider drinker - bar those years at university where I consumed far more Strongbow than was necessary, simply because it was pretty much all that I could afford. At Christmas I sampled some pear cider and was pleasantly surprised at the sweet goodness that it offered. And then the pink bottle I was now presented with lured me in with promises of its delicious goodness too. The cider I am talking about is a Dcider.

Say hello to my new little pink friend!

It promises 'red juicy goodness' amongst other (pretty witty) things. I was not disappointed.

I took my first bottle out to the pool and found it to be sweet and refreshing, leaving a nice, creamy, after taste. It's a light coloured cider, (if you can be bothered drinking it out of the cute little bottle) and it didn't disappoint.

I made my way through the next couple surprisingly quickly.

And then there was the Hen's Party. I took along a few samplers to see what other people thought.

Win!

Win again!

And it was a winner!

If it's apple cider that you're chasing, then it's apple cider that you get. As a fan of sweet alcoholic beverages, Dcider is the perfect way to ease your way into the cider market if you're not already a huge cider drinker specifically. Even hardened cider fans would agree that Dcider is well placed in the boutique cider beverages market.

Sadly, Dcider is currently only available in a handful of locations around Sydney, NSW and Melbourne (this is expanding rapidly and could be different by the time of print) however their online store is well stocked, and ready to deliver around Australia - heck they even found me, and I am well and truly out of the way.

Still not sure if you're a cider drinker? How about you try it and let it be the Dcider!

So Dcider have been kind enough to offer readers of my blog a special offer. Until the end of April if you would like to purchase some Dcider online, please use the following code (listed at the end of this blog) to get a 15% discount on your purchase AND free delivery! (And please feel free to click on any other links on this page to check out more news about their product and origins.)

PS: If you want a real (read 'qualified') review of this product, you can check the Dcider web page, or even head over here, or even here.

Producer: Eling Forrest Winery

Country: Australia (specifically NSW)

Alcohol: 4.5%

Website: www.dcider.com.au

 

Instagram: @dcider

 

Facebook: www.facebook.com/premiumdecider

 

SPECIAL OFFER!

Because the team at Dcider are so awesome, they are offering readers of my blog a special deal. Head on over to their web page and enter the following code at the Checkout when making an order, to receive free delivery and 15% off your purchase!

CODE: "farmerwife"

If you have any trouble with the code, let me know. x


 

New Shoes, New Life

My sister is getting married in 5 weeks.

 Back in January she got me to try on a bridesmaid dress she had bought me, as I couldn't make it to the big smoke to try it on myself. The dress barely fit, and I resembled an animal being strangled by a boa constrictor with it on.

"How many kilos do you think you would need to lose to fit it?" She asked me.
"Ahhh, about 10. Plus two ribs..." This dress would never have fit me. I was devastated. She was devastated. We started the crazy process of trying to locate another dress in the correct size, but just in case, I decided I need to do something about my weight.

To be honest, I'm pretty happy with the way I look. I have issues. Who doesn't? But as I get older I don't seem to mind my imperfections as much. I'd like to be fitter, but I don't mind my weight so much. Because I was in the city, I decided I would be needing a new pair of shoes.

The last pair of running shoes I bought were at least 13 years old. I had purchased them to take through Europe with me before CP and I had married. They were falling apart at the heel and had sat, largely unused at the back of my wardrobe for the good part of 10 years.

This is them x RIP little ones.

I headed in to The Athlete's Foot (which has come a long way in 13 years I might add), and set about the process of getting a new pair of shoes.

"Hi! I'm Rick! How can I help you today?"  An over excited assistant buzzed towards me wielding some high tech computer thingy in his hand.

"Hi Rick. I'm Jess. I need a new pair of running shoes. It's been about 13 years since I bought my last pair." My dirty secret was out now.

"That's fine Jess." And so the embarrassing process began. "What sort of shoes are you after?"

"Ummm. Exercising ones?"

"Will you use them for running, walking, sport?" Poor Rick. He didn't see me coming.

"What are my options? General wear? I'm hoping I will run and walk in them, but I won't know that until I get them, will I? I'm hoping I'll feel like exercising with a new pair of shoes. I don't know." Was that a raised eye brow and cocky sideways smile Rick?

"OK Jess. I'll put you down for general wear. How many days a week do you think you'll be wearing them?"

Realising that all of this was going into his hand held device, I thought I should try harder with my answers. "I don't know. What are my options? I'd like to say 3 days a week, but maybe it will be none? Just put down 3. That sounds good. Look Rick, I do relief teaching, so there is a chance I'll just wear them on days I take PE classes." Another sideways smile from Rick. "You know. For the LOOK."

"OK, so I'll put down 3 days of casual wear."

"Any pre-existing foot conditions, Jess?"

"Yes. Fallen arches and also one foot is bigger than the other. I know Rick. I'm a bit of a freak. Try not to look at my toes. I have an ET toe."

"Come over to this machine Jess. I just want to run some tests." I walked over to a machine where I walked and stood in front of it and it took readings of pressure on my feet. I felt like I was failing a school test.

"OK Jess, come and sit down. These are the three pairs of shoes we have narrowed down according to your needs."

"Oh. Don't we just pick shoes we like anymore?"

"No Jess. Now we narrow your choice down for you and make it a much simpler and more precise process." So this is simpler??

I surveyed the three pairs of shoes in front of me. In terms of comfort they were all much the same. What would I know? I had no experience to go by. So I went with the pair I liked the look of the most.

Yay - hello new friends!

And that was that.

I wanted to wear them as soon as I left the store. My head was instantly consumed by empowering thoughts. I suddenly felt overcome with the urge to walk the Kokoda Trail. I felt like I could run. Hell, I just WANTED TO RUN! That was enough.  The shoes must have been fitted with some magic that made me want to exercise. I was pumped.

I shared these thoughts with my family, who all laughed loudly and shook their heads. They know me well. They know all about my allergy to exercise. They smiled and nodded as I spoke of my 5 year goal to walk the Kokoda Trail, knowing confidently that it was nothing but a dream.

This fueled my fire. The more they laughed, the more I wanted it.

I've always felt that religion and exercise are on the same channel. I previously believed they filled a void in someone's life. But not my life. I wasn't going to fall for either. That was then.

Four months have passed, and instead of hearing the voice in my head say 'you don't have time' or 'your back hurts', I now hear it say 'please go for a run!' and 'your back will hurt if you don't do this' or even 'you know you want to!'

I am jogging up to 6km now. I look forward to it and I believe in myself. The dream is still Kokoda, but first it's the Inca Trail, and even before that the Bridge to Brisbane run. I am writing this here to be accountable to it. Another incentive.

I am fitter today than I was three months ago. I have a long way to go. It's all baby steps, but I'm loving every minute and gaining more and more confidence every week.

DD took this pic. It was the best of about 29746 photos she took of me running.

My children wave and cheer for me like I am the star runner in the school athletics carnival. Sometimes they join me on my laps around the house paddock. We are each others biggest fans, and nobody believes in me more than them. My mother says the shoes must have wings which make me fly, and my family are now my biggest cheer squad.

Six kg lighter, and feeling better every day, and nobody is more amazed than me.

The moral to this story (and I like morals to my story) is that if I can do this, ANYONE can do this. If I can motivate myself (using only apps on my iPhone) then absolutely anyone can. I'll keep you posted on my progress to the B2B and the Inca Trail!

PS. I found a bridesmaid dress that fits, and won't necessitate the removal of any ribs. So everyone involved has kicked a goal!

If you want more information on what it is I'm doing, please get in touch with me and I'm happy to pass on more information. Or if you want to sponsor me on my quest to get to the Inca Trail, I'd love that too :)

Down The Rabbit Hole...

'Tree change' is the new 'sea change'. There are some people who want to swap their hectic city lives for the seemingly peaceful and serene life that the country offers.

I wasn't one of those people.

This is me back in my uni days. Probably about to head into the city on my fourth night out in a row.

For those of you who haven't read my book, I was slightly reluctant about moving to the country. Perhaps more than reluctant. In denial is more accurate. I wanted to save some money and move overseas. The country was a mere pit stop in my flash dance to a foreign country.

"You'll end up marrying a farmer." My friends and family would say.
"Why would anyone marry a farmer? And, clearly you all don't know me very well." Were my standard responses.

The country was some far away place that I had barely heard of. Life beyond the city limits was a twilight zone, and I was nervous of passing down the rabbit hole to find my way out west. And I was very much Alice in Wonderland in the beginning.

I wore inappropriate clothing, and found the locals somewhat different to myself. There were Mad Hatters for sure, except these ones also drove Utes and wore Wrangler jeans and boots. It was hard, nay impossible, to get a decent cocktail at the local pub. I knew no one.

And I was lonely. For all of 5 minutes.

That's right folks. Only 5 minutes. And after that I didn't really have time to scratch myself.

"Don't you get lonely out there in the never-never?" This is the number one question I get asked (only, not really in those exact words). And honestly, the answer is no. Sometimes I wish I had more quiet time.

The invitations are constant. This year alone I've attended numerous barbeques, get togethers,  birthday parties, a hens night, family gathering, numerous dinners and even a wedding (that I wasn't invited to, but that's another blog). That's not even touching on the school functions, community events, fund raisers and local celebrations.

If it's a tree change you're after, then I'm a strong advocate for life in the country. I give it two thumbs up, but it's not always easy. But what life is?

It doesn't matter where you move; city, sea or country. Cracking into a new community can be tricky. Rural communities are no different, except that there are some families who have been friends for generations, and breaking into that little circle can take some time. But it's not impossible.

Get involved in all things community. Yes, it's hard work at times, but anyone who's willing to involve themselves in these events, is also likely to appreciate your effort and then reciprocate the favour by inviting you to other social events. This goes for local committees, sports groups and school events.

Having children also helps, but isn't the be all and end all. Many of my good friends are people I met through having children. Before I married, I recall having a conversation with a local girl who told me that 'getting married and having children' would help cement my place in the community.' I was devastated at the time, but have since learned that it's true. But before we all go hating on the country, I find this also to be true in the city too. Of course in the city you can meet people at gyms and other businesses, but that sort of happens here too.

And people are so friendly here! We wave at complete strangers in cars (the one finger wave anyone?)

FYI - I usually stop this wave around Goondiwindi. Experience has taught me that's the limit...

Newcomers to rural communities are first viewed with some curiosity and suspicion, and are soon quickly welcomed into their social niche.

"But what about the isolation?" Another popular question I get asked.

I am geographically isolated from the nearest town (only 1/2 an hour, but still, that town has a population of 1000). After that there is St George, with a population of about 2000, slightly more facilities and schools. And then we are 2 1/2 hours from Goondiwindi - the nearest 'decent city', because it has a McDonalds. Finally we are 5 hours from Toowoomba, which is the 'city' closest to where we live, with a proper shopping mall and loads of fast food outlets. (The only real way to judge the size of a populated centre.)

Isolation from my family is no longer an issue thanks to the Internet. In the beginning I genuinely struggled with being away from friends and family, but 'life' seems to get in the way of my self pity these days.

These days I consider myself to be one of the lucky ones. I still make it to the city, where I indulge in a spot of binge shopping, movie watching and social purification. But then I get to come home to the farm. The golden silence, wide open spaces, clean country air and endless blue skies.

I'm well and truly down the rabbit hole in terms of where my life was and where it is now, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Apparently my friends and family knew me even better than I knew myself. x

Russell (next door), me and CP.

My Outback Phobia

When I first moved out west to teach the Peter Falconio disappearance was still fresh in everyone's minds. For those of you who aren't familiar with the mystery, in 2001 two young backpackers from England were driving through the Northern Territory on a main highway on an isolated stretch of road that runs through the middle of Australia. Joanne Lees (who survived the incident) claims that she was hog-tied by the driver of a car that pulled them over, Peter was shot, and she managed to escape and hide from the killer. Peter's body has never been found.

In any event, I had made a mental pact with myself never to stop on an isolated road for ANYONE. If a situation looked ligitimately serious, I would contact police in the next town I drove through.

On one occassion however, I found myself in an awful predicament whereby one of my tyres had blown when I was still 30km out of town. Faced with any number of horrible situations that could happen to me, I decided to get a lift into town with the next car that would stop for me. I just hoped it wasn't the same person who Peter Falconio stopped for... As it turned out, the next 'car' was in fact a goat truck. It was old and rickety, and it smelled. Of goat. And there was a dog in the front seat. But I was grateful that the driver had even stopped for me, so I bundled myself into the vehicle and nervously rode into town with an old man and his goat truck.

Mostly I was just happy to still be alive.

The Peter Falconio case is the catalyst for a silly phobia I have developed over the years. I still don't stop for ANY car on an isolated road at night, or when I am alone.

So today I was taking the kids to the bus stop (20km away) when a typical backpacker vehicle signalled for me to stop.

A van like this... perfect for stashing bodies in...

As I approached the mini van, the first thing I observed was a Scandanavian looking backpacker at the wheel. (Cue flashes to the crazed Norwegian shooter a few years back - and please don't get me wrong. I LOVE Scandanavians. Hell, I used to frequent the Down Under Bar in my uni years, and Scandanavians and I go WAY back... but I was still nervous. Surely some of the world's best serial killers are good looking!?)

I wound my window down, but kept the car in drive. He smiled a friendly smile and asked me for directions. I told him he was on the wrong road, and offered for him to follow me to the bus stop, where I could show him the direction he needed to go in. He seemed relieved and grateful. And once he was set on the right path he gave me a wave goodbye.

I had survived.

I know... this fear is irrational, silly and unfounded. But I can't help it. It's my sense of self preservation that makes me crazy.

Do you have an irrational, silly and unfounded fear? Or just any old fear? Please share so that I don't feel quite so silly...

Going Viral

So I posted this picture on my facebook blog page last night. I saw a friend 'like' it on HER friends feed. I loved it! I had toy envy immediately, and after showing my husband, I then posted it on my 'Farmer's Wife' facebook page. Twelve hours late and it has gone viral. Not like VIRAL VIRAL, but viral for me. It has doubled my fan base, and has had some crazy number of shares, that are still increasing literally by the minute. All because of this photo. You can never pick what will do it when it comes to social media!

Maybe it's the kid in all of us, marvelling at something we know we would have loved ourselves. Maybe it's the fact that a father could do this for his son, and we like it because of what we want or have for our own children. Maybe we just think it's downright cool. Whatever. So many people have seen something in this picture that they like. And they are sharing it furiously!

Go figure! x

RURAL LOVE STORIES - Part 1 - Annaleis Topham

2012 was the year I shared my own rural romance. 2013 is time for other people to share theirs! Once a month I will try to publish other people's stories.

First cab of the rank is Annaleis Topham, who some of you will know better as the lady behind the blog, 'Teapots and Tractors'. Annaleis hails from a small farming community in Western Australia, and this is her story!

 

Our ‘Messenger’ Love Story

I still have the very first email I sent my now Husband Richard. It wasn’t particularly nice. He had searched through online profiles on Hotmail looking for country girls in Western Australia. He tells me he contacted 3 girls that day. He picked my profile because it said I worked at CBH – a grain handling facility. (So maybe I was a ‘country’ chick!) He only looked in the ‘a’ section luckily Annaleis started with an ‘a’!

A couple of things had to line up for us to even get into contact. I was teaching by then and hadn’t updated my profile information – I worked at CBH during Harvest so I could go to University. And that first email that he sent me went to my junk folder, which I never checked.

I would’ve deleted it except that the name was “blokeWA”. That made me curious. So I emailed him this.

“May I please first ask if this is a bulk mailing, if not where you got my email from...”

His reply

“Hello ....this is not bulk emailing.I was looking through msn and came
across your profile.U seemed a nice person so i thought i would add u.U
can add me to your messeger if u want.Sorry if i have wasted your
time........take care rich”

So after thinking about it for a couple of days I added him on messenger – remember how everyone used to chat?

We chatted for a couple of months. It always came so easily. Rich then came to visit Geraldton where I was teaching. We met in a Petrol Station. (I know classy hey!) Luckily we clicked in real life like we did online. That was one of the best weekends I have ever had. Quick side note – When I met him he was in his work clothes – should’ve known then that he ALWAYS wears work clothes!

 

Before we could see each other again harvest started and end of year reports needed to be written. It would take us 6 months to see each other again. We didn’t let it go that long again. Every fortnight one of us would make the 3 hour drive to visit the other.

 

I decided to take a chance and transferred with my 11 year old daughter to teach in the next town to his. It was a big risk moving my daughter, selling my home and leaving the comfort of the town I grew up in just when I was offered a Merit Select teaching position.

It wasn’t easy. All the things my daughter did after school in Geraldton weren’t available in Moora. We lived in a tiny teachers flat that even her cat didn’t like. It was hard to make friends. However over time, moving two more times to our own home things did get easier. I will say that in the first 3 years I really did wonder many times if it was worth it and nearly packed up and went home. I may not have been as comfortable in the ‘country’ as my profile led Rich to believe.

But as you see I did stick it out and we were married in Geraldton in 2008 and have two more gorgeous kids and 4 chooks. I have some wonderful friends, I still relief teach and find that by blogging I’m building a bigger community than what I have to rely on here.

Best thing I ever did was answering that email in my junk folder! I’m pretty sure Rich thinks the same.

Lastly not everyone that is part of our lives knows how we met. Rich’s parents don’t like online dating – not that we did the whole dating site thing. And I’m not even sure what Rich told them. However people meet if you’re ready to take a chance on love I think go for it. Life is too short and right now where I live there is only one single female! Sometimes you have to make your own love story come true.

I live in a very small town in the Wheatbelt of Western Australia. I stay at home and look after my two youngest children. I also do a little relief teaching when I can get a sitter and I blog at www.teapotsandtractors.com. I love to craft, read, and play netball, tennis and golf. I also love to get involved – the best way to make friends in a small community.

 

 

The Runaway

Today I experienced my first run away child.

My kids were all fighting - completely normal behaviour here on a Saturday morning. I was tired and cranky and I *may have* yelled at them all to get out of my room and go back to their own rooms. Miss 7 took offence to my cranky response and headed to her room in tears.

Apparently it's 'always' her fault. Apparently I am mean and nasty. Apparently I am the worst mum ever.

In any event, she packed a small backpack - with a change of clothes, shoes and a photo of CP and I - donned a hat, and announced loudly that she was going to run away.

Our nearest neighbours are 60m away, and they are my in laws. After that, there is my friend Leesa, who is about 10km away. There is a whole lot of nothing between here and there.

So I waved goodbye to my eldest child, reminded her that I loved her and that she was welcome home whenever she was ready. I reminded her of the crocodiles under the grids, and the bunyips at the dam (more for the benefit of her siblings, who were watching in amazement). I told her to be careful of brown snakes and goannas, and to put on lots of sunscreen, because in this weather she will burn to a crisp. I reminded her that school was on Monday, and that she would be needing a uniform. I told her I was looking forward to emptying her bank account and spending it in NZ when we head there in May. I told her I hoped she would keep in touch by email, and that if I hadn't heard from her by this afternoon I would come to find her in case she had died of dehydration. I reminded her that if she wanted a lift into town, more traffic was likely to pass on our northern driveway, and that was assuming she didn't get kidnapped by a stranger beforehand.

And then I grabbed my camera and took a photo of her leaving.

That's her about 45m from home.

Less than 10 minutes later she was home and happy again. Apparently the thought of dying out there in the wild was all too much for her. And I have all my babies back together again under one roof.

It was touch and go there for a minute.

Have you ever had a run away child? Did it all end happily? Did you ever run away as a child?