Skip to main content

I'm ba-aaack.

Yeah, it's been a while. I'm trying to raise a tiny human, my hands have been a bit full. Literally.

The She-Beast has two teeth. She bites me sometimes. It hurts, but not as badly as it hurts me to smack her. It's painful to see the shocked look on her face when I pop her sweet little mouth (full of razor sharp piranha teeth) and the tears well up in her eyes like I've told her she can never have chocolate again. At the same time, one of these days it's going to be a baby at one of our groups that she bites. Not cool. Hence the discipline, although at this rate I'm going to have to resort to a muzzle as she doesn't seem to be learning her lesson... more than once, she's laughed at me when I smacked her. *sigh* Turns out we're actually related.

We've just come back from Texas, where we spent a week offending the locals and exposing Madam to her grandmother's loving attentions. We arrived in London spoiled (Madam) and exhausted (both of us), only to be met at the airport by Himself bearing a gift for the bratface (one of those rubber Sophie giraffe toys that squeaks whenever you look at it too hard). I came home to a clean house with newly installed baby gates and flowers on the mantel... impressed? *grin* He'd also been to the grocery store to get basics so I wouldn't have to go to the store my first day home. Awesome.

The catering thing is going fairly well, I've booked a first birthday party for 40+ people on Monday. Gotta love word of mouth, a friend from one of our baby groups mentioned me to someone she knows from other groups, and the eventual trail led to a booking. I'm making the cake, various nibbles including homemade crackers, and a vegetable lasagne for which I made homemade mozzarella and ricotta cheese today. Just call me Suzy Homemaker. *grin* I have to admit, there's something extremely satisfying about watching milk turn into cheese. I'll definitely be repeating the process.

Our five year wedding anniversary is this Saturday. I'm still having a hard time believing we've been married for five years... *lol* I found Himself something suitably bizarre in Camden, but I got an early gift on Sunday. He came back from having taken madam for a walk while I worked on the menu for this party I'm catering (she would NOT leave me alone, even though Himself was in the floor to play with her... she's like a cat sitting on the newspaper you're trying to read) and asked me if I had to do any cooking during the week or if I would do it all at the weekend. I said that I had to do some of the prep during the week to get it all done in time, at which he disappeared upstairs. When he came back down, he stayed on the stairs long enough to announce that I was getting an early anniversary present, and when he came around the corner he was holding this:


That's right. A Magimix. The most amazing of all the food processors. And it's red. And yes, you read right, it's the XL. The largest one you can get before you're into commercial territory. It's AMAZING. I can finally make proper hummus, and all those veggie dishes that call for blended cashews, and I can make peanut butter, or almond butter, or tahini, or bread, or pastries, or smoothies, or... I have begun to hyperventilate. *lol* This most amazing gift after he put the kibosh on any further kitchen toys. What a guy! *smug* I have installed it snugly next to my other most wonderful kitchen toy, the Kitchenaid my suikertante gifted me last year. I am building a VERY impressive kitchen here.

So yeah, life is good. How about you?

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The real deal.

So, I thought I'd been having cravings for the last couple of weeks because I've been eating loads of tuna and pasta, seemed like that was all I wanted to eat. Tuna sandwiches with a cup of tomato soup to dip them in, and egg noodle pasta for some reason. That is, until Monday night. Monday night, Himself called me on his way home from work as usual and asked if we needed anything (again, as usual). I said no, that I'd already been to the store but I wasn't really hungry anyway, and that I'd see him when he got home. I settled in with the cats on the couch and started flicking channels, getting the girlie TV out of the way so that Himself wouldn't have to suffer through it when he got home... Half an hour later, it struck. All of a sudden, out of the blue, I was starving. It wasn't the usual "go rifle through the kitchen until I happen upon something that looks edible" hunger. It was specific, overpowering, CRAVING hunger. What did I want,

Lazy weekend.

Bliss. Sun, moglets, sun, loads of good food, sun, and Himself. Good combo, let me tell you. We let the moggies out sans leads for the first time on Thursday (sporting their new collars and tags, and freshly dosed with flea drops), just for about an hour to see how they handled it. Both of them tore headlong into the flowerbeds in search of new smells and the occasional bug to eat. On Friday I left the back doors of the conservatory flung open to let the seriously amazing weather in and the felines out. This turned into me sitting in the conservatory for longer than I'd care to admit, book discarded to one side because watching them chase bees, butterflies and each other was more amusing. Saturday morning dawned clear and sunny, so I hied myself down to the conservatory (as I woke up around half six and thought Himself might rather sleep a LITTLE longer...) for a bowl of muesli, a cup of peppermint tea, some reading and yet more book neglecting as I watched the lunatics conti

Dreams and other nocturnal habits.

I've always been a dreamer, in the literal sense. From a very young age I've been able to remember my dreams, and once I started a dream one night and finished it the next. This sounds great, and I've had some seriously fabulous nocturnal journeys through time and space, but on the flip side, not all dreams are good ones. I've had some proper toe-curling nightmares, and some of the worst ones have been in my adult years. The reason this is on my mind particularly right now is that I had a pretty gnarly one night before last, and during yesterday's aforementioned pestering phone call to my sister I told her about it. She told me that her boyfriend had been doing a little reading about dreams in general, and had researched (and actually put into practice) a tactic of dreaming deliberately. The research he found described the way to consciously go to sleep with a certain event or setting in mind, which basically ensures where your dreams will go. Apparently this