tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63801426654556823002024-02-08T02:10:38.300+00:00Young Wives' TaleA little bit of everything all the time.Evehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07419457138356078554noreply@blogger.comBlogger184125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6380142665455682300.post-18826460029266671972010-04-20T11:18:00.001+01:002010-04-20T11:18:00.099+01:00Drop 'em<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigNrcRXr2LA6fpZjH7XHZ7NX-QUgMRlX4brW8Zq_6dS876VX0KNwy6lk8PuUJ-shliWkLL_gxwI78ukVhycjzJY6_6ZzKVFiaoeMrb-_adSzSomMHyYSW8Kd2FAiWvr8h6Vj13Piu-c4gF/s1600/cervic.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462147581113330978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 293px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigNrcRXr2LA6fpZjH7XHZ7NX-QUgMRlX4brW8Zq_6dS876VX0KNwy6lk8PuUJ-shliWkLL_gxwI78ukVhycjzJY6_6ZzKVFiaoeMrb-_adSzSomMHyYSW8Kd2FAiWvr8h6Vj13Piu-c4gF/s400/cervic.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">On Monday I had an appointment to remove my birth control implant. Husband and I are trying for our second baby, which I find <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">absolutely</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">strange</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">btw</span>. We didn't actively try for our Son it was a just "well if it happens it happens" kind of thing. But I wasn't like... planning on it... If that makes sense. Now to think every month I am going to be waiting for my period for an entirely different reason, and not only that but sex takes on a whole <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">different</span> purpose in my head. All very strange... </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Anyways, I had to have my implant taken out before my husband's boys could get to work so off I went to the clinic. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">When sat with the nurse she asked me what I needed and I said thinking I was using the medical term for implant; "I need my IUD removed as my Husband and I want to try for a baby". simple enough, she nodded and continued with the general health questions.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">once all the forms were completed she led me to the examination room, pulled the curtain and said "You can remove your pants and knickers now please".</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">I hesitated. fingers toying at the button on my jeans, nudging them down my hips and watching her confused. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">I didn't want to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">disobey</span> but.... why? </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">I stuck my head out of the curtain</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">"you're ready?" she asked</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">"um... no... You know the implant is in my arm right?" </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">She didn't say much after that...well she might have but I couldn't hear her through the laughing. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">She did say something as I chuckled along and felt my cheeks redden, something along the lines of "Well it's a good thing you said because otherwise I would have been digging around in there for ages"</span><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Apparently, and you probably know, and IUD is a coil, no an implant. </span><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Crapsters</span>. And there I was thinking I was using the clever medical terms. No such luck. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">I'm just glad I said something before she got the evil duck lips out. </span></div>Evehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07419457138356078554noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6380142665455682300.post-87139517382998002942010-04-07T14:10:00.002+01:002010-04-07T15:10:15.076+01:00Awkward<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Do you remember my </span><a href="http://youngwivestale-eve.blogspot.com/2009/09/and-just-when-i-think-youre-gone-there.html"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">stalker</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">? </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">received</span> a disturbing message off of her yesterday:</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">You might not remember me, we met once for coffee and then lost touch. My Son died very suddenly and without cause 2 months ago, I am still in shock. Just thought you should know. </span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span></em><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">I'm not sure what to make of this. I am sad. Terribly. Because no Mother can be unmoved by the loss of a child. Someones child. Even if you don't like that someone. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">But my paranoid brain is working over time and wondering how her 4 year old has died suddenly without cause... </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">And then that maternal instinct to reply and comfort because...god.... to loose a child. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Am I am a bad person for continuing to ignore her and for having no interest in getting back into that dysfunctional relationship? </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">I don't think so, but that doesn't stop me from feeling a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">little</span> bit guilty. </span>Evehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07419457138356078554noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6380142665455682300.post-85938620628116346622010-04-07T08:58:00.003+01:002010-04-07T10:43:06.133+01:00Excuse me, where is the bathroom?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsS-HRoLbGP_Tj-YN6F9HPJ_3dY8HpaeQndE7qbvixhbu-8FwNQlWhkKv18PILuglK25HsuoN_fAmM1RxBSOetRwD7mbAkr3e6MOiT67byAWZV0wnRHKN3wpdeUJG8L10E7HmWgAgZFruH/s1600/zipper-lips.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457328420140567122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 226px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsS-HRoLbGP_Tj-YN6F9HPJ_3dY8HpaeQndE7qbvixhbu-8FwNQlWhkKv18PILuglK25HsuoN_fAmM1RxBSOetRwD7mbAkr3e6MOiT67byAWZV0wnRHKN3wpdeUJG8L10E7HmWgAgZFruH/s400/zipper-lips.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">I was born with a condition. It's a part of me that I have always accepted and embraced, it makes me who I am. </span><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">My Husband often cringes from it, and begs me to control it but I cannot help myself. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">My name is Eve, and I have verbal diarrhea.</span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">I can't help myself. I have no modesty or shame. </span><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457328416908538610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 210px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 210px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0KEu0mWtLd-piZlQbYkuHcQ9xrkuWCmgy70uctPAbegaUfmkt8pmqj7BTY99WMOvCMMboboUUJY2thb8F3bfm26g6Lj2o5G0C9s_qMSNqu4-VKFKpyIofRZWXMZf4OSUF8MYPB97Ku9bX/s400/verbal_diarrhea_mousepad-p144994851454268843td22_210.jpg" border="0" /><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">If you ask me a question, I answer it. No hesitation. Even if you would rather have the "socially polite" answer I'm still going to give you the truth. Wanna know how my Husband and I met? I could give you the dulled down romantic version, but no, I blurt out "we had an affair and were really only together in the beginning for the thrill of the sex"... Yes, I used this answer when my boss asked me how I met him. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">But you wanna know something? You don't even have to ask me a question, I'll tell you everything anyways. In detail if you like, thought I do draw the line at favourite sexual positions and the like (This is a new quality though after embarrassing my husband at his most recent work Christmas party). </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">I don't mind being this up front... Not most of the time. I'm often told it makes me approachable, friendly, charming with a child-like air. That's cool. I like being those things. And I've got a wicked sense of humor and quick tongue. Most people realize that as I'm spewing my life story and every minute detail about myself the majority of words that are coming out of my mouth are sarcastic, exaggerated and meant for entertainment more so than they are meant to be informative. But sometimes... Sometimes I wish I could control it. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">It's at night when I'm laying in bed that I start going over all the things I blurted out during the day and I start to cringe. </span><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">It's the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">bain</span> of my husbands life thought ironically it was also the first thing about me that he fell in love with. My honesty, the whole "wearing my heart on my sleeve" gig. He loved it, found it charming, endearing and funny. I loved making him laugh. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">The tables have turned now though because when I start spewing home truths now a days they are mostly about him. My husband has become the butt crack of my jokes and tales. He handles it graciously most of the time, but there are times when he gets exasperated by my slips of the tongue. rightly so as well when I starts spewing in front of a room full of psychoanalysts (my work colleagues). I'm a gold mine for them, I am sure. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">I suppose you're thinking "why tell you husband when you do these confessions of his more private stories in a public inappropriate face, what he doesn't know won't hurt him"... Did you just miss the whole point of this post?</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">I can't keep my mouth shut. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">It comforts my husband too though as he knows I'd never cheat on him because the first thing I would do is call him to tell him the gossip. oops. </span></div>Evehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07419457138356078554noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6380142665455682300.post-47009821854889801272010-04-06T22:54:00.001+01:002010-04-06T22:57:17.096+01:00Drowning<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Wordpress</span> is killing me.<br /><br />I feel like I'm on the cusp of creating something beautiful and usable and enjoyable and if only I could figure these two last things out. I have a date to video chat my brother in an attempt to get him to walk me through it but OH why must I be so useless with such things?<br /><br />Soon my lovelies...soon. In the mean time you can expect a post tomorrow from me focusing on my big mouth. I know, you're already salivating for it aren't you? Surely!<br /></span></span>Evehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07419457138356078554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6380142665455682300.post-33159169542052204432010-04-01T10:54:00.002+01:002010-04-01T11:22:13.126+01:00Overhaul<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcIAt0evydLlTFrKLCH_ryQm8aug7rdsy_c_MEY_ROI5I1A_xd22eEqiZu5J4dVaiTFZ9iioIaSuqqJJEyeo1H0E9vk0-PMV4Syoa3KY9iwjyCITeXcR_ftsSV0Z9NfvgLdjHueIPPyHo7/s1600/Under-Construction.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455105466778643618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcIAt0evydLlTFrKLCH_ryQm8aug7rdsy_c_MEY_ROI5I1A_xd22eEqiZu5J4dVaiTFZ9iioIaSuqqJJEyeo1H0E9vk0-PMV4Syoa3KY9iwjyCITeXcR_ftsSV0Z9NfvgLdjHueIPPyHo7/s400/Under-Construction.gif" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">You know how I keep going on about what a slacker I am and how I want to be a bigger part of this community and play a more active roll (because I do love you guys, I do)? And you know how I keep saying this and doing nothing about it? And you know how I mentioned I wanted a new blog design? </span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Well no more sitting around picking my nose (Eta: I don't pick my nose...least not while anyone is watching... Except my Husband, he doesn't count, much to his own dismay), It's happening. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">I'm in the process of moving to Wordpress (YES) and I have created a Twitter account and FB fan page...? I was up late last night video chatting with my brother who informed me these are the things a "good blogger" does. He's been a blogger/networker for years and does it well so I suppose he'd know, right? </span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">So please bare with me but I promise soon I will be able to announce my official move to Wordpress and away from Blogger. I hope you'll all follow me over there too. </span></div>Evehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07419457138356078554noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6380142665455682300.post-52359190641286831902010-03-31T11:08:00.003+01:002010-03-31T11:49:23.014+01:00What do you get when you cross a Strawberry and a Pineapple?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvLOc6xw-E5Hkdq48Y2xwJ1t6SEDL-vwD6rZiqan4S47vzzoq3bET4M9GMC6lti4Wq-w0eBgem0P2XwAfq_WpDmJCiw3a-aAqWhl48bsOr6FKSXpN817CzMFEEE-3pNBF-D2D5PSQn8LX-/s1600/pineberry.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454738196564506290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 225px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvLOc6xw-E5Hkdq48Y2xwJ1t6SEDL-vwD6rZiqan4S47vzzoq3bET4M9GMC6lti4Wq-w0eBgem0P2XwAfq_WpDmJCiw3a-aAqWhl48bsOr6FKSXpN817CzMFEEE-3pNBF-D2D5PSQn8LX-/s400/pineberry.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"><br /></span><div></div><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Why a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Pineberry</span> of course. On Sky News this morning it's all the talk (War? what war? Murders? huh? Fruit is <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">definitely</span> a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">more</span> important headline), </span><a href="http://news.sky.com/skynews/Home/Business/Pineberries-At-Waitrose-Spring-Fruit-Looks-Like-Strawberry-But-Tastes-Like-Pineapple/Article/201003415589194"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">The new fruit: <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Pineberries</span>. </span></a></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">If you are lucky enough to live near a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Waitrose</span> then get your butt down there because they go out of season in 5 weeks times. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">It's all very exciting IF it's true. While reading all the reports on this new and exciting fruit I am very aware of what the date is tomorrow and how notorious the British Press are for pulling one on the public. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">But If it is true already my brain is working over load on the kind of fun deserts I can create. And I will. I am lucky enough to live quite close to a very large <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Waitrose</span> and will be visiting there in the next few days in hopes to stock up. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Have you heard of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Pineberries</span>? Do you know if they are real? Do you have any suggestions on recipes? </span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">I'll keep you updated. </span></p>Evehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07419457138356078554noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6380142665455682300.post-59105897499405733462010-03-23T13:42:00.002+00:002010-03-23T14:11:35.428+00:0014 days of mayhem<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Or maybe it was more.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">I'm not sure but I do know I feel like I need a holiday from being busy. And no I don't want to sit on a beach or go somewhere on a relaxing vacation, I want time to do my laundry and mop my floor and I want to be able to organize my pantry and sit down and watch trashy television and go to the shops without having to rush. ENJOY a normal, mundane, routine day. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">That is what I want. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">I've had a very busy past few weeks with visits from old American friends and EVERYONE AND THEIR <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">DOG's</span> Birthday (which involves some sort of party or visit) I have been socializing too much for my liking. Not that I didn't enjoy every minute off it, but I'm ready for a good month of normality now before anyone asks me to do anything else that involves disrupting my homely routine. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">We have bought our tickets to fly home end of May for 3 weeks to enjoy (and I organize) my sisters wedding and I am ITCHING to get home. I haven't been home for 3 years. It's a long time. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">I obviously have also been neglecting you, for which I apologize. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">I have a study now, at the end of our garden (<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">god bless</span> my handy man husband) and I have been enjoying hiding in there and pouring over books and recipes and thinking of blogging. Eventually when I get wireless I'll be able to dedicate this as my blogging room and you may all see more of me. I hope I will be able to become a larger more constructive part of this community as well. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Once I get back on my toes I will also be holding a Foodie Pay It Forwards in which 3 of you will be the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">recipients</span> of a foodie <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">goodies</span> box from the UK. </span>Evehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07419457138356078554noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6380142665455682300.post-56454854508019935582010-02-25T11:48:00.004+00:002010-02-25T12:46:24.189+00:00For the love of Beets<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG4neTI4uPdYHLcFi7yBDkOgVGj76T0XDFg5TIMD6cX05qfof5njhBU3X6VNhbHimFgl_nOmOgPvBnqfhYnHjOjWjpFY2H6NVU4VwnJQdNsHGtthbLN5ZAIAaS20aawVVLB-oTQZmMb8Lq/s1600-h/beets.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442152633743498466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 263px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG4neTI4uPdYHLcFi7yBDkOgVGj76T0XDFg5TIMD6cX05qfof5njhBU3X6VNhbHimFgl_nOmOgPvBnqfhYnHjOjWjpFY2H6NVU4VwnJQdNsHGtthbLN5ZAIAaS20aawVVLB-oTQZmMb8Lq/s400/beets.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;"> When vegetables are this good looking - who needs supermodels!</span></strong> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">I was quite surprised </span><a href="http://youngwivestale-eve.blogspot.com/2010/02/healthy-cake-yeah-right.html"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">yesterday</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"> that quite a few of my American counterpart bloggers had never tried beetroot, which drew to my attention that Beets (like Rhubarb) are not quite so much a staple as they are here. So I thought maybe I should educate you all on such a wonderful vegetable and share with you a few other ways to use it. </span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Beetroots make their biggest appearance for my family on Boxing Day (26th of December) where the traditional meal of pickle and mash is had. I love picked beetroot and I love it even more when it stains my fluffy mash potato a beautiful violet hue. Generally pickled beets are the most bought type of beets, I warn you though, they're a bit like Marmite (If you're American you might very well not have a clue what I'm talking about here...I'll do another post regarding marmite soon.) You ever love them or hate them. </span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">I personally, love them. I love that they are so versatile and a real great way to make a drab looking dish, colorful and beautiful. Grated over a plain old chicken salad? Perfect! </span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Here's a few other great facts about Beets that just make them that more appealing:</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span> </div><ul><li><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Beetroot contains betaine, a substance that relaxes the mind and is used to treat depression. It also contains trytophan (also found in chocolate!) which contributes to a sense of well being. </span></div></li><li><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">The Romans considered beetroot an aphrodisiac (it’s rich in the mineral boron which is important in the production of human sex hormones). The belief persists to this day that if a man and a woman eat from the same beetroot, they will fall in love (with each other, presumably.) </span></div></li><li><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">It’s an excellent source of folic acid and is therefore recommended to women who are pregnant or planning to become pregnant. </span></div></li><li><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Cooked beetroot is a great source of folate that can protect you against high blood pressure, Alzheimer’s and dementia. It is also crucial to the development of a baby’s spinal cord during the first three months of pregnancy, so a good intake of folate is important to prevent spinal cord defects such as spina bifida.</span></div></li><li><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Beetroot is a naturally environmentally-friendly crop, rarely needing treatment with pesticides.</span></div></li></ul><p align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">If you're still unsure about trying beets (why?!) then why don't you have a look over these recipes to get your taste buds tingling? </span></p><p align="left"><a href="http://www.lovebeetroot.co.uk/recipes/detail.asp?ItemID=50"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Borscht Soup</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"> - A classic beetroot soup originating from Poland. </span></p><p align="left"><a href="http://www.lovebeetroot.co.uk/recipes/detail.asp?ItemID=59"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Beetroot, Avocado and Goats Cheese Salad served with Parma Ham</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"> - The combination is. peeeerfect. </span></p><p align="left"><a href="http://www.lovebeetroot.co.uk/recipes/detail.asp?ItemID=52"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Beetroot and Onion Chutney</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"> - I heart this so much. </span></p><p align="left"><a href="http://www.lovebeetroot.co.uk/recipes/detail.asp?ItemID=54"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Beetroot & Wild Mushrooms Tartlet in Filo Pastry</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"> - Why wouldn't you?</span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">But my favourite easy way to curb my Beetroot craving? Couple of slices of whole meal bread, several slices of beetroot dipped in malt vinegar arranged on top, salt, pepper and a generous sprinkling of cheddar cheese... Toasted of course.</span></p><p align="left"> </p><p align="left"><em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">All information come</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">s from </span></em><a href="http://www.lovebeetroot.co.uk/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"><em>www.lovebeetroot.co.uk</em></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"><em> .... Yeah, thats right people, they've even got their own website. Booyah.</em></span> </p>Evehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07419457138356078554noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6380142665455682300.post-55740031845272425942010-02-24T09:02:00.004+00:002010-02-24T10:03:43.332+00:00Healthy Cake... yeah, right.<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">I've been baking a lot lately, swooning my colleagues at work with my baking confectionaries and taking orders for family and friend birthday parties. Last week it was cupcakes galore (thank you hummingbird bakery cookbook) and Angel Food cake (They don't have that in England...so wrong). This week is Pioneer Women's </span><a href="http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/2009/09/tres-leches-cake/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Tres Leche Cake</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"> and next week The most beautiful cake I have ever tasted, Beetroot and Seed Cake. Yes that's right kids, a healthy cake. Well, as healthy as a tasty cake is ever going to get. Just ingnore the gallons of oil. Hrm?</span> <div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span> </div><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441745228646536754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9_MyXiKiGR2Omkgt3ZdOvdMIqGwUvygHEqffCwQIvq8khG7DZaFiS-OO0AhEPCBJg35_mm5SEw60gePJOEu8Z-_aRtp58IiI47Tyx2w9fgF0t4mI_TPx8lM8RN4iNGxCzZlwpy5IMDge-/s400/beet+cake.jpg" border="0" /><br /></span><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">My collegue bought this in yesterday to work and I have no quarls with saying this is better than anything I have ever made. Beautifully moist and so very flavourful. I must insist you try it. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span> </div><br /><p><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Beetroot and Seed Cake</span></strong></p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">225g self-raising flour<br />½ tsp bicarbonate of soda<br />1 scant tsp baking powder<br />½ tsp ground cinnamon<br />180ml sunflower oil<br />225g light muscovado sugar<br />3 eggs<br />150g raw beetroot<br />juice of half a lemon<br />75g sultanas or raisins<br />75g mixed seeds (sunflower, pumpkin, linseed)<br />for the icing:<br />8 tbsp icing sugar<br />lemon juice or orange blossom water<br />poppy seeds </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Set the oven at 180C/gas mark 4. Lightly butter a rectangular loaf tin (20cm x 9cm x 7cm deep, measured across the bottom) then line the bottom with baking parchment. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Sift together the flour, bicarbonate of soda, baking powder and cinnamon. Beat the oil and sugar in a food mixer until well creamed then introduce the beaten egg yolks one by one, reserving the whites for later. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Grate the beetroot coarsely and fold into the mixture, then add the lemon juice, raisins or sultanas and the assorted seeds. Fold the flour and raising agents into the mixture while the machine is turning slowly. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Beat the egg whites till light and almost stiff. Fold gently but thoroughly into the mixture with a large metal spoon (a wooden one will knock the air out). Pour the mixture into the cake tin and bake for 50-55 minutes, covering the top with a piece of foil after 30 minutes. Test with a skewer to see if done. The cake should be moist inside but not sticky. Leave the cake to settle for a good 20 minutes before turning out of its tin on to a wire cooling rack. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">To make the icing, sieve the icing sugar and stir in enough lemon juice or orange blossom water to achieve a consistency where the icing will run over the top of the cake and dribble slowly down the sides (about three teaspoonfuls), stirring to remove any lumps. Drizzle over the cake and scatter with poppy seeds. Leave to set before eating.</span>Evehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07419457138356078554noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6380142665455682300.post-65469311175732057702010-02-11T16:28:00.003+00:002010-02-11T16:36:09.732+00:00Theta Mom Thursday<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim6styojooGOfyzVYGzu9epRqetl9D0JeFH8rULE_0t9Obb0sqBOvW7RKoOxYHYHRbN6xF7pI5ry4pmWePYl8cBOXSOHyPfDwqGOssIQWnyPPaieGhTbT3qIphpnuuWHWOZJSSxxsgXLFB/s1600-h/Theta+Mom.bmp"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437023896244487874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 180px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim6styojooGOfyzVYGzu9epRqetl9D0JeFH8rULE_0t9Obb0sqBOvW7RKoOxYHYHRbN6xF7pI5ry4pmWePYl8cBOXSOHyPfDwqGOssIQWnyPPaieGhTbT3qIphpnuuWHWOZJSSxxsgXLFB/s400/Theta+Mom.bmp" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Ah sweet Thursday. Here we are again. Quite nice, no? Thursday's is my Friday (sucka's) and I love Fridays. A day for just me and my boy. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">But this isn't about me and my boy, this is about me and how I managed to make some time for myself. This week it was much more low key, but equally as satisfying. I've been having about a hour to myself in the evenings 3 nights a week where I do my Davina DVD and work those calories off! After I've clenched, crunched, flexed and stretched I throw on my bathrobe, claim my corner of the sofa and pull out my latest "project". </span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">I haven't told you yet, have I? Oh it's something I'm very excited about. Husband bought me a beautiful hand made leather journal for Christmas, with a beautiful bronze latch. It's only small, but very thick and it's perfect. I'm slowly turning it into the family recipe book. filling the thing up with my favourite recipes (pictures, notes and reviews to go with as well) and one day I plan to hand it down to the next generation. I've always wanted to do something like this and now I can. It's great. It's more scrap booky than recipe book but it's just how I like it and I've really been enjoying taking an hour in the evening to do my cutting and pasting and writing. I'm sure it'll be slowly filled through the years and I hope my children will add to it as well... and their children. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">I suppose this could be constituted as family time since I'm doing it for the family, but it's nice to have a project. You know? </span></div>Evehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07419457138356078554noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6380142665455682300.post-35154721333179755752010-02-10T11:29:00.002+00:002010-02-10T12:51:27.223+00:00It's the GHOST LIGHT!<div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">It was a long night last night. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Last week out neighbors fitted a sensor light in their back garden as they were having problems with foxes. This obviously pissed off the people behind us as last night I watched as they fitted a spot light themselves and aimed it at our neighbors window. Hm. Very Neighborly. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">I didn't think much of it to be honest, that was of course until I awoke with a start to the sound of my Son screaming like bloody <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">mary</span>. Now, let me first say, generally once Son goes to bed we don't hear a peep from him again until 7am the next morning. He's a good sleeper. So when he cries at night it generally means something is wrong (he's sick for example). Husband had only just gotten into bed when Son started crying (around midnight) so he went to check on him. He settled quite quickly and Husband climbed back into bed. And the cycle began, every 30 minutes until 3am he woke up and Husband went to settle him. Around 3.30am He began to cry again, I figured Husband must be missing something when he was going into Son's room so it was time for a mothers touch (just so you know... I'm not lazy, Husband and I have an arrangement that whoever has to get up the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">earliest</span> for work gets to stay in bed if Son wakes. And yes, I was working early the next morning). So bleary eyes and feeling my way through the dark I head for Son's bedroom. It's about now I notice a strange orange glow coming from under his door. I have to say it made me nervous so I picked up the pace and burst into the bedroom.<br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436577235148177314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 180px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 138px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrzr2P5j0Uw65jWAlToTaiYYjlhrSXxWPa16GxMp-FScRNocaIiw_AWzSO4Knv8ciySrU9Z35PM4Zdtp5mmb06lz3nH7FEZbqYXGs0o3ShIloirylchvzYc3BEJShxLl03wt1eGsMwv2c4/s400/180px-Samantha_Mulder%2527s_abduction.jpg" border="0" /></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">I have to say there was a moment when I worried my Son might be being abducted or that something paranormal was amiss. The room had an eerie orange glow about it and I walked in to find Son plastered to the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">opposite</span> wall of the window, eyes wide with fear. Oh my poor baby! I picked him up to comfort him and sang a quick verse of his favourite song to make him smile and then together we investigated this light. Yup, sure enough it was the stupid people behind us who had aimed a little to far to the left and were shinning the 1MILLION watt light bulb into my sons room <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">every time</span> a cat sneezed. There wasn't much I could do to prevent it at 3.30am and even my Son's heavy black out <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">curtains</span> weren't keeping it out, so I explained to Son what the light was and that it was nothing to be afraid of and hoped for the best.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Much to my pleasure Son got it and slept the rest of the night peacefully and I gleefully rubbed my glory into Husband's face who despite 3 hours at attempting to get Son to settle he had no luck. Rock on Mama. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">I'll be making a trip to the light house tonight to ask them to point their stadium light else where. </span></div>Evehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07419457138356078554noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6380142665455682300.post-88228700579953318412010-02-09T22:47:00.001+00:002010-02-09T22:58:20.618+00:00Random Tuesday Thoughts<div><a href="http://www.theunmom.com/2010/02/awesome-is-about-as-over-used-as-random.html"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436258381946801586" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 200px; height: 79px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf5WvcwAD4HxKqH_ye5buVzBJJVH-uiOmzfxaEj_hBUNEZNb0WaUlWbXv9jBNI66rzj_SNQ3Aqb_gt8C0o4dovHIOgms-CLPjmj_ueVwz_zrP3PMN6aIdAHN91ODojayQX8CFn0Jkv_4hh/s400/Random+Thoughts+Tuesday.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Lets random it up once again with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Un</span> Mom. This is a good day to do random for me because I can't focus on a single freaking thing. Work is all over the place and so am I. I have minimal attention span today and all I can say is thank god Husband is picking up Son today because I'd probably end up walking out with the wrong kid. </span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span> </div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">There is nothing like cursing the country you live in. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"> Which I of course did when on Friday I took Son out to the park in a T-shirt and zip up and stated to him that I had a feeling we'd be having an early spring this year. So of course its snowing again now, and shit cold. My luck... so yeah, sorry <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Britain</span>.<br /><br />I recently bought the <a href="http://hummingbirdbakery.com/flash.html">Hummingbird Bakery</a> Recipe book and I honestly don't think it gets much better than this. Do you know the Hummingbird? It's quite famous/well known/elite here in the UK, though I'm not sure about the USA.<br />It's pretty much the most perfect place for American Baked goods in the UK and you should check it out even if it's just to look at the pretty pictures.<br /><br />I'm left with a dilemma now though. I'm making my own Birthday cake next week and I can't decide between making a <a href="http://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/12981/hannah-obees-salted-caramel-chocolate-cake">Salted Caramel Chocolate Cake, </a><a href="http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/2009/09/tres-leches-cake/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Tres</span> Leches</a> Cake or Red Velvet.... What would you like? I of course could make all three.... maybe... but then which one do I take to work? I'm leaning towards the Salted Caramel because it sound posh and complicated and more likely to impress.<br /><br />Moving on to further random it's week 3 of daily crunches and backside <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">exercises</span> for yours truly.. I think, <span style="font-style: italic;">think</span> I can feel muscles. Now just to get rid of this layer or chub and I might finally be able to see this supermodel body I've been waiting for. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">hah</span>. yeah. right. This is of course after I eat the three birthday cakes I'm going to make myself.<br /><br />Did I mention Potty training starts soon... Stage 1 is in progress in which I attempt to get Son to have a sit on the pot while I get him changed in the morning and at night. So far not so good. He doesn't want to do it. No questions asked. So we'll be taking it slow, no pressure, and when he feels ready we'll go for it full on.<br /><br />Ah... I do love me some random.<br /></span></div><div> </div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span> </div></div>Evehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07419457138356078554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6380142665455682300.post-9039692452781677982010-02-04T16:03:00.004+00:002010-02-05T23:17:57.966+00:00Theta Mom Thursday<span style="font-size:85%;"><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.thetamom.com/"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglnpoltSXjIuAGz852VZ2oDXP5tcoR13H4Ml4mXWhsT6Zm_Cm-K-dru6AGwR5RqH9lkDMDNkcma0kyeP70qCJStY-qpWmD5E_sCTLBPrjl4nTx-ti7I59HHy18Q5kjQ9cSJrKFQ7MVTLHi/s400/thetamomthursday_1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434899576078603378" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">No, YOUR Mom! ... It's here again, the day when we all rack our brains to remember if he had an hour of "me time". Well I did. In fact I had nearly a whole weekend. GASP. It rocked.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Saturday night Husband and I were booked to be attending Wife's 30<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">th</span> Birthday Bash. Since it was in London and we haven't been "properly" out for a long time we decided to hand Son off to the in-laws and book a hotel in the city. The hotel was only about 20 minutes from the venue, a bar called Sway in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Holborn</span>. We checked in around 4pm and thanks to who my Husband is got access to all the executive areas and took full advantage of the lounge, canapes and wine. The party itself wasn't bad though neither Husband or <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">I's</span> scene. We're not 'clubbing' people. Both of us like to dance and we both like to be out and social but I (despite my age) feel very old when I go to clubs. Also, WAY too many people for me. When I go out I like to go out to spend time and catch up with my friends, not too fight off unwanted advances from men, and I'd like to say that being there with my Husband would prevent this but if he's not laughing at me then he's fighting the ladies off too.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">It was a good night though, we all got rather merry, Wife didn't stress and flap about too much, Husband was offered a 'quick one' in the bathroom by one of Wife's friends who </span></span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >despite</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> the fact that I was dancing with Husband at the time thought she might have a chance. Yeah, right girl. And we still made it back to the hotel in time for midnight. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The best part of the whole weekend of course was the hotel breakfast. You can't beat a hotel breakfast. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I find it very strange though how because I don't do a big night out often I really really crave them but then as soon as I have them I realize there are things I would rather be doing. i.e. nice meal out, dinner party, movies, west end show. I guess marriage and motherhood have made me old ;) </span><br /></span>Evehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07419457138356078554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6380142665455682300.post-42586757784049279752010-02-03T21:39:00.003+00:002010-02-03T21:56:59.402+00:00I wanted to go out and change the world but I couldn't find a babysitter.<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Since I'm so heart broken this week about missing Random Tuesday Thoughts and also I have no brain power at the moment to write anything intelligent, witty or slightly interesting on my blog concerning my life (unless of course you want to hear more about my love for Vampires and also my frustration at having too big an ego to indulge myself and become the fat women I really am deep down) </span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I thought I'd share with you a few of my favourite quotes revolving around being a wife and mother.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Enjoy. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;">To be today's real women, you need to have the physique of Venus, the cunning of Cleopatra, the courage of Joan of Arc, the wardrobe of Marie Antoinette and the cleaning ability of Ammonia D. </span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;">- Joyce <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Jillson</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;">Can you imagine a world without men? No crime and lots of happy fat women. </span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;">- Marion Smith</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;">Among all forms of absurd courage, the courage of girls is outstanding. Otherwise there would be fewer <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">marriages</span>. </span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;">- Colette (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Sidonie</span> Gabrielle)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;">When men cook, cooking is viewed as an <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">important</span> activity; when women cook, it is just a household chore. </span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;">-Margaret Mead (1901-1978)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I found this quote last week and ironically the day after I had a "discussion" with my Husband about how he seemed to treat the bathroom like a wet room. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Seems</span> like men have been doing this for years... So I guess I have no hope. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;">Men never drip before getting out of the shower. They saturate themselves and then plunge headlong into a towel - leaving the bathroom as though it's been through a hard time in the North Sea. </span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;">- Pam Brown B. 1928</span><br /></span>Evehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07419457138356078554noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6380142665455682300.post-48170808674798452332010-02-03T10:18:00.002+00:002010-02-03T10:48:24.073+00:00Argh!<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">I have been trying to blog for 3 days and every time I head for the computer or open up the browser some <em>fool</em> wants my attention. It's not cool people, not cool.<br /></span><div></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">I missed Random Tuesday too! I had a little post-it note on my monitor with random things I was going to include in my post... It's slightly heartbroken, don't you think? </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Ok...Granted, I <em>could </em>have blogged last night but it was the first episode and double bill of "The Vampire Diary's"... I sat down thinking I'd just watch the first 30 minutes figuring I wouldn't like such a silly programme. 2 hours later and Husband and I are sat squealing together. Him over the awesome biting/ninja moves and me over the oh so hawt and mysterious and Vampires...Also the passionate completely devoted love? ... Ah Sigh. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span> </div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433967129234610034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 302px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvHusYHy6bhO4MT-XCGg65nm6Wm9dFlDU5qeqSQMewRONnornCDgcXeVCmnaqWBRycJJOCpVn6vbjbqoIjROQ8TPc1ly23ppGc8Eley6YqWlZvv-98bdzTMV2LeRLo4RKjoLJWw66Xe0dl/s400/vampire-diaries-pics11.jpg" border="0" /></span> <div></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">So yeah, now you know. You didn't get a post because I was busy fantasising about Vampires, and I'm not ashamed! ... I do love me a bit of broody bad boy. As you all know.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">You should all be happy to know though that now, since it has been a few days I've got all kinds of different things I wanted to say, so I might just grace you with a few posts over the next few days... I know, I know, you can thank me later. </span></div>Evehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07419457138356078554noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6380142665455682300.post-78627578727378233462010-01-29T13:01:00.005+00:002010-01-29T13:29:34.060+00:00Blowing some steam<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I'm 25 in a few weeks... I like to remind everyone of this because to me it seems old but I know to you lot (and most of my friends) it makes them want to weep. Obviously not really but I do love saying "Oh, that was way before my time" when discussing things with friends/family. It's my little dig.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Despite being only 25 and the youngest amongst my friends and family here in England, I am often mistaken for being older. And when I say often I mean: Anyone that didn't know how old I was before they met me.</span> <br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The general age bracket I am placed into is 26-30 at first glance. And upon discovering I am married and have a son this shoots up to 30-35.<br /><br />Why? Ahem, and I quote: Because only stupid women would marry and have children before they're 30.</span> <br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Why thank you.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Not only do I look old, but I'm stupid. It's cool. What do you think?<br /></span> <a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoSO9C-d31UvZNkdkIbZtISWx_mVhuEVxudApAz01leAkO3cG9zw8haocvq44VN3oocXcCIXzuR9bYHlPi7Fy3DctFp6Ss4X0MtXgi5-3sutgDleif5GTlY6mais-bKBk2qbSSwFIYto1e/s1600-h/SDC12410.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoSO9C-d31UvZNkdkIbZtISWx_mVhuEVxudApAz01leAkO3cG9zw8haocvq44VN3oocXcCIXzuR9bYHlPi7Fy3DctFp6Ss4X0MtXgi5-3sutgDleif5GTlY6mais-bKBk2qbSSwFIYto1e/s320/SDC12410.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432150199155882610" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The reason behind this was that before 30 you are too young and immature and not ready and why would you throw your life away that soon?<br /><br />It is often assumed amongst people that I was knocked up when I walked down the isle and that is the only reason I would marry someone 15 years my senior.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Isn't it funny how the majority of people wear blinkers? I am often shocked at how close-minded people are. And education has nothing to do with it, the above quote was said by one of the Psychologists at my work. A Doctor no less.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />It makes me laugh because I hear their comments and then I look at what they are telling me about their lives and although of course I don't know the whole story they never come across as strong as you would expect. And here I am, yes; young. yes; married. yes; a mother. yes; fucking happy.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I know I've said it before but I </span></span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >dig</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> my life. I made the exact right choices for </span></span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >me.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />And I say this without hesitation, I </span></span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >know</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> I am a far better mother than some of the 30+ mothers I know. Granted two of these mother I know are completely bonkers. But you think my Son is so hap</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">py</span>, and clever and brave and strong and confident JUST because we got lucky? No, a big part of that is because we are </span></span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >good</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> parents.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Don't judge me because of my age or how I've chosen to live my life.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />And while I'm on that note, there is </span></span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >nothing</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> that saddens me and pisses me off more than women being nasty to women without any reason other than that they didn't do exactly what you did. I made a comment on my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Facebook</span> status about how I really enjoyed <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/tvandradio/6834748/Billie-Piper-to-meet-real-life-Belle-de-Jour-in-TV-special.html">Belle De <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Jour</span> and Billie Pipers interview</a><br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCaQw24DzMvl1PePWmKlvYqpKUSix4Z3O0lqImE7Zwd-Ms6UHkRz7pvCAMV7Blg-9TgUC9NaQjUfeTx1VlHhAP9w1fpoRicoCE-sDxxDmRHROZQm4qBKYdolHfgx2QMg2hq-42vdca6EPs/s1600-h/SNF1534A-682_966398a.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 188px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCaQw24DzMvl1PePWmKlvYqpKUSix4Z3O0lqImE7Zwd-Ms6UHkRz7pvCAMV7Blg-9TgUC9NaQjUfeTx1VlHhAP9w1fpoRicoCE-sDxxDmRHROZQm4qBKYdolHfgx2QMg2hq-42vdca6EPs/s320/SNF1534A-682_966398a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432152734194030338" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">and pretty much every straight girl I know (none of my close friends thank god) commented on how they hated them because they were <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">ho's</span> and "not that good looking anyway" ... Shit, try and look a little deeper people. But first, why not try starting with yourself?</span> <br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Don't tarnish me with your brush just because I like who I am.</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />/End Rant. </span></span>Evehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07419457138356078554noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6380142665455682300.post-81068083848098261272010-01-28T16:04:00.008+00:002010-01-28T17:11:16.168+00:00Theta Mom Thursday<a href="http://www.thetamom.com/2010/01/time-out-for-theta-mom-thursday-14/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431822413634158674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 180px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmJy1VFFVVnDLf5NBKyqTf2fLyWuhf0IrWVw-Cq91N2g3G8dv37FZFF0WuF_3758hcJv_9J6yHTQcbr1O3mp9YOzlxsZCWgllr1cHWG4_J6fhCfjaMwkjhmcoh6jY77fNTC4hniT2rvYLm/s400/Theta+Mom.bmp" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"> </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Theta Mom Thursday is BACK. I couldn't be happier because one of husband and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">I's</span></span></span> New Year resolutions was to get more "me time" for both of us, and this is one NY-res I've been keeping! Husband... not so much. But that's his problem, not mine. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Anyways, Me Me Me! Right? </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">I'll do a quick run down. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">every 4 weeks Sunday evening myself and two of my girlfriends from work go to the pictures, it's a new well loved tradition for the three of us because we've managed to work out that if we <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">pre</span></span></span>-buy the tickets and then go to Frankie & Benny's for a pitcher of cocktail between us and a shared desert we only pay £15 each. and £15 for a great <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">girly</span></span></span> night out? Well, I'm not complaining. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">I've been taking advantage of Christmas Gifts such as <a href="http://youngwivestale-eve.blogspot.com/2010/01/bath-ballistic.html">Lush Bath Products</a>, Books from my wish list and bottles of wine. combined, this is a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">stella</span></span></span> evening in for me and I've been making a point to do it weekly. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Another one of Husband and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">I's</span></span></span> NY-res was that every 3rd Friday of the month we will be having "date night". Our babysitter has been organized and our first "date" will be next month. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">January tends to be busier than December for me, mostly because my 4 <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">closest</span> friends all have birthday's and then it's <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">February</span> and it's Valentines day and my Birthday. So there will be lots of parties and dinners over the coming 4 weeks. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Also a new tradition has begun to brew in our household over the last 3 weeks. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Officially:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"><strong>Monday is Baking Day</strong> - Son and I will <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">endeavor</span> to make those cakes <a href="http://youngwivestale-eve.blogspot.com/2010/01/in-over-my-head.html">I spoke about</a>! </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"><strong>Friday is Margarita/Foodie night</strong> - Inspired by Pam over at <a href="http://sidewalkshoes.blogspot.com/">Sidewalk Shoes</a>, Husband will be in charge of making the drinks and I will be making a new "up market" grow up dinner. Just. for. us. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">What did I say recently about 2010? I have a feeling I am going to be right. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span>Evehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07419457138356078554noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6380142665455682300.post-34301681842515613472010-01-27T11:12:00.003+00:002010-01-27T12:01:54.389+00:00O' Father of mine...tell me where have you been?<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3fVm-9SWObhm6QoN4LOTKNvlPIweJN1SqMBYB0lqV-YNGTblF9joL_PMeSEscGzdG6YqtJKvKm0jx7icnQjr6p0sq0vTREeF42FnrZJU9LQ_0K2eHuyXat7PckRoufMtLgXEbXcyOLae6/s1600-h/Father%20&%20Daughter%2026031.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431387320785082898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 335px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 335px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3fVm-9SWObhm6QoN4LOTKNvlPIweJN1SqMBYB0lqV-YNGTblF9joL_PMeSEscGzdG6YqtJKvKm0jx7icnQjr6p0sq0vTREeF42FnrZJU9LQ_0K2eHuyXat7PckRoufMtLgXEbXcyOLae6/s400/Father%2520&%2520Daughter%252026031.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">As you may all be aware I had an abusive father growing up and recently I have been in therapy finally dealing with my past and as they say ‘facing my daemons’. I say ‘<em>Had</em> an abusive father’ because although he is still very much alive and very much a part of my siblings lives and very much still a typical abuser (nothing special about him) he is not a part of my life now and no longer effects me. I remember when I started therapy the main focus was how angry I was at him and how I got even angrier when people told me I would have to stop being angry to get past the abuse. How could I? I had a <em>right</em> to be angry! I would never stop hating him.<br /><br />I started therapy 8 months ago. Last Thursday was my last session. Not because our time was up or because I couldn’t hack it, But because I’m, for lack of a better word… Fixed.<br /><br />And much to my surprise I’m not angry anymore. Not at all. A little sad, yes. But not about my Father, I’m sad I never had a father. I plan on writing up a more conclusive post regarding my time in therapy and how I feel now but this will be a more revealing post (dark but I think with a positive edge) so I’ll save it for my (rarely used) <a href="http://eve-psychoanalyzethis.blogspot.com/">Psychoanalyze This</a> blog.<br /><br />But to sum up I’m good now. Unaffected. Acknowledging. Embracing. Strong. Proud. Brave. I’m not going to put happy there because even before therapy I wasn’t a un-happy person, I was haunted. I’ve always been a happy, chin-up kinda gal. But I’ve finally put down that big bag of shit I was carrying around.<br /><br />I am sad though, in a nostalgic kind of way. What bought this on was Vicky’s post over at <a href="http://www.frugalmomknowsbest.com/">Frugal Mom Knows Best </a>regarding her Dad and it made me realize I never had what she is describing, and never will. Like a lot of people I suppose but I don’t wish MY father had been that Dad, because he no longer exists in that context to me. But I do wish I had a Dad.<br /><br />Vicky wrote <a href="http://www.frugalmomknowsbest.com/2010/01/we-could-use-some-prayers-and-positive.html">this</a>:</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"><br /><em>I TRULY believe that anyone off the street can be a biological father, but it takes a real man to be a dad. A dad is someone who worries about you. A dad is someone who teaches you, guides you, protects you. A dad is someone who leads by example. A dad is someone who will never be too proud to tell his children he made a mistake. A dad is someone who will absolutely never turn his back on you, will never give up no matter how many times you push him away. A dad is someone who will have a glimmer of pride in his eye as they watch you get a diploma, and a glimmer of tears as he walks you down the aisle. A dad is someone who will love your children as much as he loves you, because they are a part of you. A dad is someone who worries about you and checks your oil/tires/whatever to make sure you are safe. A dad is someone who wipes away your tears and brushes back your hair to comfort you. A dad is someone who hugs you so tight you can feel the love. A dad is someone that makes you KNOW you matter to him.<br /></em><br />Reading that again makes me choke up because it seems like a nice thing to have. I’m lucky I suppose that I had my late-grandfather who is and always will be the best man I’ve ever known and my hero, and now my father-in-law who fills the hole quite nicely, but there is still that hole and it makes me miss my Granddad terribly. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431387327788264770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-94pl1IoJV8bwVLQ9ySAy7jVEpStylBrpXI3XZw8V6K817OU7itO7p2tBP40oblR-E26mj30SpKoKb0-PAHqtv_Mzv313BsyP9lVR7k1EofzgWVhtE7WMugjLa0U8yaR_oZ2jVD_4AtqC/s400/father-n-daughter.jpg" border="0" /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"><br />My mother, who I have a very strong relationship with, wasn’t always able to make me safe and I forgive her now and understand why and also thank her because her mistakes have made me a better mother, which I am eternally grateful for.<br /><br />What is it they say? … You are what you make of yourself not what they make of you.<br /><br />Whatever it is, one of the things I love most is being me. I’m really quite a rad person to be. I mean, I’d read my blog… you know? ;) </span></div><div><br /> </div><div> </div><div><br /> </div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">P.S. I dig Vicky. Btw. You should too... Though I'm sure you do already. </span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">P.P.S I <em>have</em> been reading your blogs and I have made a promise to myself to make time to comment too. I've had little time on the net lately and other than a quick read through my blogroll I haven't been able to do much. </span></div>Evehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07419457138356078554noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6380142665455682300.post-9186932877734351942010-01-26T14:59:00.006+00:002010-01-26T16:53:13.865+00:00Random Tuesday Thoughts<a href="http://www.theunmom.com/2010/01/mother-nature-is-bitch-youd-think-wed.html"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431064043352580770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 79px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwIBidTOsUMsvcW3nXICyLKwYGgQx40VprDzx4wJJrJ006uSqu_H2ve30_35mwyc_rrBqE9DMCPaq13s-shltLPAe0AtZStmIU30bjNRvrYQmsUafuhdMcg_RiJo9M5CEabr-X0ZXXJXUy/s400/Random+Thoughts+Tuesday.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Time to random it up chumps, and there is really only one way to get down with the Random and that's with <u><span style="color:#800080;"><a href="http://www.theunmom.com/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Un</span> Mom</a>.</span></u></span></span></div><div><u><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#800080;"></span></u></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">We'll start of with a little ego booster for yours <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">truly</span>. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">While putting away some files at work (which of course involved a lot of bending and stretching) I caught two of my male work <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">colleagues</span> staring at my backside. It's not a first, but it was done in such a sit-com manner that I had to laugh out loud. They were both leaning back from their desks so far in their chairs they were toying with certain loss of balance. Not to mention when I caught them they both <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">scrambled</span> to sit up and look normal and then when they thought I wasn't looking gave each other a thumbs up. Nice boys, real nice. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">I wish my husband told me stories. He's a funny guy and I KNOW there are stories to be told</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">but he never shares. Even when I prompt him I never get anything good. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Most recent example: </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Me: How was work? </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Him: Not bad, got in a fight with ____</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Me: Really?! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">omg</span> what happened?!</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Him: He was being a dick</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Me: <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Omg</span> what did he say?!!</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Him: Stuff.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Me: <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">OmG</span> Like what?!</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Him: I dunno...stuff that pissed me off.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Me: <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">ok</span>...What did you do? </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Him: *shrug* put him in his place.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Me: <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">OmG</span> like took him down <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">tooooown</span>!?</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Him: .......what?</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Me: .....how did you put him in his place?</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Him: I just did. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">FIN.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">The end of story that I KNOW must have been more exciting than that. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">It drives me mad because I know my Husband if he put his mind to it </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">and remembered such things would probably be the best blogging material</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">I could ever ask for. But no. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Does 3am mean anything to you? Well if you're like me and you like scaring yourself with movies based loosely around the devil/hell/all things anti-<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Christ</span> then you'll know 3am is the hour of the devil. Apparently a prime time for paranormal and demonic activity. So did it worry me when after discovering (quite innocently) that my family and 3 of my girlfriends all awoke without reason at 3am on Friday night? Not particularly... How about when out of curiosity I asked everyone in my office and discovered that 14 out of 18 people had also awoken without reason at 3am and taken note of the time? ... No, I wasn't worried. But it did make me wonder why the other 4 people are so closed off.* </span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">For the love of god why can't I find a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Bundt</span> Cake tin ANYWHERE* in this stupid country. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Chocolate with caramel in the middle does things to me my husband will never be able to do. Fact. </span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">*Disclaimer: I totally don't believe in any of that, but it's cool to think about. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">*Anywhere = Shops within walking distances of my house.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span> </div>Evehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07419457138356078554noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6380142665455682300.post-8360575384683851152010-01-23T09:57:00.001+00:002010-01-25T12:37:03.404+00:00Bath Ballistic<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuLMMR438ZkUgVR1ZRIssEZUHAaZyMigkI5hhO1o7zyYz9aBYRwj05xRzRCQ9mZjBkedYVwvpqwLZZi8gIzFwYScvQMsEe7v-cNj42UD8MSzzyqrxqQlkmH-mAMATAKQm7M81d6Xi0pc7J/s1600-h/SDC12576.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuLMMR438ZkUgVR1ZRIssEZUHAaZyMigkI5hhO1o7zyYz9aBYRwj05xRzRCQ9mZjBkedYVwvpqwLZZi8gIzFwYScvQMsEe7v-cNj42UD8MSzzyqrxqQlkmH-mAMATAKQm7M81d6Xi0pc7J/s400/SDC12576.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429872601075758274" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">This was my bath last night. I know what <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ya'll</span> are thinking, and no, it wasn't because of that.<br /><br />One of my Christmas presents was a box of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Lush's</span> <a href="http://www.lush.co.uk/index.php?option=com_virtuemart&page=shop.browse&category_id=476&Itemid=80">Bath Ballistics</a>. Which is all well and good and most of them were except <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Satsumo</span> Santa. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Satsumo</span> Santa was a citrus Bath Ballistic and he was last to go from my box of lovely smelly's only because I'm not a huge fan of citrus bath products.<br /><br />From the moment I dropped little fat <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Santa</span> into my bath and he started to sizzle and deteriorate away I was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">disturbed</span>. the pong that was coming from the bath water was a mix between orange juice and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">fermented</span> bananas and to top it of the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">sizzling</span> action that is part of these bath ballistics started to sound like poor little fat <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Santa</span> was screaming for his life. I don't blame him though, I like my bath's scolding hot.<br /><br />I let him sizzle away while I went into the bedroom to grab my towel and strip. When I came back the bath was...well see above. Red. Period blood red. Not even like an inviting red. But blood red. I called for Husband, asking if he thought I should follow through with this bath after all. He (while holding his hand over his nose) chuckled and said I should give it a go.<br /><br />I climbed in and was accosted by the even stronger smell of gone off fruit and was now starting to fear for the pigmentation of my skin. Get the camera! I called to Husband and he took the photo and helped me out. We stood <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">together</span> and watched the sand like remnants of little fat Santa swirl around the plug hole.<br /><br />Good riddance.<br /></span></span>Evehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07419457138356078554noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6380142665455682300.post-50793823724903292552010-01-19T10:03:00.006+00:002010-01-19T12:51:16.847+00:00Tequila, Margarita, Mexican and Me<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428403290226651746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 285px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipdND260g4CESv3n9PSyBKvXRHThyXdjp_FvMjPX0lRFrbNYFa-t4fIWd192FDhWj9shysyVjGV5nhG_2227hG8JQJPe52EDJind2K6tkxD6DDajdfXwWvbQH-wQvYzxg77KC5_TffMhyb/s400/tequila_poster_03.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">There are only three thing in the whole wide world I don't have the will power to say no too and they are Tequila, Margaritas and Mexican food. It's my true weakness. I physically get excited and giddy when the opportunity arises for me to have any of the previously mentioned three. We don't get it a lot here in the UK. Not good Mexican food or REAL Margaritas, so it is a special occasion when we do.</span></div><br /><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428403309710268146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 399px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 313px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhybwdtnIxFPvVlaQGiTfk5GMw6WWcrbu2UHBLwPfWs3LPCfnupykJuOGyaSiM1ANHzqqcD5weU5GicVvG60_24LbaAqzpR0kWx6CQXYZgMRm8mG0ZLMdhiy8owudV2U6X-6tgFOXywdek/s400/Mexican-Food-mexican-food-558172_399_313.jpg" border="0" /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Husband is also a huge 'won't ever say no' fan and there is a mutual understanding that we might even love these things more than we love each other. Well not entirely true because if Tequila and Mexican do anything for our relationship it is bring us closer together. We <em>always </em>have a wicked night out when those three ingredients are involved. It almost feels like being young again...Us before Son and Marriage. It's invigorating. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428403299121404146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 299px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW9-53DVHhXNWM-wJixolQ3ypr0luAzm9QqZJqcs19OlUwB-YxF8cNxThIpEMtORIrstQCMgZt97x5IId3BmEGnD_LAcduZleGrfTrmsXNe3zeOLSW81YJdSMN9HkorgUMMrCYFFvv9H4U/s400/margarita.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">So you can imagine my delight and quick change of heart when I was told my works (late) Christmas party would be held at </span><a href="http://www.greenred.co.uk/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Red & Green</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">, a Mexican Restaurant... A Mexican <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">restaurant</span> I am ashamed to say I did not even know <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">existed</span>. After studying the website while breaking into a cold sweat I reconsidered my lack of enthusiasm at attending the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Christmas</span> Party were <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">disappearing</span> fast and I was over come by the need to Make.Sure.I.Was.There. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Instantly I called husband and he managed to through my excited garble decipher the words 'Tequila', 'Mexican' and 'Heaven' and without hesitation agreed we'd be going. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">The only problem is, it being January and a 5 week month for Husband and I, money's pretty tight and too top it off my Wife and My Crazy friend are both turning 30 at the end of the month. Once of those parties is the night after the Christmas party and the other party is the weekend after... So really I shouldn't be going out this much, I mean I need to be responsible and after all I <em>am</em> a mother... It's not like I'm in my 20's <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">anymo</span>-.... wait.</span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">No no, because you know what... It would just be pushing my bank account to it's limits if I did this. Went to this Christmas Party. It's not like I can ditch my friend's 30<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">th</span>... </span></div><div> </div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">BUT TEQUILA PEOPLE!!!!</span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Screw it. I'm doing it all... You understand, right? </span></div>Evehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07419457138356078554noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6380142665455682300.post-76969222373081320152010-01-18T13:05:00.002+00:002010-01-18T13:38:18.384+00:00In over my head<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy6aUUG2hKtLF_vcJL9hvRfKiuCjwCQxWYjpYPAWKo7xs6VdVTy2muYKBBfouN_a-nfigKyVekRlSzaUGvo8WFrQQZPXQzsdou8Cm9K23d3l_NVDv3-vMcgStovNKyYJEVIP9KyM4b5PaP/s1600-h/georgeous+cakes.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 376px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy6aUUG2hKtLF_vcJL9hvRfKiuCjwCQxWYjpYPAWKo7xs6VdVTy2muYKBBfouN_a-nfigKyVekRlSzaUGvo8WFrQQZPXQzsdou8Cm9K23d3l_NVDv3-vMcgStovNKyYJEVIP9KyM4b5PaP/s400/georgeous+cakes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428065467596198002" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">My father-in-law bought me this book for Christmas as he knows I'm a bit of a aspiring baker and I feeling particularly generous and brave last week handed the book around my office and asked everyone to tab one cake they would like me to make and starting next week I will make one cake a week and bring it into work.<br /><br />All of these cakes look beautiful (Especially the fresh fig ones), some of them look like I could make them with no disasters, others look like I might mess it right up. But despite the out come being it baking success or baking disaster I have promised to bring the cake into work for praise, feedback and criticisms.<br /><br />I've gotten back into my baking swing lately, though I am aware I haven't been posting about them, so no need to remind me. Mostly cookies have been on the menu lately. I've got Pam's ( @ <a href="http://fortheloveofcooking-recipes.blogspot.com/">for the love of cooking</a>) <a href="http://fortheloveofcooking-recipes.blogspot.com/2008/03/snickerdoodle-cookies.html">Sinckerdoodles</a> in the oven right now (which are to.die.for) and last week I made a slight adaption of <a href="http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Beths-Spicy-Oatmeal-Raisin-Cookies/Detail.aspx">this recipe. </a>Added 1/4 tsp nutmeg and extra butter (thought I can't tell you how much) to make them moister...is moister a word?<br /><br />So cakes galore starting next week. I'll be baking them Monday, taking them in to work Tuesday and then letting you know how it went down Wednesday.<br /><br />Also I've decided I'm going to stop apologizing for not posting much... because at the moment I only seem to manage 3 (give or take) posts a week and I'm sorry guys... but that'll have to do for now, at least until my life gets more interesting.<br /><br />one day...oh one day. <br /></span>Evehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07419457138356078554noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6380142665455682300.post-86904427562779826052010-01-12T14:53:00.006+00:002010-01-12T21:37:08.235+00:00Random Tuesday Thoughts<div><a href="http://www.theunmom.com/2010/01/ill-have-dreamscape-full-of-zombified.html"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425880154420044466" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 200px; height: 79px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlqjZ2X8JWQdIuQ0olYT5-TTnqzkoPRR3Hy-j9wJnjZwWTmf3MSjmSe9cACSzsas89Oe5MPqczAik9Db2iWwtY5c0rpaGDeL1vdYzlEqORGrqGGDoWYZ5kKHjRLwscWdcmv7R8EJWeCrHw/s400/Random+Thoughts+Tuesday.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Welcome to my Random Tuesday Thoughts! If you don't know what this is (but I bet you do) go check out the very best <a href="http://www.theunmom.com/">Un Mom</a> and she'll explain all.</span></div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Things that are good times:</span><br /></div><ul><li><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Hot musk and vanilla scented baths with a cup of maple tea.</span></li><br /><li><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Finally finding something that distracts your kid for longer than 10 minutes.</span></li><br /><li><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Finding your groove in your job.</span></li></ul><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Things that are bad times:</span></p><ul><li><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Your son finding it hilarious to dump all his lego's into your bath. </span></li><br /><li><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">watching the movie Cars 4-6 times a day.</span></li><br /><li><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">finding out you might be out of a job within 2 months </span></li></ul><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">The good news re: the job front is that it's not because I suck and don't get my work done because I'm too busy on blogger but because the NHS service I work for is being disbanded and they haven't figured out that I don't get my work done because i spend my time blogging. This does mean though that if I can't find a suitable part time job by end of March then I might have to consider...GASP... Full time. Yikes, I know. But hey, it'll only be until I go on my next maternity leave, right?</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Right now.. All I want out of life is <a href="http://www.tellyads.com/show_movie.php?filename=TA1112">this</a>. Click the link...check it out... you'll understand. <br /> </span></p><div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">I'm not in highschool. I'm young, yes. But I'm not in highschool...In fact I'm married with a child and a job and so really I can't work and dedicate my life to a friend. In fact I don't think you're a very good friend if you expect me to do that. I also don't want to talk to you or anyone on the phone 3 times a day. It's not because I don't love you but simply because I don't have that many things to say to you. I also hate repeating myself which adds to this. Also I have lots of friends and I love them all and I want to see them all, so one taking up all my time doesn't float my boat. Also it's TOTALLY cool if we don't speak for weeks at a time because you know what? Good friends don't need too. One of my closets and most trusted friends I speak to once every 3 months and I haven't seen her in 2 years, but I know when I do see her it'll just be like old times. I'd also like to be able to spend a weekend without having plans or seeing anyone. And it should be ok to not invite anyone over because I just want to spend a Sunday at home with my Husband and Son. I shouldn't have to have a reason. I don't need to justify my life.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;">I'm pretty sure that's all normal stuff too...for adult friendships. Right?<br />Because we all understand that each other has their own lives as well.<br />right? ... You'd think.<br /></span></div></div><br /><div></div>Evehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07419457138356078554noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6380142665455682300.post-85336194502603754522010-01-11T12:31:00.000+00:002010-01-11T12:31:48.876+00:00breaking the rules<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So far I've kept Husband pretty anonymous because...well, I don't want you all stealing him when you realize what a catch he is (I swear if i hear laughing now... *shakes fist*) but I thought I'd share this video demonstrating the kind of things Husband and I get up to once Son is in bed in a grand attempt to amuse ourselves.<br /><br />it works.<br /><br /><br /></span></span><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyjcodDX16BDvfj1TnXGF34vGVVK4wYnfdajTL2FDlkFyYXPWjhrrhNdkJkqSpDJ-2pZkrz_i7EUcohrMqOjQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">P.S. The chick in the back ground isn't me. I'm behind the camera. </span></span>Evehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07419457138356078554noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6380142665455682300.post-42441009234601737512010-01-10T18:08:00.004+00:002010-01-11T12:30:22.981+00:00Sweet sunday<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">My devil child has been an angel this past weekend. Although he's reached the tantrum age when he IS being good he's better than ever. The sweetest thing. I guess that's how it works though, so we can get through the tantrums.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">As you may recall I won Kevin's (at Closet Cooking) pay it forward. Christmas Eve I received my foodie package and saved it to open on Christmas. Kevin couldn't have done better by me. The box was filled with the most amazing maple goodies which is perfect since it's almost impossible to find good maple products in this country unless you're prepared sell your kidney on the black market to pay for it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">A bottle of 100% pure maple syrup which is sat proudly on my counter (I'm afraid to use it yet though because the sooner I use it the sooner it will be gone). A bag of maple sugar which I am <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">soo</span> psyched about because I can feel a cookie recipe coming on. A box of Maple Cream cookies which my.god are to die for. Totally moreish and perfect with my cup of tea in the evenings. I've been enjoying those very much over the past two weeks. Maple tea, which I haven't tried yet but will be trying tonight to accompany my bath, Canadian Mustard which I'm really interested to try since I'm a fan of mustard of any kind and some <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Japanese</span> kit <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">kats</span>... Which I'd like to tell you about except my Son ate them while I wasn't looking so I didn't get any. He seemed to enjoy them though.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I'll be holding my Pay it Forward in a few months time once I've recovered from Christmas and my Son's approaching 2<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">nd</span> Birthday.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Did I mention I'm 25 next month. That's old. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Ok</span> fine... Not old. But it feels old. It feels old because I've really enjoyed being able to say I'm in my early 20's. Early 20's are good. Mid 20's? That's like saying "The fun's over but I still haven't come to terms with it"... I will never come to terms with it! :) </span><br /></span>Evehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07419457138356078554noreply@blogger.com3