Okay, so the weekend was a bit of a washout - wine, cake, hummus, spanokopita - but it could have been much worse (actually, not that much wine and at least the cake and pie was made by my own fair hand). Today I'm totally back on track, despite husband practically begging me to take a sickie and stay home with him.
B: yoghurt, coffee
L: Greek salad (leftovers - I'd done skewers for the party)
D: beef and crudites (leftovers, essentially)
Husband enjoyed the skydive and when he got home on Sunday afternoon we had a little party with some friends and family popping over for high tea.
Saturday had been mad hectic what with taking the small boy to the movies, cake making, a children's party to attend, cake decorating and lots of mummy-and-me activities (bath, sleeping in our bed, extra stories etc). The cake decorating went badly and I comforted myself with slices of offcut cake 'buttered' with icing. Sunday was also a blur, what with cleaning and prepping for the party, and I did rather fall into a bucket of hummus.
Not quite sure why husband is so eager to have wifey and me time,but it's very sweet to see him look mournful as I insist that I have to run out of the door. Small boy goes back to school tomorrow.
Last edited by badgergirl; 10-06-2013 at 07:08 PM.
B: yoghurt, coffee
L: beef in tomato and cream sauce (the very last of the leftover leftovers), broc (the last of the party crudites)
D: smoked salmon and veg (hopefully - I'm relying on husband to not think putting salmon on the table = making dinner)
Crampy nonsense today. I'm lucky, I suppose, that it only happens one day a month, but it still is a right pain. I want, so desperately, to curl up in bed with a book, a hottie (either bottle or eye candy) and an inexhaustible supply of chocolate. Alas, I am sitting on Scarlet Poppy and ostensibly working instead.
It occurs to me that I have been on a rather even keel for some months now. This is a pleasant surprise after all the squalls of recent times. No eff-brain thoughts, no self-destructive urges dressed up as glorious decadence. It feels rather odd to be so stable.
If only husband could find a job...