We nipped down to the nursery at lunch time to pretty up the front of the house. I was in need of colour. Some pizazz. Unfortunately I neglected to get a photo of our colour. Though it's not been potted up yet - it's going to be - yes, dear reader, I will finish at least one of my projects. Amazing I know.
Tiny kept escaping out our kitchen door. That baby sure loves to get filthy. Rather than the softest of pinks, I should really be dressing her in sand, chocolate and any other natural kind of shade so her escapades are camouflaged. Napisan and I are firm friends.
To keep her in one spot I popped a saucepan of water outside with her, along with mandatory wooden spoon, and her favourite - a pint-sized ball. Kept her still for - oh - two minutes.
My hot weather wear is one of my very favourite dresses that I picked up at the markets yonks ago - just a little cotton number with Steven Seagulls (or if you prefer, they can be Jonathon Livingston Seagull). Thongs - compulsory (sheesh, just realised that if you're a US reader, you may be thinking that I'm saying g-strings are compulsory - for you dear US reader, please read flip-flops).
And here's where I am expecting MENSA to come knocking. Matt, for some reason, felt the urge to buy not one, not two, but four loaves of bread on Tuesday - AND a dozen small rolls. Given this sudden influx of carbohydrates, I am currently going gang-busters trying to use it all up before it becomes at one with penicillin. On the menu tonight - individual serves of garlic bread. Nigella, need a sidekick? Talk about genius.
