Back when I mentioned (I can’t find the link) we were now worm farmers, I tell you, my inbox was choked with enthusiastic questions about the practice*. *Well okay, it wasn’t. But I forgive you because I’m sure it was a busy day and you’ve still got that email drafted up ready to send. I…
It seems Keira is now the matriarch of the clan. You see, in the mornings, I put out a bowl of cereal for Riley to eat. He will not touch it. Instead he waits for when Keira goes to the cupboard, “Would you like a cruskit, Riley?” she calls, and he comes running, and they…
Responding to yesterday’s post about my failed blood donating experience, Bettina suggested I try to inspire others who could donate blood to go do so on my behalf. (I hope I am paraphrasing you right!) I think this is a noble idea; however, I would go further to emphasise that people should want to go off…
First timer blood-donor. I expected the volumes of paperwork. I didn’t expect the pin-prick to test my haemoglobin levels (silly, me). So as I held a bit of wadding to my finger, I waited for the machine to spit out my number. I felt optimistic; it had been ages since I’d been diagnosed as anaemic….
Keira was a toddler when Adam returned from the USA after a work-trip, brandishing Leapad Leapfrog paraphernalia. Keira, even then, had perfected the one-shouldered shrug, clearly conveying her feelings about the present: an astounding, “Meh.” My son, on the other hand, sometimes wakes up in the morning and seeks out his little computer-friend and I…
…The parents’, of course. And naturally, no one listens to us. I am still sick, and now – after he says I wiped boogers on him – my husband is also ill. So we’re a real joy to be around. Do the kids care? Nope. Keira just coughed in my face. Yesterday was a trial; of…
Not to be depressing, but I’ve just learned about Deathclock.com , a site which supposedly predicts the moment of your death, depending on a few personal details which you punch in; including your BMI. (That link takes you to a site where you can determine yours.) What’s my moment of death? Sunday, March 21, 2083 At…
Baking is about the only kind of cooking I truly enjoy undertaking. I think because it is automatically categorized as extra-curricular and not part of the begrudging, everyday labour I normally do. Plus, naturally, I like to eat the end product. However I bake in a state of denial; part of me truly believes that what…
