A crap titles go that's right up there isn't it? ;)
I'm sorry I've taken Fudge down so suddenly. I did write a post explaining why in the wee small hours but I was very tired and it wasn't appropriate to leave it up. My apologies to those who did read it and I appreciated the comments, thank you!
There are very valid reasons for my doing this (and no, it's not me being all drama queenish again :) and I promise it is only temporary.
Fudge will be back as soon as a certain situation has been resolved (and I hope I'm talking a few days here) and meanwhile I will still be checking in on you all so don't think you've got rid of me that easily.
I'm ok though so don't worry.
In time honoured Arnie fashion 'I'll be back'.
Sarah
fudge
Friday, 26 April 2013
Thursday, 18 April 2013
You Know You're A Domestic Slut When ...
Well, I'm just about recovered from my sopfest of the other day (not that I didn't mean every word of it because I did!) and there may be more of the same to come very soon.
I was casting around for something to write about which is never a good thing. If it doesn't come organically then it's probably not worth me trying to write it.
Anyway, while I thought about it I decided to do a little cleaning ....
JOKING!
I decided to do some baking and make more mess!!
I set out all the stuff to make banana cake. Why in gods name I make banana cake I don't know. I don't really like it much and neither does Miss Mac. SD likes it but he isn't a big cake eater (I know, still can't get my head round that either!) so I end up giving most of it away
So I decided to make banana flapjacks instead. Can you believe that in my entire life I've never EVER made flapjacks? Possibly it's because I don't much like flapjacks either ....
Possibly I was inspired by NS's post on cookery books to try something different. Not that I actually USED a cook book in the making of said flapjack you understand, I just chucked a load of butter and golden syrup in a saucepan and left it to melt while I checked out the cupboards for other stuff to throw in. A shed load of muesli and for good measure a handful of fruit and fibre and half a pack of mixed fruit, added the banana, poured over the butter/syrup mix and chucked it all in a baking tray and into the oven.
Result?
A sticky, gooey, tooth rotting mass that doesn't want to set despite spending the last hour in the fridge where it's slowly dripping through the wire rack onto the shelf below ....
While I'm thinking about what to write about I thought Id write something on how to tell if you are a true domestic slut.
Obviously this is based on observation and not necessarily (although possibly) things that I have done/not done/discovered ....
I was going to make it a 10 point check list but then I started on vacuuming and realised that I could write 10 points about that alone!
So, here it is:
You ARE a domestic slut if at least 3 of the following apply to you! (well, actually probably if ANY of the following apply to you)
1. When you can't actually remember where you vacuum is.
2. When you accidentally find the vacuum whilst you are looking for something else and you need to dust it before you can use it.
3. When you DO find the vacuum AND use it and more than two people not only notice that you have vacuumed but also feel that this phenomenon is worthy of commenting on.
4. When you realise that if you pick up the pile of crap you left at the bottom of the stairs you will leave a clean patch of carpet and therefore be shamed into vacuuming them so you leave it there.
5. When you move the sofa to vacuum underneath it and you discover a mini egg that must have rolled under there at Easter and it's now July (joking again - who the hell vacuums UNDER the sofa???).
6. When you use the vacuum and you realise that your carpet doesn't in fact have a fleck in it .......
Ok, enough on vacuuming!
7. When you get really pissed off with the cat not because he broke you favourite ornament but because you haven't got anything the exact shape or size to sit in the clear space left behind so now you have to dust!
8, When you find a scrubbing brush under the sink and wonder who the fuck bought that!
9. When the gourmet chutney you bough last Christmas has welded itself to the fridge shelf and you leave it there.
10. When you have unexpected guest arrive and you rush into the bathroom and give the sink a quick wipe over with the pair of socks you discarded on the floor last night.
11. When you consider giving the loo a quick wipe with the same socks ....
12. When you can get enough crumbs out of your toaster to make you own stuffing.
13 When you pick up a book from your bedside table and the back cover rips off because it's stuck down with the coffee you spilled several weeks ago.
14. When you have to scrape a little viewing hole on the glass door of your oven before you can see the stuff cooking in it.
15. When you have cupboards you cant open because you might be buried alive by an avalanche.
16. When you wedge said cupboard shut with the washing basket which you then cant empty as the weight of it keeps the cupboard shut.
17. When your horror at finding the remains of your wedding cake at the back of a cupboard 7 years on is tempered by the joy at finding the Sabatier knife you thought you had lost in the box (umm, guilty of that one ....).
18. When you can't be sure if you actually OWN an iron but you do know you own an ironing board because you use it for pasting wallpaper.
19. When you have products in your bathroom cupboard that are older than your children.
20. When you have food items in your cupboard that are older than your children ....
21. When ....
You know what? I could probably go on and on but to be honest, if you've said yes to even ONE of the above you probably already know that you are a true domestic slut.
To be continued (probably ...)
Disclaimer - NONE of the above actually apply to me OBVIOUSLY (well, maybe one or two but I promise I haven't cleaned my sink or loo with a pair of sock! At least, not my own .... ;)
I was casting around for something to write about which is never a good thing. If it doesn't come organically then it's probably not worth me trying to write it.
Anyway, while I thought about it I decided to do a little cleaning ....
JOKING!
I decided to do some baking and make more mess!!
I set out all the stuff to make banana cake. Why in gods name I make banana cake I don't know. I don't really like it much and neither does Miss Mac. SD likes it but he isn't a big cake eater (I know, still can't get my head round that either!) so I end up giving most of it away
So I decided to make banana flapjacks instead. Can you believe that in my entire life I've never EVER made flapjacks? Possibly it's because I don't much like flapjacks either ....
Possibly I was inspired by NS's post on cookery books to try something different. Not that I actually USED a cook book in the making of said flapjack you understand, I just chucked a load of butter and golden syrup in a saucepan and left it to melt while I checked out the cupboards for other stuff to throw in. A shed load of muesli and for good measure a handful of fruit and fibre and half a pack of mixed fruit, added the banana, poured over the butter/syrup mix and chucked it all in a baking tray and into the oven.
Result?
A sticky, gooey, tooth rotting mass that doesn't want to set despite spending the last hour in the fridge where it's slowly dripping through the wire rack onto the shelf below ....
While I'm thinking about what to write about I thought Id write something on how to tell if you are a true domestic slut.
Obviously this is based on observation and not necessarily (although possibly) things that I have done/not done/discovered ....
I was going to make it a 10 point check list but then I started on vacuuming and realised that I could write 10 points about that alone!
So, here it is:
You ARE a domestic slut if at least 3 of the following apply to you! (well, actually probably if ANY of the following apply to you)
1. When you can't actually remember where you vacuum is.
2. When you accidentally find the vacuum whilst you are looking for something else and you need to dust it before you can use it.
3. When you DO find the vacuum AND use it and more than two people not only notice that you have vacuumed but also feel that this phenomenon is worthy of commenting on.
4. When you realise that if you pick up the pile of crap you left at the bottom of the stairs you will leave a clean patch of carpet and therefore be shamed into vacuuming them so you leave it there.
5. When you move the sofa to vacuum underneath it and you discover a mini egg that must have rolled under there at Easter and it's now July (joking again - who the hell vacuums UNDER the sofa???).
6. When you use the vacuum and you realise that your carpet doesn't in fact have a fleck in it .......
Ok, enough on vacuuming!
7. When you get really pissed off with the cat not because he broke you favourite ornament but because you haven't got anything the exact shape or size to sit in the clear space left behind so now you have to dust!
8, When you find a scrubbing brush under the sink and wonder who the fuck bought that!
9. When the gourmet chutney you bough last Christmas has welded itself to the fridge shelf and you leave it there.
10. When you have unexpected guest arrive and you rush into the bathroom and give the sink a quick wipe over with the pair of socks you discarded on the floor last night.
11. When you consider giving the loo a quick wipe with the same socks ....
12. When you can get enough crumbs out of your toaster to make you own stuffing.
13 When you pick up a book from your bedside table and the back cover rips off because it's stuck down with the coffee you spilled several weeks ago.
14. When you have to scrape a little viewing hole on the glass door of your oven before you can see the stuff cooking in it.
15. When you have cupboards you cant open because you might be buried alive by an avalanche.
16. When you wedge said cupboard shut with the washing basket which you then cant empty as the weight of it keeps the cupboard shut.
17. When your horror at finding the remains of your wedding cake at the back of a cupboard 7 years on is tempered by the joy at finding the Sabatier knife you thought you had lost in the box (umm, guilty of that one ....).
18. When you can't be sure if you actually OWN an iron but you do know you own an ironing board because you use it for pasting wallpaper.
19. When you have products in your bathroom cupboard that are older than your children.
20. When you have food items in your cupboard that are older than your children ....
21. When ....
You know what? I could probably go on and on but to be honest, if you've said yes to even ONE of the above you probably already know that you are a true domestic slut.
To be continued (probably ...)
Disclaimer - NONE of the above actually apply to me OBVIOUSLY (well, maybe one or two but I promise I haven't cleaned my sink or loo with a pair of sock! At least, not my own .... ;)
Tuesday, 16 April 2013
Surfer Dude
Today The Lounge is being hosted by Tegan at Musings of the Misguided.
The subject is 'Your Best Achievement' ...
I don't know - I've been struggling to blog for a bit now - I've no idea why, it's certainly not for the lack of things to talk about, it's more a kind of lethargy that hits me after a few sentences but I'm hoping that's just temporary.
So, what's MY best achievement?
My children? Going back to college when my eldest son was young to take the A levels I missed? Stopping smoking? Yes to all of those and more but, on a deeply personal level I think it would have to be learning to trust in love again.
Believe me, it's something that I couldn't have imagined I would ever allow myself to do at one point. I was done with entrusting my heart to someone else only to have that trust broken and my heart shattered.
I NEVER wanted to go there again!
And then he came out of the past, and he stayed, and he made me feel worth it.
I don't know if it will last forever - I'm just grateful for the now.
Surfer Dude
I remember the very first time I saw him. I don't know why I would. There was nothing particularly significant about that day. I'm guessing it was a Saturday but only because I was sitting in the window of a cafe on the High Street drinking tea and chatting idly with a friend as we watched the world pass by outside.
I think it was Summer time. I would say that it must have been as he was wearing shorts and a tee shirt but over the years I've come to realise that his wardrobe though season dependant to a degree (and, incidentally, 'to a degree' is one of those phrases he uses over and over, he will often end a sentence with the disclaimer 'to a degree' almost as though while you may not entirely believe what he has said you must believe that there is an element of fact in it 'to a degree') the colder months just bring longer shorts and a layering of tee shirts worn with 8 hole Docs and thick woolly socks in a variety of soft coloured marled yarns.
In those days he wore his hair shorter. It fell over his collar and forehead in a riot of corn coloured curls, the sides shaved high above his ears, his deep blue eyes edged with black eyeliner. The Docs then had 10 holes and laced half way up his calves. He wore mostly black and only the brightness of his hair belied this post punk depressionist persona.
He was SO god damned beautiful he made my heart pause and then restart with a thump that made it hard to breath.
I don't know how old we were, I wish I could remember. I was 19, maybe 20? He was a few years older.
As he walked past he waved to my friend and glanced at me. He looked away and then paused and looked back. Our eyes held for a split second and I knew. I knew that one day I would touch that golden hair and look again into those eyes.
Our paths crossed from time to time over the years. Our friends combined and mingled like those circles you draw in Maths. Two different sections that meet and overlap, separating time after time but always coming back together.
I don't remember the second time we met or the first time we kissed, how could I NOT remember that?
I do remember the many times we seemed to be in the same place at the same time. The coffees that we shared while he told me of his adventures. The first time he took me to the farm and we sat in the sun on the lawn. He sat behind me and I lent back resting on his chest, his hands on my shoulders, my face turned up to the warmth. I remember walking through town and hearing a horn beep and him yell 'Sarah, over here' - I'd turn and see him smiling and waving at me from his bright red Jeep or a Beach Buggy or a Landrover splatter with mud from a weekends off roading or hill climb. I'd run across the road and climb in. In those days I wore my jeans so tight it was an achievement to get into anything he drove as nothing seemed to have doors that opened and we would take off and just drive and talk, it was always sunny ....
He would deliver me home windswept and happy with a promise to ring me sometime, and he did. Every now and then when I hadn't seen him for a while he would call and we would meet, drink coffee and talk and laugh.
And then life got so busy for us both and for many years we hardly saw each other just occasionally our paths would cross and we would stop and talk about our lives and our sun filled past.
We both fell in love more than once with other people. We built our own lives and we planned our futures.
We saw those futures slip away and our paths change and, when I thought I'd come to the end of my path I heard a shout 'Sarah, over here' and there he was. His hair may have been a little longer, the shaved sides and the eyeliner long gone but the shorts and the tee shirt and those 8 hole Docs with the marled socks, they were still there, a comforting constant in an ever changing world.
He made me see that the path hadn't ended, I wasn't standing on the edge of a precipice about to fall. I was at a corner, a corner so tight that it wound back on itself, a corner that ran parallel with the past and back into the sunshine.
He walked me home that day and, as we stood at the end of my road under the light of a street lamp he touched my face gently and said, 'there's always been something between us'.
Our friendship spans more than half my life time. It's taken us such a long time to get here. I've fought it, run from it and tried to push it away because I've been so afraid to believe in it and too afraid to let go of the past because dammit, that might mean the past meant NOTHING! And, if I believed that then what do I have to show for most of my life?
But it didn't mean nothing. The people I met along the way have shaped the person I am. I have cared for them, they are a part of me.
I have loved them SO damned much it's ripped me apart!!!
But they aren't here.
They choose not to be.
Some are still friends, some want to be enemies and some are now just strangers with whom I share memories.
How did that happen ....
He has taught me that it's ok to be sad for the past - 'there's a girl I should have been kinder to ....' But that ultimately things happen for a reason - 'there's always been something between us ... '.
Sometimes I look at him and he is SO god damned beautiful he makes my heart pause and then restart with a thump that made it hard to breath ...
The subject is 'Your Best Achievement' ...
I don't know - I've been struggling to blog for a bit now - I've no idea why, it's certainly not for the lack of things to talk about, it's more a kind of lethargy that hits me after a few sentences but I'm hoping that's just temporary.
So, what's MY best achievement?
My children? Going back to college when my eldest son was young to take the A levels I missed? Stopping smoking? Yes to all of those and more but, on a deeply personal level I think it would have to be learning to trust in love again.
Believe me, it's something that I couldn't have imagined I would ever allow myself to do at one point. I was done with entrusting my heart to someone else only to have that trust broken and my heart shattered.
I NEVER wanted to go there again!
And then he came out of the past, and he stayed, and he made me feel worth it.
I don't know if it will last forever - I'm just grateful for the now.
Surfer Dude
I remember the very first time I saw him. I don't know why I would. There was nothing particularly significant about that day. I'm guessing it was a Saturday but only because I was sitting in the window of a cafe on the High Street drinking tea and chatting idly with a friend as we watched the world pass by outside.
I think it was Summer time. I would say that it must have been as he was wearing shorts and a tee shirt but over the years I've come to realise that his wardrobe though season dependant to a degree (and, incidentally, 'to a degree' is one of those phrases he uses over and over, he will often end a sentence with the disclaimer 'to a degree' almost as though while you may not entirely believe what he has said you must believe that there is an element of fact in it 'to a degree') the colder months just bring longer shorts and a layering of tee shirts worn with 8 hole Docs and thick woolly socks in a variety of soft coloured marled yarns.
In those days he wore his hair shorter. It fell over his collar and forehead in a riot of corn coloured curls, the sides shaved high above his ears, his deep blue eyes edged with black eyeliner. The Docs then had 10 holes and laced half way up his calves. He wore mostly black and only the brightness of his hair belied this post punk depressionist persona.
He was SO god damned beautiful he made my heart pause and then restart with a thump that made it hard to breath.
I don't know how old we were, I wish I could remember. I was 19, maybe 20? He was a few years older.
As he walked past he waved to my friend and glanced at me. He looked away and then paused and looked back. Our eyes held for a split second and I knew. I knew that one day I would touch that golden hair and look again into those eyes.
Our paths crossed from time to time over the years. Our friends combined and mingled like those circles you draw in Maths. Two different sections that meet and overlap, separating time after time but always coming back together.
I don't remember the second time we met or the first time we kissed, how could I NOT remember that?
I do remember the many times we seemed to be in the same place at the same time. The coffees that we shared while he told me of his adventures. The first time he took me to the farm and we sat in the sun on the lawn. He sat behind me and I lent back resting on his chest, his hands on my shoulders, my face turned up to the warmth. I remember walking through town and hearing a horn beep and him yell 'Sarah, over here' - I'd turn and see him smiling and waving at me from his bright red Jeep or a Beach Buggy or a Landrover splatter with mud from a weekends off roading or hill climb. I'd run across the road and climb in. In those days I wore my jeans so tight it was an achievement to get into anything he drove as nothing seemed to have doors that opened and we would take off and just drive and talk, it was always sunny ....
He would deliver me home windswept and happy with a promise to ring me sometime, and he did. Every now and then when I hadn't seen him for a while he would call and we would meet, drink coffee and talk and laugh.
And then life got so busy for us both and for many years we hardly saw each other just occasionally our paths would cross and we would stop and talk about our lives and our sun filled past.
We both fell in love more than once with other people. We built our own lives and we planned our futures.
We saw those futures slip away and our paths change and, when I thought I'd come to the end of my path I heard a shout 'Sarah, over here' and there he was. His hair may have been a little longer, the shaved sides and the eyeliner long gone but the shorts and the tee shirt and those 8 hole Docs with the marled socks, they were still there, a comforting constant in an ever changing world.
He made me see that the path hadn't ended, I wasn't standing on the edge of a precipice about to fall. I was at a corner, a corner so tight that it wound back on itself, a corner that ran parallel with the past and back into the sunshine.
He walked me home that day and, as we stood at the end of my road under the light of a street lamp he touched my face gently and said, 'there's always been something between us'.
Our friendship spans more than half my life time. It's taken us such a long time to get here. I've fought it, run from it and tried to push it away because I've been so afraid to believe in it and too afraid to let go of the past because dammit, that might mean the past meant NOTHING! And, if I believed that then what do I have to show for most of my life?
But it didn't mean nothing. The people I met along the way have shaped the person I am. I have cared for them, they are a part of me.
I have loved them SO damned much it's ripped me apart!!!
But they aren't here.
They choose not to be.
Some are still friends, some want to be enemies and some are now just strangers with whom I share memories.
How did that happen ....
He has taught me that it's ok to be sad for the past - 'there's a girl I should have been kinder to ....' But that ultimately things happen for a reason - 'there's always been something between us ... '.
Sometimes I look at him and he is SO god damned beautiful he makes my heart pause and then restart with a thump that made it hard to breath ...
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