You can tell that I've got a book deadline looming AND have hit a flat scene that I am struggling to inject any life or interest into. WHAT. SO. EVER.
Why? I hear you ask.
Well. I got up this morning and re-arranged the woodpile.
Its driving me nuts.
So I've foiled that little game.
Then, at the sight of my youngest child getting out of the pool, howling in indignation, blue with cold and with poo dripping out of the bottom of her swimmers - I ran into the house, got my keys, jumped in the car and went to the garden centre.
Got some lettuces though. Generally I'm a growing-from-seed girl, but given the heat and the rain, everything has carked-it, and I'm sick to death of buying lettuce from Coles. So I decided seedlings were the lesser of two evils.
Hubby rang me when he'd finished hosing everyone off and had them all warm and cute and happy in front of a DVD. Then and only then did I come home, bearing hot chocolates and a cinnamon rolls. We hid in the front garden and ate them.
Now I am making dog food. The smear of brown is bovril - like vegemite only it tastes horrible and is runnier. Also, I have no idea how it ended up in my house. Everyone I know denies leaving it here. Odd.
So happened to be browsing my new most fave blog Down To Earth, and came across her home made dog food recipe.
Perfect way to use up the ruined stock. I also add a little garlic to her recipe. It can help with fleas.
So yep. Next up cleaning, and making ratatouille, which takes about three hours. And then I'll be Far Too Tired to write and will have to think about it all tomorrow.