Happy Thirty-Ten

Today is hub's thirty-tenth birthday.  Last night the screamies and I toiled in the kitchen until late.

What? Cake batter is SO a suitable substitute for dinner.

We produced this culinary masterpiece (yet another one - I know, I don't know how I do it either, miraculous really)

The photo is courtesy of my rather stuffed mobile phone as we are still camera-less.  But I think the blurry-ish effect makes the cake look better.  It tasted good too. I knew it would because I scraped off all the burnt bits and slathered on icing made with Lindt chocolate.

Excellent.

Oh, and it occurred to me the other day that one of the reasons I have this blog is to Flog My Books (the other being cheap therapy).  Yes, look long and hard. Nary a mention of the small morsels of brilliance I have propelled out into the world.  I admit, am Not Very Good at this marketing stuff.  sigh.  So check back tomorrow for an excerpt and some enthusiastic paragraphs about The Grey Man, my short story in The Mammoth Book of Special Ops Romance.  It may even contain some SEX (Hi Kindi Mums :)) in a NUNNERY - I. Kid. You. Not.

Anyhoo.  Its cold. I think I have a chilblain, and Masterchef is about to start.

Laters.

:)