Goodbye, friend

Wherever you are, there will be raucous laughter, lots of wine, good food, snazzy shoes, bright hair dye. And lots of animals, especially dogs.

All I have of you now are two dogs, both who came my way via you, one way or the other. I'm thankful for that. Every noselick from them is a like blessing from you. It is like having a little bit of you with us.

Every time you stepped into the house, the welcome that Queeni gave you was the sort that she would reserve for family members. The only other person she treats that way, other than the immediate pack, is my mother. That says so much. That you're more family than friend.

We sent you a card just two days ago, Les made a drawing of the dogs. I'm sad you won't see it. Sad that you were taken away from those who love you.

We will miss you here.

RIP, Christopher.

Children these days

I don't eat children for breakfast. Sometimes, I even get along with them.

Just last week, L and I were out at lunch and had a very nice conversation with an eight year old who was sitting at the next table with his mother. We already had our meal, and L had asked for the menu, trying to decide if he wanted a dessert. The young lad next to us was ordering his meal, and his mother let him decide on his appetiser, mains and dessert, and he was looking at the remains of our plates and working out if he had room for three courses -- maybe if he had a small appetiser and a manageable mains, there would be room for dessert. And then he started to work out what was manageable. L had a discussion with him on the merits of various desserts, and then the two of them made their respective choices. The boy had the gravitas of someone much older in his decision making (all kudos to his mother, who let him work things through on his own), though when his food arrived, he was squirming in his seat with anticipation like someone his age.

We said goodbye when we left, and L jokingly told the boy's mother to let him know if he was ever up for adoption.

"What's adoption?" the boy asked.

"It's when you live with someone else who's not your real mother and father, but they look after you and love you and they become your mother and father," she explained. "Maybe when you're a teenager," she raised her eyebrows at us.

"If I lived with you, you wouldn't be my father. You'd be my grandfather," said the boy, looking at L's white hair.

Touche. I've never seen L silenced by a child before

And then there are other children. The sort that run around and scream. Which was what happened today. When the tyke looked up at me in mid yell, I told him mildly: "You're a horrid little boy."

His reaction was one of astonishment. I don't think he's ever been told that before. I can't think why. But at least he fell silent.

"I don't know you. I don't have to like you. Especially when you're noisy."

His mother could hardly object, not after his public tantrum.

Maybe some children deserve to be eaten.

Didn't cook this weekend

(A frozen pizza doesn't count.)
This was the reason why.
Closest thing to a church on Sunday :)

Baking today

Might as well, the house is clean, the husband is cooking dinner tonight, there's nothing else to do.

Staying in on Saturday night

Udon in chicken and mushroom clear broth is reason enough. The bowl is so full of stuff, betcha you can't even see the udon.

Breakfast at 4pm

Bread and eggs, so it's breakfasty stuff. There's a fancy name for it, but I've long forgotten. I call it bread and egg muffin. You shape a slice of bread into a muffin pan, pour beaten egg into the hollow and stick it in the oven till it sets. Nice change from the usual toast.