Hoo-boy, I am back on the coffee bandwagon. I am drinking macchiatos like I’m Tom Hanks on a desert island but instead of water and a volleyball, all I have to cling to is my black gold and possibly a slice of ginger crunch. Found a lovely café near work that makes an excellent brew, but I’m not sure they appreciate the foam-y part of a short macchiato – I say “Macchiato to go, please” and they (consistently!) say, “OK, long black”. I think it’s going to become a battle of the wills but I will keep returning, if only for the tiny piece of dark choc santé bar that comes with each cup. I need to buy a reusable cup to keep up my hippy/hipster cred. Must save the world, one plastic lid at a time (having a much harder time coming around to the idea of switching out my lovely halogen lights for reusable bulbs…I look SO. MUCH. BETTER. under soft lighting conditions. Is vanity part of the hippy ethos? I think not, sadly).
Keep your happy, shining faces scrunched up with your eyes closed and fingers crossed for me. It’s not me exactly, but send out some wonderful *good treatment* vibes my way for a relation.
Apropos of absolutely nothing, I think you should know that my husband is hard at work acquiring a side part.
Mum’s moo-babies are mostly better. The mostly part being those that didn’t make it, including one of her orphans, sadly. Still, there’s one orphan left who is now 8 weeks and out of danger. The rest of the mob are happily munching grass and emitting gassy fumes.
We were reminiscing about childhood bad behaviour last night. Which is worse – painting a giant black Newfoundland dog white, or stringing up a length of Hubba Bubba across the hallway to clothesline unsuspecting family members? Foot through the wall or stegosaurus? (I have so many of these it gets embarrassing; no seriously).