I have to say that it was a bit of a slow week for interesting emails. A gazillion recipes, lots of comment stream on Linked In, a few cutesy emails, but nothing that made me roll on the ground laughing or inhale sharply at the shock of it. Oh well, they can't all be banner weeks I guess. Perhaps I will just present you with a smorgasbord of images and snippets from my week via my life-line to the outer world - email. I hope you have a fabulous Saturday!
Why a step counter, you ask? Well, I have to admit that I fear all of this writing stuff might be a bit of a detriment to my waistline. I missed my weekly yoga class and didn't feel like I managed to squeeze in quite enough activity to make up for it. All the surfing I do just doesn't amount to quite enough calories burned I suspect.
So on Friday I strapped on the step counter, left my laptop behind and hit my gardens for a little fresh air and slugging of mulch. My shoulders got a mite rosy from my exertions, but my mood was elevated. By the time the kids came home I had burned off 150 calories, according to my new toy! While the girls ran naked through the sprinkler (first time this year!), I lovingly planted a few new specimens that we picked up from the garden centre on the way home. Yes, I love my gardens!
The forecast now calls for rain for the near future, so I stayed late into the evening to feel the grass between my toes. A discovery that our rhubarb was coming ready was cause to celebrate, so a bundle was picked. I think that perhaps tomorrow I can make use of one of those recipes that came in last week;
I will let you know how they turn out!
For now I will leave you with a cute little poem that resonated with me from the week. I am sure I have read it before, and probably you have too, but it made me smile to re-read. Maybe I will vacuum and work on that sticky floor tomorrow after the muffins go into the oven...
Real Mothers don't eat quiche;
They don't have time to make it.
Real Mothers know that their kitchen utensils
Are probably in the sandbox.
Real Mothers often have sticky floors,
Filthy ovens and happy kids.
Real Mothers know that dried play dough
Doesn't come out of carpets.
Real Mothers don't want to know what
The vacuum just sucked up...
Real Mothers sometimes ask 'Why me?'
And get their answer when a little
Voice says, 'Because I love you best.'