How rubbish am I at updating this blog? I only just realised yesterday that I was supposed to be doing a photo a day/photo a week/photo when I can be arsed. Rubbish.
I have actually been taking a lot of pictures, so if you have me on Facebook or Flickr, you're all up to date. Hooray for you! If you're not, then I apologise. They've mostly just been pics of the kids and food, so if you've seen one, you've pretty much seen them all. The kids are great and we've been eating a lot of food. There, you're all caught up now.
On the home front, it's all crawling along. Planning permission has gone through but we're still awaiting building regulation application approval and tenders (quotes) from builders. We've also got a lovely brochure with illustrations of our new kitchen, which is actually very exciting. After a consultation and a trip to the showroom, our kitchen plan has been brought to life. I really, really cannot wait to have a new kitchen. I spend so much time in there, it's sort of a little haven for me. As sad as that sounds. I love cooking and do a lot of it, and it's one of the ways I unwind (wine is usually the other method, which also goes well with cooking, I find.) Our kitchen isn't terrible - it's not a bad size, but very badly laid out. I've got a tiny amount of counter space, which drives me up the wall. All I want is more space to work, and less things on my counter. Except for my KitchenAid, which will go on a pedestal with a disco light shining on it at all times.
I keep labelling things I say and do as being "middle-aged" like getting excited about a new kitchen but truthfully, a new kitchen would have thrilled me in my 20s and 30s, too. And isn't it now trendy to be into old lady things like gin, knitting, and sewing? I love a good cup of tea (with a giant slice of cake, obviously), curling up with a great book, and grabbing every minute of quiet I can get. I think in my mind, I'm somewhere between 25 and 75. I'm still cool though, because I'm still loving my Converse running shoes and have shiny Doc Martens with spotty laces. Well...cool or horribly embarrassing.