Cake for breakfast.
Continuing on from the deliciousness caused by Karen and her generousity of DOOM last week, I just spent the rest of the week eating. I am good at eating. I wanted cake, I made cake, I ate cake. And because I made the cake, I know exactly how much butter and sugar I ate.
So, it's like, May. And it's colder at night now - the socks have come out. But it's still ever so lovely during the day and I'm prancing round in a bikini on the beach when I can - you know, because with my hectic life, sometimes I have to do other stuff. I'm just trying to think what that is, because it does keep me busy.
Caught up with Nat and his lovely wife, whom he's knocked up. They also fed me. I waddled home from their place as well. I was also clutching books - I like people who have bookshelves.
And the littlest Whitson turned 30 yesterday. In my head the munchkin is still 12, but apparently she's in her thirties too. Dear God.