I know! It’s been a bloody while.
I’ve been busy, but it’s all been fun stuff. Volunteering at the Melbourne Writer’s Festival (more on that later), my mum was in town (cue me going to the Casino at noon on a Monday, bewilderedly wandering around singing The Whitlam’s Blow Up the Pokies at any and every opportunity), a trip to Deniliquin to see my brother, pat lambs and burn things; yard work, planting seeds, class parties, planning Smalls’s 6th birthday blowout (we’re having Pepperpalooza ’18, it’s gonna be epic), Book Week, school fete, creating recipes for The Organic Place (find them here, including an unusual and highly delicious use for brussels sprouts), reading 100 Years of Dirt for Book Club, reading Andrew Morton’s 80s-era biography of Fergie in anticipation of the royal wedding next month, hitting up Twitter, writing my book (I’ve given myself a 1000-word-per-day rule so I can actually get the damn thing done, watch me set fire to my desk and run any time in the next fortnight give or take), and, in a surprise to us all, getting neck-deep in The Bachelor. I know! Perhaps I’ve had a small stroke. I blame my brother.
There’s been food and a lot of it, as you’d expect, so there’s a backlog of recipes I’ve got for y’all when I get a hot minute. Do stick around for the MWF stories, I had QUITE THE EXPERIENCE. It’s not every day you find yourself in a Chris Fleming/Mara Wilson sandwich while on the dance floor to Madonna’s Like a Prayer.
I remain, as ever,
Your friendly neighbourhood Veggie Mama who once was almost pushed down the stairs by an angry stripper.