I've done the thing that I always say I'll stop doing, but always end up doing - taking too much on.
There's the new job, the freelancing, the dyslexia support work, the photography course, the knitting group, the posh gym that I must go to a squillion times a week to justify huge cost. Not to mention seeing friends and family, looking after the dog, the cat and the house. Oh, and trying to see Mr Meep.
Gah. Bah. Bleeeeeee.
Normal blogging will resume when things calm down a bit.
A group of us ladies have united in craft and formed the Cardiff Ladies Craft Guild. This week, we sat around drinking tea, eating a delicious home-made apple cake and chatting. Oh, and we did knitting too.
Stay tuned for some exciting craft-related antics.
Mr Meep and I decided that October should be the month of creativity - filled with lovely activities to brush away the blues creeping in over thoughts of the impending dark evenings and cold weather.
I'm late starting, but as my first activity, I've taken writing prompt number 99 from Creative Writing Prompts. Come up with ten images for this prompt: "My home makes me think of..."
OK, so my home makes me think of...
Cosy Sunday afternoons, the cat curled up on the pink velvet chair, the dog snoring away on the wooden floor. Us on the sofa with The Observer, a pot of Earl Grey and the obligatory tube of Jaffa Cakes.
Smells from the kitchen, of the things we eat the most: spicy sweet banana cake, slow-roasted tomatoes with garlic and basil, creamy coconut curries and wholesome, home-made, wholemeal bread.
Sitting around the wooden table with good friends, chilled fruity white wine, lots of laughter and a huge bowl of pasta in the middle to share.
Fairy lights in the fireplace and paintings on the walls. Music in the background. And books, lots of books.
Being relaxed, feeling secure and loved.
The day we got the keys and slept on a blow-up mattress on the dining room floor, after a feast of supermarket pizza and plastic tumblers of wine.
Getting into a bed with fresh sheets wearing clean pyjamas and falling into a long, deep, weekend sleep.
Living in a building site for six months, with no hot water, a broken oven, two garden chairs and a TV on a cardboard box.
My 30th birthday party in the garden, with most of my favourite people and lots of amazing food.
Colour... fuschia pink in the bathroom that's guaranteed to wake you up, mouth-watering raspberry on the dining room walls, fresh '50s cupcake colours in the kitchen. Actually, an awful lot of pink going on.
I am in the process of making a wedding cake for my lovely friends Jon and Emma. It's possibly the most stressful thing I have ever done.
What's wrong with me? It's a cake! I like cakes. I like making cakes. I like eating cakes even more.
Things I am worried about:
Going too fast around a corner in the car and squishing the cakes
The cake collapsing as they cut it, with everyone looking on (last night's dream)
Sitting on a table at the wedding with strangers and them saying, "Look at that DREADFUL cake"
All of this stress is exaggerated by the fact that I have eaten quite a lot of sugar in the process of making the cakes.
Yesterday, I probably ingested about a pint of 'leftover' chocolate ganache throughout the course of the day.
This morning, I started on the marzipan trimmings. There were lots of them. Now there are not so many. In fact, there are none. I ate half, dipped in more chocolate ganache. Blod ate the rest sans ganache as chocolate and dogs are not a good combo.
The there were the cake trimmings. I nibbled away at a fair few of them yesterday. Then, of course, there was the cake mix bowls...