Birthdays

It was my birthday a couple of weeks ago. I'm not too fussed about birthdays anymore, but sometimes, they sure can be nice. I do love getting birthday calls from friends and loved ones - some of whom I don't get to talk with very often. And I love the fact that my two girls always think of something very special for me.

And I love, love, love that some people make things for me.

My favourite sister this year sent me this oh so lovely, subtly coloured and patterned mat for my kitchen.

See, it even incorporates Pisces.
Not only that, but it came wrapped in two metres of soft voile. I received parcels of thoughtful loveliness from new friends and good friends. Having crafty friends is an added joy this year.

Kelly knitted me a beeeeoootiful scarf.
Carrie crocheted me these funky little handwarmers (Michelle helped a bit).

Over the Weekend of Nettie, we had musical entertainment...And some serious balloon untangling...

And best of all, my family gathered around. There were more of us together than have been in one place for, oh, a long time. And those who weren't here, we skyped or phoned.

Yes, birthdays are OK.

Am I not a vegetarian any more?

Spending an entire long weekend nursing a sore head does crazy things to one's thought processes. Yes, most of Saturday, all of Sunday and all of a precious public holiday Monday I contemplated chopping off my head to rid myself of migraine pain. Medication came too late and so was ineffectual.

Not being able to face work on Tuesday due to the flatness of spirit that follows the demon migraine, I considered ways to avoid it in future (having the right drugs on hand and taking them before the stake gets driven into my skull would help, yes).

Now I have been vegetarian for some years now, and previous to that was never a great fan of la viande. Give me vegies any day. Love 'em. Love 'em. Love 'em. I don't have just one reason for being vegetarian. It's partly because I object to the animal cruelty that goes with farming pigs and chickens in particular. I believe that grain production would be more sustainable if it fed people rather than animals. I believe it is healthier for me. And I just don't like handling raw flesh and muscle, nor do I much like the taste and texture.

But in my post demonic state, I wondered if a change in diet might somehow make me feel better.

I went to the organic, free-range butcher (well, he's not, but his produce is) and bought a small piece of red stuff. Then I cooked it. And I ate it.

It wasn't too bad. But, to be perfectly honest, I really enjoyed the organic broccoli, asparagus, beetroot and potato better.

Even so, I feel that I have betrayed the cause. Sorry.