The Little Week That Was

Mr Catch is away this week and the children are dropping like flies, with a virus.  So, I have not done anything even remotely bloggable.  Nope, not even any photos.  Unless you want to see captures of feverish brows and piles of washing .

I have been having long days, in the laundry and at the sink.  Are you ever concerned that we all have too much stuff?  Stuff that needs cleaning and storing?  It's a dilemma.  I'm mad for decluttering and simplifying life, but not keen to cook with one saucepan and a fork.  What's a girl to do?

The garden certainly needs some decluttering. Weeds are devilishly sneaky.  They lay low, waiting for you to be distracted, then, before you can say "whippersnipper", they shoot up overnight.  There's also a plague of Chewing Things, in Old Testament proportions, eating the hedge.  Mr Catch is taking it personally and will play Terminator tomorrow.  There'll be weeding and mowing and general getting of ship-shape in the vegetation department.

Last night, I watched Law and Order.  My, that show is a stayer.  Can you believe the series premiered on September 13th, 1990 and this year, there's yet another spin-off?  Law and Order, UK.  We'll see how that goes.   Half the attraction for me is the pithy one-liner in a drawling American accent.  I just cannot picture the cops (never policemen) letting go with a "Cor blimey, why'd 'e 'ave to go and cark it over 'ere" .  That's not Law and Order.  That's The Bill.

I ducked out briefly yesterday to brunch with a friend.  Our local cafe has had a whiz-bang do-over and I'm loving it.  The new owner is French and charming, as you'd expect.  There was a startling moment when I went to cut what I thought were poached eggs, only to be surprised by two fried eggs suddenly wheeling across the table.  Luckily, they were retrievable.  I gave them full marks for deliciousness.

Talking of eggs, I have recently learnt how to make hollandaise sauce from scratch.  Butter is the bomb, isn't it?  I'm using truckloads in my cooking of late.  Perhaps, the new Kitchen Aide is channelling Julia Child into my home.  I'm having all manner of urges to cook French.  Macarons, cassoulets, tortes, tarts and quiches.  I will not be boning a duck though.  After the lambs, I'm needing anonymous meat.

The dog is the star of his training classes.  He's getting full marks from the instructor.  Every week, we sit between a vicious pit bull and a small dog who's sillier than a wet hen.  Bit of a metaphor for life really.

I wonder what next week will bring?  Hope yours is a good one.

Yawningly yours,
Mrs Catch

xx