Hot Chocolate

I have sustained two dog walking injuries in the last two weeks. The first involved an excitable dog freaking my dog out causing me to get tripped over by the lead (leash dear North Americans). The most remarkable factor in this fall was that even though it was a bit dramatic and I wailed very loudly, it didn't end up hurting. The excitable dog-owner seemed to be kind of relieved I wasn't going to sue him or something. Helpfully he gave me his own assessment of the situation to encourage me not to get litigious 'You are ok. You are strong.' I am? Oh, thank you. Perhaps you should consider a dog lead of your own.

The second fall was just me slipping comically on the frosted street. One moment I was admiring the way the frost sparkles in the morning sun and the next I was slammed into the road. Ow. This one still hurts.

Right afterwards I overheard two women chatting outside the school and passed by just as one asked the other 'So do you think hot chocolate is out of the question?'.

I spent the rest of my limpy walk racking my brains to imagine circumstances in which hot chocolate might indeed be out of the question. It seems so unlikely. I couldn't come up with anything. Hot chocolate is always a great idea, especially with the addition of tuaca.

Thought of the Day

Knowing Sahti makes me understand what I've been waiting for.

How To Achieve Super Soft Cheeks

Are you sitting comfortably? I have a funny story to tell you.

All this smiling I've been doing lately is directly correlated to the fact I went to a concert and met Sahti. It's not her real name. It's the name of a real beer though, but more importantly, the name of one of my favourite book characters.

After three weeks of meeting and eating and pretending we weren't actually dating, that we were just friends, I went to Sahti's house. I met her family, ate roast chicken (with brown skin, crucially) and her cats didn't make me sneeze.

Later, when we were sitting so close I could practically see into her pores, I finally got the cojones to kiss her. My stomach felt like it had gone white water rafting.

The next day I spent 99% of the day replaying it in my head, pausing just once when I got out of the bath and realised I was absentmindedly moisturising my bum with hair conditioner.

Only The Fridge Knows

Something's up.

I just listened to Mariah Carey singing 'All I Want for Christmas' voluntarily.

I might, under ordinary circumstances, be compelled at least once in the festive season to listen to the adorable kid on Love Actually sing it. These are not ordinary circumstances. When you realise you really like someone new, it makes you like everything you like already a little bit extra. It can even make things you didn't really like all that much seem not just tolerable, but enjoyable. Like jingly jangly Christmas love paeans.

I even like the dog more. I got licked on the face twice from hugging her. She's probably the only one here who knows something is up. If I'm at work in the kitchen (the majority of daylight hours) and I feel that huge, lopsided, unstoppable silly grin of happiness start to creep onto my face I just go to the fridge, open the door and beam quietly into the light.

Sahti

Hey there.

You know that feeling when you think of someone's name and you get a goofy grin slapped on your face that can't be removed no matter how hard you try to pull a sombre expression?

It's irresistible. I should know, because I tried to resist it.

I tried, on the basis that said person was 12 years old at the turn of the millenium, on the night I drank peach Bacardi Breezers (never again) and broke the pub clock. It's no use because every time I think of her name I get the kind of look a crazy person might have that makes everyone avoid sitting next to you on the bus.