We have all the time in the world...

or so my children would appear to think.

Trying to get them ready to do anything, even something that they want to do, is certain to raise my blood pressure. You'd think it would get easier as they got older, but no.  It seems that there are a million ways to distract them from the task in hand, distractions that had been nowhere to be seen until I say 'are you ready?'  'I just' is the first reply, or 'Phoebe said' or 'Tom did' or any excuse to not be  waiting by the front door when I ask them.

Just how military do you need to be to achieve co-operation? How much bribery goes on? How much cajoling and pleading and begging? How much shouting, blowing your top, bursting a blood vessel?  Why can't they just do as they're told, when they're told?  Sometimes I cope, and frankly other times I don't think I do. And that's all part of a normal day, all part of the usual routine, all part of the same old same old.  Getting ready for school.

They seem to live on another planet, in another time zone, in a different reality.  No matter that we discussed it the night before, and they were woken up in plenty of time, they have an uncanny ability to lose track of time, to let time slip through their hands, to waste time, to let time slip away, to dawdle, amble, and suspend their reality so that seconds pass like minutes, minutes pass like hours and hours pass like days.

I envy them.

When you're my age, time is precious, there's never enough time, time flies by too quickly, and the million other cliches that mean you regret the time you've wasted in the past.  What time passed is past and cannot be retrieved. You can't bank it or save it.  You can't buy it or hold onto it.  You don't realise the value of it until it's gone.

So I try my best.  Not to waste time.....  and you're reading this, so you'll have to tell me, is this a waste of time?   I hope not.  So, quickly then, more dogwalking in the snow.

Roly barking at the 'tin man' scarecrow in field off Wantage Park

birds scared, job done!

Here's the Wantage version of the 'Cresta Run' - the central avenue of beech trees in the park has a tarmac path, which when the snow/freeze conditions are right, and enough brave souls have gone down the track, becomes treacherously slippery...

from the top, looking down...

What alarms me is at the bottom there's a chain link fence, with a gate, and I wonder whether they open the gate or use it as a brake?

Anyway, I'm nice and snug/smug in my snow boots - they were another bargain find a couple of years ago in the Helen and Douglas House Charity Shop in Town.  Don't remember how much they were, not more than £10, but great value, and perfect for the snow. They get quite a few comments as well, and I'm always happy to make people smile :)

 Looking forward to leaving these grey days behind, but it's snowing again tonight, so we'll see what the school run looks like tomorrow.

Early night tonight, want to make further progress with The Sense of an Ending. Half way through, so want to get on and finish is soon.  Compelling reading, I want to know what happens next.

Keep it sweet y'all!  Kat

More daze than snow...

Up at 8.30am.  It's Sunday, and I got a good night's sleep and a lie-in!  Did I sleep well because Simon's gone to the USA and didn't steal the duvet last night?  I know it's a long way to go, but sometimes...  or did I sleep well because when he got up at 4.10am on Saturday morning, and left the house at 5am to get to the airport in time my sleep was broken and I felt knackered all day???

It's snowing again, and feels like a slow morning motivating the children to do all the necessary.  Which is a positive spin on me nagging them - get up, are you getting dressed before or after breakfast?  Come and have breakfast.  Have you brushed your hair/teeth?  washed your face? made your bed? got your wellies on? Are you coming for the dog-walk?  Why not?  What are you going to do instead?  Well, Tom and I will go and you can make those cookies you got the ingredients for.  Have you had your breakfast?  Please put your bowl in the sink. Try not to make a mess.  Tom, have a wee before we go out, and so on, and so forth.

After I'd put the clothes washing in the washing machine, filled and turned the dishwasher on, made leek and potato soup (for lunch), Tom and I took Roly for a walk, and we left Phoebe to make her Banana and White Chocolate Chunk Cookies.

Dog walking with Tom is a bit surreal.  Mostly entertaining, but sometimes the stream of consciousness conversation, whereby his mouth emits the stream of consciousness from his 6 year old boy brain just wears you down.  I can't keep up with his latest fad, his latest obsession, the latest Moshi Monster Moshling which one do you like Mummy, I don't really know, what about the googreen one, is that special, yes that's special and ultra rare like when kiki said to burney about the twistmas present, look what's Roly doing, I really like Monsuno when the something (at this stage I usually tune out as I'm mentally worn down trying to keep up).  Puts me in mind of a pinball machine...

Two things of interest on the dog walk.  Down the Letcombe Footpath for a change.  Roly met a deerhound.  I know it was a deerhound because I asked the people on the other end of the lead whether it was a wolfhound or a deerhound, and they said deerhound.  The fact that Roly almost fit underneath him sort of gave the game away... here's a picture for you, not one I took, but will give you an idea nonetheless.

Second thing of interest was on the way back Tom and I cut through the King Alfred's playing fields.  The stream skirts the field and defines the boundary with the farmer's field the other side.  There's a width of overgrown woodland by the stream, which couldn't be playing field because of the slope.  Over the years this area has been infiltrated by the local youngsters with their bmx bikes.  We've seen them there in the summer and they've built quite a course.  Some of the jumps are as tall as me, with a gap between them as wide as my arm span.  Which is fine, if a little scary - not the jumps in themselves, built up from the earth they've dug up - but the fact that they're positioned so closely between the trees, and there's little or no margin for error that I can see....

So, Tom's in there exploring and we spot a fire burning quite nicely in the gap between one of the jumps.  Wierd.  It's 11.30am and no sign of anyone else nearby.  Tom is fascinated and throws handful after handful of snow into the fire, which does absolutely nothing to it, bedded in and ember-endowed as it is.

The snow falling today was the very fine powder stuff again, but there felt like a melt going on all the same.  Forecast to freeze tonight, but schools are open, so back to the usual tomorrow.  Uploaded the sledging photos from the Park.. Yes, it really was this grey looking beneath the cloudy sky.

Wantage Park sledgers in the snow, Jan 2013

the wonders of zoom on my camera!  Phoebe and Tom are there...

I think he missed the snowball.

That's all for now.
Time for bed and more of Julian Barne's 'The Sense of an Ending'.

Thanks for reading, keep it sweet, Kat  ;)

Snow daze

And then it really snowed.

Monday was just the tease. The predicted snow came on Friday morning as Phoebe was leaving to get her school bus.  Light small dry floaty flakes at 7.15am. 'See you later' called Phoebe at 7.30am slamming the door, and the snow was falling steadily, settling, and setting a quiet over everything....

The schools had said watch for e-mails, check facebook or their websites.  By 8.21am Tom's school had announced it was closed for the day. Just as well we were running late then, or I'd have driven 10 miles there and back for nothing... and by 12.30pm, and a good 4 inches (that's 10cm in new money) and no sign of it stopping, my boss told me that all libraries in the county were closing at 1pm, to ensure staff got home safely.  Our library only opens from 2-5pm on a Friday anyway, so that's a free day off then.... I love my job!  yippee!

The road outside our house didn't look all that clever. There was so little traffic that the snow was settling, and the gritters only went past at around 3pm.  I know this as we were sledging down the hill in the park opposite our house, and I heard them and saw the flashing lights through the park hedge.

Phoebe's school sent them home after lunch, so naturally I dug out the ski-gear and we headed to the slopes.

We're lucky where we live because the park opposite our house is 6 acres, with some hedged off formal/childrens' play/no dogs allowed, and 2 tennis courts and a bowling club/green.  The rest is on the slopes of Chain Hill and free access where mostly dog walkers exercise their dogs/themselves and where the Council used to maintain a 9 hole practice golf course (I don't know the par, but it looked tricky because it's on a hill).

When I say used to, they've not looked after it for a couple of years, budget cutbacks and all that.  Whilst this may be a drawback to the few who used this amenity, the upside of the neglect is that the now overgrown bunkers make good obstacles for the sledgers, and test the ingenuity of the snowboarders(!) I saw who banked the bunker bank up with snow to make a jump, and jumped (with joy) over(off?) it.

It's been a few years now since we went ski-ing.  I keep doing the lottery (you never know..), but don't see us going this year.  So digging the ski-gear out of the blanket box where it's stored was a bit painful.  As ever, watching the pennies I pick up things for the children in charity shops when I see them, and try not to put on weight myself.  So I was pleased to be still able to fit into my snowboarding trousers.  Phoebe tried on the last pair of salopettes I'd squirreled away, and they fit quite nicely, but alas, there was nothing for Tom.

Well, he's already wearing a hand-me-down ski jacket from Beatrice (don't ask!), but last year he'd had an all-in-one ski suit, which had become tight across the shoulders, so had been passed onto his cousins before Christmas.  I hadn't realised that there were no trousers for him at all.  So he wore his jeans with his snow-boots (which I'd bought, new!, before Christmas), and a pair of long shorts on top.  He doesn't even have waterproof over trousers, for goodness sake! What kind of country Mum are you?  Not the proper kind, obviously.

Still, it didn't stop them.  We hit the park at 2.30pm and returned home, worn out and wet at 4.30pm.  They'll sleep well tonight I thought to myself.

Simon had missed all the fun of course.  He'd managed to get up to London for his meeting, and had borrowed my camera, so I couldn't take photos.  He's gone off to USA today for the week, for a new product launch.  Rather him than me, travelling's not glamourous.  He was up at 4.10am (to account for the weather/travel disruption) to get to Gatwick for his flight.  So I had today booked off work as holiday to look after the children, as Saturday mornings I'm usually out 9am-1pm.  So that made a nice change.

More sledging this afternoon (after chores in the morning), and the snow had frozen overnight and was much faster today.  We got the wooden framed sledge down from the attic and gave it it's first outing.  Great fun, and that old-fashioned design is a classic.  'Nowt wrong wi' that' as they'd say 'up north'.

hard frost in Wantage Park, December 2012

the old golf course is the other side of the central avenue of beech trees...

that dog again!

I was rather taken with the hard frost that morning.  More snow forecast for tomorrow and Tuesday, so we'll see if life really grinds to a halt.  I've got Monday off work as need to collect Tom from school in Simon's absence, and then back to usual routine.

Best turn in, it was an early alarm this morning, and I need my (beauty) sleep or I'm fit for nothing the next day.

ttfn, Kat. :)

I can't ....

skip a meal.

Well, if I had to...  if lives depended on it...  if circumstances dictated, then, I daresay I could. But I'd be very cross about it.  It would be a very big sense of humour failure....  I get very grumpy if my mealtime deviates, if my routine is changed, if my planning is mucked about....  Because I can feel my blood sugar dropping, my energy sapping, my joie-de-vivre no longer vivre-ing.

How long have I been like this?  As long as I can remember.

It's not usually a problem.  I wake up, and usually my kind husband has made me a cup of tea to have in bed before the mayhem of the day begins.  (He was a quick learner... and he's usually up first during the week).  So I get my breakfast by 8am (usually a chopped up apple with fruit and fibre cereal with soya milk and a sprinkle of linseeds), do the school run and dog walk, then around 10.30am a cup of tea and a healthy snack, handful of nuts or a banana.

I'm thinking of lunch well before noon. I'm not hungry as such, just thinking, planning, calculating, balancing.  What did I have yesterday, what's in the fridge? sort of thoughts... so lunch usually around 12.30pm.  1pm is pushing it, 1.30pm is late and 2pm would see me biting you, or at the very least snapping your head off until I'd eaten and calmed down...  Also, my work routine dictates that I should have eaten by then as I work 2-5pm (2-7pm Monday) Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays...

I'll need a snack mid afternoon 'everything stops for tea at three', so a nice cuppa tea again, and if I missed my banana in the morning, then it's banana or, naughtily, a biscuit at work.

Come the evening the routine is dictated by school pickup time, so I've finished work, driven to collect Tom and get home around 6pm.  By which time food is all I can think of.  Firstly to feed the children quickly, usually a simple sandwich, or something on toast, or left-overs - they should both have had a cooked meal at school.  Once they're done, if I'm not starving, and haven't sneaked a piece of toast with them to take the edge off the hunger pangs, then I can focus on what I'm cooking either for  myself, or for me and Simon.

A couple of nights a weeks Simon trains with the White Horse Harriers, so isn't in until gone 8pm, and won't eat before as he can't run on a full stomach.  However, I can't wait until he gets back, 6.30pm is my aim, 7pm is pushing it, 7.30pm is late, and 8pm I'd be snapping his head off.....

So this all goes to explain why I didn't go to Phoebe's school parents' evening tonight, which started at 6.30pm.... because I'd have been distracted.!!!

Varied the dog walk this morning.  Back into the routine of taking Roly round the Folly in Faringdon, but nipped down hill round the 'new' cricket/rugby ground/field. Gives a different perspective on the Folly which is sporting it's light on top - left on since Christmas, and I understand from the local press that it's staying for 3 months, making it the only inland lighthouse in the country.  Apparently it's sending out 'f' and 't' in morse code to represent 'folly tower'.  Whenever I see it on school run in the dark evening sky it's a pleasing addition, but I'm mainly watching the road as I'm driving, and I've no idea about the morse code..

Faringdon Folly Tower from the cricket ground

The cloud cover today was high but heavy, burdened with the forecast snow which has been trying to fall all day.

There were some lovely frozen puddles, this one reminded me of a clam shell...

And saw the first gorse of the season..

                                                         ........ a welcome splash of colour in the grey of the impending storm!

So, as I write this evening it's snowing and the local forecast is for heavy snow overnight, with significant disrpution to travel.  Both school websites will have status updates to check in the morning, and as my boss travels 20 miles to work I'm not expecting to see her tomorrow.... we'll play it by ear tomorrow and see what happens.

Oh yes, I almost forgot, I finished reading 'One Day' by David Nicholls a couple of weeks ago. Really enjoyed it, although I normally steer clear of 'bestsellers'.  Well crafted, believable flawed characters who we revisit on 15th July each year from 1988 until 2008.  A good twist at the end, and I'd happily recommend it, in fact I already have to someone at the library.   

I've been 'slumming' it with 'All balls and glitter, my life' by Craig Revel Horwood - the strict judge on Strictly Come Dancing.  I've got Julian Barnes' 'The Sense of an Ending' waiting in the wings, and I may just move onto that, as I think I've got the gist of the CRH book now.

Right, time for bed. ttfn. Kat

And there it was,

gone.

The snow that was. Woke up today, Monday, and it's snowed outside, a good two fingers deep, but the road's clear so no excuses.

Let the dog out. He's turned around on the doorstep and is back in the house before I can close the door.  Wuss! (as in wimpy, soft, daft thing that's scared of its own shadow).  But we have to remember   he's 10 now, and make allowances....

Wellies on, coat on, scarf on and off down the bottom of the garden to let the hens out.  Check their water, frozen, see to that. Return with fresh water, and no sign of the girls. They don't like it either. They'll come out when they're hungry.

Come to think of it, I remember last time it snowed and stuck was the old hen house, and they wouldn't leave the bottom of the arc at all.  I think their tiny hen brains (no insult, but their brains must be small because their heads are small) have a real problem when the world turns white. They don't understand where the normal world has gone, so they really don't want to venture out into this great white unknown.

So by the time it's school taxi (me) I unlocked my car, opened the door, and noticed that the way the snow had piled up meant a good dollop of the white stuff  landed squarely on my driver's seat... deep joy, not.  But once out on the road it's clear, and as usual it's the other idiots you've to watch out for.

Home after the school run and walk the dog. I didn't take him to the Folly at Faringdon today as it's still absolutley lethal underfoot, and with a disguising blanket of snow I didn't want to risk any more loss of dignity.... (I slipped on the dog walk on Friday morning, ending up on my derriere, and wrist deep in mud - wrist deep as I put my hand out to cushion the fall).

Whizzed through the pile of ironing, 2 baskets' worth, and by lunchtime the melt was set in, with rain for good measure.  Checked the hens, they were by now looking very skanky, wet and bedraggled and huddled under the hen house for shelter.  2 eggs.  nice :)

Here's a thing.  I know I've gone on about not being a 'dog person' in other postings.  But the funny thing is, now, after having had Roly for 8, no 9 years, I couldn't imagine being without a dog.  Hence the previous post, my confession, my disloyalty, my guilty secret (I want an Irish Terrier).  There are many positives, and the best aspect of having a dog is the dog walking.

I really like going for dog walks. Me and Roly, or with the rest of the family as well.  The great outdoors is exactly that.  It's become such a part of daily life it's like breathing.  A day without a dog walk is a day without meaning, and that's saying something coming from me.

Dog walk yesterday on the Ridgeway, near the Wantage Monument....

The Monument on the Ridgeway states 'this cross is raised in/to his memory by his wife' (to Lord Wantage) there's a whole history to be told there...

On that note I'll say goodnight... sweet dreams y'all, :)  Kat

On loyalty

My head has been turned.

I've been harbouring a secret yearning for a while.  I've tried to ignore it. The practicalities are inconcievable.

And where do my loyalties truly lie? Well. Roly's safe - for the time being.

I bought this week's copy of Country Life (get her, lives in the country and thinks she's posh now!) because of the cover stars.

I've fancied Irish Terriers for a while now. This cover photo blew me away, so I bought a copy...

They've turned my head, and Simon's thinking we'll get a puppy as soon as....  but.  There's Roly.

Time for research.

Roly's 10 yrs old. How do the practicalities of a puppy with an old dog work?  Will need to read more about the Irish Terriers.  They sound a real character.  Apparently they're not good on recall, and they love to dig, and they're escape artists as well, so the garden will need to be extra dog proofed...

But, I think they'll be the heir to Roly. Not sure could handle two off them though. And you'd have to give them an Irish name.  So here's to dreaming about the future. Roly's safe for now, and when his time comes we have a successor in the wings.

And they don't shed hair...

On that note I'll go back to my country porn(!) and lust after a younger model. So sorry. Hope you're not upset. Roly's here by the woodburning stove, curled up in his favourite place, and long may he last.

TTFN. Kat :)

In praise of ....

THRIFTINESS.

I admit it.  I'm a charity-shop hag.  A bargain hunter.  An anti-consumer consumer.  A freecycler recycler upcycler rejigger, make-do-and-mender.  So what's new I hear you ask?

Well.  I've been doing this all my life.

When I was a teenager we lived out of town, so getting a Saturday job was difficult. I had a paper-round, and was no stranger to 6am starts.  But, it was good experience and meant I had a little cash to spend in town, and Saturday day time to myself.

Still, the pay was meagre, so shopping as such meant being inventive.  Also, I had that rebellious streak, so back in the 1980s, when I was a teenager, fashion to me was found in the charity shops, where the 1960s winkle pickers could be found....

I would wobble around Blackburn precinct thinking I looked the 'bees knees' in shoes such as these...

Since having children, and thus, less/no disposable income as such, I've continued in my quest for the bargain.  I've reasoned that since babies have no concept of designer this and designer that then second-hand will be absolutely fine.  And, since children grow so quickly there's no way I'm spending £15 on a pair of jeans that will be out grown before they're outworn.

And, the charity shops benefit from my spending, which is much more to my liking.

I've also continued to shop for my own clothing items from charity shops, the only exception being underwear (ditto children).  I can't remember the last time I paid full price for anything clothing wise, and when Phoebe's been given vouchers to certain clothes shops and I've seen the full price of things, or even if I steer her to the sale rail, I've winced at the tags....

So allow me to shock you, and then let you into a little local(ish) secret.

On the hunt over these Xmas holidays for Phoebe to find her some new winter boots.  We think her feet have finally stopped growing.  Size 8.5 and size 8.  She's 12....  Her last year's boots were flapping at the toes, and apart from looking scruffy they're also dangerous.

We have now discovered that most UK high street shops stock ladies adult size footwear in 3-8.  So finding the half size above that Phoebe needs is difficult to say the least.  No matter what price bracket we looked at, regular shop or in the sale, we couldn't find her size.  Her school shoes are thankfully available in sizes to fit her (at Clarks, so no cutting corners there then!), and the same goes for her sports shoes, although the sports shop man had to go to his store room 3 times to find hockey boots to fit properly...

So to the hunting.  Whilst in Matalan in Newbury I bought myself  (SHOCK!!!) a pair of simple black leather 'Mary Jane' style shoes for work.   Thought I'd splash out.  They cost £18.  Matalan, is after all, quite a cheap shop.  No joy for Phoebe though, so I thought I'd try my favourite bargain hunting ground in Newbury to see if the Gods were on my side.

30 years later this is my shoe of comfort for work...  how times change!

This is the SECRET:

Off the Hambridge Road in Newbury is a warehouse called, quite catchily, 'The Clothing Warehouse'.  It buys second-hand clothes (I asked them, they told me) by the ton(ne) from wholesalers.  These clothes may  have been donated to charity, (so funds have been raised), or may be seconds, end of season lines, or bankrupt stock.  Either way, they sell them as cheap as charity shops and sometimes you can really find a bargain.  Sometimes new items are mixed in, but they price them to sell, and usually only add 50p as the premium for it being new.  There's Tesco own lines mixed in with Next, M&S, Monsuno and Matalan and more. You have to keep your wits about you, and there's not much of a display ethic. The clothes are crammed together on hangers so tightly that you think you might lose your wedding ring.

This is the antithesis of a retail experience.  But if you want a bargain this is where you come. And if you're trying to save money in these austere times I recommend it.  Especially if you've got children.

They actually do have one part of the building laid out more to meet a shop-style expectation. This is the expensive bit where the higher end, smarter, nicer stuff is to be found, but it's still cheap by comparison. It's also the charity shop experience in that there's only one off of each item, so what you see is what you get, and if it's not there in your size then they've not got it.  Once you've got used to shopping like this you can have a lot of fun.

So this weekend, after I'd spent the extortionate(!) amount of £18 on a new pair of shoes (for work) (first new pair of shoes for me for at least 4 years, may be longer come to think of it), I got at the Clothing Warehouse, a nice pair of 'Geox' summer shoes £4 (as new, still had their price tag on the underside of the shoe between heel and sole £29.99), an 'East' silk blouse £5, and a green cardigan to go with £7(expensive!).  £4 + £5 + £7 = £16 for blouse, cardi and shoes.  There's no wear (like you see in the charity shops) and I'm chuffed as you like.  Beat that Matalan. Oh, you can't.

I then managed to find (this took a good search) for Phoebe, some Next brown suede boots knee height with a zip, 6cm block heel, square toe, size 9, as new condition....  £5.  What's more, they fit her and she likes them.  I completed her outfit with as new condition Next black boot cut jeans, £3.

This is nearest image I could find for Phoebe's boots.  Hers are chocolate brown suede with a  squarer heel.  Height about right, though.  These ones cost £75 on the Next website at the moment.

I hope you don't all go rushing down there tomorrow, taking all my best buys. Maybe I should have kept quite...

Keep it sweet. ;)  Kat

New Year Revolutions

I don't make resolutions - they would inevitably get broken into.

But I will try to be better.  By that I mean more positive. Which is difficult for me.  I've always been negatively motivated. In that I know what I don't want, but I've never known what it is that I want.

I finished reading Lady Chatterley's Lover....  I was more impressed by the overall anti-war tone of the story than the supposed scandal of the sex scenes.  Yes, it's ambitious in the description of how the physical sex act feels, in trying to explain what effect it has on the participants. Yes, some of the language is absolutely filthy, and to my mind it didn't add much to the story. What I felt was more interesting was that it was written in 1928 and Lawrence died in 1930, and it's prophetically, overwhelmingly about doom and gloom, the hardships of the mining community, the downward spiral of the marriage of the Chatterleys for obvious reasons, and obviously the mood of the time was of incredible pessimism.  I'll have to look up on Wikipedia the reason why it was banned.  Interesting. I'm pleased I've now read it.

Since then I've 'slummed it' with non-fiction 'The Doctor will see you Now' by Max Pemberton. Humorous medical memoir of junior doctor in modern times. Eye-opening and eye watering in equal measure.

I'm now reading 'One Day' by David Nicholls, which is easy going, easy reading and quite enjoyable so far. I want to know what happens to Emma and Dexter.

The Christmas break has been busy, of course, with quite a lot of travel.  We learned that taking the dog with us on the 200 mile trip to Lancashire to collect the children from grandparents' house, and then return home was quite difficult in my new Skoda Roomster - not a roomy as the Honda CRV, but much more economical to run.  However, the children's bickering means fewer long trips, or  leaving the dog behind - either way it's expensive.

We also learned that a 'quick trip to Ikea' takes on average 6 hours.  This is because it's 1 hr to get there/come home.  Then queueing for the car park, and finding a parking space takes an extra 40 minutes. Then queuing for a quick lunch is tricky if you get in the wrong queue (we didn't want meatballs...).  Then the usual let's walk you round the store/display area via the longest route, find your items in marketplace and guess what, let's queue again to pay for the things.  

That said, Phoebe's bedroom is much improved, and the new desk in the study is a triumph!

I'm really looking forward to getting back to work on the 3rd, and even more looking forward to the children returning to school on the 8th.  Just how are you supposed to be a working parent if you're not employed in education???  

On a lighter note, it didn't rain today, and I'm going to clean the oven.  

Happy new year to one and all

keep it sweet  :)  Kat