coordination & therapy: if i can make sushi, you can make sushi

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sushi rolls

I know I’ve been blogging like almost once a day for the past week – ok except yesterday because I’m trying not to be so addicted to this thing and somewhere between “after dinner” and “blogging” and “watching Generation Kill“, I really need to find some time to have a life.

How often should a blogger blog? Now, this is truly the million dollar question in bloggersphere. It’s up there with How do I get the perfect WordPress Theme? and How the heck do I get more than one person (my mum) to read my blog? But sadly, there’s no answer for this and the pro’s will tell you that “it’s up to you”. Which is exactly the answer that most bloggers don’t want to hear.

I’m no pro. I don’t even have a blogging schedule, like they teach you to. To me blogging is therapeutic and considering the number of conversations I have with myself in my head, I almost owe it to my sanity to flush my brain and do a verbal dump right here, every day.

But luck’s on your side because there are other things I also find therapeutic. Like making sushi.

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interflora christmas hamper: because it ain’t no longer about romance

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£65 Interflora Christmas hamper

The word “Interflora” is one that arouses in me a number of different emotions. Flowers, romance, love, envy, disappoinment, failure… just to name a few.

I’ve always worked in an office environment and don’t be pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about. When the receptionist calls to say someone’s received a bouquet of flowers from anonymous (because the receptionist never knows who it’s from) and the lucky girl walks off in an air of feigned aloofness, suddenly turning her slow stroll into a dash as soon as she’s out of sight.

When she comes back, a bundle of floral delights in tow, we all oooh and ahhh and gush over the bouquet of roses! lillies! everything! and thoughtfully chirp along with each other about oh, your man, he’s so romantic. You’re sooo lucky! when all we’re really thinking is, fuck. Why doesn’t my man ever send me flowers to the office?

Oh, right I know. Because I seem to have a knack for finding men who, well no it’s not that they don’t buy me flowers, but they are ever so misguided as to think that having flowers delivered to the office is unromantic. That it would be oh so much more romantic to be given flowers in person. After work. At a romantic dinner.

How wrong they all were.

Guys. Read it here and read it now.

It ain’t about romance. It’s a fricking competition so please. Help us win, send us flowers to the office.

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dough a deer, a brilliant idea: the only choc chip cookie recipe you’ll ever need

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choc chip cookies

I think it goes without saying that the power of uncooked cookie dough is vastly under-rated in the world of consumer behaviour. How its floury, grainy, brown sugary texture feels pressed hard up against my mouth.. {shudder} I’m getting all hot and bothered just thinking about it.

Add to that a complete over estimation of chocolate chips and the cookie dough truly becomes a source to be reckoned with.

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rainy days & eating in: introducing my ‘it’s not really a pizza’ pizza

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my 'it's not really a pizza' pizza

It’s been getting colder over here in London-town. The weather teased us with tops in the high teens a few weeks ago, but these days it’s a steady 10 or maybe 12 degrees celcius on a good day, 8 on a bad.

In light of this, I’ve been happily wearing my boots every day for the past fortnight. I love the cosy feel of having thick socks around my ankles, but even for those things I love, I do grow tired (caveat: bf not included).

While it’s been cold, it hadn’t rained (til now), so last Friday I tossed my boots aside (oh who am I kidding, I’m a neat freak, I stuffed boot fillers back into them and placed them neatly back in their allocated spot in my wardrobe), put on my new Nine West flats and headed out for the day.

Being the first day in two weeks I hadn’t worn boots, it rained. It rained and rained and it was seriously like god was saying f*** you, here’s some rain to fill up your flats, hah.

Only god probably wouldn’t swear. But he would laugh at me.

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black and white cheesecake: for there is always a reason to celebrate

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cheesecake_01

One night two weeks ago, as I lay in bed trying my very hardest not to claw my eyeballs out of their sockets, I was reminded of a terrifying night I spent alone all those years ago (wow, it’s almost been a decade).

It was my first experience of a migraine, where the agony in my head is magnified by the stray light that somehow penetrates the pitch blackness that I’m lying in ~ in a dark room, under the blanket with my eyes closed and somehow, somehow, this light fires off microscopic missiles at my eyeballs, sending me into a writhing ball of pain, willing death to come much faster than it apparently wants to.

Last time, the migraine preceeded the crowning and extraction of my wisdom tooth, but we will not go into detail about the amount of pain that involves. This is a G-rated blog afterall.

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“but I don’t want to be a pie!” – ugg boots, pies & hibernation season

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chicken, mushroom & leek pie, and ugg boots!

I’m gonna come clean up front and admit that this is a completely blagged post. Blagged items, if you don’t know, are things that we bloggers are sent from PR folk to eat and cook and test, and provide our supposedly much sought after opinion. My opinion in particular has the influence of a peanut, so I don’t know why they send me stuff, but hey, this week I got ugg boots (!!!) so I am not complaining.

In light of the fact that dusting off my old ugg boots indicate the onset of winter, new ugg boots indicate that it’s winter now! NOW! Wear them NOW! and like seriously, the power of the mind, I have convinced myself (and everyone else) it’s winter. So much so that Abel & Cole also think it’s winter, and have sent me a delicious chicken, mushroom and leek pie to warm my little belly.

Hi. My name is catty and I’m a blagger.

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