Let me start off by saying that I do not bake. It just isn’t my thing. I’m a wicked cook, but my baking skills are right up there with a basket of half drown kittens. It’s just too exact for me. If the recipe calls for 1/4tsp of something- they mean it. I want to make food, not feel like I’m back in high school science. I’m more of a “throw shit in” kinda girl. This weekend however, we raided the ICBC apricot tree next door and somehow, Martha Steward crawled outta my ass and took over my kitchen.
Ps- Martha- I still hate you. I also now hate apricots.
Lola Gold has a boyfriend. We’ve named him Jason Redhot.
Maggi & Lucy seem to be getting on well (with very little jealousy rearing it’s growling and snarling head.)
Lucy has discovered toys. When she came to us she didn’t know “toy” or “treat” or “water dish” or “play.” She knew “cage” “hamster water bottle” and “squeeze me out another $5000.00 worth of fucking puppies!” So, upon discovering “toys” (and Maggi shares well) she lost her mind a little. She was throwing a soft ball in the air for herself and scampering all over the wood floor chasing shit. Then the terrier in her came out and she decided they were all HERS. She spent the evening covertly dragging them- one by one- to her bed. She gets a little gollum-ish when you give her something. You can almost hear her whispering. “My precious. You are mine. All mine.“
















