…it’s about time I tell you the most disgusting story that happened to me a few months ago. I have been wanting to share it for a while but feared I would put people off ever reading anything I write ever again. So if you’re squeamish, look away! Look away now!
Alright. So it was a normal Saturday morning in the Donovan house. The cat was banging on the laundry door to be let out, so I left Jackson in his high chair and released her. I opened the front door, then the screen door, and as she darted out to freedom, I heard a rustle in the leaves covering the welcome mat (nope, despite the fact that I felt qualified to offer cleaning advice just this week, we do not regularly sweep the entryway). I looked down and saw a biggish lizard darting for cover.
And then I heard a thunk.
Before I had managed to swing the doors closed, something had fallen from above my head and landed on the wooden floorboards beside me.
It was the lizard’s tail.
And it was wriggling. VIOLENTLY. It was flipping around, jumping off the floor, making scuttling noises as it flung itself wildly around.
The sound that came out of my mouth was akin to a rabid cat being strangled. I alerted Chris to the situation then sought refuge in the kitchen, hyperventilating because OMG GROSSS GROSS GROSS GROSS!!!
Ladies, there are two types of husbands. There’s the type of husband who will wordlessly clean up the writhing appendage and take it to the bin outside so that your delicate feminine nerves will not be rattled any more than necessary. And then there’s the type of husband who will scoop it up, wrap it in a bit of paper towel, sneak up next to you and dangle the violently squirming paper towel next to your face because apparently nothing is funnier than a grown woman wailing and falling on the floor like a four-year-old.
I’ll let you guess what kind of husband Chris is.
Does anyone else feel deli guilt at Woolies when they order something that needs to be sliced fresh? No? Just me? Like I cook with pancetta a bit, I guess more than the average person. And nine times out of ten, the proud selection of cold cuts in the deli display fridge is very lacking in the pancetta department. So I have to ask them to go to their fridge out the back, fish out the log of un-cut pancetta, position it in the industrial meat slicer, and slice away, checking the weight every now and then lest they accidentally prepare too much. And sometimes they’re a bit salty about it, so I always feel crazy guilty asking them to do it just so I can have 100 grams of the good stuff to flavour my soup a little. But like, I shouldn’t feel guilty right? I mean it’s there to be sold. But it inconveniences them and causes hold-ups in the deli queue. So I can’t help it! Deli guilt. It’s a thing.
Not feeling guilty about these awesome links I’m about to drop on you though!
It sounds bizarre but I would totally be game to try this strawberry pizza with bacon and caramelized onion! Would you?
I am absolutely mad for the bold colours and the interesting subjects in these paintings by Anne Bentley. Gorgeous and so interesting!
I seriously want to put this giant family gallery wall in our house (our own photos, obviously!). Heart eyes!
These sparkling peach ciders look DELICIOUS AND SO PRETTY.
FINALLY AN ANNOUNCEMENT (always best to put those right down the bottom of a post right?) The Her Happy Heart team are taking a break for the next couple of weeks so I can do some work on the website. Everything’s staying live, but it’s going to start looking a bit different so don’t be too surprised if you click in one day and you’re like “Whoa what is this place!?” It’s still us! Just prettier (eventually) (hopefully).
We have one post from Hannah scheduled for Tuesday, and then nothing again until the 28th. So sorry to leave you hanging, but we are excited for a new look!