Well, it’s been a long while since I’ve been around these parts (again) but it’s only because oftentimes I’m writing over here and uploading outfits from my closet over here whenever I have time to write at all, since summer tends to be a bust when the kids are home so much, and September tends to be a complete write-off with back-to-school stuff and chores and projects, and what have you. And then there’s October, with projects like this one. It’s all good.

Some kind of excellent things happened recently… I found my name on this very cool list over at Aiming Low – their first Twitter List – which I feel so proud to be on AT ALL, since that site is eight shades of Awesome to start with, and they think I don’t suck! WOW!! There are some seriously funny, cool tweeps on that list… I think it’s quite interesting that I’m on it at all. For realz.

AND!

My friend Beth at verybloggy.com wrote this post, including me in a list of people she likes to read, and my jaw just about hit the floor when I read my name amongst the others. I mean, WOW, Beth! And that post was back in late September. And I haven’t really said out loud until now how much that moves me… especially since I haven’t even been in this space since JUNE! Oy. I know. Thank you so much, Beth Wankel, you excellent woman!!

I’m trying not to not gonna to feel bad about it, because I can’t do everything, or be everywhere… and that’s really okay.

That said? I’m back.

And I’m gonna use the f-word every fucking day, because it’s my favourite, and I can’t use it anywhere else. Much.

Fuckity fuck-fuck. Heh.

G.G.

When I went to bed, just shortly before 2 AM Friday night, I first had to shake some kosher salt out of my bra. Maybe a small bit of watermelon rind too.

These are signs of a good party, yo.

Earlier in the week, I thought I’d invite a few of my neighbourhood foxes over for a “girl’s night in” kind of soiree – I’d received a bottle of Sauza Tequila Silver from a friend, so I bought a bunch of limes and avocados, some chips and salsa, and we got ready to party.

I must tell you that tequila and I parted company a long time ago – probably somewhere in the early nineties, when we just had too many disasterous parties with one another, and eventually I decided we should see other people taste other people taste other spirits… the other night, we made our gentle re-acquaintance.

We were seven in total, including myself. Actually, there were eight, if you count Martin-the-houseboy/babysitter who not only vacuumed the whole house upon his arrival from work, but also tended to all the ladies, grilled delicious shrimp I marinated earlier in the day (olive oil, grated lime peel and juice, kosher salt, chilli flakes – leave shrimp in their shells, and grill over BBQ until done – freaking delicious, oh my soul…) and was the resident refiller of tortilla chips and home-made guacamole to boot. Man, did I ever marry well.

I’d say everyone had shown up by 9 PM – we’re all mothers (except for one) and it’s almost always to get the kids to bed before vacating the house for the evening. Once one’s head is relaxed, it’s easier to kick back and get into excellent chit chat.

Of course, it also helped that we began serving tequila Palomas which were wicked delish. My Mexican friend Claudia mixed them up for us – 2 oz Sauza tequila in a salt-rimmed tall glass with ice, with a good squeeze of lime juice added, and then filled with grapefruit soda (or fresh grapefruit juice with a splash of soda.) We used Fresca, which felt retro and hysterical. I wasn’t sure I could even find Fresca anywhere these days, but it was right there in the soda aisle of the grocery store. Who knew?

We also tried the same concoction in a cocktail shaker in petite martini glasses. I think they just went down much faster – holy wow.

We laughed and nibbled, talked and giggled… I’m always worried that there won’t be enough food or booze for an evening, but the entire spread was completely abound. One friend brought a watermelon. Another brought a bag of blue corn tortilla chips, which look completely festive and excellent in the bowl, alongside the brown chipotle chips and the golden regular ones I’d bought. The shrimp and guac were garlicky, and the salsa had some spice to it – and how lovely it was to wash everything down with the Sauza-concoctions we made. And just about everyone showed up with a bottle of wine… and we drank many of those too.

I had a bunch of fruit I’d intended to plate beautifully, but the boxes of strawberries were aaaaaall the way downstair in the basement fridge – I was wearing 4″ wedge heels and there was no way I could go up and down my precarious back stairs in the dark anyway… so in the end I just cut up some watermelon and put out some grapes to refresh ourselves with towards the end of the night. (I would have sent Martin-the-houseboy, but he’d already snuck off to bed by that time, poor guy.)

We ate and we drank and we made merry. We laughed our heads off. We commiserated and consoled one another about life in general – though really, we’re all fortunate ladies with good, full lives. Still, it’s always good to have a pat on the back from a friend, who says she understands you, and she gets where you are in your life – that we’re all in the same boat… and I love you, man.

It’s rather a good thing that nearly everyone lives only a stone’s throw from my house, as we were very drunk and wobbily by the end of the happy, happy evening. I believe we imbibed the entire tasty bottle, except for a smidge… maybe two small shots worth. (Raise your hand if you want one… anyone?? Bueller?!)

The morning’s mess speaks volumes…

Good times. Awesome peeps. And tequila and I are friends again!! We’ll do it again very soon, I’m sure. ;)

You know how I’m a total sucker for a ruffled shirt, right? Well, last week I bought not one, but TWO of them!

I wandered into Bedo, which has been one of my favourite go-to stores for quite some time now… I think I end up buying some form of jacket or blazer from them every year. Especially since Denis Gagnon (who I spotted in his signature oversized frames at that TNT party recently) started designing for them a while back – holy crap, is that man interesting. Très avant garde. I dig many of his wares.

Anyway, the store was having a sale on just about everything on the racks, in preparation for the new line, available in stores as of this week. I snapped up this top for half-price:

The picture has the colour faded, but it’s a simple black tank top with black ruffles around the scoop neck, and down the front (it’s all the same colour) but the cut is completely everyday. I like a tank top in the summer, but I prefer my bra-straps covered, so this one is a winner. A little embellishment never hurt anyone, right? It’s a new favourite. (I’m pictured wearing it over here.)

Another new fave:

Hangers almost never do a piece justice… it’s black with white polkadots, and it has a wide drape at the neck, and ruffley bits at the shoulders. I love how it looks on – it’s kinda festive, but with the subdued colour, I can wear it to the grocery store without feeling ridiculous. It’s a chiffon-type of fabric, so you can tuck it. Or not. Looks amazeballs with white jeans… I will wear it for a tequila party later this week. It was also half-price. When I put this on, I totally want to shake my shoulders and start speaking Spanish. Arrrrrrrriba!!

Both blouses cost under $25 each, which is a steal for what they are. Great fit. Good design. Win-win!

I believe the sale was to end officially last Sunday, but go and have a browse… they often have the merch marked down until it’s gone, baby, gone. I tell you, there are some deals to be had… run, don’t walk!

G.G.

A few months back, I was at a kid birthday party, and struck up a conversation with another mother, and her charming husband. They were slightly hung over from the evening before, and I was desperate for a nap (as usual) and so be proceeded to have the funniest conversation you could dare to expect, given the event. They be some pretty cool folk.

She told me about a company that she and her sister started called Smith Farms which are hand-crafted, all-natural skin care products, which is also cruelty-free and comes in recyclable packaging. Huzzah!

So, a few weeks later, I invited her to join me and some other lady friends for drinks at Taverne, (which one of my friends was reviewing for the Fodor’s Guide) and she happily agreed to come. She also very kindly brought us some stuff to try! And who doesn’t love a gift?

Now, every person has his or her own beauty regime, replete with stuff they love, just as I have mine. I’m definitely someone who usually falls into a IloveitI’llneverchange category when it comes to body product, but I have to say, I like a lot about these products.

First of all, the Vitamin Enriched Hand Cream is perfect. It moisturizes well and evenly, without leaving you greasy. I hate not being able to open a door after moisturizing my hands – not a problem with this stuff. And I really love the foil tube it comes in… I’m a sucker for all the packaging of this line, be they glass bottles, or aluminum hand-pump – it’s all gorgeous. It’s all the sort of thing you can leave on your bathroom counter without making it look all cluttered, and “name-brand.”

The sisters use natural orange essence in some of their concoctions, which is, in this case, the right kind of orange. It smells of orange peel, and not like orange candy (which is for children) so whatever’s on you smells like from-your-kitchen and not from-the-gum-section of the confection counter. Orange isn’t even a scent I love all that much, but it really smells legitimate in these items, if you know what I mean. It smells organic, you know?

But of all the items she gave me, I think the ones I’ve really been using the most are the lip balm, and the lip tint. Both apply like silk… not too waxy… nor too cakey… my lips have felt like rose petals, seriously. Normally, I use Vaseline when I’m not wearing lip gloss, but I’ve had one of these little tubes of lip pleasure in every purse or pocket since Becky gave them to me. LOVE them! And the lip tint only blushes the lips faintly, even though it’s deep respberry in colour, and smells of that groovy citrusy orange… Martin likes it.

We’ve been kissing a lot lately. (Heh.)

G.G.

It’s been some time since I’ve been here… again. What can I tell you? I’ve been writing a whole heap over here, and over here, and my M.I.L. ain’t at all well, and we had to put our dog to rest a few weeks ago…

Sometimes life just gets in the way of other things. Even blogging.

Le sigh.

. . .

Yeah, so as it turns out, I have this neighbour who has her own PR firm, and she invited me to a party in our neighbourhood a few weeks ago, at a clothes boutique called TNT – it was the 20th year anniversary of the chain’s opening, and there was a party going on. The invitation said from 6 PM – 9 PM, and to please RSVP. Well of course I said HELLS TO THE MUTHERFUCKING YES!!

I invited Martin to come with me and he happily agreed, which is delicious since we’ve not been having enough dates ever lately, and though I don’t often mind going out alone, but I do so love it when I get to hold his hand out in in the world. Plus he’s handsome, and he smells good. I like dating my boyfriend.

We were much later arriving than we’d anticipated (children’s shenanigans = please don’t leave us!! screeches at the door) but right away, we met our neighbour, Veronica Redgrave (is that the most perfect name you’ve ever heard, I ask you?!) She was wearing a sequin jacket, so I was quite relieved that I didn’t wear mine that night – I opted for a leopard blazer with a three-quarter length sleeve over jeans with awesome sling-backs instead.

Anyway, it was all as a fashion party would dictate – lots of wine, sushi, and lots of fancy, gorgeous people. It was glorious. The music was totally bumpin’, too… it was DJ Mary HELL in the booth. If you don’t know her, please play close attention – and believe me when I say the girl can spin like a muther! I noticed the music straight away – that’s often usual for a public party. Chatting with her was a treat too… I believe you can check her out at the W Hotel’s Wunderbar (among other places) fairly often too. Go get funky, people.

Martin and I spotted my writer friend Vanessa, who had earlier tweeted that she was waiting for me… god, I love that girl. She’s a smart, gorgeous redhead who looks amazing in blue… (okay, she looks terrific in everything. Seriously.)

We procured a few glasses of wine, and scoped out the whole store, starting on the main floor, and then heading downstairs. *Swoons* What lovely items… we flipped hemlines and fingered fabrics of racks and racks of some of the most stunning apparel. I must tell you: I’ve never bought anything from this shop. Not because I wouldn’t like to – everything is pretty drool-worthy – but just about every item has a drool-worthy price-tag to match, though worth every penny, for certain! For a girl like me, who spends not a whole lot of bucks on clothing basics, and even less on accessories (except for bags and shoes) I know I won’t be buying a lot. But it sure is nice to browse in such places sometimes. I find it inspiring to see new prints and fabrics used in ways I would have never considered.

Vanessa introduced us to Carrie MacPherson, who besides being a bone fide fashionista, is one of the slickest, sexiest, most fun-loving people I’ve met in a long while. She’s also an artist and a photographer. Her Twitter handle is @eatdrinkbcarrie, which should tell you something about her. I’m counting the days until I can hang out with her again. She is FUN personified. She snapped this pic of our little party group: Vanessa, her friend Eric (behind me), his friend holding the garment bag, and me and my Martin. Oh yes, we made merry.

I think I had the best time standing around and stroking the wares of (perhaps my favourite designer, certainly of the evening) Sabrina Barilà, who’s stuff? Slap-my-mama gorgeous, holy crap. That lady knows how to play with proportion – it’s all flirty, and fresh, and delicious. J’adore her current collection – watch the little video (I think The Black Shiny Romper is my favourite short clip here.) Their tagline is “Live the Life You Love.” Sabrina was also completely delightful to talk to… what a lovely, lovely lady she is. Here’s me, rocking her faux-fur CAPE. (I loved every minute of the strutting):

Wow, we had a good time. So much of a good time, that Martin agreed to come to a birthday party rave with me…

. . .

This party was for a girlfriend I don’t see nearly often enough, but whom I adore spending time with when we do manage to get together. The festivities called for drinks at her gorgeous house ahead of time, and then a chartered school bus to take all the rave-goers to the venue. I love a good birthday party… and I’d never been to a rave before. Interesting times.

My impressions are these: I think I just don’t enjoy electronica music much. It’s not that the music is bad, but it doesn’t move me to dance at all. (Gimme some funk any day…) It was at Metropolis, which is an excellent venue for concerts, but it was a bit strange to enter this huge auditorium, seeing a few people dancing, but many just… sorta… spectating.

It’s not that I didn’t enjoy myself – I did! – I just think I would have enjoyed it more, had there been couches strewn about for lounging. I didn’t mind not dancing – I was happy bopping while standing in one spot, and chatting with people in our entourage, just smiling and taking in the scene. I’ll say this: the vibe of a rave is definitely a good one. People are happy and peaceful, ready to dance and have a good time – one can’t help but bask in the goodness of it. The atmosphere is very friendly, and there are certainly worse things in life than hanging out with pretty people you love and admire, being told how loved you are, and returning the sentiments. By my standards, that’s never a bad thing.

And of course, there was feting our darling Birthday Girl… birthdays always make my heart swell with happiness, and they make me feel earnest in wishing the very best for someone I love. It’s always feels Win-win. I believe she had a fantastic time being celebrated. Good!

But alas, with our children at home with a young babysitter, we really couldn’t stay until the wee hours. I still had to be on the soccer pitch at 9 AM… but a good time was had by all. Especially by Martin and me, because we need to spend more time outside of our house together, seeing old friends, and making new ones… off our couch in our comfortable house, and out in the air. With food. And people. And music. Even our same-old clothes look, feel, smell different, because a date is a date, and being out in the world with the person you like more than perhaps anyone else in the world, is delicious, no matter what you do, or where you go.

Especially when you get home at 1:30 AM, but you go to sleep at 3…

Heh.

G.G.

Have I ever mentioned how much I love mirrors? Not from a vanity standpoint (I mean, c’mon now) but I do so love the way they bounce light around, and how they play with reflections…

Our house is long and narrow, so playing light off the windows makes the place feel airier, and makes the space appear a bit wider too. These are good things.

After we moved our bedroom to the front of the house, and we’d settled on making the sexy dressing room next door, I had it in my head that I wanted to find a ginormous mirror to sit across from the doorway into the bedroom, to the left of the fireplace. The space alone is big… I thought about shelves for displaying books and belongings, but decided instead if I could find such an expansive mirror (that didn’t cost the earth) that I would try to acquire it. I’ve had my eyes peeled for some time now.

So, I’ve been thinking of the words I’d use to describe my ideal bedroom, so I can work backwards. It’s a good trick – you should try it.

My ideals:

restful
elegant
glamourous
sexy
beautiful

These are the words I come back to whenever I’m selecting items, whether big or small. In this space, I’m not interested in whimsical or playful or energetic. Not in the room I want to sleep in. (Nor have all the dirty-dirty in. No thanks.)

I could have lived with a white plaster kind of thing – very French looking, but a touch rococo for the space. A bit feminine too. Also, usually tres expensive. I didn’t see one in the right scale that I could afford.

I thought a piano-lacquered black frame would be quite lovely… perhaps a bit formal? There’s enough dark furniture in the room already, not to mention the floor (where ARE you, silver cowhide when I need you?) But I thought I’d end up with something black – I could make it work.

A design-y friend of mine recommended that I try the Louis George store in Ogilvy’s which is a fancy-pants store full of fancy-pants furniture and accessories, and I think it’s safe to say that most of the people I know are not shopping there much. Like, $2400-for-a-side-table kind of place. *Ahem* Gorgeous. Ornate. Wonderful. Indeed, they did have mirrors on sale when I visited… from around $1400 down to the low, low price of $850-ish. Um… yeah, no.

But then.

Last weekend I went shopping at the awesome place that rhymes with Sinners (yes, the same day we lost Ava Scarlett’s excellent sunglasses – poo.) and I do believe I found something delicious…

I love, Love, LOVE the silvery finish… it’s all pearly, and so freaking pretty, I can’t get over it. For the super-low price of $149, the glass is slightly wonky. It’s fine when you stand at a normal distance away from it to check yourself, but it’s as you get further away that the image is a bit off, and becomes a bit wavy. I reasoned that as long as no one looks shorter or fatter (one can’t look like Elvis-Hobbit… that never bodes well for starting one’s day off right) then it would be fine. It is, in fact, a SKINNY mirror! Oh JOY!! And there’s a tiny crack in the moulded edge of the frame, but with the fine strié finish, a person is hard-pressed to find it. I got an extra 10% off for that defect. (Heh.)

It’s seven feet tall, by four feet wide. I think it’s looking pretty gorgeous…

…and yes those ARE clear sequins on a silver satin pillow I also snapped up last week. Glamourous AND sexy, my darlings. RAWR!!

G.G.

I went to a dinner party the other night, hosted by one of my neighbour-ladies… each year she invites her girlfriends to supper at her house to celebrate her birthday. Not only is she a master at arranging an artful, delicious table full of savoury foods and sublime desserts, but it’s an opportunity to hang out with some women I love and admire for a few hours. As is the case with many of these ladies, the only time I get to visit with them is in this house, and it’s terrific to cozy up in a corner with a plate of nibbles and a glass of wine, trade stories and giggle my ass off with someone I haven’t seen in a long while.

And we rarely talk about children much. That is, in part, why these parties are so much fun. It’s awfully nice to talk about other things, when “the kids” is a huge part of your day job.

Dress code = wear whatever pleases you to Karen’s house, but that woman has probably the best collection of frocks and shoes I’ve ever seen. And she wears them without special occasion… it’s just how she gets dressed. She owns a vintage poster gallery here in town, and she totally dresses the part. (But she always has – even before the gallery – the costume department of Mad Men has nothing on this woman.)

I thought about donning a new cocktail skirt I bought some months ago (and haven’t had occasion to wear yet) but instead I opted for jeans and sparkly ballet flats, and a sheer blue blouse I love so very much (and have been wearing a lot, truth be told) but it’s just such an excellent garment – I’ve even managed to wear it braless sometimes, since it’s covered in a butterfly-like floral applique down the front, and studded with tear-shaped bead thingies here and there. You can’t see through it (especially in low-lighting) and never mind the droop of the boobies… it’s just how things are now. I’m still ecstatic at the fact that I bought it in blue and not black, which is always my natural inclination. It’s kinda gorgeous.

At the party, I sat with some ladies admiring my awesome blouse, and they were both floored when I told them I bought it from Forever 21. (Have I ever mentioned how much I love that store? Well, I do. You really must go there if you haven’t already… and everything is practically free. Run, don’t walk.)

We discussed fashion and “finds” and when they didn’t believe me when I said I bought a sequin jacket for about fifteen dollars last year, they demanded that I go home to retrieve it, and to please bring along anything else Made of Awesome. How handy that my house was almost directly across the street! I skipped across the road, and skipped back in about 2.5 minutes. I brought back the glorious jacket, as well as a sequin mini skirt, and a chocolate tutu.

We fingered the garments, and I flipped up hemlines so we could look at the seam work. I pointed out the places that could have had finer finishing… the hem turned under on the sequin skirt, for example, would rip your nylons to shreds – better to wear fishnets, I said. (Bare-legged is the best option for this skirt anyway.) The inside cuff of the jacket feels a bit rough on the wrists after you’ve been wearing it for a while… but at that price? Who really cares. I can have a seamstress add some ribbon to the inside if it bothers me so much.

The sequins are teeny-tiny O’s laying flat… very dramatic. Feels like New York. Or Vegas! It’s got a single button closure and a long lapel, and cuts away right at the waist, with a short vent at the back… it’s got a kind of classic tap dance feel to it. It’s very Liza with a “Z” and looks wonderful over just about any outfit you can think of.

I know, because we all took turns trying it on.

It was like The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants all of a sudden. Each woman would look at the S/P label in the collar, and moan about how it would surely be too small… and once her arms were in it, the jacket looked divine. On everyone.

Susan had on faded jeans and a white t-shirt, and her outfit went from everyday to crazy-glam, just like that. She has an awesome mane of silvery hair that is glam all by itself to start with though.

Penelope wore heavy black moto-boots and a colourful Betsy Johnson dress over black leggings… with her spiky hair, she looked even more like a rock star the minute she slipped the jacket on, despite how certain she was that her broad shoulders would never fit. She was dead wrong. And she looked amazing.

Paula’s lithe and lanky frame looked stunning with the jacket on over her bandage-y black mini skirt and black blouse. That South American woman plays tennis every day during good weather. Nothing looks bad on her. Ever.

I tell you, it was perfect on everyone – even on the Birthday Girl herself, who wore a black and white mini dress, and I made her put her off-white shiny go-go boots on… fabulous. I wish I had pictures. I’m so sad I don’t.

What a splendid evening… saw lots of old friends, and made some new ones. Karen’s house is one of my favourite places to be for a party. Her home is artful and soulful… she allows people to smoke in the kitchen once the party moves past a certain hour – which would have been wonderful for me if I still smoked – but it’s all just so comfortable and homey, with all kinds of glamourous, collected items to look at and wicked artwork on all the walls.

Now if we could just convince her to host one every four weeks or so, I just might have the lifestyle I keep shopping for.

Or, perhaps I should have a party myself…

G.G.

It’s Valentine’s Day, and though we’re not over-the-top with celebrating and stuff, I thought I’d get a few things for the kids. So they can beat the hell out of each other. Which saves mummy the hassle. (Gawd, I love these kids…)

Whaaaaat?! Wasn’t there a MASSACRE and whatnot on this day? C’mon….

I’m not a huge fan of buying toys from the dollar store – cheap plastic crap that breaks in about 10 minutes anyway… you get what you pay for. But, if you add some inexpensive festive tissue and stickers, sometimes a bunch of cheap plastic crap that breaks in 10 minutes is the PERFECT thing. Thank you, Dollarama!!

This took a bit of tape, and about fifteen minutes of time – et voila! Weapons of mass destruction disguised as love presents. (And I threw in a couple of bags of Hershey’s Kisses for good measure too.) Now Oliver can play whack-a-mole with his sister, and I won’t worry much about her head breaking apart and spilling her jam-like brains everywhere.

The funniest part of it all is that Ava Scarlett (home from school today with a cold she’s had all weekend) stood about eight feet away from me in the very same room as I wrapped and photographed all this stuff… she was heavily engrossed in Play-Doh at the time. I find that amazing.

I’d planned to hand-deliver a sushi lunch to Martin at work today, but I’m staying close to home with Madame. I can save that surprise for another random day. ‘Tis rather grey and gloomy-looking ouside as I type this… I think my unwell Tinkerbell could use some soup and a nap. I could use a break from her irritable and crusty demeanour. As well as her nose…

But it’s all good. There’s a lovely bottle of Veuve in the fridge, thanks to Martin’s other wife (AKA Awesome Bosslady) and I believe he’s making me dinner tonight. (I say “I believe” because if you “believe” then oftentimes these things can magically happen. Heh.)

Watch this video. It makes me smile.

“>

I posted something over here for the occasion, but just look at my little dude getting his birthday-groove on…

It’s been all smiles and giggles, and presents and surprises. He is SEVEN! And he is loving it. And I am loving him more than I ever thought I could. What an awesome kid I have – for reals. The kid is cool, yo.

But here’s the other cool thing – I mean, the part that make this about ME. (You know how it’s always about ME, right?)

Dudes. I baked a cake. From scratch.

Now, let me explain something: I don’t know from The Baking. Really, I don’t. My mum wasn’t much of a baker (though she could rock the shit out of a banana bread or an upside-down pineapple cake – believe it!) so I didn’t grow up watching someone play with flour and sugar and eggs and stuff, et voila! turn out lovely, sweets confections and things. Plus I don’t have much of a sweet tooth, save for chocolates. Especially chocolates that say CADBURY and have hazelnuts in them. Or like those adorable golden foil-wrapped Ferrero Rocher chocolates. I like chocolates.

Mmmm… chocolates…

Wait.

Oh right, I made a cake…! A flourless chocolate cake, one in which I hoped would satisfy both the birthday boy AND his father, who decided to eliminate gluten from his diet early last fall, which has wreaked havoc on all my culinary plans for our family ever since. Boo! Hiss!!

To those of you who bake, BRAVO to you, and you can stop reading this post here, because the rest has got to be baby-steps banal to you. For the rest of us, please read on…

Cooking is fine for me. Mince, puree, dredge, blanche, de-bone – no problem. Words like mirepoix don’t scare me at all. (Okay, the word souffle scares me a little a lot.) But cooking is not baking. The precise measuring of baking… the fats and the sugars… Is this a soft peak? How glossy is glossy? Whenever I read the word double-boiler, or candy-thermometer, I close my eyes, quickly slam the book shut, and chuck it under the couch. Then I go to the cupboard and take down a box of anything with the words Betty Crocker on it, and proceed to break eggs, stir, and bake.

But not this time. I used this recipe I found online. It listed a scant few ingredients (I had them all in the house) and boasted a very quick start-to-finish time. But I swear, had this required folding in whipped cream or blending in hot espresso or something, I would have trashed the whole idea and searched the cabinets for a Bag of Wonderful with Quaker-man on the front.

So, I braved the double-boiler thing and put a pot of water to simmer – but not boil – Jesus save me! Ava Scarlett got up on a chair beside me, and asked me about a thousand questions as I was blending the butter and the freshly chopped chocolate. I could barely speak to her… I was worried about over-mixing (?) and scorching (?) and ohmylord, what am I doing? Oh, the STRESS of it all!! And WHY did I attempt this?! There won’t even be time to buy something when this fails… JUST SHUT UP, CHILD, I COMMAND YOU!!

But I managed. I beat in sugar. I sifted in cocoa powder. I stirred until just combined. I greased the pan, and baked the fucker.

And look:

Pleased. As. Punch.

I was a bit worried I’d over-baked it (it felt dense and très crispy on the outside to the touch) but it’s like a brownie. A homemade brownie, thank you very much! We served it with Häagen-Dazs vanilla bean ice cream, and I also had some plump blackberries, but forgot to serve them. Nobody cared.

Martin got to have some this time… and Oliver LOVED it. Score: 1 for mummy!

Happy Birthday Oliver, my darling, my treasure. Please know that we love you a little bit more every day. And also, please know that I’m totally riding the hell out of your scooter in the house when you’re at school.

Love, mummy. xox