There’s more biscuits in my kitchen. They’re everywhere. Soon I’ll add caramel dumplings to the collection. Soon I’ll be so hyperactive.
But I’m not yet, at the moment, I am restless. I’m itchy to achieve amazing things. Unfortunately these things tend to not happen in half a second. No instant gratification allowed…
I got distracted writing this post for you, I have come back to it – almost 12 hours later. Post-caramel dumplings. Yes they were as amazing as anticipated but perhaps I should have paid attention to the recipe when it said it serves 7. I fed the whole lot to 4 people who ended up feeling rather sugary and concentrated some of their sugar fuelled hyperactivity into tickle attacks on yours truly (who could not stop giggling).
No harm done though, all dumplings consumed. The kitties even got a little caramel sauce and ice cream residue, all were happy.
Also – around about dumpling time I got out the luggagey items that will accompany me around Europe this coming July. I popped my back pack on and took my suitcase by the handle and did a few laps of the lounge pretending I was maneuvering around airport hazards. I think I’m competent enough to get my luggage drivers liscence. Granted, it’ll probably be a fair bit harder once I pump both full of my possessions.
Oliver, the fattest kitty, has also taken to napping on the luggages. I’m taking it as a kind of flattering subtle message that he’ll miss me and I should pack him too. We watched the Ireland vs All Blacks game together last night, with some quite shocking reception on the delayed coverage on Prime. I understand that we won and I saw some good moments of running and passing and what not, but mostly it looked and sounded like some kind of dubstep remix music video. (At least it wasn’t so bad for the anthems and the haka, definitely the best bit).
Back on topic, have you ever been sea biscuiting? I did as a kid down at Hahei beach. I didn’t want to. I was so scared. I’m not very good with water and so holding on for dear life to a ring flying super fast across the top of the big blue didn’t really appeal. I was pressured into it, all the little kids were doing it, so if I didn’t I would have looked like a right pansy. So I hopped into this thing, white at the knuckles gripping on, waiting for speed to pick up. Then I somehow got my littlest toe wedged in the netting in the bottom of the biscuit. It started pulling and twisting and hurting. And then I started panicking. Panicking that if it tipped over I’d be stuck under it, under the water, unable to free my toe. Then panicking if I was thrown from the biscuit I may leave my toe behind. I could have probably reached down and freed my toe, but I was too terrified and my knuckles just grew whiter holding on it fear – wishing for it to be over.
When it was, I was almost in tears, so stressed and relieved, it still took me a minute to free my toe (so maybe my first fear of being stuck there and underwater wasn’t so far fetched). And I have not been biscuiting since. Though, the thought doesn’t scare me quite so much these days.
When I was an even smaller kiddy, a toddler in a little swimming ring in a pool. I managed to flip that upside down with myself wedged in it. That was certainly a frightening experience too, apparently screaming underwater doesn’t work too well. Lucky ol’ Dad came to the rescue though (cheers Dad). I’m sure I’m not the only one whose been in these watery situations. Have you?
Oh and then there was that time with the kayak paddle…