Barefoot In The Kitchen

Here’s this week’s entry for The Gallery at Sticky Fingers.  I can’t promise it’s any good, because, well, I’ve been working with clients this week who only like Tahoma, there is NO OTHER FONT IN THE WORLD THAT WILL DO, NOT EVEN FOR FANCY TEXT, and banging one’s head against a brick wall isn’t really conducive to good writing.  Anyway, head over there and have a look around, it’s well worth it.

I don’t drink any more.

It’s not out of any sense of moral superiority or strongly-held personal belief.  It’s not really because drink contains so many empty calories.  It’s not because I’m still breastfeeding- a drink after David goes to bed isn’t going to affect his pre-nap feed the next morning.  It’s simply that I don’t enjoy it any more.

My line between sobriety, fuzziness, and complete all-out drunkenness is a very thin one.  So thin, in fact, that after a glass of wine I’ll be unable to think coherently.  I’ve always been like this- I spent my teenage years in a drunken (and otherwise) fuzz, because drinking equalled being drunk, and not necessarily because I was drinking too much.  (Incidentally, I was.  Far too much, and far too often.  The innocence of youth…)

I am a control freak.  I hate knowing I’m about to lose control, I have to be either completely in control or too drunk to care either way.  Two years of total pregnancy-and-breastfeeding-related sobriety have ensured that the point where I stop enjoying a glass of wine and start to feel a loss of control is approximately two sips in, and honestly?  I don’t see the point in drinking if I’m not going to enjoy it.

I went through a stage of just not drinking and having pregnancy and breastfeeding as an excuse.  Now that’s almost passed (and trust me, I’m not mentioning extended breastfeeding in my local!) I’ve realised I’ve no desire to ever drink again, other than the odd taste of Joe’s ale.  So, I’ve made the decision to “not drink” as a matter of course.  It’s incredibly liberating.  The pressure to just “have a sip or two”, or “have a shot of vodka in that Diet Coke” (thanks, Brian!) has gone, because I can just say that I’m sorry, I don’t drink any more, and that’s that.  People can think I’m weird all they want, I don’t care- I feel like a weight has been lifted.

…and Joe, of course, has the benefit of a designated driver when he and his friend Ed get through most of these in a weekend.

Bottles are one of my favourite subjects, the way their curves and lines capture and reflect the light.  So everyday, and yet so beautiful… does this count as a still life?

The weather outside currently looks like this.

Over the last couple of days, it’s given me cravings for warming winter food, including this lovely simple spicy bean mixture.  It’s wonderfully cheap to make, filling, and healthy.  You can use it wherever you’d use baked beans, or on it’s own.  It’s great on pitta bread.

So, here we go…

You’ll need:

• an onion
• a green pepper
• a tin of kidney beans, drained and rinsed
• a tin of taco mixed beans (baked beans can be substituted if you can’t get them)
• 2 teaspoons of paprika
• 2 teaspoons of cumin
• 1 teaspoon of chilli powder (or more to taste)
• 6 tablespoons tomato ketchup

First, peel and roughly chop the onion.

Then, peel and chop the green pepper.

Heat some oil, and add the onion and the spices.

When the onion has softened, add the green pepper and give it a stir.

When the green pepper is getting soft, add the beans and the tomato ketchup.

Put a lid on the pan, and simmer for ten minutes.

Eat and enjoy!  I eat mine with copious amounts of sour cream to cool them down.  They’re good with grated cheese on top, too.

David tried these as his first taste of chilli and now has an addiction to the stuff, just like Daddy.  This is the second batch I’ve made in three days.

Unusually, all three cats were in the mood for posing yesterday.  Here they are, in all their feline glory.

First to pose was Snowball.  This is especially unusual, as she’s incredibly camera-shy.  She tolerated me for ten minutes or so before stalking off to bug the crap out of her big brother.

Next was Eric.  He is most definitely not camera-shy, but he has the attention-span of a knat.  I’m trying to take a picture of Eric (and David!) every day, to document how he’s growing.

And here is Wily, the posiest poser of all.  He knew full well that I was taking all of these photos, but kept posing until I was done.

I love these cats to bits.  Any more need saying?