Are they gone yet?

Well, thank God that’s over. Three days of ten-hours-straight cooking for The Grand Feast, up at 5 a.m. yesterday, Rich’s family all day, strung-out overexcited kids, my three year old having a complete meltdown because it all just got too much (I totally identify), plus Rich’s computer blew up Christmas morning (there was smoke, there was profuse cursing, there were no computer games.)

Today I am more exhausted today than I can ever remember. Plus I have put on at least 20 pounds and I am the size of a house. And did I mention that I feel terrible? Somebody please remind me to NEVER EVER do that again.

But it’s over. I need rest. I need low-fat protein and tons of vegetables. I need lots of cuddles. I need a steamy photographic shoot with a highly-trustworthy photographer (when he's finished disembowelling his computer) followed by humongous amounts of photoshopping to remove said-blubber.

But most importantly, I need to start writing again.

Can I go back to gritty, non-festive blogging now, or do I have to wait until the new year?



This is Kate, not me. I never looked this good. No, not even twenty years ago. Kate is a professional dancer. I never was, unless you count over-enthusiasic drunken bopping at a night-club four nights a week for most of my twenties. Accountancy wrecks your liver and your sense of rhythm. Don't let anyone ever convince you otherwise.