Garden: I went outside with a torch and a small container last night and found three large snails at work on my vegetables in the punga raised bed. No doubt they are responsible for the annihilation of the beans.
Chooks: These ones have been unkeen on being caught after a session outside the poultry palace so I've hardly let them out at all. But tonight I trialled letting them out not long before dusk to see if it was much easier to return them to the palace. It was.
Kitchen: I tried the greek pumpkin spread for my ten new meals project. It was awful pumpkin and too much fennel. I am going to try it again with decent pumpkin, no fennel and maybe even some coriander in it. I made pizza from scratch tonight. I haven't done that for ages, certainly not since Dominos Pizza moved into Wetville. But as, most irritatingly, there are more days until payday than is ideal, I opted to make it at home. It was better than the bought stuff and did leave room to buy some wine.
House: well. We have visitors in less than seven days and some serious miracle working is required. I am organising the boys to go to the dump tomorrow.
Sewing: I fixed Fionn's missing button on his school shirt. He is particular about buttons.
Shopping & dreaming: I bought this tie front cardigan at the Postie Plus 25% off everything sale yesterday.
Only mine is black. I like it, but in an ideal world, I would sew or knit it with some kind of FBA so that mine had straight centre-front lines like in the photo instead of curved-round, too-much-cleavage lines. So I spent part of this evening surfing the net looking at things I will likely never make in a semi-purposeful way instead of actually sewing the project beside me.
Body politics: The Hand Mirror is hosting a pro choice postings week. I don't have a post to offer THM but I will be reading with interest. As many women fight for bodily autonomy for all women as they campaign for improved legislation around abortion, I think also of a powerful story a new friend told me last week. She was in the process of carrying eggs for another woman who had fertility obstacles, when she discovered in a short period of time that two of her own children were deaf and autistic respectively. She told the programme and they terminated her involvement immediately, despite the receiving couple being happy with the apparently higher risks of disability that this baby might carry and still wanting her involvement. Other people in the process were offered counselling, but not the mother of the children, the one already on the extra hormones and who had been rejected because she had a biological history of imperfect children. What does this say about the kind of babies we are not just supposed to want, but are even allowed to want?