A little self indulgent moment, where I get to rabbit on about what I’ve been up to lately.
one: Right. So. A few months ago, I signed up for Hood to Coast. Doesn’t it sound like a magical beach adventure? Yeah. It’s not. It’s 320-odd kilometres of hilly Oregon roads that me and 11 other
suckers lucky peeps get to run our way along in one gruelling 24 hours. There’s beer at the end, I’m promised. (There’d wanna be beer at the end *shakes fists*) The thought of dying in the Portland wilderness is the only thing getting me off the couch and out for a run in this reeee-diculously chilly Melbourne winter (for reals, M-Town, is it too much to ask for a little bit of sun??), and I absolutely promise to share all the adventures with you all. You know, while I’m running through the night and you’re all tucked up in your warm, soft beds. I have absolutely no doubt that while I’ll be thinking ‘this is actually the stupidest decision I’ve ever made’ round about 2/3rds of the way through my legs, (and I once decided to crimp my fringe…) I absolutely cannot wait.
two: Nothing makes the earth seem so spacious as to have friends at a distance. I farewelled a fantastic friend this week. He headed back home to London-town. And while I’m so super excited for him to start the next chapter of his crazy life surrounded by the family and friends I know he’s missed terribly while he’s been Down Under, I miss his face already. A lot.
three: Guys. I very rarely demand your full and undivided attention, but right now, for reals, you need to pay attention. (Underlined so ya’ll know I mean business.) I found the very bestest peanut butter and jelly soft serve this week, and holy smoke balls it’s like a little party in your mouth. Those tricky folk at Rockwell and Sons change up their dessert offering pretty regularly so get in there and get this in your belly before you miss out. You’re welcome.
four: Look, I don’t mean to brag, but gnocchi….I get. While the first few attempts resulted in some pretty fancy mashed potato, a little bit of guidance from my favouritest real life Italian has turned me pro quicker than you can say ‘do you want burnt butter and sage sauce or pesto?’. If there was a gnocchi olympics, I’d totes qualify for the Australian team. (Oh man. There should be a gnocchi olympics.) There’s nothing better than making gnocchi with family and friends. We look like little ol’ Nonnas, rolling around the bench, and then we ate so much, many of us faltered at the final course. I’ll share the recipe soon. Maybe. If you’re lucky.
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