I swear I need to go back to night school to take a certificate in Fridge Operating procedures as, even after 40 plus years, I still have problems. Despite having a temperature gauge inside the fridge, I never know if the interior is cold enough or not. As by the time I manage to wrangle the damn thing from its hiding place—middle shelf, back—the marker has moved from the green safe zone, into the red danger zone.

Do I have hot hands? Am I doing something wrong?

The consequence is, I turn the fiddly little dial from cold to colder. Which, of course, isn't necessarily the right thing to do—just the knee-jerk reaction to seeing the gauge in the red. And while it seems like a good idea at the time, later, when I take out the steak that's been sat the top shelf in the fridge, to cook for dinner. I realise it's still frozen. And no among of staring at it, angrily, will defrost it.

Which then results in my taking out the temperature gauge, again, to check how cold the fridge is only to see the gauge has moved from to the other end, closer to that zone called ‘permafrost.’ 

My vegetables and fruit are about to become frozen, as the tea in the jug at the back, on the middle shelf, is creating its own ice crystals.

Tell me, what’s a girl to do to figure this fridge lark out? Because, clearly, I’m missing a key and essential life skill here. Is there some secret knowledge passed down from parent to child at some point, that I was away for? 

This is definitely one of life’s great mysteries and I obviously didn’t get the memo!

Can someone please explain to me what happened to lightbulbs. When did we go from having cheap incandescent bulbs that fuelled our winter-nights with light to read by, to mercury-filled, evil planet-polluting $6 spotlights which, while they are supposed to last several times longer, don't?

I ask because yet another bulb plinked out of existence in the bathroom and plunged me into semi-darkness as I … eh, well, you don't need to know what I was doing.

That's the third bulb this month, which seems a little excessive to me for supposedly super bulbs. Seriously, this is getting out of hand. I might have to take out a Bank Draft just to keep up with the exorbitant cost of buying the damn things.

I think I need to write a letter of disgruntled complaint to our Prime Minister.

Dear Mister Carney … no, wait, he's the PM, I have to get the opening salutation right. Dear Expletive …

Okay, forget the disgruntled letter.

Even if I could find a shop selling good old fashioned lightbulbs that have long since been discontinued. I have nowhere and no way in which to use them, given I live in a rental apartment—It's spotlight madness in here—every room is fitted out as if I'm living in a Car Dealership showroom. I think they can see me from the Space Station at night!

What's a person to do?

Please, send candles … lots of candles! Yeah, candles, that'll work … won't it?

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Time, and indeed, life is what you make of it, as Lou Plummer states in his post, Time Is What You Make Of It. And, like Lou, after having to retire early because of a traumatic event in my life, I found myself on the precipice of a dark place. But even then, faced with a dilemma, I had a choice. So many things happened one after the other that year I could easily have slipped into a long depression. But didn't.

I decided to get organised and, for the most part, I haven't looked back since. I've done my best to stay positive, upbeat and forward thinking. I've tried not to dwell on the past. Or dwell on events I had no control over. Or people whose choices still baffle me to this very day. I try not to fret about things I cannot change and, instead, think about the things I can change, and for the better. That work for me, and my situation and circumstance.

And in doing so, I've found myself a niche and a routine where I'm able to be productive, feel enriched, and that allows me time to do the things I want to do. And even, experiment with new projects and pastimes.

No, no I'm not going skiing in the mountains, or anything as dramatic as snorkelling on a coral reef let alone deep sea diving. But, given my own limitations, and not letting them define me, I've tried to stretch myself in a number of ways while still staying somewhat within my safety zone (for physical reasons) because, at my age, there are things I will never be able to do anymore. And that's okay. I'm okay with that. I never had a desire to bungie jump from anything, or skydive tandem or otherwise. They were never my thing.

But the things I do want to do? I will give them a go. After all, time is no longer on my side, and I have to make sure that I try to do as much or as little as I want each and every day. Because, when it comes down to it, I have no idea just how many days, like any of us, I have left.

So I do what brings me pleasure, what brings me joy, what gives me a sense of calm, or peace, or makes me smile, or happy, or comforted. Even if that's sitting on the balcony, drinking a cup of early morning tea watching the cloud drift lazily across the sky, listening to the sparrows chirrup, as the sun comes up.

That's fine by me too.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

“Incy wincy spider crawled across the wall
Incy wincy spider doesn’t care at all
As incy wincy spider know I won’t squash him
Or squish him with a tissue and throw him in the bin.”

Despite being terrified of spiders as a child — and for good reason, living abroad meant we were in contact with monsters that grew to a seemingly unnatural size — as an adult, I have become more tolerant and even, dare I say it, almost best friends with one particular variety of spider. 

The dashing and rather well named Zebra Spider. This tiny little fellow is a voracious hunter whose territory is large and all encompassing. They patrol day and night all over the floor, walls, and yes, ceiling, looking for pray and, I am reliably informed, will eat just about anything that moves. Thankfully, that doesn’t include me or mine, otherwise … well, it would be all out war.

I got over my fear of spiders years ago, no thanks to two older brothers who did their best to terrify me almost constantly by capturing and letting lose the biggest spiders they could find, into my bedroom. Usually at night, when I was sleeping. 

Why? Well, other than terrifying me and the thrill, I guess the fact I could literally scream the house down for several minutes in a crazed hysteria, till all the offending culprits were squished, or captured and released. And, no matter what punishment was doled out to my brothers, they continued for a number of years. 

I got my own revenge when I found out that both were equally terrified of snakes. Over a several month period I captured the odd snake, here and there, and put them in their beds. (Yes, I did make sure they were not poisonous. Of course I did, I didn’t want to kill myself over revenge!)

It was an epic battle of wits between siblings! 

Détente eventually followed, I’m not sure why or when. But I’m sure my parents were happy when it did.

Funny thing is, these days I actively encourage Zebra spiders to roam the apartment as champions feasting on all the unwanted insects prone to bringing nasty diseases into our lives. 

All hail the Zebra!

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

More and more, I've found myself abandoning taking one or other of my cameras out with me this last year, when going anywhere. Especially if there's a photo op involved. Why? Because of the annoying battery situation and the weight.

While I can cope with the battery situation, when I remember to charge the damn Olympus ahead of time, it's annoying when I've forgotten and, when out, the camera gives up the ghost after a couple of dozen clicks. It's frustrating to say the least. At least with the Pentax ist, not only is it one of the lightest cameras I've ever owned, but the company went with good old fashioned AA batteries instead of rechargeable lithium batteries that need charging every five minutes!

But even so, it still means I have to carry at least two lenses with me if I take the Pentax out, one wide angle the other the telephoto. Which means a bag. Usually a heavy bag.

So that, at the end of the day, I’ll be opting to just take my Merrill messenger bag (which is comfortable and light) and my iPhone 16 pro. And relying on a steady hand, apps, and good weather to take the shot.

That is, unless someone can recommend a very, and I mean, very light, handy digital camera that doesn't need rechargeable batteries?

Suggestions on a postcard to ...

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Following on from Sylvia, who herself was following in Carl and Steve’s footsteps, I thought to write up my own version of In & Out, as in, what’s In and what’s Out.

In

• Writing 

• Creating

• Walking

• Reading 

• Self care

• Daydreaming

• Naps

• Early nights

Out

• Worrying 

• TV news

• Snacking

• Late nights

• Time wasters

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

I was originally challenged to do this by Annie, last year, but have moved my blog to Pika since then so, I’m reposting it here. Enjoy!

What are five of your favourite albums?

1. Folklore, Taylor Swift (2020)

2. Abraxas, Santana (1970)

3. Madman Across the Water, Elton John (1971)

4. The Dreaming, Kate Bush (1982)

5. Hunky Dory, David Bowie, (1971)

Honourable Mentions

1. Tubular Bells, Mike Oldfield (1973)

2. Close to the Edge, Yes (1972)

3. Emerson, Lake & Palmer, Emerson, Lake & Palmer (1970)

4. Days of Future Passed, Moody Blues (1967)

5. The Kick Inside, Kate Bush (1978)

6. Hounds of Love, Kate Bush (1985)

What are five of your favourite songs?

1. Running up that Hill, Kate Bush

2. The Man Who Sold The World, David Bowie

3. Sorry Seems to Be The Hardest Word, Elton John

4. Exile, Taylor Swift

5. Sanctuary, Serena Ryder

Favourite instrument(s)?

Violin and Piano

What song or album are you currently listening to?

Pvris by Pvris

Do you listen to the radio? If so, how often?

Three or 4 times a week depending on my mood.

How often do you listen to music?

Every day!

How often do you discover music? And how do you discover music?

Weekly, I would say. Online, through people I know on Social Media, and through partaking in challenges like this one.

What’s a song or album have you enjoy that you wish had more recognition? 

Probably loads but, right now, off the top of my head, I can’t think of a single one.

What’s your favourite song of all time? 

This has to be the dumbest question anyone has ever asked me and impossible to answer.

Has your taste in music evolved over the years? 

Yes, of course it has. But I still have a preference for female singers and vocals and big belting ballads. But I’ll pretty much listen to anything, and give it a go. Point in fact, I just discovered Anthony Vincent doing a cover of Wrecking Ball by Miley Cyrus in the style of Linkin Park. It’s brilliant!

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Colbert asked the questions and I’m giving the answers.

• Best sandwich? — Croque Maman.

• What’s one thing you own that you really should throw out? — Hoodie.

• What is the scariest animal? — Humans.

• Apples or oranges? — Neither, bananas.

• Have you ever asked someone for their autograph? — Yes.

• What do you think happens when we die? — Nothing.

• Favourite action movie? — The Fifth Element.

• Favourite smell? — Fresh coffee.

• Least favourite smell? — Vomit.

• Exercise: worth it? — In small doses.

• Flat or sparkling — Sparkling.

• Most used app on your phone? — Messages.

• You get one song to listen to for the rest of your life: what is it? — You’re joking, right?

• What number am I thinking of? — 12.

• Describe the rest of your life in 5 words? — Photo clicking tea drinking wanderer.

And, of course, now it’s your turn.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Following on from Sebastian’s excellent post, Where is your digital home, which itself was a response to Patrick Rhone’s interview on Manu’s People & Blog series. I thought to add my 2 cents worth about where you would find my ethereal digital home.

I would live in a rambling, rose covered cottage on the edge of a forgotten English village, lost in the mists of time, that only a descendent of the ancient Queen Mab might find if they knew how to call the boat to cross the river, where Avalon is still bathed in a Golden light that lingers as the sun sets in the west of a place bordering between here and there. A place that smells of violets and honey, where spring waters run fresh and clear, and apple trees buzz with activity and pale pink blossom covers verdant grass, next to poppies that gently sway to the rhythm of a wind who whispers long forgotten secrets.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

I’ve been writing for as long as I’ve been reading. All thanks to both parents who were both avid readers, though very different kind of books. My mother mostly read romances and historical family sagas — think, the Thorn Birds. My father, on the other hand, who use to take us weekly to the library, would go to the new section of recent arrivals and pick 6 of the biggest books he could find. I’m not kidding. It didn’t matter what they were. Non-fiction, fiction, historical, or sci-fi. He’d read it all. It was his passion and love of reading that also spilled over in to us being taught at very early ages how to form our letters.

Of course, I was smitten. From the minute I realised I could make words with these strange looking letters and make sentences, like: the cat sat on the mat. I was creating my own stories and, when old enough, making them into little booklets with teeny tiny illustration in crayon, of course.

From that point on, I always wrote, at least that is when I wasn’t reading. And, despite my early choice of leaving home at 17 to join the military, I still managed to do not one, but 2 degrees (you know, because I loved writing) and, by a strange twist of fate, ended up working for over 25+ years in the print and publishing trade after leaving the military. A trade that fed my need to both read and to write.

All the while I worked in these trades, I wrote articles, create publications and e-zines, and even created full-size magazines, till print become difficult due to costs. At which point, I went online like so many. And the rest, they say, is history.

I ran two different websites curating fiction for both the sci-fi lover and for the discerning lesbian who wanted to read both good fiction, but also read reviews and interviews with the authors and publishers. I also curated two on-demand print quarterly magazines for both websites, which turned out to be an awful lot of work, but also, great fun to do at the time.

I haven’t stopped writing and have never looked back from that very early age after being encouraged by my parents to just do it. 

Footnote: At once point back in 2012, I calculated just how many words (roughly) I might have written over those intervening years, and shocked myself when it came out at over 2 million. A conservative estimate. Don’t ask me how many words I’ve written since then it’s probably a lot.

Today I thought to answer another of the #AMA questions I was asked last year.

“What’s the best music-related experience of your life so far?”

Narrowing my answer down to just one person or act is impossible given the sheer number of concerts I’ve been to over the course of a long life (so far). I could say the best was meeting, inadvertently, the Rolling Stones when I was about 7-8 years old, and getting my photo taken with them. Though it’s true I didn’t, at that age, get to go to their concert or see them live on stage. Though decades later, I did get to see them from afar on the Plains of Abraham here, in Quebec City.

Fast forward to my teenage years at high school, and as a bunch of pimply teens, my co-conspirators and I where just at the right age, at the right time, to be around just as a number of emerging and rising stars where still doing small venues in cities across the north of England. And so, I was lucky enough to go see, Elton John (1976), David Bowie (1973), and Kate Bush (1978) all doing concerts at the Liverpool Empire theatre back in the day.

Not only that, we got front row seats thanks to Janet Griffiths’ father who knew someone who worked in the box office. So that our little group of four were there, right up close and personal with our musical heroes of the day!

I mean, come on, how do you choose between those three stars? Each was amazing in their musical performance, and sent shivers down my spine. David Bowie doing his Ziggy Stardust tour, Elton John playing songs from his Captain Fantastic & The Brown Dirt Cowboy album, and Kate Bush ending her concert with Wuthering Heights.

I, of course, went on to see so many more great concerts, I remember an outstanding performance, in Germany, by Emerson, Lake and Palmer during the late 70s and another with the Moody Blues. So many great bands, so many great singers, so many great performances.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Today’s reminder from the Mindful March initiative is:

‘Find ways to enjoy any chore or tasks that you do.’

I learned early on in life that chores came whatever your age. My mother, having two daughters, saw she could utilise two extra pairs of hands to do laundry, ironing, cleaning and any other household chore she thought to delegate. And thus, to make cleaning the toilet more palatable (given I had four brothers who’s aim was never accurate) I embraced music loudly, and cheerfully.

One, by loudly by playing music on the radio singing along, and later, when older and could afford it, on my own cheap record player. My sister and I would dance and take turns doing the ironing, that is, when she was at home and not working. It was the same with the vacuuming, music was always playing. 

Even now, when I need to do any household chore, on goes the radio before I even start. A house full of music is a joyful place. Try belting a Bat out of Hell loudly while vacuuming. Especially if you want to annoy the neighbours.

It was the same with task, as a kid, my turn to polish all our school shoes? I would sing to myself to get through the job as quickly as possible. I also did this with school exams, singing under my breath when in any stressed situation. 

And even more recently, when I had to go into hospital for cancer surgery last year. Yes, you guess it. Playing music and or singing to myself was a way to get through the ordeal. 

And you, what do you do?

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Inspired by Jim Mitchell’s post, I Really Hate My Dumb Job, in which he talks about the time he went to Hollywood and almost got a job on radio. I dug deep into my past life.

I had quite a few side gigs back in the day, especially when I was stationed in Germany during my stint in the military. Some of these gigs paid like waiting on tables at various Officer’s Mess shindigs, others we’re done for free for fun and to learn something new, or hang out with some cool people. 

One of these gigs was the on-base radio station. It was mostly run by a bunch of Americans who were on base with us Brits, those who had access to the right facilities and know-how at setting up the needed equipment. They had wrangled this cool gig somehow and both their Colonel and our Group Captain, the base commander, had agreed to it. 

I stumbled into it by way of making friends with Ken, a US army staff sergeant who ran the whole shebang, taking care of the staffing side and lockup. Ken was a man who loved to dance, and when I got invited to disco night by a friend at the American Bar on camp, I ended up spending most of the night dancing with and talking to, Ken. 

It wasn’t my iffy dancing skills that got me the gig with the ‘boss’. It was my voice. Yanks love a good British accent, and I had what Ken referred to as ‘a come to bed’ voice. I was asked if I would like to try out for an evening slot, and duly went along to meet the crew after a late shift. I hadn’t even changed out of my uniform into civvies, or gone for a late dinner, but instead, found myself talking into a microphone for a solid 2 hours.

You could say, I was hired on the spot. Though the truth was, no one was paid. Everyone involved did it for the love of music and DJ’ing. I should point out I never chose the music, or lined up the jingles, or had to worry about anything technical, they only wanted me for my sultry tones. 

It was me and the mike, and the listeners.

I often wondered if after my life in the military I should have skipped going on to civilian air traffic control, and gone straight into radio or, something more lucrative?

This is Alexandra, coming to you live from nine zero point five FM radio! 

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

I’m endlessly fascinated (not) by everyone talking about what search engines they use, from this one to that one, and paying this much or that much a month, week, minute, year. And I’m left asking myself just what the hell is everyone searching for?

I mean, really?

Is it hidden treasure, the lost city of the Incas/Aztecs, Eldorado, Amelia Earhart? What?

“Oh, I kept my searches down to 300 a month,” X says on social media, leaving me wondering what am I missing? Or more to the point, missing out on? Do I need 300+ searches of anything per month? Do I need a Kagi or a DuckDuckGo or even, dare I say it, Google?

What do these paid for subscription tools offer that Google doesn’t I ask myself, and why does everyone do so many searches a month? Maybe I’m missing out on buying into a goldmine or pearl fishery, or asking what the latest AI initiative is? I’m damned if I know why everyone’s got so many questions.

Personally, I use people as my search engine of choice, they’re far more easily accessible, fun, free, and usually yields more accurate, if not, amusing results at the end of the day. 

And let’s face it, does no one go to the library anymore, other than university students? Is it online search engine that killed the library and people’s ability to go manually searching for answers?

I guess the answer is to go ask some AI client or chatbot …

Or maybe, I’ll just go read a book.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Another question I got asked for Annie's #AMA (Ask Me Anything) challenge was from Annie (yes, another Annie), she wanted to know:

What is a habit that's either very long-standing or has had a big impact in your life (or both)?

and

What's your favourite time of day, and why?

First up, let's start with the easier question, my favourite time of day has got to be mornings, early mornings. Especially as I have a habit of waking up somewhere around 5am for a pee. Which in and of itself you'd think would be annoying but ... I've learnt to turn around what was once an annoyance to a positive. I now take the time to open the curtains and peak outside, and spend a couple of minutes marvelling at the world beyond. Sometimes I give up any thought of going back to bed and, instead, brew a cup of green tea, sit on the couch with a blanket, and either read or just stare out into the dark pondering life's mysteries.

It's funny what pops into your head when you stop thinking about anything specific.

As to Annie's second question? Hmm ... I'm not sure I have any long standing habits these days. I think I've broken myself of most of the annoying ones a long time since; like chewing my nails till I was 17, sucking my finger till I was 5 and started school, or carrying a stuffed bush baby plushy everywhere I went till the age of 3, till I threw it overboard on a boat.

There was also my habit of watching the news while eating breakfast. But watching the twin towers fall live on TV, one morning, broke me of that habit. In shock, like half the world, I couldn't bring myself to watch the morning news for well over a decade.

I do, I suppose, have one new habit that stated in the spring of 2019, the year before covid hit. When my partner and I were planning a month long trip to Paris in the fall of 2020, and I needed to get in shape for the trip. It was walking. But, as we all know, covid locked down us and the entire planet, we didn't go anywhere for 2 years. I did, however, walk with a vengeance. I started walked for at least 5 minutes of every hour every day, for that entire year. Not only did I gain muscle mass, but lost weight too. The upshot of that one year, which continued into 2021 and then, 2022, became my new habit.

Now I only walk about three and a half minutes every hour. But still, with everything else I do throughout the day. I walk over 7000 steps each and every day. It really has been one of the best habits and decisions I ever made.

And you, what's your favourite time of day, and what long standing habits do you have, if any?

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Funnily enough today’s Mindful March prompt is:

‘Stay fully present while drinking your cup of tea or coffee.’

I say funnily enough because it’s one of the few times throughout the day I like to just sit by a window here in my apartment, sip my brew, and look out at the world. Taking in whatever is happening outside, ‘live’ as it were. Who needs TV when you have several squirrels who provide a series of antics to watch, or a flock of sparrows who love to flit about loudly chirping to one another and then, the secretive, occasional visitor to our little green space outside; a reclusive groundhog.

So to ask if I’m fully present, the answer is a resounding yes. I forget I’m even drinking a tea when engaged in hanging out to watch what the weather’s doing like today, where the wind is gale force, the trees are thrashing wildly against a steal grey sky, and the birds are hiding in the privacy hedge scolding the freezing rain. I don’t imagine they want to go foraging anymore than I wanted to go out today, to see the nurse for my blood test. 

But I’m sure they’re as present there, in their huddled warmth, hidden amid the foliage as I am sat here watching them. 

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Today’s prompt is:

‘Get outside and notice how the weather feels on your face.’

That’s all very well and good. But, there’s only a short window of time throughout the year at which point anyone living here can safely go outside and ‘experience’ the weather as it should be experienced, without several layers of clothing on or, a plus 65 factor suncream and know you won’t a) freeze to death or b) fry like an egg cracked on the pavement.

I did experience a moment walking to the shops earlier this morning where I felt the tepid warmth of the sun on my face but, by the time I was walking back from the corner store, felt rain in the air threatening what’s to come later this afternoon. A downpour. 

So I guess for a brief moment in time, today, I did get to ‘enjoy’ the weather unfiltered, as they say, and unhampered by too many layers of clothing. And yes, it was however fleeting, joyous.

And you?

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

The first question I got asked for Annie’s #AMA (Ask Me Anything) challenge earlier last year, was from Lou Plummer in which he asks:

“If you could work as a tour guide in one of the places you’ve traveled to, where would you pick? And why?”

Of course, for me, there is only one place and that’s Singapore. An island that was a huge part of my impressionable childhood years, those years from 8 through to 11. As an adult I’ve dreamed of and yes schemed to get back there for a visit, though it’s true the island I remember has changed, vastly, in the intervening years. And what was once a place of idyll life for me, is now a roaring metropolis of the 21st century, a tech hub, a tourist mecca, but still … As a tour guide? Hmm …

All those flashy hot spot amid the history and splendour of a place I remember maybe gives me a different perspective to be a Tour Guide. One able to recount the history in a way others cannot. I remember the riots during the 60s, I remember the civil unrest, I remember people being shot at, the undeclared war going on in the shadows between super powers like the US and UK, pushing to influence a people who wanted nothing to do with the colonialism of the day.

It’s easy to be a tour guide taking people to the Botanic Gardens, or to the Raffles Hotel, or one of the latest landmarks … but what about the advance of the Japanese on Singapore during WWII, or what happened at Changi prison? Or that, as a child, my parents and I met the Prime Minster of the day, Lee Kuan Yew.

I wonder if I would be an interesting tour guide or not, given maybe the average tourist probably wouldn’t want to know any of the painful history of this tiny nation island.

But then again, who knows.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Today’s reminder from the Mindful March initiative is:

‘Eat mindfully. Appreciate the taste, texture, and smell of your food.’

I think I have always eaten mindfully ever since, as a child, I discovered food doesn’t all taste the same, or is served mashed in a small blue cup. When I upgraded to solids I think I went nuts over wanting to taste everything. How carrots were crunchy, but tasted different to apples, and how jelly was soft and squishy in the mouth, but in a different way to soft boiled eggs.

From that point on, I don’t think I’ve ever stopped being both inquisitive, but also made sure every bite was fun and enjoyable. From taste, to texture, to smell, to that hard to pin down umami feel in the mouth.

I’m definitely not someone who eats to live, but who loves to eat for the sheer pleasure food can bring. Despite my name, I don’t wolf my food down but, rather, as my father taught me, I take my time to eat slowly and savour every bite and mouthful.

To me, food is a gift and, as such, it should be savoured not devoured. 

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Today’s reminder from the Mindful March initiative is:

‘Take three calm breaths at regular intervals during your day.’

Taking three deep breaths is always good advice when you feel like you’re about to say something you might regret, or maybe do something that you really shouldn’t, like sneak that extra Twinkie an hour before bedtime. 

Whether to calm your thoughts or calm your anxieties, remember, it’s good to stop, take a moment, and breath. In other words, take a second or two to think before you act, say, or do something untoward. 

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧