It was my birthday last weekend and my lovely girl made the drive down and arrived with a bloody marvelous cake. Her birthday cakes are legendary. She makes 'em from scratch and they are a diabetic's worst nightmare, because she decorates 'em with the birthday person's favourite sweeties. SO even though the cake was light as a feather, well actually light as any mud cake ever is, it was well and truly ladden with all things lovely. I licked the plate when I was finished. YUMMO!
But sadly I took a photo with my new phone that Stevie got me for said birthday and I have been waiting for it to sync up with my computer by magic ever since and so this is the excuse for no stories. But it seems there is more than one way to skin a cat - what a fucking terrible expression huh? who wants to skin a cat? and how many ways can there be? and who did the research anyway? So the photo is me holding my new phone with a photo of the cake, bloody hell. And if anyone has a simple solution for idiots to sync things up I'd be pleased to hear it.
Anyway I reckon my favourite cake is one made in my girl's kitchen, cos they are made with such love. She agonises over every detail and she starts with a picture in her mind of what she wants to create and is always critical of her efforts but she is the only one. She's been making people cakes for their birthdays for a long time. It's her present to 'em cos cash is light on. She always apologies for the that, and I just want to give her a bit of a tap when she does this cos I reckon the home made cake is the best pressie ever.
Apart from a delicious cake, my birthday nearly always brings a few days of cooler weather which is bloody wonderful. I found my fake uggs and pulled a little blanket over my knees, just like an old person and am as happy as a pig in shit, and now when I have to shrug off my wee cocoon to pee or get a drink or whatever, I do so in the knowledge that at least I am getting some 'steps in'.
Cos my arse has become square and I asked Stevie for a 'Fitbit' for my birthday so I could appall myself about my abject slothfulness and maybe move about a bit more.
Yeh so things went like this. Lazy - Fitbit - new phone cos old one wouldn't work the Fitbit - no sync on computer - further slothful ways cos where's the point in moving?
But not really cos I have discovered that even on a lazy day here in the Big House, I walk about 4 km. How about that? I know it's not much cos 'they' reckon we should do about 10000 steps a day and I am only doing about 6000, but it's more than I thought - clearly not enough to walk off a big chunk of my lovely's cake but not too bad. And as I am competitive old thing, I can keep an eye on it and if I see me getting even more lazy, then I can think about stepping thing up - shitful pun I know.
I very much doubt that the idea of the things is to allow complacency, but it works for me.
6000 anythings in a day is a good day I reckon.
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