I see food as a challenge, whenever I see a potential culinary challenge I feel like I need to attack it. All you can eat is an open invitation to try, and if there is an exotic cut of meat I’m going to try it.
This has got me into problems more than once, Mrs M complains that I think I can eat like a big game hunter but ostrich, alligator, boar have all lead to dietary ramification which mean I am now restricted to a ‘farmyard’ only diet.
They say life is too short to hold a grudge, but it’s also to short to try and maintain an unhappy peace. I’ve had my life’s big fallout and it taught me an important lesson, it is not easy to forgive or forget.
I’m also not sure I want to.
Dirty nappies, bottles to wash, uncertain stains to clean. As a parent, I had plenty of those and was happy the day arrived I no longer had to deal with them. The only item of parenting detritus I have conflicting feelings over are the specific items of child paraphernalia I have amassed a copious amount of.
Child artwork.
I have scribblings and paintings aplenty, pasta and food pictures galore. You want glued boxes I got twenty, but who cares, I want more.
Viva Ergo Sum 