Last weekend was rather unusual. It was also decidedly lovely. I got off the merry-go-round for a few days. I needed to stop doing. And just breathe.
On Friday I went shopping. That may well sound like a rather ordinary thing to do – and a normal thing for many most people – but for me it was quite the event. When I was younger – living in London and studying at The National Bakery School – had shopping been an Olympic sport I would have been a serious contender for a medal. Then I moved to Australia, and frankly, I don’t know what happened, but I developed a dislike of shopping that has never left me. Maybe it was because the sun shone for 9 months straight and I didn’t need to go to the mall to get out of the rain. Maybe because landing in a new country with a new culture pushed me out of my comfort zone and deep into discovery mode; and not new malls kind of discovery, either. Maybe it was because pastry chefs {used to} get paid peanuts in Oz. Maybe it was because I was way too busy eating pizza on the beach at sunset, petting kangaroos, and dangling my feet into the warm Pacific Ocean lapping Cottesloe Beach. Or any combination of the above. Who knows. By the time I had plopped back onto English shores and returned to The Big City, my penchant for traipsing round stores for 8 hours at a time were well and truly behind me. Anymore, if I feel the need to acquire some fresh duds, I head to one store and in 45 minutes have 11 new outfits all bagged up and ready to trot out the door. It’s the only way to go. I’d rather be eating. Or cooking. Or shooting stuff. I’d much rather be shooting stuff.
Since I had already ejected myself from the house and pried the Visa out of my wallet and exchanged plastic for clothing, I figured I should just keep going while the going was good, and get the whole darn list done in one swoop. That meant picking up a dumbbell and a pull up bar from the sports store. The Bailornator will be so proud! And relieved. And secretly wondering how on earth it could possibly have taken me so long. I had to take my sparkly new 12.5lb dumbbell back to the store 2 days later. Seems my wet spaghetti arms aren’t as feeble as we thought. Let’s see how I get on with a 20lb one. Ouch. OUCH.
Trader Joe’s was next on the list. That’s a lot of meat and Greek yoghurt, Miss. Next stop: veggies from the local farmers market. Then, a little late afternoon nap on the blanket on the lawn with the “kids”, in the warm rays. We love hanging out there on a heady, sunshiny day. A leisurely dinner of leeks, pea shoots and smoked salmon got whipped up (recipe coming soon!) and eaten al fresco. Time to potter around the house and do a few bits and bobs on the home-front before heading to bed with a good book.
I didn’t write a solitary word. I didn’t process a single pixel. I didn’t shoot one thing. No blogging. No email. No calls. I even took Facebook down. Yes, yes I did. That hasn’t happened in over 2 years.
I purposefully went with the flow. And I didn’t beat myself up for it afterwards. No, no I didn’t. That hasn’t happened more than a handful of times in my life.
And it was awesome. 
Saturday I had another remarkably normal day. The kind of Saturday that I imagine most single gals have all the time. Relaxing, social, slow. And it was awesome.
Hello, sunshine. Hello, Madison Park.
Hello, La Cote Cafe.
Hello, favorite salad ever.
Hello, best crepes outside of Paris. Smoked duck. Sacre bleu!
Seattle in Summer = best place on earth. Having one of those “I LIVE here!!!!!!” moments. 
Hello, cupcake.
Bourbon Bacon Brittle. I do not jest.
More nap time on the blanket on the lawn. Another lazy al fresco dinner. Additional book time while lolling in bed with Daisy.
I make no apology for pictures taken in the noon-day sun. Or for getting nothing constructive done. I make no apology for lots of sleep and naps on top. Or for a weekend full of inSANE* food. I make no apology for day # 2 of no writing, pixel-peeping or blog posts.
The last year has been completely mad.
Sometimes, you need to stop doing.
And just breathe.
Charlie OwenHow absolutely wonderful for you. I’ve got to try this sometime…!
carrieI thoroughly recommend it, Charlie!
Minted Pea Frittata » Carrie Brown | Marmalade and Mileposts[…] The other day, The Bailinator and I hung out over dinner. We played an updated version of “My Dad’s Bigger Than Your Dad”, which we called, “My Dinner Is Saner Than Your Dinner”. I still say I won. He’s terribly competitive, you know, that Mr. Bailor. I had New York Steak, which was billed as coming with a pile of mash & a bunch of veggies. I asked to swap out the mash for a caesar salad. Jonathan had the Baby Back Ribs and swapped out the fries for double veggies. Of course he used his tag-line, “Hold the starch and double the veggies”, so I can confirm he really does say that when he’s eating out. I say my dinner was saner than his because his ribs came slathered in BBQ sauce, and I am certain there was some sugar involved in the making of that sweet, glossy goop. He says his was saner because my steak showed up covered in an enormous pile of previously unannounced fried onion rings. WHICH I DIDN’T EAT. So I won. Ha! Then Jonathan reminded me – we’re not about perfection anyway – a splash of BBQ sauce ain’t gonna ruin all your hard work. I ate more than Jonathan too, which is quite something given that I have arms like wet spaghetti and only reach 5′ 5″ on a good day, whereas he’s over 6′ tall and built like this. He wimped out and had to take some ribs home in a box. He says they make for a fine *SANE breakfast, and I believe him. Needless to say, we were both too full for dessert. Yes. We really do live like we say we do on those crazy a** podcasts. Well, most of the time. Give or take a dab of BBQ sauce and the odd cupcake. […]
Warts And All » Carrie Brown | Marmalade and Mileposts[…] most of the time. It’s true that on occasion the most important thing to be done is to lie in the grass in the warm […]
Compelled to Act » Carrie Brown | Marmalade and Mileposts[…] that if I didn’t stop my world from turning for a while I’d feel compelled to act out my very own version of Thelma & Louise, I […]