Almond milk and anger


Finally, some success. I found a recipe on the Internet for almond milk. I changed it and it is good.
I know I could just stick it in the blender, but I have tried that, lots.
This one is with spouted oat groats and cardamon seeds. Almonds, too.
It works and I am thrilled. I am also re-discovering a cookbook I have not looked at for years, Lord Krishna’s Kitchen. It is huge and filled with an amazing array of Indian recipes. Why would I have dismissed it? Because she follows a tradition that does not use onion or garlic. At the time I tried many recipes and really loved them, but wanted to go for stronger tastes. Now it is really interesting to look with a different eye.
I feel as though I am turning my crisis in vegan eating to my advantage. I do hope so. I feel so much better on so many levels that I really want to stay with it.

Otherwise we are working our way through a whole host of yoga sets. A different one each day. I have not done so much yoga for years. The aching all over is subsiding and I find I can leap into asanas with a sense of humour and the certainty that I will get all the way through. It is quite challenging to choose sets for DVDs. They have to fit certain criteria to make them work. The one this morning really did not, but we persevered because we wanted to finish what we had started. Then a horrid and mean meditation for inner anger.
Talking of which, I had a moment of temper loss yesterday, but stopped it within seconds. Before the toxins kicked in and was smiling, for real, within a minute. Progress, for me.

The joy of having children at private schools is the length of the holidays. They are hugely long. This one is no exception, and it feels as though everyone except us is away. The days feel endlessly long as I sit and play, wishing I could get just a little done. But Kelly, the au pair, arrives tomorrow. She is coming with her mother. Because they are worried about being blown up. Her mother is spending the night.
Such fun.
But the beds are made, finally the last suitcase is unpacked from the festival, and all that is left is to do the tidying up. Again. The joy of endless tidying up is something I struggle to locate. I find the endless cycle of repetitive tasks really ……. I need to be careful here. It is the rest of my life, cooking, cleaning, tidying up. What would Louis Hay say?

I will omit the Gone with the Wind quote and go and clear up the kitchen.