On a recent visit, a friend excitedly presented me with a bag of culinary lavender and some saffron.
“It's all the way from Iran!” she cooed.
I attempted to feign enthusiasm and graciousness (it is nice to be thought of, I tell myself) and believe I pulled it off in light of the fact that none of these items was something I could devour immediately – like a lasagna, Italian gelato or a hot roast chicken.
My Oscar award winning performance can also be attributed to the fact that she presented me with a block of remarkably good dark chocolate soon after.
“Now you’re talking!” I declare.
I too was once like her. Free of responsibility and blissfully unaware of the secret fantasies harboured by parents everywhere. Indeed, I’ve showered friends with what I considered thoughtful and useful (I know better now) gifts which in hindsight would have been rendered useless.
But when you don’t have kids, you simply don’t know.
I currently live a rich fantasy life in which people bring me my favourite foods (frequently) and offer to play with my kid while I shampoo my hair. You know, with both eyes closed as the warm water rinses the suds from my scalp and down the drain without feeling like I’m on one of those Japanese game shows where the contestants have to keep one eye open to avoid being slapped across the face by multiple incoming catfish while shaving cream is being sprayed into their eye sockets.
That's not asking too much, right?
I admit - the culinary lavender does smell gorgeous. However at this point in my life, rather than make it to the dinner table, I think it’ll go into a pretty bag and into my underwear drawer.
I’ll smell good enough to eat. Now you’re talking!
Loving you, loving me...TLT x