Confessions of parsley and chives

Thursday, 20 January 2011 10:34

I'm 41 and I still don't know the difference between parsley and chives.

“Can you get me some parsley?”

“is that the curly one or the straight one?”

“curly”

“ahhh... curly. okie dokie”

I know basil, sage, thyme, rosemary, catnip and a few others in the garden but parsley and chives remain elusive. It's a brain burp. Or blockage.

To be honest, if it was that important to remember which from what, I suspect I would already have the differences well and truly embedded in my brain but as I don’t, I’m now of the belief that it’s not a life altering omission... and I sincerely doubt that instant recollection would bring about world peace, or make jam and cream donuts less fattening.

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I am a grown up.

Sunday, 16 January 2011 11:49

I hate high necked t-shirts. I feel like I’m being strangled, or intentionally strangling myself, which I’m not even sure is possible. At least not to death.

Years ago, during a t-shirt phase in my life, I got a STFU shirt, quite simply because it said it all without saying anything. The only problem was that the style was unisex, I suspect more man than woman as it had a cut flattering only to a plank of wood and it had a high neckline which as you now know, I hate. I spent more time yanking on the neck than I did enjoying the bold statement that often tip toed, ambled or charged rampantly through my head.

STFU t-shirt