Hands (and heads) off the pregnant lady

I’m not sure where people get the idea that a pregnant woman’s belly is an open access area. It’s almost as if they think that now that there’s a baby visibly in there, it’s no longer actually attached to rest of the body. My bump might as well have a “Touch me, love me, lick me” sign posted on it and marked spots for randomers to stick their territorial flags.

A distinctly Trini dilemma: scammed by my school

Waking up in a hurry is not one of my strengths as Laurence could tell you. There’s lots of moaning, groaning, dozing, jolting and complaining involved. In between all of that, I start checking my iPhone (bad habit, I know – it prolongs the process!). But yesterday, a Facebook message is what got me out of bed, fully alert and energized with a heady mix of confusion, amusement and righteous anger – make that rage.

The cakeless birthday scare

It occurred to me on my way to an Alpha meeting last night that I should go all domestic goddess and make cakes for Laurence’s office today. It’s his birthday.

Love and cold feet

“Keep those blocks of ice away from me,” he says, “Why are your feet always so cold?”

The thing about worry

Not wanting to stink up the space with what’s mostly on my mind, I didn’t blog much last week. But because this is an exercise in honesty, I’ve decided to put it out there. I’m afraid – you could say worried – about admitting that I am worried.

The garden and how my innie became an outie

The ‘plan’ is to grow our own vegetables and keep the rest of the garden in a state fit for respectable people, we shall see. I think I’ve killed my poinsettia from Christmas. I’ve been warned to stay away from the basil plant. My mum will remember me moaning about having the water our millions of potted plants.

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