Naked trees and dinners and tartes - oh my.

After an eventful week I had a less than eventful weekend, which made me feel a bit sad. There few fun bits and pieces and being the overly chirpy person that I am (irony I hear you knocking), I shall share those now...

The highlight Saturday was me being in a Woolies queue sans make up and a really cute guy still kept on looking over. He had a little boy with him and I will just keep on telling myself that he is in fact a single dad (the amount of Danishes in his basket could mean either) and not a married guy, checking out girls at the groceries while he is just supposed to fetch breakfast and take the little one so mummy can sleep in for a change. That would just add a load to my general disillusionment about men.

In an attempt to modernize the ‘missed connection’ from Craigslist or Gumtree:

Dear cute guy from the line at Woolies,

I saw you there on Saturday morning at around 10am and you saw me too. In fact you - scruffy dark hair, khaki (as in army green, just so you know) shirt, cool boating shoes with a little blond kid who looked like trouble – looked at me – plaid shirt, skinny jeans, no make-up, but cool sunglasses – a few times and even smiled at me with the left corner of your mouth.

If you are in fact single as in above mentioned described scenario, then you know where to find me.

Sincerely,

Any

P.S. I won’t mind your kid, even though I said he looked like trouble. I tend to like trouble.

If you may know the guy in question, please send him along.

The other highlight of my day already started on Friday over dinner at La Mouette/
I ♥ CHEESEBALLS. Thekla had organized a big table to indulge in their 6 course fall menu. As usual in situations like this I feel very grown-up. Even though I know I have technically been grown-up for a while already, there is just something quite adult about sitting at a round table at a fancy restaurant, ordering bottles of champagne and “Yes, sparkling water for the table, please.” It makes me feel grown-up in a very good way (probably always the case when there is alcohol involved).

So at some point over desert this friend was telling me that there is such a thing as naked yoga and it’s not sex in awkward positions. Don’t ask how we got there, I’m not sure I want to remember. As the funny coincidence wanted it another friend then send me a picture on Saturday evening of a guy doing naked Tree Pose. Wow. It left me so speechless that even the teacher in me was quiet, didn’t correct the posture in her mind, but just starred and drooled a little. What a treat.

Treats continued on Sunday with pretty pre-yoga breakfast. I realized then and there while taking this picture I do have a slight obsession with glasses. I mean the breakfast wasn’t have as exciting as the glasses I served it in. Why would I want to eat a single fig if it wasn’t for the fact that it fitted perfectly in this little retro shot glass?

I love buying glasses. I even drove to Bredasdorp to buy my Champagne glasses. After reading this story about fighting behavior from Paige,  I now got the perfect excuse. Ever been in a fight and you wanted to throw something? Well, if you ever dated an Into-Stone-Turner like me, you probably wanted and may even have done it. Nothing drives a hot blooded person crazier than someone who just turns around and literally shows you the cold shoulder mid-argument. I think there were few instances when I was about to grab the nearest object and hurl it at him. Each time I stopped for the simple reason that it was one of my Champagne glasses I grabbed and realized he wasn’t worth trashing it and having to drive 2 hours to replace it. Therefore I declare glasses the official peacemaker in my household and they need to have a budget accordingly. Another perfect excuse for spending money right here.

After yoga I wanted to be true to my word and make the weekend SmittenKitchen weekend as promised, because I love her and I could not resist the idea of my very own berry macaroon tarte amongst other delights. In my very own fashion I never have trouble to play around with a recipe and in this case using slightly salted butter by mistake worked to my advantage as I think the base would have been way too sweet otherwise. I also hate blackberries with a passion so I was quite happy that I couldn’t find any and substituted with my favourite: raspberries.

So no, I am definitely no food photographer as you can tell and the picture doesn’t do it justice – my little tarte was/is absolutely delicious. (So delicious I wasn’t even sad that I left my white KitKat weekend treat at the store). I do think I overate by a slice though, so now I need volunteers to finish it. My very own version of a blog competition therefore: Write to me why you would deserve a slice of my tarte and I shall deliver in person!

So, I guess putting it in a written nutshell my weekend wasn’t too bad: feeling grown-up in the best bubbly way possible, successful baking, a naked man doing yoga, and a long Skype conversation with Rapunzel. I shall only count the cute guy from Woolies once I have confirmed that he is single.

P.S. I admit the title of this post makes no sense whatsoever and is in fact quite lame. Sorry, promise to be better next time.