Last night, after a long day of unexpected errands, P and I picked up some Chinese takeout on the way home. We had missed the trick or treaters and sat surrounded by unopened bags of candy while eating our dinner. I opened my fortune cookie and saw this:
What a fortune for Halloween night! It must have worked some magic because, despite the abundance, I think this was the first Halloween I ate only two pieces of candy. Two! Well, and a piece of dark chocolate, too. But still. I must be growing up.
Did a little cookie baking for a friend’s bachelorette party last weekend.
A friend far more talented with a bag of frosting did the decorations, but I forgot to get a pic.
The lucky lady got a giant one all for herself..
I’ve been known to make dinner in just an apron. Or just my undies. The kitchen can get so hot in the summer…
The word itself is uninspiring to me.
The only thing that comes to mind are the words P whispers in my ear whenever we go to a particularly conceptual play or an exhibit that we think is reaching a bit far. He first sniffs the air a few times, quietly, subtly, and then he leans over to my ear and whispers, conspiratorially, “Who arted?”