Good morning and happy Friday! I assume that you are either groggily scanning your recipe collection for kale salads or accepting that yesterday was but the first exciting dip in the long, fatty slide down to New Year's resolutions. I won't tell you which direction I'm leaning, but I have started dividing my closet into Pants (Elastic) and Pants (Try In February).
I would say we celebrated Thanksgiving like proper Americans, but if anything our feast actually had a shade of Tudor royalty.
My contributions were both in the sugar family, starting with Apple Blondies. They don't look like much, but the brown sugar and cinnamon aroma was enticing to a degree that rendered walking anywhere near the dessert area unwise.
And then there was the Cranberry Chocolate Walnut Brickle. Let's say I wrap up a small piece of this and give it to you, nice and seasonal and friendly-like, and you think "Oh, that looks lovely and I'm glad it's just this little bit, what with all the other desserts around and whatnot," and then you have your small piece and think "Actually, I could maybe use just one more little corner or something, I wonder if Erica is at home, I could swing by and check" and then before you know it you're offering all manner of goods and services for one more taste, just a tiny, tiny chunk and then I own you. And perhaps you think that explaining my nefarious plan ahead of time like a Bond villain will be my undoing, but it won't matter. The brickle will overwhelm your good sense and it will be too late. "I thought one piece would be enough," you will say. "I didn't see the sprinkle of sea salt," you will say.
|You're already mine.|
Anna and her cousin Bethany spent a large chunk of the day attempting to become squirrels.
Ivy's skepticism quickly turned to curiosity.
And even more quickly back to skepticism.
All seemed lost.
But it turns out squirrels just need a little boost sometimes.
And that's Ivy's skepticism was actually hunger.