Happy Friday the 13th, everyone! I buckled down this morning and devoted a significant amount of time to taking in some Real News (pro tip: I find that drawing from my Bradley Method breathing/counting experience really helps with the pain tolerance) and this was the least horrifying piece of information I could find for you: "The museum also has a room of first ladies in painstakingly reproduced inaugural gowns who are, for some reason, about a third of the size of their husbands." Get you some creepily-sized wax while the gettin's good! Why not, you know? Why not. I'm gonna build my own Cabinet of tiny first ladies, just see where it goes.
Paprika. Is still a thing that we're doing here. I thought I should showcase the sweet Spanish version, so I whipped up some paella, which is Spanish for "this rice will make your entire home smell like fish, seriously, it's in the vents somehow."
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| It has penetrated my very soul |
To be fair, I also did not like paella when it was prepared by professionals in Spain:
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| I'm sorry, fishrice. I kind of tried. |
Glancing through my pictures for the week, I realized that I did not take a single picture of my children, although Ivy did take one helpfully-labeled self-portrait.
What I have instead are multiple screenshots of ABC's The Bachelor. Here is one.
