This morning, getting up was hard to do.
Mobile babies equal jewelry table ghost town.
Mobile babies equal putting your flip flops in magazine file jail. Strangely, he doesn't think my older pair are as yummy.
Three days ago, this pine cone inexplicably landed in my front yard. I'm saying inexplicably because I want its presence to denote some cosmic sign that Christmas is coming.
The requisite pre-film rereading is not going at all as planned.
While the party store lost their calendar, they knew what was up in the goody bag-filling candy departamento.
Cake #1: Office birthday cake massacre.
A small part of what I do.
Cake #2: The dream.
You mean she bit ya? No, her dog. Oh... she bit her dog, eh? No.
Cake #3: The reality. I'm afraid my tired eyes tablespooned a teaspoon. The one time I actually practice a recipe...