I woke up this morning to Annabelle jumping on the bed wearing my baby blue satin bra on her head, the strap tucked under her chin, shouting “I’m a hiker! I’m a hiker!”
Henry was soon imitating her saying, “Hiter! Hiter!”
A while later, we decided to make monkey bread and it turned out to be a crazy experience. We barely had enough flour, so when the dough turned into batter, I had to add wheat flour. Then I scorched the butter in the saucepan, and when I poured the mixture over the bread, it ended up leaking out of the damn bundt pan all over the stove–the house is still smoking–and when I tried to clean it out of the bottom of the stove, a drop of butter seared my hand and it’s now blistered.
It was worth it all, however, when I bit into a piece of monkey bread–it was HEAVENLY!! Melt in your mouth, explosions of cinnamon and sugar and light and fluffy moist bread. Perfect! Try the recipe: http://www.recipezaar.com/Monkey-Bread-from-Scratch-153152.
Then I heard a retching sound from Henry on the floor and when I looked at him, he was eating a pink post-it. Why? Why are you eating a pink post-it?
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Dashing Divorcee Mae West
“Getting married is like trading in the adoration of many for the sarcasm of one.”
It’s easy to get married, but hard to stay that way.”
“Marriage is like a book. The whole story takes place between the covers.”
“It’s not the men in my life that count, it’s the life in my men.”
“He’s the kind of man a woman would have to marry to get rid of.”
