You wouldn't know it from my silence, but I've actually got plenty of blog fodder dating all the way back to mid-November, and now that I'm not frantically cleaning and readying the house for a Thanksgiving dinner for 26 people I should, by all means, have the time to write some of it down, but in true Kate fashion something else has caught my attention.
I say "something else" like it's no big deal, but this particular "something else" has me ranting and raving and for the life of me, I can't get it out of my head. You see, there's this deep dish apple pie in my refrigerator and she's calling my name. She's slowly and seductively chanting the reasons I should eat her and it's all to the beat of my own heart.
baked apples...
sweet syrup...
sugary crumbles...
flaky crust...
Every time I say NO, she says YES, and I'm having a really hard time concentrating with all of this noise. And as if that wasn't bad enough, I wake up each morning to a single plate on the counter top with evidence that part of her was heated up and topped with a dollop of vanilla ice cream. Apparently, she's having a late night affair with my husband. I can almost feel her smirking behind my back.
Sure, sure, one slice of apple pie won't hurt me, but I'm having a hard time justifying it when I spent the weekend gorging on pumpkin pie and cool whip.
But have no fear--I've decided to get it over with already, so I'm going to eat the wench for breakfast tomorrow, then maybe we can get back to our regularly scheduled programming.
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