Here's what our fridge looked like the night before:
|We had so much food at the party. We had ham, cheesy potatoes, croissants, deviled eggs, veggies, cupcakes, giant cookies, and peanut butter fudge. I want to host another potluck so I can trick everyone into cooking/baking for me again.|
This is how the Easter Bunny gets down at our house. It fastidiously leaves a trail of eggs from Phil's room to wherever the baskets are hidden, then dumps a whole bunch on the floor because bending over to fastidiously place each plastic egg is a lot of work.
|I wonder where the baskets could be? They're just so well hidden.|
Here's our party set up:
|You can sort of see my dying gardenia in this photo. It was moved over by the red cups along with the rose before guests arrived. No one asked me about it, which I thought was strange since it consumes about 1 out of 3 thoughts I have every day.|
The party was great. We had a lot of fun with our neighbors. One of the best parts was the leftover food. Here's what I had for first lunch today:
|I made that croissant, man. I made it from scratch. Recipe forthcoming. Stay tuned.|
At the end of the day, I think what really matters most is that more of you lost the Christmas Card Challenge. This is interesting, all the cards from the middle have been dropping. The ones on the edges are hanging on. Coincidence? I don't know. Maybe you should jockey for edge positions in next year's Challenge. We're not above bribery.
|That red-bordered photo card is next, I'll bet. It's a shame, because Phil and I are both in that picture. It's kind of nice to walk past my face on the wall every day. Maybe I should hang more photos of myself. A Jane for every room!|
I've been sidelined by a foot injury of unknown origin. I think it's most likely tendonitis, but because I'm nearing confinement, they have to rule out the horrible possibilities. Looking forward to it. In the meantime, I am stuck on the couch again, and it bums me out. I'll either be an active blogger this week, or I'll sink under the despair of my limp, and eat the rest of the croissants while I comment with wild, angry abandon on internet articles. If you can't find me here, look for me out there.
Move along, Monday. Move along.