My day deserves a messy soundtrack, something categorized as metal scream, where you ask politely enough if someone might lower it, only for that someone to defecate on you. I’m still in my pajamas, for starters. Haven’t taken a vitamin or brushed anything. There’s flour on my sweatshirt. My kitchen looks like it was ransacked by woodland creatures. I’m exhausted, and the kids aren’t even home from school yet. What happened to me? FCUKING SAGE MARSHMALLOWS is what happened. Of course I attempted to make homemade marshmallows, flavored with brown butter and sage for Thanksgiving, to serve atop garnet yams. I used a scale, weighed all the ingredients, measured fluid ounces, even used a candy thermometer to assure the correct temperature. It’s a dire mess in there. Squishy and sticky, smeared across counters. I need to hire someone to fix it. The marshmallows turned into, what can best be described as a vomit fail. They look as if The HULK puked up his squishy insides, including some kidney stones. Oh, to measure and waste, to toss a perfectly good stick of browned butter. Deep in the pression.
Shifting gears from the marshmallows that decided to vomit green chunks on my life, today I had to send last minute party invitations to Lucas and Abigail’s birthday. What did Abigail want for her party? Hello Kitty or the spa. And Sir Luke? Dinosaurs. Enter their 6th Birthday celebration mashup. This will of course entail more last minute planning. Though if marshmallows are involved, you can bet your spiked tail that they’re coming from Whole Foods.
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