Work work work. A week of best laid plans collapsing, unraveling, going belly-up and kaput. This is the part of the job I like least – the management part. However I have to ask if this chaos is my way of making myself pay for being cosseted, stuffed plump and made happy last week. I seem to suffer from a previously unknown malady: episcopal guilt.
¿Would you like some pie, little boy?
Right now I want a piece of Rhubarb pie the size of Montana!
If it’s not too much trouble.
I only have pecan pie baked Tuesday night, Apple pie baked last night or a chocolate cake with mousse and raspberry filling that I piked up at Cala.
Right now I want a piece of Rhubarb pie the size of Montana!
If it’s not too much trouble.