Sunday, August 10, 2014

Faux Snow

After many fuzzy months, I made the effort and waxed my eyebrows and upper lip. I refuse to call it a moustache. I pulled out a big bag of cotton balls, ready to be saturated with alcohol for after the deed was done, and Oliver asked if he could play with the bag of, "Snowballs." A dollars worth of cotton in trade for five minutes of silence? You bet. (How do you explain to a three year old the importance of slathering molten wax on your face, only to rip it off, seconds later?)
After making my face baby soft, Brewier joined the party and taught Oliver how to make it snow.

Cotton balls have been flying through the air most of the day; breaking only for church, and the eating of pancakes. I've been craving pancakes for months, but have been disappointed with the recipes I've tried. This recipe for buttermilk pancakes however, looked promising. Oh. My. Goodness. The best pancakes I've ever eaten. Megan and I were consuming them hot off the griddle, tearing pieces off and dipping them in syrup, stuffing ourselves before the rest of our meal was done. Meg is downstairs on her bed in a coma, and I am reclining on the sofa, feeling like I'm about to explode out of my skin.
Those panckaes were so worth it.

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