IT’S NO MERRY SQUIRREL
It’s no merry squirrel.
Bean knows full well of my penchant for acquiring toys and trinkets, often helping it along even. Here, Crayola’s Model Magic. Shape a sheep! I present Sheep von Twinkle. Fairly cookie cuttered- it is a sheep after all- I followed the instructions for the most part, but he did receive a bonus pompadour and a …
He’s happily now located near the red Swingline stapler on my desk. An ode, I wuv Waddams. However, Swingline’s got nuttin’ on my 1950’s Art Deco Streamlined Presto Stapler Deluxe, the shade of dried blood or dead red roses, select your decay of choice.
He lives again!
Bean’s raspberry custard tart. Ended on a sweet note in harmony with our holiday spread. In other notes, did my Bean impression again. Mr. Bean, that is. It’s been some time. We stood in church, singing this song, then that. I looked to my Bean to share somethin-er-other with her during which a new song began. Till this point, Shane’s mouth has mumbled along barely emitting any words. Suddenly, he’s animated, enunciating clearly, the lyrics flowing from his mouth. Why, it’s the Mr. Bean song! This song’s sung only once during the year at Easter. And with that, Mr. Bean rumbled forth much to the simultaneous delight and horror of my sister.
Bean and Shane made these fantabulous pretzel sticks as one of the Easter appetizers. Chubby toasted sesame seeded pretzel sticks wrapped in bacon (to be pronounced like in The Notebook), rolled in Parmesan, then baked. Wait, that may be the other way around. Either way, le crunch!
These are my peeps!
What have I done?
Fun with food! Wonderfully chemically enhanced food (writes a purveyor of whole foods). Love marshiemallow! Peeps, not so much. Enjoy their cute chubbified stature, though. Feel bad for the veritable army of peeps to be found lining shelves this time of year, too- I wonder of their fate. Found a solution- guard rails, who knew? Pretzel, peanut, plain, dark, milk, white, more- corralled within. All cemented in vanilla frosting and topped with a smattering of stars.
Did ya know they puff up fairly well in a spot of tea? Nifty little flotation devices. Toss a heap in at the end of Titanic, and Jack’s heart coulda gone on as well.