If I knew you were coming I'd have baked a cake. Actually, I baked one anyway. A 9 x 13 Oreo cake that the #1 son needs for Mabel's class tomorrow. He has to write some mathematical gibberish on top. Sorry Mabel. That math is Greek to me.
After I slather some original vanilla frosting on that slab of sweetness, I need to do some peeling and chopping for the rump roast I've invited for dinner. Then I need to fiddle and faddle with some broccoli, cauliflower, baby carrots, vine-ripened dwarf tomatoes, and Hidden Valley Ranch powdered dip mix for the faculty turkey shindig tomorrow at Newmentia. Because we can't all engineer a magnificent Hawaiian roll treat.
If time permits, after a recreational hour to view The Amazing Race, I plan to answer that online Christmas shopping calling my name.
I would love to regale you with tales of the antics of Farmer H, his rosebush- and lilac-eating goats, his porch-pooping chickens, his deer-head gnawing dog, his new Santa suit that he was afraid might be too small, and his new BARn toilet that he purchased today. But I have more pressing matters which need tending.
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