or alternately titled, “Why I am currently the same weight I was when I was nine months pregnant with Corrigan.”
Last weekend he worked on artisan bread. Heavy, dense loaves with hints of rosemary.
This weekend, it was white bread and rolls. He is attempting to replicate the bread his Mom used to make. I told him I think that his bread is better. Then I got that look and realized I had committed blasphemy and should quickly leave the room.
So I grabbed a roll and ran off to find my elastic-waist pants.