It was supposed to snow last night, and snow it did. The weather reports were predicting all-night flurries, but the sky was still and dry and dark as we peeked out the window in anticipation before tucking into bed.
As an adult, there are few things that get me excited to leave the sweet embrace of sleep anymore, so the possibility of a snow day is a special brand of magic.
If Jason could eat grilled cheese sandwiches every day of his life, I think he might. This is not a criticism, mind you, just a statement of fact.
As someone who loves to experiment in the kitchen, this is problematic. My natural instinct is to fuss it up and fancify the sandwich, to treat it like an Iron Chef challenge. Premium fresh cheeses, sauteed onions, a gourmet spread, maybe the addition of fruit slices or bacon. Grilled cheese is a blank canvas! Time after time I try to concoct the perfect sandwich upgrade, presented with flourish and ceremony.
Jason always accepts these offerings without complaint, but after years of marriage, I’ve come to read the signals: what he really wants is just two slices of classic american cheese on buttered, toasted bread.
Thanksgiving leftover brunch. Because stuffing your face with turkey and fixin’s every night at dinner for a week just isn’t enough.
No, let’s keep this party going DAY. AND. NIGHT.
Making a big, luxurious sleep-in and eat-late brunch is one of my most favorite things to do, and what better way to wrap up the holiday weekend than a poorly-veiled attempt to eat pie for breakfast? This years Thanksgiving was just me, Jason and Gizmo, so we had tons of leftover everything to reinvent all week long.