Free child labor tomorrow night! Those are sweet words to my ears. Mr. Pigglesworth's parents are going out tomorrow evening, and since they don't trust their dog or their teenager to watch him, I get him. The night is already planned out. Get a Christmas tree, get some pizza, decorate the tree, and eat the pizza, maybe look at the moon through Uncle Beebs' telescope, and sleep. The following day, I am scheduled to go on a ladies day out excursion to celebrate a friend's birthday. But before any of that can happen, I still need to go home, feed my hubby, and then help with a special project at my sister's house.
Since I am a glutton for punishment, I have decided to attempt making salt dough ornaments for gift tags as well. Hopefully, I can have slave labor (Piggy) assist me in this as well. Kids love that stuff don't they? If not I can always distract him with TV and popcorn. I'll pick up tacos for breakfast, and save myself the embarrassment of failing at pancakes again. I fail at breads. Even griddle cakes. Why?! I can conquer any new recipe thrown my way, unless it is bread related. I've got some serious bad mojo blocking my bread chi.
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