I am not a morning person. Throughout the week, I begin my days very slowly and gracelessly by getting out of bed and channeling Helen Keller as I make my way to the coffee pot — both eyes crusted shut — trying not to step on a dog, cat or husband.
When you love food like we do, being on a high-protein, low fat/calorie diet is the worst.
When brainstorming about what to make for this week of good brunch posts in preparation for Easter, a coworker suggested a breakfast pizza.
When people speak of fruit salad I’m haunted by memories of those awful, slimy cups of peeled grapes and other indistinguishable fruit that the lunch lady, Linda, would thrust at me in elementary school.
People always say breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and most people’s favorite part of any meal is dessert.
When it comes to keeping up with the Gay Joneses, a strict workout regimen and equally disciplined diet is key. And a healthy dose of body dysmorphia doesn’t hurt either.
It’s that magical time of year again, where there’s a chill in the air, a tree in the den, and a perpetually-dwindling bottle of scotch on the counter to match the disappearing anti-depressants in the medicine cabinet. (Thank the baby Jesus for THAT cocktail.)