Happy birthday, Mr. Close.
At noon on a Monday, a couch, flannel pants, wool socks, a ginormous mug of tea, and a massive pile of discarded tissues can only mean one thing – home sick from work today. I spent all weekend playing my “don’t get sick” cards, which of course meant that it hit me today even worse.
But it was all worth it, seeing as Brett’s birthday was yesterday and we had a jam-packed weekend of activities and cooking. Much of what we cooked and ate I neglected to photograph and/or I’m not prepared to blog about quite yet, but I did want to share a couple of things. First of all, this:
