Dirty Little Secret #46

I need a Hob Nob.

We lived in England in the late 1980s, and I became addicted to this oaty and chocolatey treat. But not the plain chocolate variety. Oh no, it's the milk chocolate for me.

You see, it's a rare night that both my children are actually in their beds and ASLEEP by 9:15. I should be all a gang-busters sewing, but instead I am idly surfing my favorite blogs and drooling a little. Not working. Just standing here, feeling tired, with my mouth watering at the idea that I could hold a package such as this in my hands.



I would eat every slightly salty, oaty little cookie.

But unfortunately for me, I only have the standard paper roll. I will go downstairs to the kichen, slowly so as not to make the stairs creak out to tiny Teddy that I am heading to the snack cupboard, and fetch two cookies. I will eat them, I will idly surf blogs for ten, twenty, or thirty minutes, I will not make any comments for no good reason what-so-ever, and then I will finally start to sew around 10 o'clock.

I will have wasted an hour, all for the want of a Hob Nob.

Mo Crackers is Having a Contest

***Edited***

See here for details. I won't be entering, as I am too far post-partum to remember all the stupid things we did to each other when our babies were born. My sister comments that "I can't believe you can't remember all the stupid things Dirk did. You're covering so you look superior!"

But really, it's just that my husband is so often stupid and I are so often stupid to one another that it would be difficult, if not impossible, to remember all of it. But she's right. I am superior.

Please, people, you can't be surprised.

I leave you with a flashback. In the interest of clearing out a cluttered hard-drive, I uploaded 150+ videos to my online archives. In the process, we re-visited some favorite moments. This clip is my daughter at 20 months, in September 2003. We had been in Minnesota for two months, and I was attempting to pot geraniums for a Fall display on my front steps.

Dirty Little Secret #45

I am not afraid of Mo Crackers.



To be continued...