I'm not especially picky at this point; it all tastes good. Last night I tried my hand at making meat loaf. It's a dish usually not thought of as glam or gourmet, I know. And I'm not sure if I should credit last night's meatloaf with my changing tastebuds or the exceptional cookbook recipe, but boy, was it good (if I may say so).
Well, later it was almost eleven and time to get ready for bed, and I casually mention to Derek that I'd like something sweet. Honest, I wasn't hinting. But Derek perks up and responds, "I've been waiting for this day. What do you want?" He was like a soldier reporting for duty. So cute. Less than half an hour later, he returns with Little Debbies in hand. My hero.
Incidently, I blame Dad and friend Billy Smith for my high-maintenance Little Debbie needs (just kidding, sort of). I think I became additcted as soon as I was old enough to eat solids. Kidding aside, I could create a time-line of my life and which particular snack cake dominated each stage. And, here I go, exposing my child before he's even born.
I could also go on about my new love for eggs "over easy," but that will probably be another post...
