1. I made caramel dip with apple slices yesterday for a snack. It was amazingly delicious. I usually ruin homemade sauces, but the gods smiled upon this simple recipe and now I can’t stop eating it. Heaven forbid a season or holiday pass without me taking full advantage of the opportunity to gorge on seasonal baked goods. And in my mind, fall = spoonfuls of caramel sauce, with or without apple slices for dipping. Makes perfect sense! You can find the caramel dip recipe I used over here at The Bungalow Boutique blog.
2. Lest there be any confusion, the little psycho (pictured above) and his triumphant glee (also pictured above) were not rejoicing over the caramel sauce . . . no no. He was that thrilled about the apples. Just the apples. He wouldn’t even try a taste of the sauce. I suppose I should be happy that he loves apples so much, but I’m kind of annoyed that he is such a firm believer in his list of 10 approved foods and absolutely refuses to vary from it, even to sample something as delicious as homemade caramel dip. Picky boy.
3. I’m really excited for the Dare to DIY series to begin. (If you haven’t signed up yet to join in, you can do so HERE.) I got started on my project for our first week’s theme this morning, and was not terribly surprised to find that Forrest inherited his father’s facial expressions and enthusiasm when faced with my craft ideas:
(The line of doom that accompanies this reassuring, trustful face when it’s on my husband is usually something like, “I guess I can’t picture how this will turn out,” or “How much did you spend on those materials? Hmm.” Shame on them both for their lack of vision but heaping servings of skepticism.)
4. Did you all have a nice weekend? The highlight of mine was getting a manicure, something I rarely to never do because I’m such a cheapskate and can’t help feeling guilty for spending money on something so frivolous, but deeply love and want to do all.the.time.
5. And the highlight of the manicure experience itself was a fellow manicurian (real word, just trust me) spending the entire appointment trying to figure out where she knew me from. We definitely did not know each other, but she rattled off no less than 30 different suggestions of places we could have run into each other or passed by or met briefly, none of which were very likely. She finally glanced around, leaned in toward me, and said softly, “Are you famous? And you just don’t want word to get out?” Imagine the temptation here, people, imagine it. I fought the good fight and answered no, but oh what a missed opportunity! I could have been famous. Even if just in her mind, just for a few minutes, but wouldn’t that have been nice all the same?