Just so I don't forget my recent spill too easily, a nasty cold has latched itself on to me this week.
Last night I tried to soothe my stuffy, sneezing, achey, et al. ails with some of that magic green elixer, and my mind created this concoction in one of my dreams:
homemade dulce de leche
spread on wonderbread (wtf?)
with the crusts cut off,
then deep fried,
then rolled in sugar.
W...T.....F......
There was a batch, freshly-made. Still hot. Sitting on the counter of my parents' old house. And me, my mom, my aunt, and my (deceased) grandma were sitting around it getting ready to dig in. I was dubious, but damn if my fingers weren't sandy with sugar, getting ready to take my first bite.
So, um, what is the point of this story?
Don't O.D. on Nyquil. Or you will turn into P*ula Dean.
And no one wants that.
2 comments:
I wouldn't mind having a Paula Deen moment every now and then...just saying
definitely crazy dreams....and I'm with Calliope...Paula Deen is crazy, but some of her food might just be worth the insane amounts of fat and sugar:)
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