Channeling the Domestic Goddess in Me

Call it nesting, or what you will, but I had a domestic goddess moment over the weekend. Actually, you could call it a barefoot-pregnant-in-the-kitchen moment.

My hon was working his drill weekend at the JAG office (making the best darned coffee in the National Guard, so we say) and I was home in a tizzy. A few nights before I had attempted to make my apple spice bundt cake for a dinner with the Fab 5. Fab 5? JAG office? I should start a glossary of Heather-terms. Perhaps it was because I was baking at 11 at night, or perhaps those hormones just got in the way, but I forgot to spray the bundt pan, and my lovely cake was a disaster. In crumbles.

So I haphazardly tossed some chopped apples and raspberries in two pie plates with some brown sugar, rum, and nutmeg and baked them at 350 for 20 minutes. I then topped them with the crumbled cake and some chopped walnuts and baked for another 20 minutes. And so channeled my inner domestic goddess. Success! And the house smelled pretty damn good.

Proud of my ingenuity, I wandered down to Plymouth center and did some shopping. Along the way I came face to face with THE TURKEY.

A few weeks ago Phil loved this turkey when he saw it in the gift shop. He had to have it. So now its a fixture in our home- it will probably have a name soon. We'll see...