I’m In The Wrong Month

Ah, April! The skies are blue, the birds are singing, the warm sun makes you want to get out and dig in the soil, maybe get in a bike ride or two before tax day.

But wait, what? A snow storm? In April?

Mother Nature is confused. She’s protesting global warming and lobbying for global cooling. She’s stopping traffic to the local J. Crew to guarantee herself a lookalike outfit from Michelle Obama’s wardrobe.

Well at least the White Sox get to cancel opening day, something they haven’t done since 1982. That might not be a good thing for Sox fans but think of all the effort that’ll save the traffic police.

Eating My Daughter's Banana Bread

Just because I have a dairy allergy doesn't mean I have to live the life of a buddhist priest. Especially when there are insanely divine desserts around like, for instance, oh. . . Banana Bread. I have a daughter who is without mercy. She is Dr. Evil without Mini Me.




She baked. I ate.

Allergies stink. I'm all kinds of thankful I don't have a peanut or wheat allergy. Dairy though can be brutal to my super sensitive spidey senses. Since I've practically picked at half the banana bread baked with a minimum of 4 eggs and 500 pounds of of butter, my skin is itching as if I've happily walked through a field of poison poppy, bathed in a bathwater of poison ivy.

I confess I do have the mama of all antihistimines but it guarantees nothing. I can still wake up tomorrow morning looking as bright and sunny as a sprouting potato stuck in the back drawer for a horrifying amount of time.

At least, I enjoyed it while I can. Dr. Evil or not, my girl can bake.