Anyone who knows me knows I love baking.
That was a trick intro. Anyone who knows me knows that I was gifted from my mother an aversion to baking. Ask my father and brother...mum isn't bad at baking, but she really doesn't do it. One of the few things that my mum doesn't make from scratch is baked goods; we have always enjoyed Safeway's hermit cookies (usually with homemade applesauce, so I am not complaining). Nevertheless, the holiday season rolls around and those with baking soda in their veins (not me) get the gingerbread itch. Hmmm, that actually sounds like a real condition...there is something about gingerbread that sounds itchy...but I digress.
The trick around the holidays is to hook up with people who love to bake. Then you use their bakey-ness for your own gain (and by this I mean both pleasure gain and weight gain). Observe our schedule:
Friday: sugar cookie and gingerbread house decoration at Mandy's
Saturday: Shortbread and gingerbread men crafting at Andrea's
Sunday: Gingerbread house decoration at Gord and Margo's
The beauty of this is that these wonderful people did all the preparation. My kids are stuffed full of homemade goodness. Just not made in MY home.
What else have we done other than consume other people's hard work?
Yesterday I spent with Lucas, browsing up and down Main Street. It was delightful and he was a fantastic companion, even sharing a bowl of minestrone with me at Liberty bakery. While I strolling and shopping, the girls were getting their culture on with Omi, hitting Super Sunday at the Art Gallery. Here is some of their Georgia O'Keefe inspired work (I told you they were cultured...again, just not by ME):
Today we went out to UBC, where the kids periodically participate in studies. Today, Lucas was supposed to observe some weird spectacle that involved severing plasticine ducks (don't ask, I really don't know...). He was disturbed. And disturbing. The serrated knife wigged him out. The woman who was assisting in the study pulled me aside as I carried out unhappy Lou. She indicated that she wasn't sure why the coordinator chose to use those particular objects...no kidding! Apparently a few other infants have objected to the mutilation of play-dough poultry. Here he is shell-shocked after the experience: