I guess it doesn't matter~as long as she continues to make lovely tablescapes while coordinating curtains, dishes and Mix Masters every episode. Course, when she runs out of mixer colors, she has to end the show. What a shame.
Speaking of food, I went to a new grocery store last night and was thoroughly unimpressed. Enormous warehouse, no rhyme or reason for the layout and get this~I had to bag my own groceries. Which may not seem an imposition, but between the raised eyebrow of the checker and the tapping foot of the guy waiting behind me, let's just say that two loaves of bread and a carton of eggs makes an effective, albeit regrettable, pillow for a 13 pound watermelon.
Anyway, until now, I didn't fully appreciate my friendly neighborhood market, with fresh peaches, sugar snap peas and acne prone baggers that call me Ma'am. I remember the day that happened for the first time. Before then, I'd always been Miss (hot babe). Funny how just the switch up of those two words can be considered a hostile act.
That was also around the time I had to stop leering at LDS Return Missionaries.
And started wearing pantyhose for support rather than vanity.
And learned the art of soft focus lighting.
Anyway, time flies when you're hoarding fabric.