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Can a weekend start poorly when you’re baking Almond Joy brownie bites?

I have scientifically proven that it can.

First my brownies gave me the middle finger when they came out of the oven and broke in half during the pan extraction process. I had to dig out some Hello Kitty polka dot mini cupcake wrappers to save them from the compost heap. Fortunately they were edible.

Lauren, who is nut allergic, wanted to know why on Earth I’d made brownies with nuts in them. After explaining that they were for a dinner party that night, she broke into tears, begging that I make a second nut-free batch of brownies.

So now, instead of enjoying the first 50 degree day of the winter, we were trapped inside like brownie lab rats, testing our dedication to the sport of baking.

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And of course, when we make food, I must photograph. Because that’s what this food blog has done to me.

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Yes, those would be my feet. I’m either perched on a chair, lying on the ground, or climbing onto my countertops to get my food shots. Maybe I’m doing it wrong. If so, please tell me because I’m spending a lot of time cleaning my countertops.

After baking all morning the kids started to pace like a pack of anxious wolves; they were ready to enjoy some sunshine. Our sunny day didn’t disappoint.

And I was eager to enjoy a little of the great outdoors myself. Forgetting that everyone swarms to the park as soon as we get a glimpse of warm weather, I suited up for our visit in a pair of stretch iridescent snakeskin pants, a yellow sweatshirt, and a wool vest that I bought in 2001. Witnesses will corroborate. Upon seeing friends and acquaintances in their skinny jeans and leather boots, the obvious choice was to run for the hills, which I did under the guise of a dog walk, leaving my husband to look after the kids.

With a quick fist bump to my girl, Jack and I took off.

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Goodbye

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Super Bowl madness took over the New York City last weekend, with hundreds of thousands of visitors in town for the game. We needed plans that didn’t involve football. Figuring that people weren’t likely to be furniture shopping on Sunday, Lauren and I headed down to CB2. While I returned some pillows, Lauren surveyed they company’s use of armchair fabric.

Joyous about my discovery that I’m raising a like-minded home décor junkie, I left CB2 with a bounce in my step and suggested that we take the scenic route home.

Lauren and I haven’t walked around Soho together, and I was eager to show her all of the interesting architecture and cobblestone streets. As usual, her eagle eye beat me to the punch. “Mom, shoes” she said as she pointed skywards. Even more bizarre is the fact that I’ve seen two other traffic lights wearing similar outfits this month; can someone please enlighten me? An art installation? Frat hazing? A protest against uncomfortable footwear?

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