Blame my sweet tooth or my insatiable need for road trip snacks and something to put on top of my yogurt — I have a serious weakness for granola. In the constant battle of my life heretofore known as What Shall I Eat For Breakfast Today, which has been waged every day for the last 25 years of my existence, if granola enters the battleground, it always wins. Yes, even against cake. And doughnuts. It’s a formidable opponent.
Oh yes. Yes, I did.
See, there is nothing more festive than a food baked into the shape of a wreath. NOTHING, I tell you. So go ahead and make fun of me for getting all up in the holiday spirit — but you’ll be missing out on this magic.
(This giveaway is closed.)
Sometimes I feel like I’m not completely honest with you.
Sure, I blather on a good deal about tartlets, quick breads and epic baking fails. I even post a few pictures of my travels from time to time or tell you when I haven’t shaved my legs. But I don’t always tell you how I feel about you. I don’t always tell you, dearest reader, how grateful I am that you are here. How your visits, your hilarious and sweet comments, your inspiring and encouraging e-mails make me smile and feel all the warm fuzzies inside. And if I can’t tell you all this at Christmastime, well then, when can I?
Say you just moved six hours away from your old roost to a new one (with so much light! off the lake! and a weird creature that swims in it that we have yet to identify!). Say you’d recently gone a few days without shaving your legs or painting your nails (this is real talk. Let’s go with it). Say you’ve eaten way too many Thanksgiving leftovers and mini chocolates with almonds and toffee in them that your mom-in-law gifted you that you love but also curse while you run on the treadmill (read: Motivation) (also read: I ran. On a treadmill. #bignews). Say you feel like you just rolled yourself out of bed after a long winter’s vacation snooze and suddenly realized it’s Christmas in less than a month and you’ve got a looooooot of shopping to do. Say you’re kind of freaking out.
I know how you feel. And the remedy is muffins. And mayhaps a good ol’ nail-painting sesh.
Look at this. Thanksgiving hasn’t even happened yet and I’ve already got leftovers on the brain.
Here’s the thing — the holiday is tomorrow. You’ve already got everything planned and ready to roll (and if not, this should help you out). You’re already dreaming of turkey and mashed potatoes in your sleep. You don’t need any more ideas of what else to stuff inside a turkey or stir into a sweet potato casserole or spoon on top of pie.
No. What you need is breakfast.
I like to think of myself as a pretty smart gal. I’ve got it (mostly) together. I can add 2+2. I can make myself shower most days. I can make dinner for me and another person. I can hold my own in a conversation about theology, politics or “Downton Abbey.” I can draw inside the lines, dot my i’s and cross my t’s. I haven’t been homeless or accidentally starved myself to death since I moved out of my parents’ house, so that’s a win (I can thank instant oatmeal and quesadillas for the latter in my college years).
Even then, though, I have my moments of dudehowdidthatjusthappen. Like when I put the cereal box in the refrigerator. Or when I stub my toe so bad by merely walking that it’s completely black and blue for two weeks and I fear it might fall off (Update: It did not). Or when I accidentally lock myself out of the bookstore where I work and I’m the only one working and have to call my mom to come rescue me. Or when I accidentally drink the whole bottle of wine. These things happen.