Tonight's wonderfully unhealthy dinner was biscuits with sausage gravy, courtesy of my son. His gravy is well worth the fat and calories. Mine, on the other hand, is better suited for patching drywall. The gravy gene must be one of those things that skips a generation because my mom could make gravy blindfolded with her hands tied behind her back. (Believe me, it was fascinating to watch!)
Thanks for your comments on my Winter Wonderland snafu! I'm gonna give myself a three day grace period before I make the decision whether or not to frog it. If I don't I know I'll just pick it up and start rippin' rippin' rippin'!
Bedfordshire is calling so goodnight everyone!