The Real Gil is home! I may or may not have pushed my children out of the way to give him a hug. In a matter of twelve hours, he went from a beautiful Tokyo airport to stirring macaroni and cheese while I helped with a photo shoot for our favorite family
photographer.
He is tired and in desperate need of a bathroom every thirty minutes or so. And he has already signed us up for a Superbowl party tomorrow. If you're in the neighborhood, follow the noise. And hopefully the aromas of edible food (maybe???).
I'm
cooking following the directions on the sides of cans and pretending I'm
Ree Drummond. If an apron falls on my head in the forest and no one is around to see it, does that make me a cook? Come tomorrow and we'll see. Dear Gil is ready for anything at this point, and with the Immodium still on hand, I figure I can't hurt his belly much.
I've been working on a post about Glory - God's glory - but I'm too much of a wimp to post it yet. Until then, you're stuck with Superbowl recipes and toddler mischief.
I'm off to happily trip over my husband's shoes. Hooray for his return!
Resting in Him (even during SuperBowl party preparations!),
Karen
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