|Soon to be no pie.|
Q: What do you get when one woman eats her body weight in pudding and mashed potatoes?
A: A lot of smeared mascara and motivation to do absolutely nothing of merit. Be glad this blog doesn't lean heavily on pictures of the author, because I walked by the mirror this morning and swore I'd seen more pulled together looks on animals still inhabiting the vicinity of Chernobyl.
So, the name of the game is recovery today, but that doesn't mean I can't contribute to the madness of Black Friday, from the confines of the Split level, safely eating the rest of the pie. As it happens, At Least My Belly Hides My Cankles now has a matte cover.
"But, Paige, what does this mean for me? And why are you distracting me with stupid sentences when I could be laying on the couch with a fork and the last of the stuffing?"
I'll tell you.
First of all, it means that if you have a Cankles with a shiny cover, you're now the proud (maybe) owner of a limited edition book.
Secondly, it means I'm giving away a copy here on the blog this weekend. Keep it for yourself, give it to a friend for Christmas or Hanukkah, use it as a cooling rack for pies just out of the oven.*
I'm sorry this news isn't more exciting. I was going to give you the last of the apple cider too, but I poured it over cinnamon whiskey and drank the whole thing last night. Such is life. I hope everyone had a fantastic holiday, but now's the time for pulling the baby out from under the coffee table and brewing the afternoon coffee.
*Pie may also melt and adhere to cover of book. However, this may contribute positively to the reading/eating experience. If it works out, feel free to trademark the "Pie Book". I know it's my idea, but I don't have the energy to see it through to the end.
Until Next Time, Readers!
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