T’was the night before Stollen Day and all through the house
not a creature (dared) stir, not even a Pup.

The potholders were laid by the stove with care
in hopes that the baker soon would be there.

The dough was resting all snug in its bowls
while visions of Baking Day danced in its head.

….Okay, so Clement Moore, it’s not, but still….

The dough is mixed and my Kitchen Aid is beyond thrilled that its job is done. So am I, for that matter. Getting the dough mixed and kneaded is physically the hardest part.

So, it will rest on the counter for the night and I’ll shape it into loaves in the morning.

The baking part . . . the scary, dangerous, nerve-wracking baking part . . . starts around noon.

And, yes, my parents are leaving the house for the afternoon. They’re going into New York for the afternoon with friends and then heading back to their house in the evening for supper.

Chappy?

His plan is to close his eyes tightly and wait until it’s over.

So, I had the day off today. I went into Chester and picked up some fancy Christmas biscuits for a furry boy I know and love, and while I was there, the woman behind the counter asked me what kind of dog I had. I said Boykin Spaniel and she told me about a woman who worked in a leather shop right around the corner who had two–a one-year old and a new puppy. Well, wow! Naturally, I went over to the store and introduced myself, and then we showed each other pictures of our beautiful dogs and told stories, and it was very touching. How exciting to find another person in driving distance who has personal experience about what a great breed this is (grin).

Oh, and a bonus today? I got this hilarious card from my best friend, just because:

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