As you well know, I went to an open casting call for MasterChef today with my saran-wrapped plate of the Holy Trinity of cakepops. I showed up, I auditioned, and I left.
That’s all I can say about that right now.
Then I went to Target to buy a surge protector. [Who knew a treadmill should be on a surge protector? The woman whose treadmill was fried in an electrical storm did and she told me.] A surge protector. I walked out with a surge protector, a yellow zip-up hooded sweatshirt, some dollar spot items, and a starbucks drink. Let’s call it the Target curse. Or my lack of willpower.
Now? Wine, Alias, writing snail mail, and basking in the joy that I don’t need to go to church tomorrow. Hallelujah. [Even pastors need a Sunday morning break and I’m so ready for one.]
there's no place like gnome. 
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