This weekend, Kev and I had a killer dinner party on Saturday for a few friends complete with fancy shmancy cocktails, a delicious corn chowder, and some fab steak fajitas with tomatillo sauce. All of these tasty treats were cooked by my fabulous husband. Have I mentioned that I am the luckiest girl in the world because I have a husband who likes to cook? Because I am.
Because I was feeling so lucky, I was also feeling generous, and busted out the remainder of our Girl Scout cookies for dessert. Together we consumed some of these:
And some of these:
But none of these, because they are Kev's favorite and thus already consumed:
I was feeling all contented and hostess-y and mellow as I bid my guests adieu. Then I closed the front door, reached for the boxes of cookies only to realize that they were all empty. All of them. Gone.
Thus, today I was forced to compose this frantic email to one of my dinner guests this morning:
You said a girl scout might be coming by your office today taking orders. If so... I need some replacements:
3 boxes thin mints
3 boxes samoas
1 box tagalongs
Please, please order these for me and I will give you cash. Yep, we're fatties.
The worst part is that I'm not even ashamed.