That Was October

This weekend passed by in a blur of activity.

Friday night, we had a family dinner out which has become a big deal for the kids but for some reason, Olivia chooses these special occasions to morph into her alter ego: cranky, difficult girl. Invariably, I am hissing at her through clenched teeth, inches from her face, threatening bodily harm and then, like a light that has been turned on, she sheds a few cathartic tears and returns to her normal, delightful self. It's stressful, mostly because she hasn't hit puberty yet and these little episodes of hers give me a pretty good sense of what is to come.

Saturday night, Dallas and I splurged on a meal at Wolfgang Puck's Bistro in Brookside.
It was quite good. We sat out on the patio to take advantage of the last of the great weather and the atmosphere was exactly what we sought. As I sipped Prosecco and nibbled on prosciutto, I felt the last remnants of my work week slip away.

After dinner, I told Dallas that I wanted to go Christmas shopping, which for him, is like being repeatedly beaten about the head on a pain/pleasure scale. However, after much dramatic sighing, he agreed. The thing about Christmas shopping for me is that when I am of singular purpose, I don't mess around. The goal of the ordeal is to finish, not to browse. Having gifts left unpurchased haunts me so when we arrived at the mall, I was on a mission. In less than an hour, we got at least 50% of it done, in spite of the fact that my husband could have inflated the Goodyear blimp with his deep, calming breaths.

Sunday, I woke up with an itch to make cinnamon rolls from The Pioneer Woman's cookbook.
This is a must-have cookbook for anyone that wants to whip up something delicious without worrying about fat, calories and carbs. She uses lots of butter and makes no apologies. Every recipe that I have tried has been over the top good. Her meatloaf is a work of art. The blackberry cobbler makes you look like a star. So, I wanted to try the cinnamon rolls.

Like everything else so far, they were legendary, which was good because later on, I overcooked the pork roast into a dry, inedible, mess.

Of course, Sunday night finished with Halloween. Liv went as a witch.
Dylan was a teenage ghoul.
There are times when art accurately captures life.

I'm just saying.