Half Baked...

So, the cousin & her hubby are back from six months at their house in Cabo, a sil & bil are back from two weeks in Hawaii,  and so it goes with a bunch of others traveling to far exotic locations.

Me, I would like very much to be here

mostly because it has a hot spring pool, a tepee, and a cabin in a meadow, and a little bit because it comes with a chef. Yes, I said chef (you know like a cooker/baker person). 

I have gone to dinners in homes where they had a chef. (I did know how to dress in a discrete black sheath, with get-it-girl stilettos and minimal flash, I do know what all the plates, utensils, and glassware are for).  I only ever drank out of the finger bowl once, and I was very young at the time, although, never forgiven for that fopaux.

Anyway, back at the home, as I was pulling a loaf of burnt bread out of the oven yesterday morning, with dad scowling at me, the home helper laughing her head off, and a delivery person walking in the door, saying "Wow, your house smells... like really burnt toast!"  I thought a lot about that hot springs, the chef, and the chance for baker person classes...