Saturday, January 10, 2009
nothing says "i love you" like a meatloaf. no, really.
After the sprain, I know some of my out-of-town friends felt badly they couldn't do anything to help. But may your hearts be warmed by the fact that not only did Molly and Abraham hook me up with this fine personalized meatloaf (really, you two should publish this recipe and challenge any non-meatloaf eaters to try it!!! it was delish!). Josh and Sara brought a pan of their fabulous mostacolli and bread. And Marty did indeed have our friend, Tiffany, deliver a full-to-the-brim bag of Trader Joe's goodies. I might be forgetting some other kindness that came my way, but the point is that I was taken care of. God is good.
(Now, I hope this is the last time I mention the ankle, because even though I'm not trying to, I feel like I'm milking it somehow!!)
oh. side note/question: Is it a St. Louis thing to pronounce mostacolli something like musk-uh-cho-ly??? I'm trying to figure out if I have a legitimate roots to my mispronunciation.