Sunday, November 3, 2013

It's no George Bush

lives life to the beat of a different drummer.
She's unique.
She's quirky.
It's part of what makes her so loved in the blog world.
I've been reading her entries since before Food Network, before the cookbooks, the children's books, and certainly before she was selling on QVC. 
Anywho, now that she does all of the above, she has lots of reason to travel.
And as any good blogger would do, she writes about her outings.
On a resent post about NYC, I actually thought she might have lost her mind...a little.
She saw George Herbert Walker Bush in the bathroom floor tile.
Like Jesus on toast.
Here's the pic
I can sort of see him, but not completely.
Then it happened.
Real life imitated blog life.
I saw my own face in the oddest place.
Cleaning up from chicken tetrazinni night 
 Here's the obligatory: please ignore the entire contents of Vivian's diaper bag strewn across the dining room floor. It occupied her whilst I made said dinner.
Do you see him?
He's no George Herbert Walker Bush, but I now officially take back all the mean things I said about the Jesus toast people. 

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