What was Arby’s sauce-naming department thinking? “Bronco Berry Sauce”… Fa. Stinkin’. Real.
Any guesses? Methinks they might have been under influence of some other kind of “sauce”… Say, like… “It’s 5 o’clock Somewhere Sauce”. Perhaps…
Blogger, mother, dreamer, swimmer, biker, runner, coffee-drinking mistress of silliness… all in exciting Kitsap County!
What was Arby’s sauce-naming department thinking? “Bronco Berry Sauce”… Fa. Stinkin’. Real.
Any guesses? Methinks they might have been under influence of some other kind of “sauce”… Say, like… “It’s 5 o’clock Somewhere Sauce”. Perhaps…
8 years and 3 children have filled our tree. Year after year, I have tried to make our Christmas tree the “charming” that my style longs for it to be. I give.
This year there is no room for me. Who lost the memo that reminds everyone that everything is all about ME? My tree has no room for my “darling this” and “dang-awesome that”. Nope. It is filled with the ceramic ornaments the kids have painted each year at our local paint-your-own-pottery place. There are the annual “character” ornaments - The Incredibles, Veggie Tales, Princesses, Kitties, Star Wars, and Spiderman. There are the school-made ornaments - with their school pictures, made of Popsicle sticks or foam paper, and covered in glitter, embellished with sequins, silvery pipe cleaners, and pom-poms.
I thought giving up on MY tree would be more painful. I guess the tree isn't the only thing full around here. As I look at this mish-mash of decorations I feel full, of thankfulness. I am so thankful for my 3 tornadoes that take me for a spin every minute of every day. I am honored it is their precious hands that have created the things that adorn our Christmas tree.
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