Steven and I just had pumpkin pie for dinner. It was a mutual decision based upon the fact that we are so very tired. Not just tired . . . zombie tired. And we have officially depleted the stockpile of food we acquired before the twins were born. So it was either pie or we'd have to crack open the dusty can of kidney beans that's been sitting in the back of the cupboard since early 2005.
Department of Social Services, if you're reading this, no we did not feed pie to Logan for dinner. He dined upon last night's (the night before we ran out of food) leftovers. And what might that gourmet delicacy have been? A lovely concoction consisting of ground beef, various condiments and spices, and frozen vegetables. If you ran out of dog food and you couldn't get to the store, this is what you'd make for your dog to eat. Okay, maybe not quite. I mean, it was lean ground beef after all and that's the expensive stuff!
So, we fed Logan his dog chow, put him to bed, and had yummy pumpkin pie for dinner. Oh, the joy of being an adult. But Steven put pumpkin ice cream on top of his pie. This bothers me more than it should - let's blame it on sleep deprivation and vicodin. Putting pumpkin ice cream on your pumpkin pie is just wrong. It's too much pumpkin. Too much orange. It's like that one woman at work who has to match head to toe from her lime green earrings to her lime green ballerina flats. It's like this:
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