This is how I DO.

The other night when I was having dinner with my dad, he torn into what he thought was a "french baguette." That is what the generic plastic bag it came in said it was. But what it was was TERRIBLE. The crust was chewy-looking and when he tried spreading some Nutella on it, the whole thing crumbled into a sad mess. He looked up at me and said, "Good bread is important to me. Crusty on the outside and chewy on the inside. I can eat anything but I like a good bread. What is this? This isn't french bread, is it?" Awwwww. Poignant, Dad. Well said. With that- I MAKE MY OWN FRENCH BREAD. From scratch. What, I know. JEALOUS. It's easy, fun, a bit time consuming, but very cathartic. Plus, there is nothing better than the smell of fresh bread wafting through the house.

"Oh, FANCY."

I plaited one loaf and the other is done classic french bread style.

I'm slowing doing things from my list. Mmmmmm, delicious.

Leather-FACED.

PROOF THAT MY MEMORY SUCKS BALLS: The other week, Jaya started to reminisce about a pair of eyeglasses that our Mom owned, used, and apparently LOVED. I, of course, have vague recollection ("they were round" and "they were big," yah??) and the nights she wore them while driving in her equally-beloved but since-replaced green BMW. Then Jaya looks at me and says, "Yah, and they were LEATHER." WHAAAA? Well, here they are:

Check out that stitching! Gives a new meaning to "Leathah-face."

That's right: JEALOUSLY. A couple of days later I asked my mom about the glasses and she busted them out from the depths of her neverending closet. They're about 20 years old and they are pretty much still BOMB. She told me, "Oh, I LOVED those glasses! They were my favorite. When I was getting prescriptions put in them the guy said, 'Oh, I don't know if I can do this. I might ruin the leather.' I told him, 'I don't care- JUST DO IT.' They're cool, huh?" Hahahahaha, Mom. Hmmmm. They is COOOOL. When I asked her to put them on I almost died. She looked like smiling baby owl.