My Mom came up for brunch on Sunday. Eating at a restaurant with my mother has sort of a culinary Russian Roulette quality. There's always some fatal mistake that someone (usually me) makes. You just never know what triggers her disapproval: wrong bread choice, too much salt, not enough gravy? I thought I'd get all kinds of goodies to use on the blog.
Instead, as I was packing up the children and looking for my coat, she said, "You're not invited."
But she did bring treats for the dogs.
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