Fancy Coffee Friday: Lumbersexuals?

I’ll give you a moment to giggle over today’s blog post title.  You can giggle over this video next.

You done now?  Okay, good – now I can get down to brass tacks.

Imagine it, my driveway in southern Wisconsin where we’d not yet had any snow, two weekends ago.  Mr. Muse was attacking firewood with his 8-pound splitting maul, decked out in his finest Carhartt work wear in “Carhartt Brown” when my cousin pulled into the driveway to pick up her jeep’s hard top from storage.  She got out of her jeep, commented “that’s sexy right there,” with a nod toward Mr. Muse, following up that she was into men who were rugged, and then she sprung the word “lumbersexual” on the two of us.

Lumbersexual?  So I asked, “What in hell is a “lumbersexual?”  She went on to explain that they were the newest incarnation of fashionable men, the urban, rugged “outdoors-men”.  The “metrosexual” was on the way out and being a “lumbersexual” was in, $200 rucksacks and designer Eddie Bauer flannel shirts.  She went on to say that this lumbersexual fad was not good for her dating life because she really liked rugged outdoors-men and now she was getting confused as to if men she wanted to date were actual rugged outdoors-men or just the lumbersexual wannabes.

via Urban Dictionary.

via Urban Dictionary.

Since Mr. Muse was never a Metro-sexual, he often dresses like a lumberjack when he’s outside, would never spend $200 on a rucksack and actually knows the difference between an axe and a splitting maul – chances are he’s not a lumbersexual.  Sorry ladies, he’s all mine!  Now that I’ve written all of that, since I know the difference between an axe and a splitting maul… maybe I’m a lumberjack, too?  But I digress.

So, if this is your first time seeing and reading about Lumbersexuals, I’ve decided to help you ladies who read this blog out with how you can spot a Lumberjack vs. a Lumbersexual.

 The Lumberjack

  1. Typically wears sturdy work pants, often from Carhartt but could also be from Farm & Fleet/Fleet Farm or Tractor Supply Co., which tend to have bar chain oil stains in various locations (check the side of the thighs where he’ll wipe said bar chain oil off of his hands).
  1. Wears substantial, leather work boots with steel toe (and often metatarsal protection) like Red Wings, which have “scars” from a variety of cutting implements. They often have stains from bar chain oil.
  1. Might wear flannel, chambray or denim, long-sleeved shirts, though during warm weather they most likely have on a t-shirt. Unless the bugs are bad. Shirts often have stains from bar chain oil.
  1. Carries a pair of safety glasses, hard hat and ear protection, often with smears of bar chain oil on them.
  1. Knows the difference between an axe and a splitting maul and tends to carry one or more splitting wedges in the pockets of the sturdy work pants. All tools usually have bar chain oil on them.
  1. His clothes smell like 2-cycle engine exhaust. So does he. He often has bar chain oil smeared somewhere on his face, hands and/or arms.
  1. He and his clothes often are covered in fine sawdust which gets into every nook-and-cranny. Expect him to be blowing that stuff out of his nose with the handkerchief he has in his pocket when he’s done.
  1. May or may not wear a “lumberjack elbow” support on his forearm.
  1. Speaks of “widowmakers”, “felling”, “punky wood” and “cords”.
  1. Reminds his significant other to pick up another gallon of bar chain oil on the way home.

The Lumbersexual

  1. Typically wears designer “rugged” fit jeans from placed like Eddie Bauer, LL Bean or Urban Outfitters. Pants will not have bar chain oil stains.
  1. Wears leather work books. They tend to look like they just came off of the shelf at the store or out of the box. They do not have bar chain oil stains or scars from cutting implements.
  1. Wears flannel, chambray or denim, long-sleeved shirts over a solid-colored t-shirt. Will generally have a canvas jacket over the top with a scarf tied neatly around their neck. None of these will have bar chain oil stains on them.
  1. Does not walk around with safety glasses, hard hat or ear protection smeared with bar chain oil. Probably has a $200 rucksack over his shoulder… which is not smeared with bar chain oil.
  1. Unlikely to know the difference between an axe and a splitting maul or carry splitting wedges in the pockets of their designer jeans.
  1. His clothes do not smell like 2-cycle engine exhaust, nor does he. In fact, he probably smells like Old Spice. He will not have bar chain oil smeared on his face, hands and/or arms.
  1. He will not be covered in fine sawdust. May or may not have a handkerchief in his pocket. This is most likely just for show.
  1. May or may not wear a support on his forearm for tennis elbow (or any other racquet sport).
  1. Does not speak about “widow makers”, “felling”, “punky wood” and “cords”.
  1. Reminds his significant other to pick up a bottle of wine on the way home.


If  you are at all concerned that you’ve gotten a lumbersexual and not a lumberjack, ask him where he got his clothes and look for bar chain oil.  If he replies Eddie Bauer – he’s a lumbersexual.  If he’s got bar chain oil on him somewhere – he’s a lumberjack.  And he’s okay.

This song could use more chainsaw.

Posted in Blogging, Humor, Musings, Outdoors, Personal, Random Thoughts | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

Fancy Coffee Friday: The World is My Oyster

Today I have a day off from work.  It’s not a holiday, but a bonus perk of working where I do; work long days, get every other Friday off.  Pretty sweet.

It’s been months however since my Friday’s off have not been filled with a full day of running about completing errands.  Mr. Muse asked me what I was going to do with myself the other day since I had a whole day of nothing ahead of me and I declared:


So what am I going to do with myself?  Oh ho!  Let me tell you… well…. I’m not sure.  I started making a list of things to do and I think I’ve paralyzed myself with all the possibilities to the point where I don’t know what to do first, or second after I write this blog post.  And wash dishes, start some laundry, vacuum the carpets, make a loaf of bread from my America’s Test Kitchen How Can It Be Gluten Free cookbook, cut out fabric for some pillows, get in treadmill time, fill bird feeders outside, put a fence around a pine tree to protect it from the livestock, pick up a whole bunch of pine cones for a friend’s craft project and…. Do you see what I mean?

Meanwhile, enjoy this picture of my goat Marilou showing her smarts this morning.  She’s the “baby” and instead of taking a jostling from the bigger goats and sheep trying to eat the hay – she approaches it from the top.  Smart girl!


Posted in Fancy Coffee Friday, Gluten Free, Musings, Personal, Random Thoughts | Tagged , , , , , | 10 Comments

Fancy Coffee Friday: My Week in Review for 11/7/14

Unexciting.  Then End.

But that’s not why you came here, now is it?  You come to this blog because you’re a damned voyeur hoping that life isn’t as hum-drum as you think it is.  Sadly, life is pretty hum-drum, but it’s what you do BETWEEN the beats that matter; grab your sticks and play.  That’s your inspirational quote for the day.  Look!  I even made a graphic (optimized for Twitter even)!

Inspirational quotes by yours truly.

Inspirational quotes by yours truly.

Let’s add a little Todd Rundgren to the mix as well.  You’re welcome!

Okay, enough with the downplaying the excitement that is my life.  Since last week’s Fancy Coffee Friday post about my rooster, Sumo the Wonder Chicken, having escaped an attack from some wild creature, I have an update:  Sumo the Wonder Chicken remains in sick bay with what I think may be a broken foot.  This may prove to be an opportunity to break out tongue depressors and medical tape to fashion him a splint.  I’m kind of excited about that.  My Mom said a few times that she thought I should be a veterinarian; the problem with that is that I’d have to deal with the pet OWNERS if I did that… and you know what?  Pet owners are just as nuts (not all, but many of them) as Helicopter Parents.

Speaking of chickens – I sell the eggs.  Eggs are on back order.  I may never eat another egg until next summer with the way the orders are coming in.  Kidding – I’m still going to eat eggs, I sell the extras.

The other weekend we took down a rather large oak tree that had died of Oak Wilt and Mr. Muse has spent many an hour chopping up the trunk into splitting-size chunks where he then split them with his splitting maul and “grenade” splitting wedge.  I have a lot of firewood to haul to the stacks.  Initially, I viewed this as punishment for some unnamed offense, but I’ve been telling myself that it’s great exercise.  It is… it really is.  A bonus is that a few of my fingernails got pretty damaged some months back from a fake fingernail debacle (read: I was fucking impatient and took them off before I really should have) so they are trimmed as far down as I can get them which means “no catching fingernails on firewood”.  YAY!

Another bonus to the tree coming down is that the chickens were super-happy with what amounted to about a 100 huge grubs being worked out of the rotting wood by Mr. Muse and me and given to them.  Ever see a chicken with a big, fat grub the size of my thumb (if you’ve ever seen my thumb… )?  It’s hilarious!  This video clip pretty much explains the whole thing (no grubs were rescued by well-meaning pelicans in my scenario):

I also went to The Twin Cities area for some friends annual Halloween Party where the traditional Jello Shots were dispensed and consumed.  I also had a decent Sazerac at The Sample Room along with a burger and fries and devoured some of the BEST gluten-free pizza I’ve had yet at Sammy’s Pizza & Restaurant.

This week also marked my Mom’s and Dad’s birthdays.  Yes, both of them.  No, they aren’t the same age, no they don’t share the same date.  But Happy Birthday to the both of them!

Some of my more fit followers will also be happy to know that I started working out again last week.  I’m back to interval training three days a week, walking and jogging.  Now it’s time to work yoga and strength training into the mix as well.

And there you have it.  The week in review!

How was your week?

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Fancy Coffee Friday: Prodigal Rooster


I think that is the best word to describe my feelings when I discovered that my favorite rooster, let alone chicken, had not returned to the barn last week Wednesday.  He was always one of the first of the chickens into the barn at the end of the day.  Already it was dark and finding a black rooster in a wooded lot on a dark night was going to be an exercise in futility.  I gave a heavy sigh and put out my wish to the universe that he still be alive and Mr. Muse and I nodded our heads in unison, after I mentioned my boy wasn’t in the barn, that Sumo the Sumatra was lost to the wilds.

My favorite rooster.

My favorite rooster.

The next night found me searching the outdoor perches for Sumo in the dimming light as I approached the barn and not seeing him there I headed into the barn.  I went about my routine of feeding the sheep and goats first and then grabbed my egg basket to collect what the hens had laid that day.  As I stepped into their pen I saw a black object out of the corner of my eye and turned, surprised to find Sumo huddled up in the corner of the pen, his head tucked beneath a wing.  I watched him and thought he didn’t appear to be breathing and touched his side.  He jerked his head up, unbalanced and wobbly and that’s when I saw the blood smeared on the wall behind him.

This wasn’t good at all.

I collected the eggs and headed to the house, calling for Mr. Muse to, “bring me the gun,” explaining Sumo was in the barn but there was blood on the walls and if he was gravely injured I would put him down.  Mr. Muse, gallant man that he is, fetched the gun and some ammo and asked if he should come with me as I grabbed a flashlight off of the shelf.  I said that two pairs of eyes might be good as one of us had to hold Sumo up so he could be examined and we headed out to the barn.

Gingerly, I picked up Sumo, who has been handled from the day he arrived at our house and didn’t make any fuss, and with flashlight in hand we looked for damage.  Sumo’s big, black eyes blinked as he watched us and though there was a lot of blood, we couldn’t find any injuries more serious than blood feathers that had been yanked off or broken from his backside.  Whatever he’d tussled with didn’t kill him, but did leave him hungry, dehydrated and exhausted.  I’m not sure how long it took him to get back to the barn from wherever his fight happened on the property, but he was back.

Mr. Muse and I swept into action, grabbing the cage top to an old guinea pig habitat that has become our go-to Medical cage for chickens, food and water dishes and the heat lamp.  We examined him once again, grabbed a can of Blu-Kote and sprayed the bleeding feathers that were left, checked for broken bones, other injuries and gently I placed him in the cage under the lamp.

Sumo is my buddy.  He knows his name.  He knows a couple commands (mostly because he’s highly food-motivated) and will fly up to my arm to perch parrot-like and will let me carry him around.  While he’s still “a chicken”, I became attached to him when he was just a little guy and he’s definitely a pet.

I placed my hand under Sumo’s chest and held him up as I put the dish of food in the cage and he wavered on his feet but began to eat.  I held him for a few minutes and felt him steady himself enough that I could let go.  Offering him the water, he refused, preferring to fill his belly with food first.  Satisfied that I was pretty sure he’d make it through the night, we left him standing under the heat lamp, slowly eating food, and me declaring, “He’s the prodigal rooster!  My beloved rooster has returned!”

The next morning, I was greeted by Sumo who was standing up in his cage, had drank about half the water in his bowl and ate a good deal of food.  He was much less shaky on his feet and his body temperature was back to normal.  My patient appeared to be on the mend.

Now, a week later, Sumo has become a spoiled rotten rooster, expecting a small offering of grain morning and night.  Of course, the fact that I started that which puts his expectation square on me is beside the point.  He’s still a bit wobbly but when he is walking around he’s much more sure of his steps.  He’s going to be confined for at least another week to continue to regain his strength before being turned back in with the rest of the flock.

Let’s hope that he stays away from whatever creature it was with which he went rounds.

Posted in Chickens, Fancy Coffee Friday, Musings, Personal, Random Thoughts | Tagged , , , , , | 12 Comments

Fancy Coffee Friday: Do Not Disturb

I was cranky.  I was close to eating all the things.  I was not my normally joyful self.  It crept on slowly over the course of months, but it was definitely more pronounced in the last few weeks.

Need I say more?

Need I say more?

I’d been eating “right”.  I was getting up at 4:30 every morning to work out just so I could be sure to get in my exercise.  I was going to bed at a reasonable time and falling asleep (after reading a while) at a decent hour.

What was I doing wrong?

I looked at the history of my FitBit and the answer was staring me right in the face.  Despite my getting to bed early enough for that 4:30 AM wake up – I was getting an average of 5 hours of sleep a night.  I knew the moment I saw that average that my biggest issue was: I needed a nap.

Maybe not just a nap.  Maybe what I needed was to go back to doing what I shouldn’t have gotten away from doing in the first place:  getting in a full night of sleep.

Sleep?  I don't need no stickin' sleep!  Oh... wait.  Yeah, I do.

Sleep? I don’t need no stickin’ sleep!
Oh… wait. Yeah, I do.

I love sleep.  There were times in my life after particularly stimulating events (weekend camp for 4-H teens, traveling to Washington DC for 4-H…. come to think of it, 4-H was responsible for most of my extreme exhaustion up through age 18) where I could easily sleep for 14 or more hours straight up.  I discovered that to maintain myself as a happy panda, I needed to literally sleep 7-8 hours a night.  Months of less than that had revealed themselves a few weeks ago when I replaced my makeup with gluten-free versions and included a stick of yellow concealer to camouflage the beginning of dark circles under my eyes.  This was no good.

Happily, the last 10 days of foregoing the early morning wake up and workout routine and getting the extra hours of sleep have helped out tremendously.  The dark circles are going away.  The overwhelming need to “eat all the things” has dissipated.  And my naturally joyful nature?  That’s coming back, too.  Bonus, I haven’t gained weight – in fact it’s gone down.

So let’s hear it for resting!  Let’s give three cheers for napping!  Go sleep!


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Fancy Coffee Friday: A Rantling on Rudeness

Have you ever sat down and pondered if you were a rude person?  Do you do things that are rude?  Say things that are rude?  Are you uncouth or uncivil?  Impertinent perhaps?

I’ve thought about this a lot.  While my personality lends itself towards a propensity for being blunt, disliking “small talk” and liking a lot of alone time, when it comes down to it, I’m not a rude person.  I’m actually quite friendly and can talk the ears off of perfect strangers if it’s a subject that interests me.  I’m the person who gets cornered by the sweet, elderly women on planes who spend the whole flight telling me their life stories (I was seated next to Molly Sims‘ grandmother’s best friend, so she said, once on a trip to Las Vegas – for real and very random).  I’ve humored talkative drunks in bars and entertained waiters in restaurants.  I’m able to hold my own in a give-and-take conversation and will focus on the person or people I’m with because I want them to feel important and worthy of my consideration.  I’m that person.

What I see more frequently these last few years, when the younger generations became all thumbs-and-texts, was a dearth of conversation.  A lack of respect.  A predilection to ignore the person present in lieu of the cell phone, iPad, eReader or whatever electronic communication device was in hand.

At first, I was pondering writing a post – a rantling if you will, on cell phone usage and how terribly, terribly rude people are becoming with whipping out their little “Electronic Leash”.  But, my Friends, it is more than that; while I think computers, and therefore the internet, are wonderful things, I also believe that they are responsible for the general lack of propriety, comportment and inability to converse with our fellow man.

Case in point.  I was out to lunch a while ago with a friend and during conversation the friend kept checking their phone.  I would stop speaking.  Friend would look up and say, “I’m listening, you can keep talking.”  My response was, “No, I’ll wait until you’re finished.” The simple fact was that I was speaking with them in what I had thought was a conversation, not a one-sided diatribe.  There was no give-and-take repartee.  There was no respect and I felt unimportant and unworthy.

Dear Readers, I have a cell phone, I’ve had one for many years, but I resist the urge to frantically reach for, and check, it every five minutes.  When I’m out to dinner with friends, my phone is tucked away in my purse and it’s only brought out if someone asks the time, inquires about a particular calendar date or a few other valid reasons to take the phone out.  Once Mr. Muse teased me about being “one of those people” when I’d gotten my phone out to check something (by request).  He won’t be making that joke again as he now has a smartphone and is still in the honeymoon phase of owning it.

I like to think I have a strict sense of decorum and adhere to a code of etiquette when I’m “out”, and unless I’m with someone who explains after the initial greeting that they’re “waiting for an important phone call”, I get very perturbed about Frequent Phone Checking.  No one is more important than the person one is with, and if you are compelled to constantly check your phone when out with others, what does that say about you?  I’ll say it, you’re rude.  Period.

This culture of shorthand responses has bled into face-to-face conversations, or lack of them, to the point where trying to having a meaningful discussion about anything is reduced to trying to decipher one-word responses or guttural sounds.  Was that grunt a “yes” or a “no”?  Like Johnny 5, I need more input.  People have taken to interrupting others with incredible persistence, disallowing them to finish sentences, thoughts even entire words or just flat-out ignoring them.  Even trying to have a conversation about serious subjects is reduced to a frustrating combination of standing ones ground and batting away misguided (and oh-so-unfunny) “jokes” about sex.  I’m sorry, I fail to see the connection between frac-sand mining and sex.

The casual approach has even encroached, and perhaps been made worse by, social media – particularly Facebook and it’s “Poke” feature*.  Random users seem to think that it’s “cute” to poke someone rather than send a message expressing interest in getting to know someone else.  Do you do this?  Please stop, it’s not cute; it’s rude, obnoxious and beneath you.

I put the question out there on Facebook and Twitter, “Do you think cell phones and social media are making people rude? More rude? Socially inept? Unable to hold a conversation?#Letmeknow“.  One response that I received permission to share was:

@RSVRZach  @The_AmusingMuse more shallow and less capable of face to face interaction. Just my .02 anyway.

So what do we do?  We put away the phones (on silent).  We actually have conversations about things other than “did you see what so-and-so said on Facebook” or the newest reality show.  We stop “face-palming” anyone who disagrees with our point of view and actually make an effort to understand their perspective.  We step up our game and stop being rude, unseemly and boorish.  We stop being disrespectful.  We make concerted efforts to make sure the people we’re with feel important and worthy of our consideration.

*Since I wrote the first draft of this a couple years ago, the “Poke” feature has become less visible and it’s not used nearly to the extent it had been.  I’m happy about that.

Posted in Blogging, Fancy Coffee Friday, Friendship, Personal, Random Thoughts, Rants, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

Fancy Coffee Friday*: Pinterest Failure #1

*So apparently trying to schedule posts from my phone just doesn’t work.  Here is Friday’s post… on Sunday.

Pinterest Fail.  Me do it!

Pinterest Fail.
Me do it!

I have always been an avid baker.  My Mom made what I considered to be the most delicious bars and snack cakes on the face of the earth and I aspired to be as good a baker as she was.  The simple Chocolate Chip Cookies, “Congo Bars” (aka fancy name for Chocolate Chip Cookie Bars) and Wacky Cake (a Depression-era snack cake that didn’t use eggs) soon prompted me into forays of making Double-Crust Apple Pie, Marble Chiffon Cake, Two-Layer German Chocolate Cake and even a “rabbit cake” for one of my sister’s birthdays.  (That would be two 9″ round cake layers cut into shapes and put together to look like a rabbit.  I’d also made her a “Cat Cake” another year – same concept.)

My adventures in baking contained numerous victories: high praise and many a ribbon at the county fair.  However, this is not to say that I haven’t had some failures.  When I was twelve, I pulled out my Mom’s very beat up (held together with masking tape) Betty Crocker Cookbook and found the recipe for a Chocolate Souffle.  I read the list of ingredients and a check of the pantry and cabinets revealed that we had them all.  It was a pleasant enough day and I began to bake.  Loving and careful attention was paid to every step and I heeded the warning that loud noises or banging around inside of the house may very well cause the delicious beauty to collapse before it finished baking, so I kicked everyone out of the house.  This was to be a baking triumph!

What nobody told me was that as beautiful as that souffle looked when it was done, big, puffy, chocolatey with steam escaping from the cracks on top… was that it was going to collapse as it cooled and that you really should serve it immediately after coming out of the oven.  I was terribly disappointed.  Ultimately we all had a good laugh that evening as we enjoyed our dessert of Chocolate Souffle-come-Chocolate Souffle Brownies; and that brings me to last Saturday and what marked what could be considered in current culture as a “Pinterest Fail“.  If you’ve not heard of these or stopped by the site, please do – they’re hilarious.

I’d been craving cinnamon rolls for weeks by this stage.  The Udi’s Gluten-Free Cinnamon Rolls were a major disappointment, I wouldn’t even call them an acceptable substitute.  Especially not if what you’re craving is the high fat, high sugar goodness that is Cinnabon (come on Cinnabon…. we need a really good gluten-free cinnamon roll from you).  My America’s Test Kitchen Gluten Free Cookbook didn’t have a recipe for cinnamon rolls (another disappointment), but I had a box of Gluten Free Bisquick in the pantry and a quick look at the website found a cinnamon roll recipe.  I made my decision on Friday night that I would make the cinnamon rolls in the morning and went to bed.

Saturday morning, I was excited.  Cinnamon Rolls! They would soon be mine and I opened up the laptop to the page with the recipe, pulled out the ingredients and began.

So, funny thing about gluten-free dough… it’s very, very…. mushy.  This was the case with this cinnamon roll recipe as well.  If you just wanted to scoop it out into a pan and bake it, great; unfortunately, cinnamon rolls require some manipulation, i.e. kneading and rolling the dough.  Having been gluten-free for the last two years, I knew that the dough would be sticky (understatement) and since I had to roll it up, my best plan of action would be working on something like waxed paper (had it) to help facilitate a smooth roll.

You know what they say about good intentions, right?

I had envisioned my cinnamon rolls to turn out just like the photo on the website.  My intentions were that I’d have a photo-ready recipe to say, “Hey look!  I made these cinnamon rolls and they were delicious and easy-to-make, too!”

The reality turned out more like this…  The dough mixed, I scraped it out of the bowl onto the Bisquicked waxed paper to perform the “knead 5 times” of step three of the recipe.  I think I succeeded more at mushing the dough around and scraping my hands off with the spatula than I did at any actual kneading of the dough.  After kneading you’re supposed to “roll out the dough”.  Really?  Really??  With as sticky as the dough was, breaking out the pastry pin would have just resulted in an additional exercise in futility, so after washing my hands of sticky dough residue (again), I sprayed them down with nonstick cooking spray and patted out the dough onto the waxed paper in a neat rectangle, washed my hands again, brushed… no, dabbed on the melted butter and sprinkled the cinnamon-brown sugar mixture evenly.

Time to roll this puppy up!  Applauding my brilliant idea to do this all on easy-to-clean-up waxed paper, I began to roll the dough, which is not just sticky, but fragile.  My first roll went “okay” but the dough had nearly saturated the waxed paper and was now sticking to that and my hands.  I brought out my dough scraper, using it to encourage the dough to pull away and forgetting that I should have sprayed that with nonstick spray as well.

One clean dough scraper, freshly spritzed, and I was at it again.  The end result was no neat, tight bundle of dough with cinnamon and sugar filling, oh no.  The end result looked more like a threatened sea cucumber ejecting it’s innards in an effort to escape a predator.


I realized that there was just no way I could salvage this cinnamon-sugar sea cucumber disaster and make it look pretty so I started hacking away at it with my dough scraper and plopping (that’s a technical baking term) pieces into the cake pan.  There was no beautiful, textbook photo ops though there were plenty of “I think this qualifies as a Pinterest Fail” moments and as I laughed at how un-cinnamon-roll-like everything turned out, I caught Mr. Muse in the hallway and said, “You have to come see my Pinterest Fail!”

He entered the kitchen, took one look and raised an eyebrow as he stifled a laugh and said, “It looks more like Cinnamon Roll Dump Cake”.  How apropos!  “For all the effort,” I commented, “this better taste good.”  While it didn’t turn out to be cinnamon rolls, it did turn out something like a Cinnamon Roll Coffee Cake.


And that’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.

Posted in Baking, Gluten Free, Humor, Personal | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments