These things taste devillish good. I'm 3.87 and I know what I like! I don't like them burnt, actually. Good thing Dad kept his three-pronged, long handled fork tucked away with the Bar-B-Q utensils after he hung up his horns and tail. I wonder when I'll grow mine?
The weather has turned cold and the rains have come. I hope that gopher knows how to hold his breath... it is wet out there. We've laid out the big train in the playroom and I help Dad with the log fires. It is charming, and we have a whole chicken coop to burn as well as Dale's old bay tree.
Kitchen! More marshmallows!
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