Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana

I'm really not ready to go back to work tomorrow. My bag of work keeps calling me from the corner where I shoved it last Thursday night. Eh, I don't even know why I bring home all that stuff. One day, I'll accept that I'm just giving the stuff a ride.

But really, I have no room to complain. The schools were closed Friday and Monday for President's Day. Not a bad break. I'm trying to figure out where all the time went.

Yesterday, I decided to bake some Key Lime cupcakes.

I love little cupcakes (Because there is no way I'm eating all the calories that a whole piece of cake has to offer. Really. How many calories could be in each of the little buggers. I'm banking on about 5 or 6 calories. About the same as a Tic Tac. While we are on the subject of calories, I wonder why my damn jeans are tight. Must've shrunk in the wash.). The butter cream icing recipe that goes on top is so good! My husband told me I was a MASTER BAKER! A compliment from a cook. He just made my weekend.

The real story of the weekend is the truck Mr. Strong bought (for the next 36 months) on Saturday. We spent the day of love driving 5 hours round trip then waiting two hours in the dealership to pick up this baby (Not really this baby. I borrowed this picture from the Toyota site. Dig the happening jet ski in the background. Cool trucks can hang out with the jet skis.). A green pickup truck! I can't wait to rumble with my man now. And is it just me but I swear Mr. Strong has more chest hair since this purchase.

Now that Mr. Strong has a truck, he can actually pick up the pine straw he finds on the side of the road. It never ceases to amaze me how jazzed up he can get over pine straw. I know I disappoint him regularly because I don't share the same excitement over the straw. Sometimes I think he wants me to act like a dog in heat and hump his leg. He really gets that emotional. And apparently, he isn't alone. I've had conversations with other men who compare notes on where they found the best *free* pine straw. Twenty years ago, they probably had similiar conversations about women.

In the end, no matter how emotional he gets. No matter how much he drools. No matter how much he begs and grovels. The man around the corner will not let him "just rake his yard for free." He even put up a sign to keep all the pine straw whores at bay.