Like Chocolate Croissants, Only Zero Calories

I’m having my first pumpkin spice latte of the season today. I thought it would be nice to be seasonal. But what I should have gotten was my reliable Americano and a chocolate croissant. I hope you enjoy this entry as much as I enjoy chocolate croissants.

  • In college, when I had no idea that the grande whole milk mochas I was consuming twice a day were making me chubby, anxious and sick, I would add a chocolate croissant and use it as consolation and motivation for reading my Spanish assignments, which were continually a teensy bit over my head. As in, read and understand three paragraphs, Rose, and then you can have a bite of chocolate croissant. I hope to replicate that experience, minus the whole “fat, sick and anxious” part, not to mention studying, this weekend, as I have these goodies from Trader Joe’s waiting for me.
  • I love pastries. A pastry and coffee, early sometime in the morning, is one of my favorite things. Alas, the pastries in Spain look better than they taste.

h/t Rainbow_85 on Flickr

  • Just trust me on this one. Or don’t, and when you come to visit, I’ll buy one, and you’ll see. Spain is better at olives and cheese.
  • I apologize if you feel like I am unloading on you. I sort of am.
  • But, I really appreciate your presence at my blog. You’re not a stalker in my book. Molly and I have the same thoughts about readers. I Lova ya!
  • Finally, an update on prefield (just warning you, it’s not that great): I ordered a Shutterfly photobook of photos of Spain, candidate school, and missions-related images, and also incorporated a description of the work we’ll be doing, the Missionary Covenant and our contact info. When we are presenting at churches, it will be on our display table. I promise I’ll show it to you!
  • Ok, one last thing. I am hosting a Southern-themed (you know, Mason jars, sweet tea, magnolias and corn bread with honey) baby shower in September for my sweet friend Ally and her baby Margaret Pearl, and I am definitely making this. Because you really can’t get more southern than peaches.
  • Aw, heck. What do I know about being Southern?
  • Well, I just wrote, “aw, heck.” It’s a start.