I'm rockin' Betty Crocker

I am waist deep in flour, making cinnamon rolls and that's exactly how I like it.  Fred is at the Farm, Sister is pouting because she got left here with me, so all is quiet and peaceful.  The only noise is from the leaf blower and mower next door, due to the mess our trees have made.  Juan will do ours Monday.

I'm at a brief lull in the recipe where I'm waiting for the mixture to cool down somewhat, before I add the yeast, and then 8 cups of flour.  I think I won't need to do any arm work out this afternoon since eight cups of flour is likely to be like stirring cement.  And that's before I add one last freaking cup of flour.  Yes, I could try doing it with my mixer but I doubt it would all fit in the bowl, so I'm just gonna play 1950's Betty Crocker and try to stir it myself.   Look for my obit on Monday where it will list my cause of death as "Stirring".

If I survive all the stirring, I can put the whole shebang in the refrige and go take a nap.  I love cinnamon rolls.  Especially  when they come with a nap.