True Story

Matt and I are moving. Finally. We are back on the east side where we belong. Several incredibly gracious friends offered to help us in our move from one side of the city to the other. We dismissed them immediately with a flick of the hand, "We've got our kitchen crew.  Cooking, moving, they do it all!" 


They do it all because they are team players. Truth is I don't know that they actually like doing it all. My point of this post however is not that we have incredibly gracious friends or that we have a kitchen crew who are strong team players, both of which are facts, but rather what I'm getting at is that Matt and I, unable to cook, too tied down in pregnant boxes and dust bunnies after a long day of handling these things every which way to quickly grab a bite, suddenly realized we hadn't eaten much at all and that we were officially FTTC (Famished To The Core).


What did we have in our new fridge? 


Well, imagine this, all by it's lonely smack-dab in the middle sat a six-pack of good ole' Lasagna Cupcakes cheerily wrapped and intended for I don't know who (we keep these packages on hand, see Lasagna Cupcakes™ Open Doors) which in the moment didn't matter because we warmed them up as anyone else would in a 400 F oven until they were hot and bubbly and viola! Dinner! They were fabulous as always and each of us had our favorite flavors: Matt, Wild Boar Bolognese. Me, Smoked Mac-n-Cheese. 


We sat back, on the floor, with a shirt as a napkin (I still can't find where I packed kitchen towels), and easily enjoyed ourselves some Lasagna Cupcakes™ as if we had never made thousands and thousands upon and multiplied by thousands of them. 


Here now is my point:  Moving is never fun or convenient, but loading up on Lasagna Cupcakes™ is indeed.

Photos by Robyn Von Swank