French bread french toast

I'll post on the GMAT when I get the strength to say more than cursewords. I don't curse, but sometimes I do.

But first, there came a night when I didn't want to cook. Oh wait, that may be everynight lately. And husband cooks French Toast really well. Amazing well. He claims this is because he survived on it while serving his mission in Portugal and West Africa.

Awesome. Glad to know those guys in white shirts and black tags are eating so well. Maybe I should have signed up to feed them on Sunday. Guilt. Total guilt.

It started with a trip to the Farmers Market in search for more raspberries. They had none. What, farmers aren't growing raspberries in these parts?

Farmers Market Fail.

Vons came through. And they also had French bread on sale. And well, we are planning on going to Paris, right? So we bought some in the genius idea that french toast would be so much better if it came on bread from the country of its origin.

Its true. And hubsy is a master at that griddle. True also.