Best. Chandelier. Ever.

One fateful day last week I was sitting in the Centre Oregon when one of the kiddos declared "It's crepe eating day!" I was pretty sure that every day could be crepe eating day, but Jean swore up and down that it had been announced on the news that morning (seeing as how I have no tv, I could not confirm or deny this). Turns out that it was Chandeleur, which is in fact traditionally celebrated by eating crepes (all inquiries into what this holiday actually celebrates have turned up empty, and really, I'm too lazy to google it). If this didn't call for a crepe party chez moi, I don't know what would. We shopped, we whisked, we creped it up for hours. I managed to flip a few that neither a- hit the ceiling nor b- fell on the floor. Maria and I also worked our way through 3 bottles of cidre and started eating Nutella out of the jar with spoons. What else is Nutella for, mes amis? After so many crepes and so many hours, the end was a bit loopy, with me insisting on calling it chandelier (like what you hang from a ceiling), Maria wearing MY frilly pink and green apron, and Mandy asking Alex if his twin sister was his identical twin. Sure.