As I’ve shared, I’ve spent the last few weeks preparing for my dear friend’s baby shower. We’re doing a brunch because of the time of day, and I could eat breakfast food all the time and be happy. I’m baking The Pioneer Woman’s Cinnamon Baked French Toast, which I am preparing tonight.

My dear husband — my savior every time I overextend myself — was helping me. I had purchased a HUGE, disposable aluminum pan from the party supply store to bake a double bath. He and I stood at the kitchen table, tearing two loaves of french bread into this giant trough.

Out of the blue, he turned to me, deadpan serious, and asked,

“Doesn’t it kinda feel like we’re making stuffing for a prison?”