Daylight come and me want to eat bread

My doorbell rang this morning, which was embarrassing because I was still in my sock monkey footie pajamas. (Yes, really.)

It was my close personal friends FedEx, and I swear FedEx is not paying me to mention them as often as possible. Although I will do that, if anyone wants me to. No problem!

Chiquita Bananas!

Aamco!

Louis B. Mayer!

Now, why would Louis B. Mayer want me to mention his dead self?

Anyway, it was a box from New York, and I could not remember agreeing to proofread anything from New York City.

The Rockettes!

Blamin' it all! On the nights on Broadway!

THAT is who should be paying me to mention him. Barry Gibb. How many of you hadn't thought of him in years till I brought him up every second of the day?

Here's the package.

Exciting.

Even excitinger? It was not something to proofread. It was BANANA BREAD, probably made from Chiquita Bananas.

It's from Faithful Reader Frankie, who Can't Relax. She used to have a blog called Frankie Can't Relax and it was really good, but she gave it up. Now she just makes banana bread.

Which I had with my coffee and I'm pleased to report it is CRAMMED with chocolate chips, as you can see. CRAMMED. The bread. Not the coffee.

I heart Frankie. I heart Frankie's banana bread made from Chiquita Bananas shipped to me from the reliable folks at FedEx. Louis B. Mayer was a huge fan of FedEx.

I'm just saying. June accepts all baked goods.

Before I go cram another hunk o' banana bread into my gullet, I wanted to remind you to read this months' book club book: Serena by Ron Rash. Makes me itch just saying "Ron Rash."

Go get you some Cortaid and the book!

Someone, by the way, was quite disappointed she did not get any of the banana bread, but if you look closely, you can see she consoled herself with yet another roll of toilet paper.

Double A, beep beep, MCO.