We’re Told That The Party’s Over. Wanna Bet?…

She repeats, "Gluten is my enemy. Gluten is my enemy..."

She repeats, "Gluten is my enemy. Gluten is my enemy..."

We received the official call today.  Stomach Doc says, “Tell Jessie that the party’s over.”

In anticipation of the expected call, the kitchen has been restocked with gluten free pasta, Bob’s Red Mill flour, etc.  We’re not trying to fool anyone here.  We knew it would end.  C’est la vie.

BUT…  Refusing to give up hope, accepting that the party is, in fact, over is just not right in our book!  Hail to the party!  The party shall NEVER be over, we feverishly cry.

So, we will happily collect the gluten-free supplies for the pantry, FOREVER attempting to create that perfect gluten-free cupcake.  Party over?  We think not!  Who needs stinky old gluten anyway?  (Well, mom here does, from time to time.  But we’ll just keep that as our little secret, won’t we?)

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