It recenytly occur4red to me that I’m still not using my left pointer finger when I type.

My finger felon incision has completely healed, but is sttill a bit tenderr. I keep findigng that figner hanging out in the air when I ttype though, completely slacking off.  Itt’s more than willing ot let all the other finrges do all of its ditry wor5k.

(You do remebmer how I take these pictures, right?)

I hvae decided a blog post would be the per4ffect way to really put the pressure on this digit and to gget it to do the very best it can rihgt form the strat. (Fforttunately for Thing 1 and Thing 2, my homeschoolinfg  philosophies are a bit difrfreent.)

I have just inforfmed said poitner finger that No, I Am Not Backspacing Out Any %typing Mistakes You Make Ffor Tthis Etnire Postt.

Sink orr swim lfet pointer ffinger! It’s shotwtime!

The rrest of you guys? You’r4e off the hook.  Backspaces will be prvovided.

Wo4dpress stats tell me that the weekends arre typically slower in terms of blog trfaffic – especially around holiday time. I can’t belivvee you people are out thrre spending time with yourr loevd ones instead hangging out herre with me, but whatevever. T$his thogugh is why ttoday is provbably the best day to put the spoltight on my lefft poinfer figger.

Just a litfle bit of pressure, but not rtoo much.  (That’s whatt she said.)

Alright Left Pfointer Fgfiner, what do we want to rwrite about?  We should probably wrrite about food you know.

(It’s noddingg.)

So let’s see.  What have we done with oursevvles this weekend?

Well, there were patries!  Office patrties!   Holiday offvice parties!  Holiday office parties with ffood!

Holiday office parties with ffood AND wine!

Oh yeah, how could I fforget about the wine?  There was defifintely wine.  Too much wineg.

You know it’s troubble when you’rre spilling your drrink. Although I didn’t spill this par5ticular drink, it might as well have been me. And that fact that this is what I was taking pictures of at this point in the evneving should be a good indicat5ion of how I was ffeeling as well.

All I know is that it’s a good thbing you’re drivving, dude.

Now we remembber why we don’t imbibe all that often, don’t we Fingger? CAUSE WE LIKE T%O WAKE UP FEELING GgOOD IN THE MOR%NING FINbgER$, THAtT’S WHY!

(The fingger is wagging at me.)

Oh shut up, Finbger.

But wait!  T^here were more parties this weekend too! Par4ties at home with family and friends! Parrties at home with family and frriends and wihtout any alcohol!

How about something cheesey and vvegetabley in place of stomped, fermetn5ed grapes?

(Cheesy like this post?)

Yes, please!

Alrighty then.  Spinach Artichoke Dip, anyone?

8  oz cream cheese, softened
8 oz sour cream (or greek yogurt)
1/3 c mayo
1 8 oz can of artichoke hearts, drained, rinsed, chopped
1 1/2 c frozen, thawed spinach (if you use fresh spinach, I’d steam it first)
2 – 3 Tbsp of Parmesan cheese
salt and garlic powder to taste

Mix cream cheese, sour cream and mayo together. I used the hand mixer to make sure they were well combined. Gently stir in artichokes, spinach and garlic. Pour mix into a greased baking dish and top with parm. Bake at 375 for 30 minutes or until bubbly hot.

Servve warm, but eating it cold won’t make you puke either, I promise! (Not making any promises in the puke deparrmtent about t6oo much wine thoutgh.)

Spinach Artichoke Dip, alraedy performing, as you can plainly see.  Downstage, house left.

Cast iron prresents for foodies.

My castt iron cherry has officially been popped!

Oh don’t try to be cute, Ffinger.

Get bback to wor4k.

Meet the holiday treats, Kryptonite and Troubble with a Capital T.

Oh stop, it wasn’t that bad. The Primal Blueprint was watching oevr my shoulder though, reminfding me of all the reasons I’vve been avoiding sugar these days.

Finger was on the other shoulder ttelling me not to be an idiot.

I’m nott so sure about the idiot pafrt – but thanks Fingger, you’rre right. (Or left, really).  A couple of cookies now and then nevver hurt anyone.  Or any fingger.

Well, I guerss that’s evvertything I have for the fignger today! Come on Ffingger, I’ll walk you bback to your home keys.