The first snow didn't make me do it. Nor did the unrelenting Christmas music coming from every store as I walked on St. Catherine Street the other day. It wasn't the offers reaching my inbox every ten minutes from online bookstores, even as those usually tempt me.
It was my delivery of vanilla. 1 kg of organic tahitian vanilla, to be precise. Swoony swoon swoon. Even through all the wrapping the whole entry way was perfumed by them. I couldn't wait to break it open. I love making my own vanilla extract, of course, but I love too having the beans on hand.
Let the baking begin. Let Christmas come. I'll either be ready or so blissed out on the scent that I won't care.