Spudnuts make us happy

I've been in a funk lately. It's the kind of funk that even indulging from a stash of Swiss chocolate hasn't cured. I've tried serving others. I've even tried having a hot dinner more than once a week. (Yeah, I admit I'm not one of those wives that cooks dinner every night--although I am working on it) Maybe its the change of weather.

Despite all my efforts, I needed something to get me out of it. And last night was the perfect thing.

Brandon and I have been doing our Sunday Spudnut Sunday for the last three years. It was my family tradition growing up and I'm so happy that he loves it just as much. It is our one event of the year that we can invite anyone and everyone to taste of some homemade spudnut goodness.
(In case you are wondering, these donuts are called spudnuts because they contain real mashed potatoes aka spuds).

We are in a new area this year, so we were worried we would have a small turnout. However, it was the biggest yet. We made 136 spudnuts and had over 50 people attend including-- a dad who stayed the whole time to fry up every last spudnut, the 4 year-olds in our primary class that gave the biggest hugs when they saw us and wore their costumes just to show us, lifelong friends who don't even live in the same city, neighbors who smile and make you realize life is good, another festive die-hard that got excited to tell me about their festive activities, little boys who arrived early and helped count and cut them, friends who aren't afraid to eat lots and lots of them, and one awesome husband that cleaned all the dishes and made the best looking spudnut dough one has ever seen.

So thank you to everyone who came and delighted in our warm spudnuts. It was just what I needed to get out of this funk.

And that is why I say, spudnuts make us happy.