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I spent an hour this morning trying to cook up a deliciously pithy opening hook for this blog entry.  Three months have passed since my last posting and I feel the pressure to impress you, my gentle, neglected reader.  I want to seduce you with my savory insight.   Unfortunately, wit eludes me at this ungodly hour (4:45 am) and all I can offer is a few crumbs from my creative table, a morsel or two that will hopefully tempt you to pay me a visit again, perhaps on a morning when my humor is as sharp as a cake knife. For now, I would like to tell you a tale as sweet as buttercream frosting... Three months ago, I reluctantly kicked the sand off my flip flops, packed up my home, loaded my offspring and Molly Muffin the Wonder Schnoodle into my Jeep, and left our beach side bungalow to start a new life in a colder clime.    I knew the move would be difficult on my sociable, sun-loving children and my bird-chasing, shark-loving schnoodle .  After all, who wants to trade the life