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I am UmberDove.

And by that, I mean an artist.  One who hears stories in the wind, who paints because it is what her soul tells her to do, who smiths because the muse moves through her fingertips, who loves nothing more than the promise of an unexplored trail, the sound of the ocean in her ears, and scent of a serious cup of coffee.

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Crescent Roll Genie

UmberDove


Rub the the magic tube three times and a genie will appear to grant the wishes of your taste buds.

As most of you know, I am not a big fan of any food that comes in a tube, be it yogurt, cheese, or anything else - even tubed cookie dough can be a little sketch. However, the crescent roll is a whole different story. It is reserved only for camping trips, never for home, but slow cooked over the fire it is magical. I can scarf down half a tube like nothing, eating them plain, stuffed with gouda, or smeared with pomegranate jelly. Their buttery goodness rivals the s'more as my preferred campfire treat.

However, this tube was problematic. There was no satisfying "pop" of the cardboard tube, in fact, it was a dud (I guess that's what we get for buying generic). B and I had worked our selves up for a little roll-smackeral and in our panic to open the tube, somebody got stabbed. The tube oozed dough at an alarming speed. We pried and pulled, but the tube stayed sealed and the dough just kept coming. With dirty fingernails we clawed at the cardboard, alternating between shrieking and hysterical laughter. In the end, the rolls were excavated, the tube was a shredded mess, and sweet crescent salvation came in the form of three feet of string-like dough wrapped expertly 'round a skewer, toasted golden brown.