And that is what a meal should be. Everything real and local and bought at the Farmers Market. Steaks grilled to juicy perfection; corn on the cob buttery and salty and almost too sweet with its plump kernels;potatoes baked long enough to make the skins crispy, and generously anointed with sour cream; a bottle of red wine. (Yes, for the purposes of this meal corn was the veggie.) There was ice cream, too, but no room for it. So ready to sleep now. Fortunately, Tom Robbins will keep me up a little longer. By the way, stairs go up.

Of course, when you’re tired and relaxed and blissful, it is not the time for Dana to send you this:, because then you will cry while the cat tries to trick you into feeding him again, and you will have to blog with salt drops drying on your glasses. (Sherry: don’t read it.)

2 Comments on Food.

  1. Ach. too late. I’m crying and watching JeanLuc attack a ribbon and smiling at the same time. He’s a good pirate.

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