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And so it snows
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Pardon my saying so, but it seems that (and correct me if I’m wrong) I’ve been overhearing quite a lot of general conversation—certainly nothing impolite, mind you—which seems to suggest that people are no longer enjoying the bounteous snowfalls with which we’ve been blessed. I’ve even heard some tones of frustration—they sound near-by, possibly as close as the living room?—intoning, “Oh no! Not more snow!”
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Pizza Time
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Saturday night is Pizza Night for my family. When this once came up in a friendly conversation, it was greeted by surprise that I would schedule a weekly indulgence in junk food. But I don’t consider pizza junk food. It doesn’t have to be. Not when you’ve got the built-in potential for all four food groups in one happy slice. It’s also great fun if you make it yourself, so it doubles as dinner and a show.
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Sauce for supper?
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A sauce can make or break even the simplest of meals. Just think of mashed potatoes without gravy, salad without a vinaigrette, a burger without ketchup, nachos without salsa—the list goes on and on. But for me, there’s one sauce that seems to precede its intended entrée, as in, “Let’s have tartar sauce for dinner!” Then I scramble for something appropriate on which to put it.
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Bread Gone; A Rye
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I was out of bread and out of oats. It could happen to anyone.
How can I make the weekly oatmeal-honey sandwich bread? What will happen to lunch and snack time without the ever-appeasing grilled cheese? I imagine my wailing family, Dickensean pleadings for bread, and the bread box is bare.
Run to the store, you say? What’s the fun in that?
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