And you, too. Man, remember when “Be well” ended missives?

Ah, I was not aware of that end although I will (not really) defend that particular choice are better than “Oh! I still love you! I will die to save you!”

“...no, for the last time I don’t care at all about love triangles in the middle of a battle.”

As I am currently in a “T minus and counting” period to my forced retirement, we are contemplating cutting back on expenses and have determined that Disney+ is probably going to be cut sometime early next year. As that is only a couple of weeks away, I went through to see what I had on that service I hadn’t watched…

There is a wing nut that holds one piece to the body, that piece, the body, a clamp and handle (neither of the last two should need cleaning but COVID/OCD). Easily disassembled and scrubbed. I had to bring the borderline OCD up though as I was everything.

A breakfast that includes Sauvignon Blanc? Questionable. Not debating, merely questioning.

Ditto.

Damn you.

With all due love and respect...

Oops. Forgot to state that we use fresh, not frozen.

We use a hand grinder that was found at an estate sale. There is no Jell-o (Biafra or any other kind). Apples and oranges are washed and ground whole. Nuts are added. Some sugar, but not a lot. The juice is caught and some is reintroduced into the ... mess I think is indeed the best name for it. Most of the family…

“Your wife is waiting for you to do something.”

Racist idiots don’t like Papa Shaq?

Only, and I mean ONLY if he reaches for a slice and she slaps his hand away.

The Kirkland brand versions of Canadian blend and Irish are cheap and both rather tasty.

Probably keeps a red hat in her pocket/purse. “Oh, shit, surrounded by these clowns? Instant disguise! Nothing to see here, just got swept away going to get some groceries!” (Has a mask that looks like her face.)

I, too, love bourbon. Fortunately for me, my favored blend is made here in Indiana and thus I can urinate in the general direction of Kentucky.

Stop calling it food (in)security. Call it what it is: abject fear of starvation.

Waaah! Nobody is buying our buggy whips!

Sktroo: that is a given, not an assumption.