When in Rome . . .

Not since Easter and a wonderful pot roast have I happily departed from eating mostly plants. But cows and catfish eat them, right?

When in Rome Paris, it’s the Fish Fry. Mom’s been coming here for 25 years.

Oh my, that onion and the chow chow . . .

Tomorrow I’ll walk it off with a visit to a still-honest hardwares store. Hard wares, because Mom says they have it all. Then it’s to an Apothecary, a real one, where I might have them mix a certain potion.

‘Night y’all . . .

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