The only advantage of having COVID at Eastertime is that the Easter Bunny hops by for a visit, prior to his big night of hiding eggs, to wish you well. Who knew?
For being somewhat of a salad connoisseur, I came to them relatively late in life. In the original Strawberry Kitchen, the salad course was typically some sort of congealed concoction, made of canned fruit and jello and topped with cool whip.
In the 1970s, fish was what Catholics ate on Fridays. We weren’t Catholic. On Fridays, my parents would typically load us in the back of the Country Squire wagon and head out to Shakey’s Pizza or Pappy’s Hamburgers before taking in a family-friendly movie at the theater.
Fair warning: this blog post is rated R, or at least a hard PG-13. If you’re offended by ribald humor, tune in again next week when we’ll be back to serving up the literary equivalent of tea cakes on lace doilies. This post also goes all the way around my elbow to get to my thumb.