Supper Respiratory Tract

This qualifies as the second real blooper of the school year, dear reader, a student's mother having suffered from an infection thereof. The first one was this: "My back porch is only parsley covered with a sliding glass door." Ouch. I'd hate to have to tape all that parsley to a glass door, sprig by sprig.

The supper tract is familiar to me, though. Right now I am in the foraging segment of my meal habits. Occasionally, I don't do my regular shopping at H-H-H [she chokes on the name] and have to search high and low in all the cupboards and pantry for something to call a meal. This is when I'm glad I live alone because my friends, the higher class ones, would blanch [if you're my student, that means turn pale].

Last night I struck gold when I remembered the Oscar Mayer weiners in the meat bin. Two pieces of white bread and voila!!!!

I have low standards. At least I didn't put Velveeta on it (the Arkansas state food). I don't buy Velveeta. I like to prance by it and pretend I don't see it. I cut Velveeta dead.

But I think about it sometimes. Late at night when the standards dip even further.

Off to school.

A bientot

love,

becky