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As you read this I now have 7 days left babysitting and approximately 35 hours.
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Five Months Left
Illinois. Illinois.
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Two separate days.
One preferred way to sleep.
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This sticker on the back of a car I saw last week seems so ridiculously in poor taste today after those massacres in Texas and Ohio.
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I received this email from an old college friends last week.
Mike,
I read with saddened
heart in your July 11th blog that Jerry's Pizza had closed. It has been a
LONG time since I had imbibed one; I now regret not having the chance to return
to that holy shrine of - I can't think of a word that singularly encompasses
that which was Jerry's.
We discussed the
experience before in a e-mail long ago, but I swear - when the pizza was
delivered, it wasn't only a treat for the taste buds; every sense was alerted:
Visually, you had the
box if delivered, or the aluminum tray with that square of paper for eating at
the table - that alone was enough to get the saliva production engaged!
There was a sound that
just cried out to be devoured - kind of a hushed slide as the pie was delivered
to your ultimate holy place of consumption.
The olfactory sensation
- was perhaps the most impressive. I swear, when you smelled that pizza,
you smelled the various shades of brown and creamy yellow with your nose.
Not only the smell of the pizza itself, but the way it, the pools of grease,
and the cardboard all worked to create that unique Jerry's melange.
Then, of course, the
feel. Whether working to pull it apart (God forbid you accidentally
pulled off more than that which was supposed to be allotted to your square /
corner triangle) or masticating - there was nothing else like it, and little
else that satisfied as completely.
Well so much for the past. It is a good
and fun thing to remember those icons of our younger days - I guess part of our
domain now.
Well, I'd better get back
to the issues at hand. Take care. Man. No Jerry's pizza -
it's as if a square grease-laden piece of my soul has been excised - I think
I'll have to wear a black arm band.
R.F.
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There's Midwest hot and then there is Florida hot. Same temperatures, but there is a difference. Some may say its the humidity, but the North ahs that, too. No, it's something else. It's a baked in heat - much like those stone pizza ovens. All they know is hot.
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This is Ayla pilfering from the kitchen. She does it so happily, so brazenly, often I don't have the heart to say anything. What is that teaching her? I don't care. I'm a grandparent.
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America has lost her way. Nuremburg chants from a base that is way too large for all that has happened, 270 million guns in the hands of too many angry people, white supremacy that is condoned from the highest positions of authority, hate toward anything that isn't white. Yes, America has lost her way.
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See that bike second from left? The big black one? neighbor Tim had it out on a charity run for Honor Flights last weekend. Almost 200 miles. Is that Tim's bike down the way, New Blue? My bike riding is about to expand a bit - hope we have some good weather.
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Seen last week by daughter Kenze. Oh, baby, are we ever over it.*
*Apply to anything you choose.
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Speaking of over it, the girls making another batch of slime last week.
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Sorry to hear Moscow Mitch fractured his shoulder while on his patio last weekend.
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