food

No Special Orders

He's says he's allergic,

Heavenly BBQ

when my momma died
folks from town were good to help out
sitting vigil at Fair Haven Funeral Home
dropping off food at house, kitchen table laden with

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Moving Day

Sitting in the corner booth of the Old Town Diner, I've got today's paper spread out on the table and a yellow marker in hand – wanted, apartment for rent.  I'm on my third cup of coffee when Terry walks in. He sidles up and places an arm around my shoulders. “Whatcha doin', Ruby, my jewel? You’re just the person I’ve been wantin' to see.”

I heave a sigh in his direction. “Trying to find some place to live. I don’t think I can take another minute with my mother.”

Where's my ham?

Roger, my husband, is a talented Drupal developer, and when I told him I wanted to create a website for my writing endeavors, he was happy to oblige. Together we selected a theme, and he added a few modules that fit my particular needs as a writer. He needed a placeholder for the site slogan, so, more as a joke than anything, he threw up "Where's my ham?"

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