I am a particular eater.
Bless her heart, Mrs. T has spent the past decade attempting to get me to enjoy or at least to eat my veggies. She's blanched, baked, boiled or served them raw. I pick, and occassionaly smile while doing it, sorry Martha, but frankly I'd rather lick dirt. I am as convinced, as I am that Christmas is December 25, that I could go to my dotage without ever eating another veg, and live to tell the tale.
So last evening, Mrs T outdoes herself. It was raw green bean night for the Toad. Come dinner, I pickin' at 'em, spreading around my plate when finally she stops, looks at me and says, " You really don't like vegetables do you?"
No ma'am I don't, I replied.
Tonight was squash. I wasn't offered any. Let us give thanks.
11 hours ago