To lose weight, you imagine eating these French fries only. Diet plan that works–never eat, only imagine.
I receive no compensation for saying this item has given me renewed peace in the kitchen.
This sign is posted in Phoenix. “Children found climbing our Rock Wall will be sold to the Circus.” Children were suspiciously missing when I took this picture.
Some people say “the good ol’ days weren’t so good.” I’m here to tell you, they are wrong.
In the good ol’ days, like 1987, we didn’t have cell phones. At least they weren’t a common household item. Cellular phones in 1987 cost about as much as a Ferrari and were the size and weight of a toaster. They didn’t fit very well inside our purse. They didn’t make toast.
Most everyone in 1987 had touch-tone dial phones that sat on desks or hung on the walls. We almost always answered the phone every time it blasted its loud jangle. We didn’t have caller i.d. and we never knew who might be calling. The thing is, in 1987 you could still hope for a fun phone call.
I had eaten half my cranberry-turkey salad when I realized I didn’t get the jam for my whole-wheat bread. I asked our server as she breezed by our table, and who created wind gusts in her haste to get to another table, if she would bring me the jam I had ordered. “Oh yes, I’ll get that for you,” she said as she whooshed by causing my blondish-locks to blow wildly in her wake.
Five minutes later I noticed our server whooshing back and forth serving customers at other tables. She seemed to have forgotten my request. The holiday shoppers had descended on the bakery like bees swarming a flowering bush. Determined to have jam, I left my seat and asked the cashier at the counter if she would bring me some jam.
Fancy-Schmancy (not its real name) tile store.
“No. I don’t accept. Cancel our order!” Jerry said.
We had driven north of Phoenix, way out in nowhere. It took forever to get to the Fancy-Schmancy Tile & Stone Company. For all I knew we had reached the Canadian border by the time Jerry and I pulled into the tile store’s parking lot. Eh?
Before embarking on our long drive northward, I had called various tile stores to inquire about terracotta tile, the kind of tile I wanted for our atrium. Only Fancy-Schmancy had what I wanted.