More thunderstorms rolled through today, and I guess there was a rainbow, because I found this here pot basket of gold at the Fresh Market. The doors slid open, and it was sitting right there between the Tony Packo’s Pickles and the Royal Oak Charcoal. I think Bill thought something bit me, or my back went out, from my embarrassingly loud *GASP!*
Bill is a Miracle Whip Guy, so Duke’s means nothing to him. But if he reads the comments from my Dixie friends on my condiment-related posts, he’ll understand.
I will now switch metaphors.
Bill and I spoke quietly for a moment. Because my Hellman’s disappeared last week, we agreed to adopt one of the Duke’s from this basket–the one with the saddest eyes–and brought him home to meet his new sisters.
ginnygram 