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⚑ October 29, 2017

Concoctions πŸ’

Life is but a bowl of cherries.

Life is but a bowl of cherries.

One of life’s greatest clichΓ©s just happens to be 100 percent true, even if it’s never been worded very well. But you know the drill – if you have your health, you are a wealthy man. If you don’t, you are totally screwed. Yesterday, I was in the latter category, having contracted some kind of stomach bug that made me ridiculously and decidedly non-healthy. As is the habit of worried people, I googled the spectrum from bad food to death.

Turn the page, and here we are, feeling great. I’m looking at all the food in the fridge askance, including the chicken soup. The last time I left a chicken in the fridge too long – really really too long – Bill had to take it out to the meadow beyond the woods and dump it and then I had to leave the expensive Le Creuset roasting pan outside for a long time until weather and wind dissipated the smell. The fictional version of chicken-in-the-fridge has been described in my novel Cleaning House, but those were raw chickens … something very different. πŸ”