A tiny note, by my standards, anyway.
And you know how long my notes can be.
And you know how long my notes can be.
See you at the dinner table.
My plate overfloweth.
Nothing wrong with a good, reliable tabby.
Or pretty sure, anyway.
Come on, Autumn. Get over here.
Fork, or shovel?
And Osso Buco. Hand in hand.
And yet, I can’t be made to change.
Or, you could do both. Come visit. And also don’t.