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ORIGINAL: bluestone

pork brains and scrambled eggs are a Southern thing.

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ORIGINAL: WhiteRoseBlessings

I do not eat pork brains; I have enough brains of my own, thank you. [sm=icon_smile_approve.gif]

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ORIGINAL: WhiteRoseBlessings

LOL!

Yep; lessee, Christi, y'all hafta bring your own ice, your own ketchup, YOUR OWN SWEET TEA.

My. My. Aren't I definitely the hostess with the mostess?!
heehee

[sm=pinkhairsmile.gif]

[sm=purplelaugh.gif]

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ORIGINAL: WhiteRoseBlessings

A few days later, he called me up again and made the same offer to cook breakfast for me. I asked him what was on the menu, and he told me scrambled eggs.

I asked him if that included ketchup.

Dead silence. For about up to a minute.

He then asked, "Do you not like ketchup?"

Me: "Not in the least."

He then tells me that he'll remember that.

Nothing else was mentioned about it; he came and got me, cooked me a wonderful delicious plate of ketchup-free scrambled eggs, poured ketchup all over his, we ate our breakfast, went out rambling around Grand Teton National Park and had an absolutely most wonderfully fun day.

After that, whenever we'd go out to a restaurant, he'd always move the ketchup bottle to his side of the table and then smile this most amazing charming smile at me.



Long after that 2nd breakfast; maybe a year or more later, he told me that he thought the way I had handled the scrambled eggs & ketchup incident very sweet. For that, I'm glad.



OK. End of story.
[sm=redhairsmile.gif]

quote:

ORIGINAL: armydude

A question for Kerrlaw and anyone else who'd like to answer:

This is an unusual paragraph. I'm curious how quickly you can find out what is so unusual about it. It looks so plain you would think nothing was wrong with it. In fact, nothing is wrong with it! It is unusual though. Study it, and think about it, but you still may not find anything odd. But if you work at it a bit, you might find out! Try to do so without any coaching! You probably won't, at first, find anything particularly odd or unusual or in any way dissimilar to any ordinary composition. That is not at all surprising, for it is no strain to accomplish in so short a paragraph a stunt similar to that which an author did throughout all of his book, without spoiling a good writing job, and it was no small book at that. By studying this paragraph assiduously, you will shortly, I trust, know what is its distinguishing oddity. Upon locating that "mark of distinction," you will probably doubt my story of this author and his book of similar unusuality throughout. It is commonly known among book-conscious folk and proof of it is still around. If you must know, this sort of writing is known as a lipogram, but don't look up that word in any dictionary until you find out what this is all about.

So... what's so unusual about the words that are in italics?

quote:

ORIGINAL: robertyork

We were POOR when I was a kid. I remember the days of hog killing, as James said the only thing we didn't eat was the squeel. My granddad, as quick as the hog was hung up, cut the head off and started cleaning it. He had brains & eggs for breakfast. My grandmother would take all those parts, head, feet, heart, etc and put them in a pot and boil them all day. They she would take all the meat and grind it up and make what we called press meat. (If you're from the North it's called scrapple). We always had fried liver & onions. Fresh tenderloin fried for breakfast with gravy and biscuits. Hams, shoulders and side meat was smoked in smoked house and then salt cured. Left to hang in the smoke house. Took all the scraps, trimmings and made sausage. The sausage was put in sacks and hung in the smoke house also to cure.

Those were the good ole days.

I've still got the old light fixture that hand in the living room of my grandmothers house. They got it when electricy was first brought to the farm area.

quote:

ORIGINAL: robertyork

We were POOR when I was a kid. I remember the days of hog killing, as James said the only thing we didn't eat was the squeel. My granddad, as quick as the hog was hung up, cut the head off and started cleaning it. He had brains & eggs for breakfast. My grandmother would take all those parts, head, feet, heart, etc and put them in a pot and boil them all day. They she would take all the meat and grind it up and make what we called press meat. (If you're from the North it's called scrapple). We always had fried liver & onions. Fresh tenderloin fried for breakfast with gravy and biscuits. Hams, shoulders and side meat was smoked in smoked house and then salt cured. Left to hang in the smoke house. Took all the scraps, trimmings and made sausage. The sausage was put in sacks and hung in the smoke house also to cure.

Those were the good ole days.

I've still got the old light fixture that hand in the living room of my grandmothers house. They got it when electricy was first brought to the farm area.

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ORIGINAL: armydude

I missed Sony!!![sm=crystreams.gif]

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ORIGINAL: SGEnthusiast

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ORIGINAL: armydude

I missed Sony!!![sm=crystreams.gif]

Sorry, James. I'm not able to be on much today but I squeeze in a little bit here and there. One of these days we'll be on at the same time.