My baby bother, who's in his late fifties, has *always* had lashes to die for. And now the little bastard is on those eye drops for glaucoma, and damned if his lashes aren't even *more* amazing. He's gonna be an old man with lashes to flutter like a sweet young thing. I... have no lashes. 😒

Heh. I suspect that when my belly is happy and satisfied, it helps my soul along a lot. 😆

There's a reason why I'm a round little old lady, I guess. I have to make mashed potatoes, and gravy, and rolls, and stuffing, and pies, and cranberry orange sauce, and... All the foods.

They have to show her from the front, because there's a big old lump at the back of her head from all the stuff they yanked back there.

Looks damn good from this angle, though.

I've felt so damned relieved that we moved back to Illinois after almost 20 years in Iowa.

I like every potato I've ever met, so I love 'em all. But whatever kind, I want them crispy outside, and I need them to be seasoned. Hate bland fries.

I haven't been to Red Robin. They must do really good fries. The nearest one is about 90 minutes away, but if we get over there, I'll try them!