My sister in law is a west virginia lady. When she got 'full with child," and the belly tickling and swimming inside her her tummy began, I made sure they were North of the Canadian border. She got impregnated in N.S. Canada too. I'm taking no cheap roll of the 'dice' when crappers like THIS, shoot flying winged creatures. Quack geese. neo-quacks. vice.

My turn to cook? I've got lots, and too much to chew, "Tom Jefferson's Baby Bib Lettuce is in. Last time I ate that soup it sure calmed the farm-joint down.

'Cut and past' up some spinach, parsley, monk peppers, garlic and carrots. Chop and stew up for real nourishment. It's a a cut-out, cream color, a pink, and a greenish looking goo. A fork, a knife, or a spoon will not actually cut via the soup's slimier-good-texture.

The dinner is similar to green or purple okra, and as wonderful. It can be served up some other time here, I hope. Methinks the "hurrieder we go, the be-hider," the Pennsylvania Dutch are right-- "The Be-hinders "um Get."

The fork thrown into the T.J.'s favorite bib-lettuce patch brand goo will put you to sleep. Its a one pretty coagulated, inseparable, lettuce heart bib stew, that looks like slop. It's not... Serious. It's heavenly.

I got a small batch of that broth for two... For Who? My dear friend, Michele (one 'l.') and some times green-zone safe-haven of rest... Sorry, shooter 242...I know if we share anything, we get double blessed, or a bowl of soup that's slimy and gooey. It taste mighty finer. No got enough, today. Shake a oak tree for a nut?

Michele knows how to enjoy soup. Michele duz. And she's got wisdom in her dear heart. And which sometimes I know and think she goes fur ahead of the wisdom stored in her head. And then agin, I think people like her, the world over, go good together. The heart and head are right. She is like watching a moving poetry? Is there a Michele Machine who walks and talks and can sing a humn when the birds "Scram?" She is walking poetry.

But anyway she will make a soft and 'nice' little wife? No. Why get chained to Mr. Blue Beard's in a neocon's unhappy dungeon? Wow. Speak with affection...

...She loves the land. She loves to the extent she don't listen to the "news." I never tell her, either. She'd get cranky and it spoil her milk delivery day. She is not me, but you can walk in the rain with some people on the 'left' side and skip in the showers. Open hearts like Michele's can fetch a sprig of green grass and whistle. If she's dripping or damp, or just plain her, she's worth adoring and calmly, worship.

She's my friend. Thanks.