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6/13/2025, 10:00:49 PM
>>21393435
My name is Frank. I've been a mechanic for 28 years and I married my wife, Nancy, a week after we graduated from high school. Nancy and I have eaten at the same restaurant since we were teenagers. It's nothing fancy, but we know the owner and his family and the other customers make for good company. When we do want something fancy, we go to the Olive Garden on the interstate. They've got the best lasagna anywhere. Nancy cooks too, and can make a mean casserole if I ever had one. Her recipes come from her momma, who left her everything she knows in a big plaid cookbook. I hear my brother's boy Jeffery cooks too. He's 28 and spends all his time on the web learning about French food and Chinese soups, and my brother says he won't hardly eat his mamma's dinners anymore. He says once Jeffery finds the right college he's either going to be a chef or some kind of computer hacker. I can't tell a computer's head from its ass, so when they came over this summer I got him this big tray with some sausage and a few slices of cheese I've never heard of. Figured it'd be his type of party. I gave it to him before dinner but I couldn't tell if he liked it or not. He's always got a sore look on his face. Nancy made her mom's tater pie and was excited to show Jeffery, one wiz to another. Jeffery lit up like a Christmas tree and asked if he could take a picture to show his friends how good it looked. That might've been the first time I've seen him smile since he was eight. He kept calling it a deconstructed, reconstructed shepherd's pie. Never heard of that in my life, but Nancy didn't have the heart to correct him that it was actually just a plain old-fashioned tater pie. It's nothing fancy, but it fills you up, keeps everybody happy, and I know it meant a lot to Nancy that Jeffery liked it. Stuff like this reminds me of what Christmas was like when I was a boy. It's nice to see the way food brings everyone together.
My name is Frank. I've been a mechanic for 28 years and I married my wife, Nancy, a week after we graduated from high school. Nancy and I have eaten at the same restaurant since we were teenagers. It's nothing fancy, but we know the owner and his family and the other customers make for good company. When we do want something fancy, we go to the Olive Garden on the interstate. They've got the best lasagna anywhere. Nancy cooks too, and can make a mean casserole if I ever had one. Her recipes come from her momma, who left her everything she knows in a big plaid cookbook. I hear my brother's boy Jeffery cooks too. He's 28 and spends all his time on the web learning about French food and Chinese soups, and my brother says he won't hardly eat his mamma's dinners anymore. He says once Jeffery finds the right college he's either going to be a chef or some kind of computer hacker. I can't tell a computer's head from its ass, so when they came over this summer I got him this big tray with some sausage and a few slices of cheese I've never heard of. Figured it'd be his type of party. I gave it to him before dinner but I couldn't tell if he liked it or not. He's always got a sore look on his face. Nancy made her mom's tater pie and was excited to show Jeffery, one wiz to another. Jeffery lit up like a Christmas tree and asked if he could take a picture to show his friends how good it looked. That might've been the first time I've seen him smile since he was eight. He kept calling it a deconstructed, reconstructed shepherd's pie. Never heard of that in my life, but Nancy didn't have the heart to correct him that it was actually just a plain old-fashioned tater pie. It's nothing fancy, but it fills you up, keeps everybody happy, and I know it meant a lot to Nancy that Jeffery liked it. Stuff like this reminds me of what Christmas was like when I was a boy. It's nice to see the way food brings everyone together.
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