Today I went downtown to deposit a check. It’s the only reason I went downtown. Bummed a ride even, to get there, because I was temporarily afoot and I really, really needed this check deposited. Today.

I didn’t realize until I walked into the lobby and couldn’t remember why I’d come, that I’d forgotten the check at home.

It’s been one of those years.

In honor of my brain, which is apparently no longer with us, I made funeral potatoes for dinner.

Without the cornflakes.

I forgot them.

I did remember corn though. (And if you don’t already put a can in yours, try it.)

And because I was in the middle of, you know, earning said check and its fellows while dinner cooked, I asked my youngest to set the table.

He wanted to know why I was “being so fancy.” This was his interpretation of setting the table:


And yes, my daughter is snitching green beans. With her bare hands.

We are, after all, fancy like that.

Mason jars included:

Our Redneck Dinner

One response to “RIP

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