Well, cabbage. Gotta make potstickers for the kid's school Thanksgiving festival. That is not to imply that I myself am doing the chopping. Nay, it is GW's job to chop cabbage in this house. Does anyone remember Dana Carvey's piano composition on SNL about a hundred years ago?
Could this post be any more non-sequitur? Don't blame me, I have a four-year-old snapping me in the arm with a pad of note paper and a baby trying to jam a fork in her nostril.
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