No Photo Allowed

No, that isn't some message from Blogger. It's a rule from the place where I ate supper tonight.

I'm part of a group that does weekend writing workshops with men in a nearby penitentiary.

When we're there, we eat prison food for our midday meal, but bring in a treat for supper for the men. Lunch today was chicken salad on white bread, a noodley salad and honeydew melon for dessert.

The treat we bring is always the same: fried chicken from the place run by that military-sounding person. I'll admit that's not exactly my idea of a treat, but for men who eat prison food, day after day, and often for years -- it means a break. And if we can give them that at least, it's fine with me.