Saturday, November 21, 2009


A rainy Saturday night is a good time for a bowl of soup and a sandwich.

Even though you can't see them, down at the bottom of the soup bowl are all sorts of tiny letters, swirling around and spelling who-knows-what. It doesn't matter that the soup didn't simmer on the stove all day, that it came from a tin and needed water. It's hot and it's just the right match for the rest of the meal.

The sandwich, on fresh sourdough bread, is the alphabetically arranged BLT.

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