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A Father’s Day That Would Make Martha Proud
Father’s Day turned out to be a lovely day. We had both grandpas here for a BBQ which is actually called a “Grill Out” if you live in my neck of the woods. Or worse yet-a “Fry.” As in, “Would you like me to bring over some brats for da Fry?” You need to be a real lifer around these parts to utter that phrase. It drives me insane…it’s not a “fry.” We’re not “frying” anything. There are no frying pans lying about. No one is eating a fried egg or fried fish or chicken fried steak that I’m aware of. There is a fire with a grill grate and there is meat on…