Marjorie and I meet every A.M. Her photo sits on the pine desk in the kitchen.In the sepia toned photo she is wearing a suit, pearls and the expression of a thesis advisor whose graduate student is not pleasing her. I am usually wearing workout pants and a teeshirt proclaiming a race from my speedier past.
If I am deviating from the sacred text, ( Cross Creek Cookery) I confess instantly. This morning I said, " Marjorie, I am going to do Norton's grits with goat cheese. I am out of sharp cheddar and goat cheese is classier anyway. "
She did not flinch but I felt her displeasure.
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