If this gem doesn’t just scream my name I don’t know what does. That’s right folks, I’m officially hanging with the pigeon squad.
I am EXHAUSTED!
Not by the hamster wheel of life, but by the behavior of my co-humans.
By the increased hatred and decrease in common decency.
By the lack of truth and over indulgence of misinformation and lies.
I am EXHAUSTED!
By the loss of common ground and the divided beliefs.
By the daily negativity of he said she said while important issues sit silently.
By the rise in civil obedience and the lack of active participation in the process.
I am EXHAUSTED!
By being told who to hate by our televisions, while books collect dust.
By judgments, labels & stereotypes in one hand and bibles, flags & hypocrisy in the other.
By the absence of faith, hope & charity and the escalation of greed.
I am EXHAUSTED!
By the Social Media scholars and their ignorant followers.
By the callous treatment of the less fortunate and the misguided definition of fame.
By fear dictating our decisions, while common sense faces extinction.
I am EXHAUSTED!
By the abuse of our first amendment and the over extended defense of the our second.
By selfishness leading the way, while collaboration sits on the sidelines.
By the misconception that strength is loud and quietness is weak.
I am EXHAUSTED!
By the thought of war being the answer and not giving peace a chance.
By the short memories and selective truths.
By the thought that I’m too optimistic, while others have surrendered hope.
Let’s TRY to celebrate our Independence and our Interdependence today by being free from our hatred, fears and differences. These are the freedoms that lay out a strong foundation for our future. These are the freedoms that unite. These are the freedoms that will thrive.
We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the Common Defense, promote the General Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to Ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.
Now, I’m not going to lie, I will have to remember all of this when my beer induced, wanna be pyrotechnic neighbor starts setting off fireworks from his weather-beaten, one spark short of an inferno deck this evening. I NEVER SAID IT WAS GOING TO BE EASY…anything worthwhile rarely is easy.
We’re all in this together, so hop in and Enjoy the Ride!
I recently wrote about three of patients, that in spite of their age, are living vital active lives and they aren’t afraid to share their wisdom amongst the masses on the importance of doing just that. When Harry, Norman & Robert Met Lisa
The jury is still out on what has been happening since that essay. Is it coincidence, a conspiracy, my vivid imagination? Or all of the above.
While food shopping, a clerk who has never uttered a single word to me before, suddenly starts discussing the downside of growing older …. with ME …. as if we were one. My cart was not filled with adult diapers so back it up lady.
Just when I thought I was safe, my neighbor approaches to strike up a conversation about bones. Pointing out how “our” bones aren’t the same when “we” get older. My bones are cool thank you very much.
It’s now obvious to me that once the post office realizes you’ve turned the big 50, your regular mailman is replaced with the Grim Reaper. When death starts to moonlight … I can’t.
The amount of geriatric mail that enters my mailbox is ridiculous. Yesterday I received a pamphlet from the Sunny Hill Crematory. Seriously now! I’ll assume the Victoria Secret catalogs are now being placed in those younger, more attractive mailboxes down the street.
AARP has literally hijacked my mailbox with their paraphernalia. The amount of literature is equal to political ads. I’m only 2 years in bitch, save your stamps!
Back in the day the Grim Reaper kept his distance, giving nature a chance to take its course. Sooooo …. WTF happened? Why the constant notification? What’s the rush to the grave?
To put this in perspective, at my current age, my parents were working, functioning adults with active lives. My dad was 57 when I was born for god sakes, so I wasn’t even thought of when he was 52. Let that fester for a minute AARP!
It’s as if society is pushing us closer to the cliffs edge to make room for the newer improved models. We’re not cell phones, so calm your jets!
No one is spared really. I see this rush is across the board. While adults are being pushed into the grave at 50, the poor 10 year olds are being thrown into adulthood. I was basically in a playpen at 10 compared to kids today.
I know, I know, I must sound very geriatric right now comparing generations, but it’s more than a “back when I was a kid” comparison. I’m not that girl … I’m really not.
It’s just that when it comes to aging, society has become an aggressive seagull and I’m starting to feel like a lone Cheeto waiting to be swiped up by its talons. Back it up!
Don’t get me wrong, my inner geriatric has raised its snow-capped head for brief appearances, but I’m still young enough to shove it right back in the closet. Hey, those skeletons need some company.
I’m not trying to be a teenager here folks, I’m just trying to age gracefully while I continue to … Enjoy the Ride!
This article was shared on FaceBook by a dear friend. Sex Robots Are Being Made to Replace Men by 2025. Now if that doesn’t scream “click on me” I don’t know what does.
After a nano second, I gave into my temptation and this is what I read:
Sex with a humanoid robot will become common practice by 2025, even overtaking sex between humans, says futurologist, Ian Pearson. His report on the future of sex has been published in partnership with Bondara, one of UK’s leading sex toy shops.
Is a futurologist a real thing? Yes
As you can see, this was the “idea” of a man. My first thought as a woman, a/k/a the sex with common sense, was “that thing is not going to fit in the nightstand drawer.”
It was at that exact moment when I grabbed my idea shattering oozie and began to fire into Ian’s brainstorm to replace men in the boudoir.
I hope this letter finds you well. First of all, congrats on being a futurologist! No doubt your parents are over the moon with this career choice. But I’m sure you already knew they would be cool with it before you officially broke the news.
Now, back to the reason, I’m writing. This article does not mention how you came to your conclusion, but something tells me you did not interview many women in the process, because if you did, I’m certain this idea would have died a quick death in the early stages of its development.
First, let me just quote something for your article:
“A lot of people will still have reservations about sex with robots at first but gradually as they get used to them, as the AI and mechanical behaviour and their feel improves, and they start to become friends with strong emotional bonds, that squeamishness will gradually evaporate. While some people will enthusiastically embrace relationship-free robot sex as soon as they can afford one, as early as 2025, it won’t have much chance of overtaking sex with humans overall until 2050,” said Pearson
Honestly, where does one even begin?
Should I start with the price tag, the definition of “gradual” or your time-table?
Considering I grew up in the 70’s and expected to be flying around with my jet-pack by now, I’m going to say with confidence that your numbers are way off. Can you say Jetsons?
Our future adults will be too busy paying off their college loans to spare any additional cash for one of these things. Masturbation is free.
No one has time to wait for a mechanical device to start acting like a human being. Gradual is a long time. Not to mention we’re still waiting for some humans to act like humans.
As a woman, with a real vagina, I found some flaws in your prediction from the female point of view:
- Women are not giving up closet space to store this sex machine. Closet space would be negotiated if this thing could do wash and clean bathrooms;
- Women are not jumping in the hay with an emotionally dead robot … again. This thing needs to be charming, buy drinks and again, clean bathrooms if you want sales;
- Women are not cleaning their robot man after it has their way, women don’t play that game. If this thing is not “self-cleaning”, not like the oven, which still requires work. I mean literally finding a cleaning product, scrubbing itself down; and putting everything away, including itself, you can forget it.
- Women would insist on a money back guarantee. What if this thing starts taking on asshole characteristics during the development stage? NO!
I’m sure you’re ready to refute my thoughts with some scientific facts that claim women would live longer if they had more orgasms, which I’m sure has some truth to it, but in reality woman would live a hell of a lot longer without the added stress of storing a sex robot in the bedroom.
Enjoy the Ride! Preferably with a human.
Three wise men walked into a Podiatrist office. No, this is not the beginning of a joke about aging feet, it’s the story of one of the best days I’ve had at work in a long time.
Let me introduce you to Harry, Norman & Robert. Three interesting, intelligent and inspiring men who walked into the office, dropped some wisdom and went about their day.
Harry -83 years young: Harry is a recent surgery patient with a wonderful sense of humor.
When he came in for his first post-op appointment he said, and I quote: “I want to thank Lisa for answering all of my questions, she is a fountain of knowledge.” I asked him to call my children to inform them of that fact, he thought I was kidding … I was not.
Believe it or not, the accurate conclusion that Harry made about me was not what captured my heart. But, it certainly didn’t hurt.
Harry told me that he volunteers in a first-grade classroom, and has been doing it for years. He was so happy that the teacher had the class send him Get Well wishes after his surgery, but there was a catch, they had to include a joke. Laughter is the best medicine.
This gesture filled Harry’s heart. He told me that he enjoys volunteering in the First Grade classroom because it gives him the joy to see these children enter the door not certain what to expect and leave with confidence.
He went on to explain that he has a special bond with this teacher. Harry lost his son years ago in November, just when this teacher was getting married. One young life ending as one began.
Shortly after the teacher was married she found out she was expecting and 3 months into the pregnancy her new husband died suddenly. Grief, let me introduce you to grief.
Their losses brought them together and they are wonderful friends who helped each other heal. He’s been volunteering ever since.
83 years old, still thinking, still living and still making a mark in this world.
Norman-86 years young: He came to us a few months ago via his family doctor, which is never good, and let’s just say that “the little piggy that went to the market” never came back.
When he called the other day he was very nervous that “the little piggy that stayed home” was on its way out too so we made room on the schedule. Podiatry office humor.
Norman came in as if he was the guest of honor at a celebration, not someone with a potential gangrenous toe.
He was wearing a Villanova cap to “make the doctor happy” since his daughter is a student and it was the day of the championship game. Well played Norman, well-played indeed.
Norman was excited to reveal he had recently written a paper on aging. When I took him to the exam room I had to inquire about the paper. I was very curious.
I was thinking he wrote it for the AARP magazine. Nope, he said, “I wrote it for my family, I want them to know how quickly it comes up on you.” A warning of sorts.
The title of the paper is “Getting Old Is Not For Sissies.” Norman told me he stole that line from Bette Davis, an actress I wouldn’t know because, and I quote “you’re too young to remember her.” He had me at “too young.”
Norman still can’t believe he is 86. He doesn’t recognize the person in the mirror. Still has a lot to share with this world. Has an incredible sense of humor, and wants nothing more than for his family to be happy.
Norman is going to drop off a copy of the paper for me to read. No worries, I will share.
Robert-91 years young: Robert came in for a routine appointment. As soon as he came to the window he showed my co-worker a photo of him and his wife from 1941. They looked like movie stars.
Robert is a tall man, but frail. No doubt more so since he lost the love of his life. He told my co-worker a story that left them both with watery eyes.
Later I asked her about it and of course I too was left with watery eyes. We’re so sappy sometimes.
Robert explained that he and his wife were sitting at the kitchen table and she asked: “How long have we been married?” Robert responded with “65 years dear.” Her response was “I have not regretted one day in 65 years.” Robert explained that even though she is gone, he is still stunned by her words. He is a walking, talking broken heart.
I was also taken back by my co-workers response to Robert which was “It was nice to be able to hear that Robert.” Indeed, it was.
I must say, it was a pleasure to pick-up these three men while I … Enjoy the Ride!
There has been a lot of activity going on here at the homestead. 23 years and not one has passed without some sort of project, so why should this year be any different. Because maybe I need a break.
I had no idea about this project until I saw the sketches. Notice that is plural.
One minute I’m attending an open house, and the next there are steel beams being erected in my yard. Confused? Me too.
Sooooooo, after a very long process the ground was broken, just in time for the holidays. Thank you Mother Nature.
What woman doesn’t want to clean-up never ending dirt during the holidays? The answer is … NONE OF THEM!
My friends, neighbors and anyone who sees our house, constantly remind me how “lucky” I am to have such a “handy guy.” Handy is fixing a pipe, I have someone who sees a mantle inside of a tree stump.
It’s not that I’m ungrateful or that I won’t be over the moon with the results, it’s the lonely road in between that does me in. I’m a Home Improvement Widow!
During these periods of “tinkering”, we can sit in the same room and one of us (not me) has no recollection of that period of time.Why? Because the wheels are spinning at a rate that I cannot even recognize. I’m surprised he doesn’t explode.
My life from now until the last stroke of the paintbrush will be solo. My other half is officially consumed into his project. His creative juices are percolating and his magic is about to be unleashed. Meanwhile over here ….
Legos for adults should really be a thing.
As if this enormous project wasn’t enough to occupy every waking moment, we had a recent mishap in our bathroom. 4 loose tiles to be exact. Remember that line.
The solution to this was put the masterpiece outback on hold, take a week of vacation time to “fix” the bathroom and you’ll be taking a shower in a week he said….
We only have one bathroom with a shower. The other bathroom has a beautiful spa tub. You know that saying “too much of a good thing won’t be good” it’s like that.
On the Saturday before the big fix I asked, and I quote: “Are you going to paint?” the response, which will be used by me every chance I get from now, until well … forever was “Yes, I’m going to paint.”
By the time I returned home Monday there was, let’s just say much more progress than I expected. Shock and awe were more like it.
There were FOUR loose tiles people.
Yes, he said he was going to “rearrange” the toilet and the sink.
No, he did NOT say anything about demolition … AT ALL! He said he was going to paint!!!
Needless to say, the week came and went. Progress is being made, but I’m still not showering or murdering.
The tile is down. The molding is up. The shower is on BACK ORDER. The toilet, sink and walls have not been spotted, but my patience is still intact. Hanging by a thread…but still on.
My favorite part about all of this is using my new Super Power. That’s right folks, the line “you said you were going to paint” is my new go to for everything ever wanted by yours truly.
Me: I think I’m going to order new cushions for the patio.
Hubby: Do we really need them?
Me: You said you were going to paint. They arrive Tuesday.
I just love the Yin/Yang of life!
Enjoy the Ride!
At this point in my life, why do I continue to let my Inner Critic rise to the occasion to spew its negativity? Really, it needs to just shut up!
The other day I was stretching at the gym when I noticed this young woman staring at me. For the record, the inner critic loves to come to the gym.
Now, I could have thought that she was admiring my flexibility, but nooooo not when I have the asshole in tow.
Immediately I assumed she was looking at my faults. We all know spandex does not lie. When you wear it at 52, after years of abusing yourself with food and bearing children …. it screams the truth.
We made eye contact, exchanged awkward smiles and moved along. The smile was received as sympathy for my flaws. Without one piece of evidence.
Later in the workout I noticed her looking in my direction …. again! I should have been thinking that perhaps she was looking for a date, but no not with the good ole critic by my side. It was all about body shaming from that one.
I allowed these negative thoughts to grow throughout the workout. I was ridiculously self-conscience the entire time. As if the struggle isn’t hard enough, I had to dodge some extra punches.
After the hour was over and the stretching complete, the young woman sheepishly approaches me. Mind you she was built like an instructor, not a client, so I assumed she was nervous about how she was going to be brutally honest with me. If only negative thoughts burned calories … I would be transparent.
There I stood waiting for the punch. Feeling horrible about everything spandex, everything about the workout and everything about myself. Defeat at its highest power.
This is what went down:
Young Woman: Oh hi I was just wondering where you get your hair cut. I saw you last week and loved your cut and I’m looking for a change.
Me: What did you say? I blamed my shock o the music.
Young Woman: I was just asking where you get your hair cut I love it!
Me: Gave her all the details and made her very happy.
By the time I got to the car I was furious with myself. I could not believe I put my accomplishments in the back seat while this miserable ass drove me to the point of such defeat. My inner critic has a name, and I think it might be Donald, after another ass I know who continuously spews negative energy.
Think about it….
No more trips to the past for me. Been there, done that.
No more beating myself up over my looks.
No more insecurities.
It’s all about moving forward to crush my goals like the badass rockstar from Mars that I know I am! Yes, that is the sound of someone wearing their positive pants.
I’m off to let my fabulous hair blow in the wind while I ….. Enjoy the Ride!
Quote: thejealouscurator.com; Photo: Huffington Post
Spring has sprung here in Philly, with a side of Summer.
Oh, there is chatter about “it” not being over, but “it” doesn’t matter once the thermometer reaches 80. Tootles Old Man Winter, until we meet again.
I’ve put together a little photo essay for the turn of seasons, even though it’s not official for a few more weeks.
First up …. Squirrels
Meet Sebastien a/k/a the nemesis to my two little innocent fur angels.
Sebastian L O V E S to just sit, stare and mock from the comforts of my deck furniture.
Yesterday, as Landon was barking his face off, Sebastien was enjoying a croissant on my swing. A croissant?
When I catch him in his beret smoking a cigarette and demanding a refill, I’ll be sure to share that photo. Where the hell did he get that croissant?
Everything is getting greener, with a splash of pink, purple & yellow of course.
You can always depend on the Crocus’s to arrive early to the party with a little hope in tow. They are certainly survivors and they never disappoint. I think they might be my spirit flower ….
These perfect beauties were posted to FaceBook by my friend. Feel free to smile.
I’ll just be over hear scratching my eyes and blowing my nose. Allergies…the dark side of Spring.
Oh yes, it’s true. While wildlife in my yard has been handing out cigars like the Duggars, my little Pee-Wee (Peanut) that has fallen hard right here in the house.
It’s Dogs Gone Wild over here at LWTTD!
Peanut suddenly started taking trips upstairs. He prefers to be carried like the King he is, so that raised a brow. Peanut sauntered down with a little swagger in his step. The only thing missing was the silk robe, cigarette & martini.
Like the good mother I am, I stalked his next trip. Sure enough, I caught him shacking up with a stuffed Lady Bug. Mother’s intuition is rarely wrong.
What I did not expect was the all out orgy I witnessed with the Lady Bug, Phillie Phanatic and the Scholar Owl. Or the fact that I yelled, “what are you doing?!”
Is this my life now? Hiding stuffed animals before I leave the house … apparently it is.
Peanut the poker-faced PLAYHA.
Honestly, the best part about this glorious weather has been open windows and sunbeams, just ask Landon.
Looks like today will be another beauty … Enjoy the Ride!
Nothing better to push me to write than a big ole “Happy Anniversary” from WordPress. Yep, it appears that I entered the Blogosphere 4 years ago today. Time flies when you’re having fun.
In the spirit of writing, today I would like to touch on the power of words.
Remember this old saying: “Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” Yea, it’s the biggest piece of BS ever written.
Words are capable of growing, changing and spreading. They have even been known to influencing our world, for good or evil; and they have the power to hurt us directly or indirectly through others. Today more than ever.
I never thought about a word being “alive” but when I think of words spoken through history, written down and passed through generations, they seem to resurrect when read or spoken today.
For instance, when I listen to the powerful speeches of John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr. I can feel their words reaching out and raising me to my feet some 50 years later. That folks is how it’s done.
The words of these men were delivered with such strength and passion you could practically feel a gentle hand on your shoulder. Today it’s more of a shove.
“Ask not what your country can do for you – ask what you can do for your country” ~ John F. Kennedy
Now, let’s fast forward to today…..
We are living in a time were our words, whether truthful or lies, courageous or weak, kind or hateful, have the ability to be heard, in some cases by the world, within seconds of leaving our minds via our mouths, phones and computers. We have the POWER!
Instead, we allow the Media to abuse their responsibility by silencing the good and sensationalizing the FUCKERY.
“In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” Martin Luther King, Jr.
On the heels of the Republican “Debate”, I have been struck by a revelation regarding the power of words and the authority they can have over our lives. As a firm believer in our First Amendment, Freedom of Speech, I am stunned at the recent abuse of its power. No doubt good ole #1 crumbled itself up last night and headed for the nearest incinerator before the first commercial break.
Why have we allowed this to continue beyond the F I R S T hateful message?
Why have we allowed O N E person to shine a spotlight on the worst of us?
Why have we allowed the media to continue to sensationalize this mess?
Why the FUCK aren’t we in the streets stopping it?
The answer to all of these questions is Complacency: a feeling of being satisfied with how things are and not wanting to try to make them better.
Although I don’t believe we don’t want things to be different, I do believe we have become a society of dependent thinkers. A group of people who want someone else to fix things for us and a society that frowns upon people who take it to the streets to protest injustices. Sheeple
In the end, we have no one to blame but ourselves. When we get the urge to point fingers, we better head to the nearest mirror.
Honestly, I’m not afraid of terrorist attacks, ISIS, bombs, mass shootings, Mexicans, Muslims or any other fears that are fueling our current hateful fire, but I am very afraid of living in a society that promotes, encourages and allows it to be exploited. That is some real shit to fear.
“Half the world is composed of people who have something to say and can’t, and the other half who have nothing to say and keep on saying it.” –Robert Frost
Today, the most powerful weapon of mass destruction has a face. It’s orange, with bad hair and a vile mouth. It uses words to fuel anger. It uses words to feed its ego. It uses words to divide this nation. It uses words to make others feel small, and worst of all it’s CONTAGIOUS!
This is our biggest threat and it didn’t cross a border, it was created by the Republican party and grew into the monster it is by our complacency.
The good news is there is a way to put an end to this shit show; stop participating in it. Unfortunately, we have become a nation addicted to crazy, so this is not going to be easy.
Enjoy the Ride … on the Crazy Train. All aboard!
What a week!
We celebrated our 25th Anniversary a/k/a the Silver Anniversary on Valentine’s Day. Getting married on the one day when everyone comes together to celebrate love seemed like a good idea at the time. Not so much every year since when we try to get a dinner reservation.
Our son turned 21 on Wednesday and I turned my legal age on Friday. My mental age varies from 17 to 35.
My husband surprised me with a weekend in NYC, knowing there is a strong possibility that I might adore this town more than him. He was a NYC virgin, so he wanted to check out his competition.
As you have probably heard by now, last weekend was the coldest on record. On RECORD!
These two lovebirds grabbed a big suitcase, loaded it as if we we heading to the Antarctic and hit the road. Nothing says sexy like a pair of long johns, said no one ever.
We arrived Friday afternoon when the weather was tolerable. After a nice meal at Sardi’s, followed by cocktails and dessert, we headed out to explore all the tourist spots. I do believe my boots earned travel miles.
It was spectacular! Watching my husband love it as much as me was priceless.
The next day we bundled up for a walk to The Chelsea Market. Walking allowed us to take in some of the world-class architecture that makes this section so special. I could see the hubby’s wheels turning with every piece of wrought iron.
We spent hours in the Market experiencing everything edible. Breakfast at Sarabeth’s, Halva at Seed & Mill, and a little something sweet for later from Li-Lac Chocolates. There are no calories when you’re celebrating love.
When we stepped outside Jack Frost was there nipping at everything nipable. TAXI!
Greg wanted to go to Ground Zero, I could have passed on this stop, but I strapped my loved goggles on a little tighter and made the best of it. It was just a little too somber for me.
This part of town sits right on the Hudson River, which is not exactly a warm spot. There are no words to describe the wind and cold. Wait .. I can think of two, and they both start with F!
In order to thaw, we blew across the street to Brookfield Place, where I was greeted by a dog wearing beautiful leather boots and a Burberry coat. All I’m going to say about this place is, if it weren’t for my soul, I would really enjoy living like the 1%.
Still shivering, we sat down in PJ Clarke’s to enjoy a bowl of soup, sip a cocktail or two, and admire Lady Liberty in the harbor. My poor girl out there in a dress with no coat!
We ended this weekend sipping champagne, singing along with The Jersey Boys, eating cupcakes in bed and enjoying each other’s company. My cupcake never tasted so good.
The celebrations continue today with a birthday dinner for Zachary and mwah. We are looking forward to breaking with our offspring and their significant others. I’m sure they’re looking forward to us picking up the check!
Cheers to the last 7 days! The brightest spot of winter so far!
Enjoy the Ride!
Some people eat to live, while others live to eat. What about you? How far would you travel for the best meal of your life?
Hmm…this is an interesting question. The only time I even considered going to the ends of the earth for food was when I was pregnant. Travel, kill, maim they’re all the same … right?
All I know is when these hormonal tastebuds spoke, I listened. Womb service is no joke.
Every single day I HAD to have Kellogg’s Raisin Bran cereal or someone was going to die. Not in an OCD kinda way, but in a murderous sort of way.
Then there was the pasta salad served at a little place several blocks from my building that was as necessary as air during this pregnancy. Rain or shine, snow or sleet, I was getting that damn salad!
Anyone who has ever been with child, or in the presence of someone in this position, knows when the baby wants a ham & swiss cheese sandwich with mustard slathered between two pieces of Jewish rye, you better get it, even if it’s 8 a.m. Hormones do not wear watches.
At the time of my first pregnancy, I was working at a very large law firm in Philadelphia. I had the BEST secretary in the world. She was 100% Italian, which meant she knew how to feed the masses or me when necessary. If the baby started making ridiculous demands at random times during the day. She delivered.
She was my Foody Godmother.
One day I just mentioned a cake that I had at some point in my life, the next thing I knew her brother was standing at my desk with a bakery box. Bam!
If I wanted a juicy navel orange in the middle of February, which I did for most of the month, I got it. I didn’t ask questions, I just ate.
So, to answer the question: I wouldn’t necessarily travel for the best meal of my life, but I certainly would enjoy if it magically appeared on my plate.
Enjoy the Ride …