My poor ailing mother spent the morning hunched over the stove making pots of her famous chili for later, then excused herself to get dressed in her bedroom. A repairman shows up a little later and starts marveling at the smell -- "If you need a professional taste-tester I am available!" he beams -- to which my stepfather replies:
"Well, it's not gonna be ready for a few hours, but if you are hungry for chili there's a Wendy's nearby."
"Yeah, but that never tastes as good as homemade," the repairman counters, still smiling from the olfactory sensation.
"Well, I don't know," Gary sighs. "It's pretty close and it's a lot less hassle."
Molly and Gary: Loving and cherishing each other since 1973.