Shabbat shalom

I found a tin of his tobacco which he had not finished. After so many years the smell has gone away, but I remember it. I went on to the internet to see if it is still available - for some reason, and I cannot clearly explain why, I need to smell it in full strenght again.
Perhaps I'll burn little bits of it on a plate.

His mother always made beef chunks in a paprika sauce for him when she visited. That was one dish I fund utterly repulsive. And those little boiled pasta gobs in lieu of potatoes that she insisted upon! That, too, is a remembered smell.

The bone of contention between us having disappeared, I get along better with the old cow now. Especially as she is in San Diego. Still not good and nice, but, better.
Maybe I'll send her a tin of tobacco one of these days.

Have a good Shabbat, you old cow.