What’s this business of “maybe” my grandson will stop by? You call or whatever and make it law that he come help you. I was summoned many times to help my grandparents with one of the rewards a lunch supplemented by Nana’s to-die-for fried potatoes and onions done in a skillet so old carbon-14 dating would fail. Attempts to duplicate her potatoes are futile.
Oh noes! We’re talking food!
That did it! Now I am hungry for fried potatoes!
Bacon grease.