My daughter had a book club meeting tonight. I won’t say the name of the book as it was dreadful, not worth a penny, and I don’t want to give it any publicity it doesn’t deserve.
Anyway, the book club members were asked to bring in something from their house that reflects something from the story. After reading about a mystery meat dish in the book that may or may not have possum in it, I showed my daughter this postcard:
I bought this postcard when I was about her age when passing through Kentucky (on I-75, per my prior post). Glad there was some extra purpose to my saving it all these years.
Of all the things I could eat while in Kentucky – pecan pie, Rebecca Ruth chocolates, mint juleps, bourbon – possum isn’t high on my list. The possum doesn’t appeared to thrilled about the prospect either.