Yeah, no kidding about the cooking, huh? Can you imagine the poor sucker if more of us lived closer?

There'd be a line snaking out the door, casseroles piled high next to the over-stuffed fridge, pots boiling on the stove....

We call it the "F-ing" casserole now, the one prepared for a friend in need. You don't say the whole word, just the "F-". When we were running our restaurant, at the time of my mom's illness, people just assumed we had ready access to food, but really I was scrambling to feed people while taking care of everything. One day in my self-pitying exhaustion I said to my friend, "where are all the fucking casseroles?!" Next day, from another friend (and then others after that) there was a casserole on my porch with a stickie note: "Here's your f'ing casserole!". People just needed to know when to jump in to action : )

Seriously, we could make food happen, if those Michiganers don't know how to do that right.

Just say the word, and it'd be there faster than you could say "Sinsull's KnickKnacks" five times fast.

Dani