a jar of rubber cement, a pair of scissors, a pile of favorite recipes scribbled on loose leaf paper, shared by friends,
or quietly removed from magazines while sitting forever in a doctor's office *cough* (what?),
I recall the way she would flour the rim of a water glass to use for cutting biscuits, and the full glass bottle of Schlitz beer that made its noontime appearance on the kitchen table.
The yellow liquid gradually disappearing didn't hurt her ability to make amazing meals.
Seriously, that woman never left the kitchen--cooking us all three hot meals a day--which I totally did not appreciate when I was young.
Looking back, I do believe it was she who planted the love-of-cooking seed in my heart.
La la la, back to the book. Along with the cutting and pasting, add a little imagination, some collaging, and messing about with markers,