Growing up, we were surrounded by older women. Grandma was one of 8 siblings ... so the "Great Aunts" were permanent fixtures in our household.
I loved them fiercely, but they were different. They saved everything -- bread bags, rubber bands, pickle jars. They let nothing go to waste -- they even ate the gristle. It was, as our mother explained, because they had lived through the Great Depression.




Definitely some perspective. Makes this thing now look like a cake walk.
I'll pass on the possum, though.
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