It is a cold, rainy day in Virginia. And I have already had to adjust my mood.
Mark has informed me that there is no cheese in the house.
That means no cheesey Grits.
Now, though I am a Transplant Yankee, born in Brooklyn, New York, raisesd in New York City and then Boston, my family is four generations Alamabains (I think that's a word) and I grew up enjoying Grits on cold autumn and winter mornging.
My favorite way of eating Grits is slices of chedder cheese melted into the Grits.
Mark and I both love to cook, so the kitchen is his in the morning.
And knowing how I love my cheesey grits, makes sure there is always cheese in the house.
Not this morning.
We don't know how this happen, but there is no cheese in the house!
OK, butter is good in grits....
But I am checking a little mouse and bear for cheese breath....