Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more: it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing. -- Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5
Ummmmmm....good! I love scalped potatoes.
ReplyDeleteMy can (Bush's) says black-eyed peas. Maybe it's a regional thing?
Well I know that Judy knows best -- so if you say black eyed then I'll have to say black eyed! LOL
ReplyDeleteWhatever, they still taste like dirt to me!! My Mom LOVED them. YUCK> ! Now split pea soup...ummmmmmmmmm
ReplyDeleteCall it what you will..it looks delicious:)
ReplyDeletehmmm now I have to go get some blackeyed peas, I dont know if I ever had them, but I am sure i would like them!!
ReplyDelete