Thick as fork? Forks seem pretty thin to me, especially the pastic ones…
Jesus Cran,
I can’t even spell Intellect
Slan,
D. 
The truth of Art is in the interpretation.
Slan,
D.
there you go! I could have picked this one.
but I choose the hay fork instead, eh!
Hmm…
There is a moral here ..somewhere.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m open to suggestion..
Did I ever mention Joan Armatrading..
Probably after your time 
Slan,
D.
Oh, dear! You’re missing that I was being motherly! Cran brings out the maternal instincts in me, I’m afraid. Bustling and fussing–just like Kanga over Roo and Tigger. Cran is, I believe, aware of that.
Cran, in fact, does not have the benefits of my intellect. Nor does he need them, as he has his own. Probably superior to mine.
He would not have gotten into the college he is attending if he did not.
Please don’t call me Jesus.
I don’t understand how a person can reach college age without ever drying clothes. He’s probably never cooked either, and I learned to cook before I learned my ABCs! I can remember being four or five years old an my aunt teaching me to make scrambled eggs…
I remember being 5 and putting an entire package of Wrigley’s spearmint chewing gum in the green beans I’d cleaned . . . the gum melted and was invisible until the green beans cooled, when tiny cobweb strands appeared in every bite. Along with a refreshing minty taste.
I was not allowed to cook after that. Every time I went in the kitchen, someone would run screaming to chase me out.
My family never forgave me. They refuse to eat in my home.
I do not know how to make scrambled eggs. There is not one single casserole that I can prepare. I cannot prepare pancakes, waffles, hotdogs, french fries, french toast, steak, or a roast. I am clueless as to how to get a potato to bake in an oven. My gravy is a solid. I have caught soup on fire. I nuke frozen vegetables solely to melt the ice enough to chew them.
I do not “cook” as much as I render food safe for consumption. In other words, I kill it or whatever is lurking in it. It’s dead and that’s all you can say for it.
My bread is so terrible that birds give up in frustration pecking at it.
I maintain a $35 a year membership at Sam’s Club solely to have access to a supply of restaurant-quality cheesecake and plastic tableware for parties at work. My coworkers don’t ask me what I’m going to bring . . . they make sure that I’m not going to bring something I’ve cooked.
:roll:
Lambchop 
I’ve used pine oil for decades. It’s my #1 floor cleaner. I love the heady stench of pine oil. It makes the place smell clean.
Edited to replace a cheap shot with an apology. Sorry Cran.