Croaky gets Raspberry

Something has been bothering me. Rather some things have been bothering me lately. Mr Throat decided to act up. (I really should not say Mr Throat when I am a Mrs/Ms should I?) I could, on the other hand, argue that I can use Mr.Throat as I sound like a ballistic male frog.

I hear my deep, raspy voice go – “*Croak* May I have some water please? *ribbit ribbit*”

Honestly, all that’s left is for a mole to come out with a sprig of parsley, and I can hop my way into Fantasy Land.

I always knew chemicals were used as preservatives in Milk and sprayed on vegetables etc. I remember my mother picking a bone with Gauri-ma or Kulukamma, or whatever her name was, (I don’t feel like wracking the brain for this) that the milk she had given us the day (t) before must have been drawn from Moo on the eve of (t-1) because the milk curdled. Imagine the sacrifice we had to make? We had to settle for Panneer.

I made peace with the fact that milk was being refrigerated and usable for a couple of weeks, but I notice cans of milks with use by dates over a month and half away, and that makes me squeazy ..er.. squeazier than ever. On Mar 1st, if I see a can of milk telling me to be used by April 25th … (Best sentence completion wins an “Awesome sentence” award from the NourishNCherish blog)

Suddenly, the croaky throat gets a raspberry because I don’t feel like drinking the milk from that can. I’ll just wait for it to age and pick it up closer to Apr 25th and feel good about fresh milk.