‘Is it a hotdog day?” I asked, with barely suppressed excitement. It was, Michele said. “Hip, hip hooray, it’s a hotdog day!” I may have cheered.
I am not ashamed to admit nothing turns me into an overexcited child like the prospect of an American hotdog for lunch, preferably with some shoestring fries and a big dollop of ketchup on the side.
Michele, bless her orange Le Creuset pots, is a woman of
