There’s no taste like home
Recently, I inadvertently sent my son contraband. The custom officials confiscated the forbidden goods, but I’m certain they didn’t just toss it away, unless it was while tossing a nice green salad—a nice big and expensive salad. I was trying to give our youngest a little taste of home—home, home on the ranch. He’s in Australia for a semester and won’t be back until the end of July. Needless to say, he’s having the time of his life, but once in awhile he gets a twinge of homesickness. Not so much for us folks back home, but for the flavor of home. When I spoke with him a few weeks back, he said he was missing Mexican food—more specifically, salsa and tortillas. Then he said he was missing his favorite salad dressing—Ranch dressing. As his birthday was coming up (and Easter), I decided to send him a care package...knowing it would be expensive. I justified the cost by telling myself that at least he would eat a few greens with his Fosters. So off my husband and I went to