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Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

As we prepared to dig into Christmas din-dins the other day, the Eldest Gel started to get up from the table.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“To get some barbeque sauce for my roast beef,” she answered.  (She’s a confirmed BBQ sauce addict.)

What?” I exclaimed.  “You can’t do that to such a noble piece of meat, especially on Christmas Day, not in my house!  Besides, I made some gravy from the drippings.”

Somewhat abashed, she sat back down.

Well, now that we’re on the fourth day of attacking the same roast and into the Sammich Zone, I’m going to go ahead and allow extracurricular condiments now.  (In fact, I’m rayther partial to French’s mustard on roast beef sammiches myself.)

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