I love food. I always have. Got it from my mom. I even go so far as to remember occasions according to the food I had. I like trying different restaurants and the food of different cultures. I thoroughly enjoy my taste buds.
My dad lost most of his sense of taste about ten years ago after his chemo treatments. No smell, almost no taste. That would launch me into a catatonic depression.
This isn't my picture (yes, I pilfer from the interweb frequently), but I love the look on her face! That's me after the first bite of Jylle's chicken pot pie, my mother-in-law's blackberry cobbler, salted caramel shortbread, a strawberry lemonade smoothie, prime rib Outback style, red velvet froyo... I bet you have your own list.
Thank You, Lord, for this quite exquisite sense.
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