Strawberrylicious

I really am trying to eat better. I mean, I want to live as long as I can and in as good enough health as I can in order to be as annoying as I can. A man needs a goal, a raison d'etre, right?

Was I annoyingly high brow enough with raison d'etre?

Anyway, in my search for better, well, more healthy, eating I went to the local supermarket a few minutes ago. Apples I like, but I've them enough lately. The same with bananas. Then I noticed that strawberries were on sale. All right then, strawberries it is. Was. Whatever; insert your own idea of proper grammar there.

I tell you what, them strawberries were good. Are good: it's not like I ate them all, although I did eat most of the first quart (I bought two quarts as that's how they were on sale). In fact, it reminded me of eating fresh strawberries as a kid at me Grandpaw Hutchins' farm in North Carolina. That was, I say sincerely yet with punniness intended, a sweet memory.

So I suppose that eating right can bring on sentimentality. Who'da  thunk?