Far as I’m concerned, anyone that can do this has the cooking racket licked. My daddy made the best smoked brisket on planet earth. One of the things I’ve missed the most since he passed. ❤

(that kind of sounds horrible but when I think of my daddy’s brisket, I see him getting the smoker ready, and making the sauce, and having a beer. Of course he’s always got his shirt off and his cap on and he’s happiest right there doing just that.

And the rest of us are just wishing he would put his damned shirt back on. ❤)

I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I want it to be spelled right and punctuated correctly. I guess that’s something.

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