Something I found digging through my archives that I had written months prior to the passing of my grandma. Sharing this somehow keeps the memory of her alive.
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I sit thinking to myself how can a man, a human being with such a caring family always concerned about his appetite or lack thereof, have any worries? Surely it must be unforgiving and impermissible for such a thought. It seems Armenian women are really our saving grace.
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It reminds me of what George Carlin, and you better know who this man was, said in his brilliantly articulated Brain Droppings; " If you find yourself asleep in a woman's home you will awake to a blanket or coat covered on you."
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As I sit here and ponder such questions, the smell of Kooftashilla (a famous meatball porridge) bombarding olfactory nerves, it is difficult to dismiss the fact that I and my family are truly blessed.
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Surely having a family whose over-arching concern is your stomach's happiness is a problem worth having. I cherish these moments every second, minute and hour as time passes. This is an ephemeral moment I choose to cherish and nostalge upon until the end of my days.
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