One of the few joys of a late-summer pregnancy in the Deep South? Fresh local watermelon, ripe and chilled.
I've eaten three-quarters of the melon all by myself, and it wasn't a small melon. I eat it till I'm stuffed, and I would go back for another chunk if I had anywhere left to put it. It's out of control.
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2 comments:
Three words. Nom. Nom. Nom.
Three more words: deep fried watermelon
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