My aunt was a nun (or as John Prine would say, my dad’s sister was a sister), and with Sunday dinner at her convent in Milwaukee, they served us fresh baked bread. Tasted as good as it smelled.
My aunt was a nun (or as John Prine would say, my dad’s sister was a sister), and with Sunday dinner at her convent in Milwaukee, they served us fresh baked bread. Tasted as good as it smelled.