A few days ago, Ben ran into the house from the front yard dishwashing station. A man in a truck had pulled up in front of the house, wanting to speak to his parents.
Living on a highway en route to Wisconsin's premier tourist destination, we don't get many solicitors... just the occasional family from Illinois looking for the nearest Walmart. This man was selling frozen gourmet meats.
The salesman excitedly told us of our good fortune: that he was practically giving away his leftover inventory of choice steaks before he headed home. Would we like to take a look?
Without thinking, Dave and I looked at each other and laughed. Then we informed him that we have a big family and were not in the market for any steak, thanks anyway. He didn't take much convincing and quickly said goodbye.
[We have a freezer full of venison and ground beef and even Canadian bacon, but we haven't purchased steak for quite some time!]
After he drove off and everyone settled back into chores and projects, we heard Noah ask Susanna, "What is steak?"
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