Howd-ya-do, Howd-ya-do,Howd-ya-do

As a young wife and mother, Lonely Rivers was not adventurous in the kitchen. She was married to a regular meat and potatoes guy. Three meals on the table seven, twelve, and six. No pasta, no sauces, no rice, fish, seafood, or puddings. No fancy salads. Russian dressing striped over iceberg lettuce the way his mother did it. No mayonnaise and no foo foo oils or vinegars. No cake. Ever. She dreamed of a Steamy Vivaldi pasta pot in any of the Four Seasons.
After the funeral she made a chocolate cake. The way her mother did.
It didn't taste that good.