When most people hear, "We're having steak for dinner!" it's usually a good thing. Not when I was a kid. My mom could have plopped down an old leather shoe in front of me, and it would have been no harder to chew than her "steak". To this day, I cannot fathom how someone could destroy a piece of meat like she used to. I must have built up incredible jaw strength gnawing on those slabs of sinew and gristle. I imagined myself chewing down logs and building dams with my newly discovered super chewing powers.
Then there were the potatoes. Sometimes we were served those little round ones out of the can. I was not a fan. More little round potatoes than poop were secretly flushed down our toilet. And dad wondered why he had plumbing problems.
The Pursuit of Art
As I've mentioned in my first couple blogs, my son, Stephen is lovingly referred to as Tater. So here are a couple of Taters, a photo and my paper sculpture of the photo.
Here's the photo...
...and here is the paper sculpt.
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