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By HOLLY TABOR
It was the most creative idea I had had in a while as far as dinner is concerned. Two apples sat in the refrigerator drawer waiting for someone, anyone to eat them. They were the kind of apples that aren’t very good on their own. Kind of mushy and gritty at the same time. Half-way to applesauce.
Mealy. That’s the word I used to describe them. My husband just looked at me funny.
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