This post chronicles Margaret’s encounter with a roast chicken dinner. It was, I would like to stress, a very nice dinner, with roast potatoes and Brussels sprouts and a chicken. And she ate a good deal of it, including the Brussels sprouts (which put her a good bit out ahead of her uncle and grandfather, who were eschewing them).
There was, however, a moment at the end of her meal, when she decided that she was done, scraped up the chicken and potato and sprout that she still had left on her tray, and piled it on top of her head.
This left her hair somewhat greasy.
So I styled it.
I’m thinking of using olive oil and schmaltz on her hair from here on out. It seems to work.
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