Ina, Ina the ultimate Dinna- we’re stuffing the chickens, we’re making the pies- can’t even imagine the width of our thighs. Your flowers are blooming, your smile so strong, so how you and Jeffrey Really getting along? We’re thinking of popovers from Silver Palate Days- depends on the hour, depends on the day. As long as we’re distancing from our own malaise, we’ll take out the pan and follow your ways. We are cooking and drinking – and ordering our meat and every so often we’ll bake up a sweet. Your reruns we’re watching as you cook with aplomb, we’re shaking martinis measuring more then a thumb. When all this is behind us and you open your door we trust you’ll be smiling as you set the table for Four.