'All Sardinian women are beautiful.'

I like to please my Italian true love. So when she suggested a supper featuring pecan-crusted chicken breasts, I went shopping. And to my surprise, the butcher at the Safeway Grocery in Phoenix never heard of pecan-crusted chicken before. I filled him in. Told him we gourmet progressives in Minnesota have 'em all the time. Anyway, we settled for baked salmon. With a freshly squeezed orange marinade. Good. But not as delicious as pecan-crusted chicken breast. Especially when the mood strikes. Fortunately, the encounter with the butcher wasn't a total loss. Because he's no longer a total stranger. He's from Albania. Having migrated to Arizona 13 years ago. He's nostalgic. Returns to his homeland every other year. For visits. I complimented him on his English. I would have never guessed he was foreign born.  'How is it that you learned such good English?' I asked. He pointed to his head. 'The teacher gave me good whacks,' he said laughingly. I introduced him to my true love. 'She's from Sardinia,' I said. 'Do you know where that is?' Of course, he did. Albania isn't very far away. 'My best friend's girl friend is from Sardinia,' he said. 'She's beautiful.' I gave my true love a loving glance, and announced:  'All Sardinian women are beautiful.' --Jim Broede