My mind is NOT in the gutter.

I'm a model of prudish sensibility (really!) and I work hard to maintain a high level of respectability (no, seriously!).

I battle the offensiveness of the world on a daily basis - so it's no surprise how scandalized I was to read the dining review in yesterday's paper.

That's right, I said a dining review. It made me blush.

It's erotic fiction, the food volumes.

Think I'm kidding? Here's the Cliff's Notes version of the review:

"Something about the expanse outside that window emboldened me with irrational optimism."

"Or did my jolly mood arise from my friend's monumental bowl of bocconcini, bite-size balls of fresh mozzarella...? Only the appetite of a teenager could face that down, however much caprese pleases."

"...a smooth, fruity red with medium body, was a supple companion for the herbed cheese and sea-salted crackers..."

Supple? Wasn't that term coined by Nora Roberts to describe any and all parts of the female anatomy? I can't even say it without giggling a little.

Supple. He he.

Back to the review:

"...savory pork interrupted my meal's progress with bursts of savory fatness."

Bursts of savory fatness. What does that even mean?

Moreover, what is "rumpeltithumps"?

"Every night folks ask for the word to be repeated: rumpeltithumps, mashed potato mixed with cooked cabbage and topped with melted cheddar cheese."

Rumpletithumps?

Okay, Okay. I admit it. My mind is in the gutter. Isn't yours?

It's the one time it's okay to have your legs in the air in the middle of the day on a crowded public beach.

It's the one time it's okay to have your legs in the air in the middle of the day on a crowded public beach.