People probably wonder why I don't greet my father with a kiss on the cheek. It's really pretty simple. Many years ago, my pretty, blond, unsuspecting sister-in-law dutifully leaned over and did just that. In the course of the exchange, my father's Nicaraguan rebel moustache transferred a dark, oily piece of spinach on to her cheek. It was stranded there for a good hour before she discovered it in horror.
I couldn't help but wonder: what else is hiding in there? Kale? Belgian endive? An entire caesar salad with croutons?
From now on, a heartfelt head nod will do just fine.
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