Conflict Of Interest Update
Reader Warning: Shameless self-promotion to follow; this entry may contains multiple links to my own old tired *classic!* blog entries.
I cooked bacon this morning. Real bacon. Not the baconish-flavored turkey "bacon" that I usually make, but the actual, traditional, greasy, crispy, oh-so-delicious, Homer Simpson-approved, full-fat pork product.
I don't do this often. On the rare occasion that I go whole hog (har!) and fry up the real stuff, I am treated to high praise and all-day heartfelt thanks from my children.
Especially Hannah.
She of the bacon, egg and cheese sammich fame; enthusiastic Charlotte's Web fan; imminent elementary-school stage personality -- the very girl who once apologized before devouring her favorite bagel-encased, salty strips-o-cured-meat lunch.
This morning, Hannah's tastebuds took an unexpected turn.
My little Wilbur turned in her breakfast dishes with all of the bacon -- minus one bite -- still on the plate. This is unprecedented. Hannah usually licks the pork portion of her plate clean, then asks for more. I asked her if she felt sick. I expressed my surprise at her absence of pork-inspired enthusiasm.
She looked at me, slightly mournfully, and said, "I don't know, Mom. It just tastes funny."
Method actress in the house! Piggies don't eat their own.
I cooked bacon this morning. Real bacon. Not the baconish-flavored turkey "bacon" that I usually make, but the actual, traditional, greasy, crispy, oh-so-delicious, Homer Simpson-approved, full-fat pork product.
I don't do this often. On the rare occasion that I go whole hog (har!) and fry up the real stuff, I am treated to high praise and all-day heartfelt thanks from my children.
Especially Hannah.
She of the bacon, egg and cheese sammich fame; enthusiastic Charlotte's Web fan; imminent elementary-school stage personality -- the very girl who once apologized before devouring her favorite bagel-encased, salty strips-o-cured-meat lunch.
This morning, Hannah's tastebuds took an unexpected turn.
My little Wilbur turned in her breakfast dishes with all of the bacon -- minus one bite -- still on the plate. This is unprecedented. Hannah usually licks the pork portion of her plate clean, then asks for more. I asked her if she felt sick. I expressed my surprise at her absence of pork-inspired enthusiasm.
She looked at me, slightly mournfully, and said, "I don't know, Mom. It just tastes funny."
Method actress in the house! Piggies don't eat their own.
posted by KDF at 3:29 PM
4 Comments:
and here i was thinking you were getting kickbacks from the Pork Council, too!-insomniac
I refuse to give up hope. The Egg and/or Cheese people could still come through with a scholarship.
I haven't been here for a while. Nice to visit with your family. :)
Loved the poem.
{{{Eleanor}}}
I'm glad you're here. :)
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