Observing whatever tickles my fancy

Archive for August, 2012

How I Forgot the Bacon for My BLT

Early preparedness is a sham.  You know it’s true.

Yesterday I fried up some bacon so I would have that tasty grease to fry liver in.  (Yes, I like liver.)  And the bacon, I thought, would be awesome for my Monday lunch at work, a BLT. 

The bacon was fried up.  A sizzling warm slice was sacrificed to my taste bud gods.  (You can’t let all the freshly fried bacon go without nibbling.)

After the bacon cooled I wrapped it up in a paper towel, put it in a baggie, then put it in the fridge so it would be ready for Monday morning.

This morning.  6:15ish a.m.  I prepped the other BLT bits.  The lettuce was shredded, the tomato cut, onions and yellow pepper were added for flavor.  Into their containers they went.  A large dollop of mayo was plopped in its own container.  The bread was lightly toasted.  (It and the bacon get warmed in the microwave.  Not as good as fresh at home, but palatable.)  Once the toast was cooled and wrapped everything was tucked into my lunchbox.

Work.  11:00 a.m.  My stomach growls.  It wants to be fed.  The brain tells it that it can wait an hour to eat.  The stomach growls in disagreement.


The brain stops.  Oh, no!  The bacon is still in the fridge!

“I am so stupid.” I say aloud.

My space mate, used to hearing these sorts of comments on occasion, turns and waits for the explanation.  I explain and she laughs.  I laugh.

“Guess it’s a veggie sandwich today,” I say.

The stomach growls in despair.  A veggie sandwich?  Urgh.  It’s just not the same.  Lettuce, onion, pepper and tomato on lightly toasted bread is not a meal.  It’s a desperation.  No, a BLT is what was wanted.  A BLT; that lovely, hot, greasy, hickory-smoked bacon spread across a plain of lettuce, tomato, onion and pepper.  The bacon is the crunch,  the “mmmmm”ness of a BLT.  Without the bacon all you have is desperation.

August 1, 1864

One hundred and forty-eight years ago today, my great-grandfather shamelessly took 2-3 inches of column space in his newspaper, the Fort Scott Daily Monitor, and publicly announced surprise that there had yet to be (at 10 a.m.) a great hoopla over his birthday.

On August 1, 1864 Dave turned 28.

Today, on the 176th anniversary of his birth (holy cats!) I dedicate this blog to him and share with you his 1864 “plea” for birthday wishes.

Though it be more than a century humor me, and give him a hearty birthday “Hurrah”.  I’m sure he’d be tickled that the world could, and maybe would, serenade him.  Happpy birthday DB.