Tuesday, April 14


As is the case with most holiday feasts, Easter is no different, and there are always going to be leftovers. Not sure if it's because there's just too much food, or everyone just scales back a bit such that there will be leftovers. Maybe it's a psychological thing.

Maybe it's in our genes.

Around here, it's ham this and ham that for Easter leftovers. I came home yesterday afternoon for a minute before another call and picked some gristle off the ham bone; last night I had ham pickin's, green beans, and ham fried rice.

Marilee, on the other hand, made herself a ham sandwich.

Reaching for the sandwich that she had momentarily set on the arm of her chair, upon reaching for the sandwich, it had vanished into thin air. Or so it seemed at first.

"BAMBI!" was the startling cry as I dove under the stairs to only find a few crust crumbs left. Total time elapsed: less than thirty seconds.


"Yeah, but it didn't stay down long"

Thinking back to my discussion of fur turds, it looked like a ham turd.

[Hey, I never promised this would be devoid of grossness.]

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