Sunday, September 30, 2012

Intruding On The Porkfest

This morning, Farmer H crept out of bed, showered, and tip-toed from the bedroom, quietly closing the door behind him. I should have known that he was not doing it to be sweet to me. To let me sleep in. To allow the workhorse of the family a few extra minutes of unbridled snoozing. I heard him feed the dogs on the back porch. It was almost as if he hand-placed each crunchy nugget of Ol' Roy in the three metal pans. "One for you...one for you...one for you, " until each fleabag had his allotment. I did not hear him come back in.

Usually, Farmer H tromps in and out of the laundry room, which abuts the headboard wall of our bedroom, and flings the dry dogfood into the dishes like a world-champion jai alai player. Then he microwaves a sausage/egg/cheese biscuit, grabs a banana, and exits the Mansion through the kitchen door, which has its own distinctive slam.

I did not hear anything for so long that I thought he must have gone on to his goats and chickens from the dogfood area. It was like waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for Farmer H to tromp. I could not go back to sleep. The mystery consumed me.

I caught Farmer H in the kitchen, makin' bacon.

No! Not like THAT! He was frying bacon in my Christmas-new nonstick red-bottomed skillet. A half-pound of bacon, to be exact. He looked startled when I came in. Like when Jerry pretended to smother George with a pillow when he went to the hospital for a presumed heart attack, and Elaine walked in, and Jerry said, "Elaine. What are YOU doing here?"

It's not like bacon isn't allowed in the Mansion. I normally use it when cooking green beans. We're not big breakfast people, except on Christmas morning. I don't know why Farmer H was being so secretive. Unless he wanted a half-pound of bacon all to himself. I saw that he had set out a double-yolk egg and a banty egg. Let the record show that at no time did Farmer H offer me any of his cooking. Or his warming up of food on the stove, as he would call it if I was the person engaging in such behavior.

I turned on my bare heel and proceeded to the shower. Farmer H was gone when I came out. The #1 son was scurrying about, gathering items he needed for a hike after church. He paraded through the living room several times, munching bacon.

"Don't worry. I didn't want any of that for my breakfast."

"Oh. Did you? Because if you did, you should have told me before I just ate the last piece."

"Never mind. I don't think it was intended for me, anyway."

"Whatever."

He's a scintillating conversationalist in the morning, that one. Now I need to procure more bacon. At least it wasn't like the time Farmer H captured two pot-bellied pigs while I was in town, with the plan to butcher one and fatten the other for future consumption.

Men and their bacon. Go together like horse and carriage.

6 comments:

Sioux said...

There were two things I could utter to my teenaged son, and either one succeeded in getting him out of bed in the morning.

"I'm going to dump this ice-cold water onto you,"

or

"Bacon." I often brought down into his room a coffee cup full of water, in case I needed to put
H20 where my mouth was. However, I NEVER had any bacon with me or even in the house.

What IS it with boys and their bacon? What does this obsession harken back to?

Hillbilly Mom said...

Sioux,
It harkens back to bringing home the bacon. They are the hunters. They stab the bacon with a sharp stick, and bring it home for the woman to fry up in a pan and make sandwiches for them.

Kathy's Klothesline said...

Bacon smells good and bacon tastes good. It is not good for you. A man food.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Kathy,
That's the perfect definition. My guys are not real fond of the bacon jelly beans, though. They smell good, but are a little too strong on the taste buds.

Kathy's Klothesline said...

Bacon jelly beans sound nasty. Although I confess that I do like the buttered popcorn jelly beans.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Kathy,
I LOVE the buttered popcorn jellybeans. The bacon is too salty. But not as bad as those Harry Potter earthworm and earwax ones. I was tricked, okay? I did not willingly try those flavors.