Not in waffles either. But maybe the scones.

Someone loaned me a cooking magazine, and there is an article on bacon. Not generally a good thing, as that is NOT how I intend to die (my death plans involve a whale, a hot air balloon and bath salts) but still, I do have a couple of pounds of nitrite/nitrate free bacon so it was worth reading. And it had recipes, of course.

What recipe WON'T I be trying? Bacon Baclava. Seriously, I did not make that up, that is a real recipe. Chocolate covered bacon, though, that I might try. We already make Homer Bacon so why not?

All Growed Up

The Boy has graduated. Perhaps I need to refer to him in a different way? Still not willing to use the kid's names in the blog, though. Maybe I should go with the more accurate Thing One and Thing Two?

In which case, Thing One has graduated, and will be attending the local university in the fall. He did well, won an award, looked handsome in his new suit and put up with bazillions of pictures being taken. What can I say? I wanted pictures and I got them.

And as for thing Two saying that I'd cry through the whole cermony, she was wrong. Five, six times, tops.

Because I Can't Not Write

So, I had a blog. I liked having a blog. Did it change the world? No. Did it do irreparable harm? Not to my knowledge. I seriously hope it didn't, that is.

Through circumstances to ridiculous to mention, said blog was thoughtlessly murdered. Ok, not murdered, but it had the joy sucked right out of it. So...no more blog.

But. And it's a big but.





(That space was for all of your big butt comments, so I hope you made some good ones)

But...I miss writing. A new blog seemed called for. And if you're wondering about the title...well, I'm currently into 1920's slang. And it's my blog, so I don't need any better explanation than that.