My poor husband...

Saturday is usually the day that I try to "make" breakfast, which usually includes bacon. It is highly unusual for Greg to get real, pork bacon. Since his father has heart disease and high cholesterol and Greg's cholesterol is slightly elevated, about the only time he gets real bacon is if we are at Cracker Barrel. My husband LOVES bacon. Especially when it is cooked the right way, very crisp, but not burned.

Anyway, this past Saturday we were all up and about and Greg goes to the fridge and pulls out something and has this look on his face. It is the look of a happy child who has just found extra candy under the couch. Or an adult who finds $5.00 in their pocket when they didn't know it was there.

Most of you know my husband. He hides his excitement well, at least to you. Since I live with him I see the real Greg. He does get excited. He can be goofy. He's funny and just an all around great guy to be around. In my humble opinion.

Well, the look on his face was priceless. He was almost giddy. He was excited beyond any excitement I had seen in a while. He was almost doing a little dance in front of the refrigerator.

Imagine my surprise when I see that all that excitement is for bacon. Greg pulled out real bacon. I didn't realize it until I looked at his face and then to the package. I thought it was the new turkey bacon pack I had just bought. Not so....

Unfortunately, Greg's glee was short lived. The real bacon was old. Greg's smile deflated quickly. We looked at the date, it said something about September. Greg got excited again. He was tossing it around in his head, I could tell...."is it worth the risk of food poisoning to get "real" bacon?????" It was discolored, kind of a mucky brown and not nice and pink like bacon should be.

I said, "I will make it for you if you want me to, but there is a fresh pack of turkey bacon in the fridge."

Greg thinks a minute. It is cured meat....maybe it's not bad.....

Sigh. No he concedes that the real bacon is too old. He will have turkey bacon. He is sad.

He opens the freezer door and is looking all through it.

I say, "What are you looking for?"

Greg: "waffles" (You can tell I am a homemade breakfast maker, huh?)

I pause, "Um, we don't have any waffles, sorry".

Greg: (sigh) "That's okay".

He just didn't get a break Saturday! I guess I have one to make up to him, huh? Maybe some homemade blueberry pancakes with REAL bacon this can't hurt his cholesterol that much, right?
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