Vacation again with the kiddo. She loves to walk with me. So we do. There’s a pond next door that we like to visit, all summer, usually. We’ve seen the Canadian geese of course, and ducks, and later in the fall, heron of all sorts. Yesterday, we saw a beaver. Which would explain the gnawed log sharpened to a perfect point a friend spotted with us a week prior. We were pretty excited to see the beaver swimming around (thought it was a floating log at first). Then, it came to the edge. The kiddo was absolutely hypnotized…I really don’t think she heard me pleading with her to back away. Just in case it was a big rat. But no, I saw the tail. It was indeed, a beaver.
I love spring. It’s my favorite season. I love watching grown men play baseball, or catch. Especially when they know you’re watching. Showoffs. Cute. Actually, I just like watching men exert themselves, in any manner. Except at a construction site. Grossness. And I like going to the auto section and getting good advice on, oh…windshield wipers….without being spoken to in a condescending tone..or worse…ogled…like I was when I was younger.
The kiddo chose a ham for this weekend’s dinner. “Hams are pigs, aren’t they, Mama?”, she asked.
“Yep.”
“So how do they get the ham out of the pig? And bacon, too?”, she went on.
I looked at her mostly solemnly. “They kill them, sweetie. They die.”, said I. Just a little gentle manipulation…a little nudge toward veggie land.
“Oh! I LOVE pigs. Bacon! Ham! And sausage! MMMMMM!”, she squealed.
Sigh. I have never cooked a ham in my life. Yikes!
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