Thursday Morning Pages

So I've decided that of the Jeff-Lloyd trilogy, Where The Boys Are is the one I flat-out enjoyed, page by page, the most, with its predecessor, The Men from the Boys, a thisclose second. Stunning cover art, too. I wonder if there's any possibility these books will ever be serialized for cable or maybe condensed into a movie? Who would Bill want to see play Jeff O'Brien? Lloyd? Henry? and most importantly, Javitz?

This bacon is sooooo good.

I love bacon, wish I could eat it every single day (like I used to, in one of my past lives). But with its sky-high fat and sodium content it's one of the absolute worst things you could possibly put in your mouth, then chew and swallow. Why? (I've often asked total strangers) Why does something that tastes so good--that smells even better when it's cooking--have to be so bad for you?

It's off-putting, is what it is.

These particular strips remind me of the glorious Farmer John brand I used to enjoy most mornings when I was living in California, many years ago. I'd never heard of that brand before and you should have seen the look I gave my Aunt Max when, during an evening grocery run, she ignored the Oscar Mayer and eagerly grabbed not one but several plain white rectangular boxes and dumped them into the cart. "This is better," she said breezily as I stared perplexed at the nondescript black lettering. Better? This stuff? This stuff looked for all the world like that dreaded Brand X crap you avoided at all cost even if it was cheaper and you were between paydays.

But no. Max was right as usual. Its generic packaging notwithstanding, Farmer John bacon was scrumptious, delicious, lip-smackingly tasty stuff--and that's saying a lot because, really, it's hard to get it wrong with a food like bacon. Most everyone--everyone who still eats bacon, that is--has their favorite but almost any brand, carefully cooked, is good (I know what I said before. Don't interrupt.) and Farmer John, with its woody, slightly smoky, very big flavor, was exceptional. I'm telling you people, the pigs that gave up their porky little lives for Farmer John brand bacon must have been raised on ambrosia or heather or something similar.

Hog heaven, friends. Hog heaven.