I've been in a crabby mood all day, and not even the BLT I inhaled for dinner could snap me out of it. And when you have a problem bacon can't fix, well, you know it's a bad one. Bacon should be able to fix anything.
In a totally unrelated matter, whenever I eat a BLT, it reminds me of the summer I spent visiting my grandparents in Vermont, the summer before I started high school. It was one of the best summers of my life, because I spent the whole time getting to know one of my best friends, my cousin J. She's so much like me it kind of freaks me out sometimes. There's something about knowing someone so cool who's so much like me that always makes me proud. But before I knew how we'd end up being so close, and how she'd be the MOH in my wedding, and how she's singlehandedly get me through every major crisis of my "adult" life by listening and understanding no matter what, well, before then I found her pretty damned intimidating. It was nice to spend a summer learning that well, yes, while she was intimidating, because she could take the train by herself and use her mom's credit card to buy red shoes and watched General Hospital, but that she was also such a cool funny kick ass person. I always felt sad that before my Grandma died I didn't remember to tell her thanks, for giving me that summer with my cousin, and thus one of my most valued friendships. And also, for all the BLT's. Every time my grandparents took us out to dinner, it was to Howard Johnson's, and I always ordered a BLT, and J always ordered a cheeseburger. Every single time.
I miss those days.
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