Greetings! So my seester has been getting all famous and stuff lately because she has, like, deep thoughts to convey to the world or something. Like ten whole people read all her posts and I obviously can't have her being a more successful blogger than me, no matter how little effort I put into it. However, since the deepest thing I have going for me right now is some pretty intense hunger, I'm just going to tell you a story. It's a story about food, so if I get too hungry while writing it down I may have to take a snack break.
This is a story with a real-life application, so make sure you don't skip that part.
Many moons ago, on a bitterly cold November day, a family made the long trek through faraway lands to their grandmother's house for the annual feast day. It was an arduous journey, fraught with peril. Few ever made it through alive, and...
Fine, fine. It was my family and it was two weeks ago for Thanksgiving and it was only like a two-hour drive. I just wanted to make it more dramatic. To be honest I wasn't even there because my brother and I drove separate from Charlotte, so I really couldn't tell you how arduous the journey was. But it was definitely bitterly cold, let me tell you. Jesse and I ran a 5k that morning and I almost froze to death. Teeth chattering all over town, man. Shouldn't be allowed.
Anyway we all gathered in the big city of Florence, SC for Thanksgiving, which is always great because food, and also family. I'll let you decide which is more important. Wink nudge.
However, since there are eleven of us counting my grandmother, the abundance of food didn't stay abundant for too long, and we had to start on the reserve supplies, like a foraging army. Fortunately my grandmother has known us for a few years now, and understands that we regard the noms with something approaching reverence and all-consuming fire.
"If you guys are hungry I have a ham you can use for sandwiches," spake my grandmother.
Some other sundry comments were exchanged, and she and Maggie, apparently the only ones not too enthralled by Andy Griffith to tear themselves away, made their way into the kitchen and ate ham sandwiches without event.
Some time later, also becoming ravenous, I also made my way to the kitchen. There's not really a midpoint for me. I'm either not hungry or absolutely about to die. The hunger pangs just strike without warning and I'm left stumbling and blind with nothing to sustain me unless I make it to the kitchen in a very strict five minutes time to bury my face in the fridge. It's pretty intense. First-world hunger is no joke! But back to our story.
The point at hand is that when I walked into the kitchen, I observed Rebecca eyeing the ham warily. The expression on her face spoke volumes of a new and utter distrust of humanity, but especially of ham.
I will now rewind to the part of the story where we first learned of the ham. I'm trying to work on this building suspense thing; is it working? You can tell me later. Keep reading, don't interrupt; it's rude.
"If you guys are hungry I have a ham you can use for sandwiches," spake Marnie (you may remember).
"Is it cooked?" spake my mother.
"Oh yeah, definitely," spake Marnie.
Thus the sandwiches, as you may also remember.
But then I saw Rebecca's expression, and I too became wary.
"I don't think this is cooked," spake Rebecca.
"It has to be," spake I, though I doubted.
"Look," spake Rebecca. "It says 'Ready to Cook' and 'Cooking Instructions'. And it looks...................."
"Oh.................. ohhhh......" spake I. "I am not eating that."
"Me neither," spake Rebecca.
As you may have guessed, despite all the suspense I built just now, the ham was not, in fact, cooked. We rectified the situation pronto, but the fact remained that Marnie and Maggie had eaten raw ham sandwiches and not thought anything of it. Maggie, indeed, assured us that her sandwich was "Oh, fine."
The practical application here is different than you may have expected, if you expected me to tell you to always make sure to cook your ham. I assume you knew that already. Rather, the practical application with which I would like to end is this: don't trust the two flightiest people you know when they tell you information that could mean life or death or at least some really uncomfortable food poisoning.
But just in case you didn't know... please cook the ham.