Come to Jesus

In this house, we don’t fight. We rarely fuss. We figured out a long time ago we’re on the same team.

Besides, you reach an age where you don’t wanna be fussed at. For anything. If there’s a problem, let’s talk.

But there are different ways of talking, and when she gets all up in my face, we’uns is about to have a come-to-Jesus moment.

“There is no room in our refrigerator for food because of your beer and bacon. Fix that.”

I knew she was right. We’ve got stuff stacked on stuff on top of stuff in the fridge. I just accept it as a fact of life; no need to blame the beer and bacon.

Apparently, everybody does not feel that way, so let me defend my buddies.

Bacon, you’re first.

I shop at a warehouse store. You don’t just buy a pound of bacon; you buy eight pounds.

Further, my favorite bacon comes from a place in Madisonville, Tennessee. That’s not close to anywhere I am at any time. At best, an hour and a half drive. Therefore, Madisonville is a destination visit.

Hey kids, who wants to go to Bacon Land??

When we go, we buy LOTS of bacon. And we’ve been recently.

Counting, there are 11 packs of bacon. Still, packs of bacon lie flat, so I’m exonerating the pig from hogging space.

Let us bring on the next accused. Beer, please stand up and hear the charges against you.

You know how most refrigerators have two drawers? And how most people keep veggies and such in those crisper drawers?

Well, one of ours is a designated beer drawer. It’s full. I love beer.

Truly the drawer. The beer did not pose.

A deeper dive into the issue will reveal, first, as much as I enjoy it, I don’t drink it much.

My doctor told me I needed to control my carbs and suggested I ditch the beer for scotch or bourbon.

So, if I drink a beer at all, it’s one. Sure, there are exceptions, but I’m pretty good. It is after all doctor’s orders. Drink more bourbon.

Part two of the problem is, I seem to collect beers like a kid collects Legos.

Between visiting a friend’s brewery recently and some neighbors bringing me beer they think I would enjoy, I’ve outgrown the designated drawer, and a full invasion of the fridge is underway

I’ve stuck a couple in to pal with the pickles; another couple are cuddling with the condiments. I’ve got beer mingling with the milk and chumming with the cheeses.

Like the kid, though, what are you going to do with all those Legos?

I counted 31 cans. In the fridge. There’s more on the pantry floor. It’s a veritable amusement park!

Beer Land!

She is not amused.

As usual, I will make all the compromises.

To alleviate the situation, I will try to consume one a day and promise not to buy any more for the next two years or until there’s space in the beer drawer.

The end. Almost.

My apologies if you saw the title of this piece and thought it might be a Christmas story.

However, it is about beer and bacon. Some of us hold those sacred.

So, okay. It can be a Christmas story. Merry Christmas then!