Happy Friday! I'm 38 weeks preggo today and I feel pretty good, actually. I'll update the Peanut blog later today with the particulars, so as not to bore you with details here, but I thought I'd give you this little progress report. I went to the OB Monday and among other news, she reports that Peanut already weighs (well, weighed, 4 days ago) 7 lbs. 7 oz. OY. That's already way bigger'n Bean ever was, and I do feel that bigness. See? I've been tellin' people this child is HEE-YUGE. A mama knows things.
I'm over at Chic Critique today, talkin' about big hair mistakes of my past and a clever, simple little rinse for tired out, stressed out hair. I was supposed to write more about heart health, but I've got a little something I'm working on for that topic that needs a bit more finessing before I can reveal it, so you've got another week to eat bacon and drink milk-shakes before I lower the boom on all of our fatty fun.
Speaking of which, B and I ventured out to a local farm market yesterday to make our first annual purchase of fresh, locally-grown sweet corn, and a couple of the biggest, reddest, most delicious tomatoes I've tasted in a long time. So I boiled up the corn and fried some bacon and we had BLTs and fresh corn and sliced strawberries with honey for dinner last night and man, I'll tell you WHAT, people, that there was sheer summertime heaven on a plate. I'd say that was EASILY one of the top 5 BLTs I've ever had in my life. And I've had some good ones.
Back in South Carolina, in the larger city next to my little home town, we had a stubborn hold-out Eckerd Drugstore, cramped and dusty and quiet like a library, complete with an old-fashioned lunch counter that fought progress and stayed open well into the 1990s. I used to go eat lunch there once a week as a 20-something year-old. I'd always have a BLT because I SWEAR they put like a POUND of bacon on that thing. It'd be piled so high I'd have to squish the sandwich waaaaaay down between my hands before I could bite into it, and out would run this pink soupy concoction - a perfect blend of fresh tomato juice and real Hellman's mayonnaise flecked with black pepper. And I'd have a fountain Coke with it. And a side of those thick diner fries globbed up with Heinz ketchup spanked out of a glass bottle with a white metal cap.
That Eckerd's long gone now, but the memories I have of those BLTs in that tired drugstore diner, consumed with youthful gusto among the quiet old people who'd probably been eatin' at that counter for most of their adult lives? They are always there, just beneath the surface. And one crisp, salty-sweet bite into a BLT still takes me right back.
Ah, why do things have to change?
Tomorrow brings the sixth chapter in The Best of FriedOkra: How I Met Your Father, the story of my 36th birthday -- one that changed my life forever.
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