7 Pounds of Ham, Dear Lord, 7 Pounds of Ham

I must love this man or something.

I asked what he wanted for Christmas Eve dinner, and he said 'ham and yams'. So we went to the grocery store, and I got stuff for lunch tomorrow, and yams, and I told the fella, 'go get the ham you want, honey', and he came back with a seven pound 'butt cut' or something like that. Seven pounds of ham.

So we went home, and I fixed other food (including an artichoke for me, since I couldn't have the ham, clearly.) And I put the ham in the oven, and I gave it two and ha half hours, and the fella carved, and carved, and carved. 7 pounds of ham.

Then we ate dinner.

Now, of course, we've got maybe six and a half pounds of ham, six pounds if you take the bone out. It's an almighty lot of ham.

Did I mention that my mother doesn't eat any mammals, at all, let alone chazer, and my father really isn't a ham eater? We've got a lot of ham here, but the poor fella is the only one who will eat it.

Unfortunately, it smells GREAT. I have no problem with most of my California quasi-kosher. I don't care about cheeseburgers, and I don't care about shellfish. I buy kosher meat and eat vegetarian when I'm out. No problem! But pork, oh, occasionally I do miss that. Shar siu bow--Chinese barbecue pork buns--ham sandwiches--crispy bacon--and this stuff smells awesome.

(People, lose no sleep over this. I won't eat it. But I am sniffing the air as I stuff freezer bags full of ham into the freezer.)

Tomorrow is turkey breast, salad, pasta, mashed potatoes w/garlic. And cookies!

Monday is leftovers and the Chronicles of Narnia.

The Slim-Fast comes out Tuesday. But the fella has to go on eating ham sandwiches for the foreseeable future.

Insanity.