Speaking of the position of lumber in Glory Begunhas put me in mind of something along the same line.
In the past I have had dealings with more than one person in a position of respect within the field of Social Services, who have been obviously possessed of such large sticks of lumber lodged within body cavities that it most certainly should have created great discomfort. I grant that such people sometimes seem not to mind any inconvenience that such an affliction might cause. However I feel that it is not so much a matter of choice, as it is that they have probably just become so accustomed to the gross intrusion of lumber into their system that it has become a way of life. Perhaps it can be compared to long-term victims of torture who have become inured to the pain and discomfort.
On more than one occasion, I have considered suggesting the services of a Colorectal Surgeon, but have refrained, not wishing to call attention to a potentially embarrassing condition. I ignored the Elephant in the Room.
To be fair, the Social Services field is in no way the only career path that is vulnerable to this particular malady. It is just the one with which I have most contact.
Sharing this information may be something for which you could not care less, but I appreciate you allowing me to do so.
Grits are wonderful, nutritional, unassuming and just plain damn YUMMY! This is an inarguable contention and an absolute fact of the universe. It is self-evident. Don’t start with me. It won’t end pleasantly.
They are quick and simple to make. “Instant” grits save very little time and besides . . . “Instant” grits SUCK–also an absolute.
They are good plain. I like mine with a little butter and black pepper, but they can be embellished with many things. If I am feeling especially plucky, I will crumble a little bacon into the bowl. Purists scoff. I smirk.
Grits should be eaten within 5 minutes of coming off the stove. After 5 minutes they cease to be Grits, and become Concrete.
And, Yankees, “grits” is singular. The next time you are driving to Florida and decide to stop at a Mom and Pop restaurant to sample the local culture and a waitress taking your order simply asks you,
Don’t reply, “Oh, three or four will do.” You will just be confirming what we already think of you.
By the way, the artwork on the bag of Quaker grits was posed for by Barbara Bush in costume. *nods*