The Great White Hunter returned from his bear hunt yesterday afternoon, empty-handed. Which sorta reminds me of a joke which I'll try to relate to you. I can't really remember it properly. But, I'll try anyway. And I apologize in advance. It's a joke about bears and the difference between black bears and grizzly bears. If I recall correctly, a hunter was told to guard against grizzly bears by carrying pepper spray for protection and wearing bells on his person so as to alert the bear when he approached, and not surprise the bear, because you don't want to come up on a grizzly and surprise him. Then, the way to tell the difference between the two bears was to examine their stools. The fecal material of a black bear contains berries and nuts. The fecal material of a grizzly bear smells like pepper and contains bells. Ba-Da-Boom. With that done, I will continue to our New Year's Day breakfast. Mr. Hawthorne made an omelet.
I made grits, with butter and cheddar cheese. And as I've said before, if you haven't had these grits, then you haven't had grits. Do Northerners eat grits?
And here's our breakfast. Toasted whole wheat bun. Bacon. Yellow grits. Omelet. I added sliced green olives to mine, but that's WAY outside of Mr. Hawthorne's comfort zone.
This is the sad part. Dismantling Christmas. I had no help with taking the lights off as Mr. Hawthorne was watching a movie (Duh) and could not be bothered. I was bitchin' the whole time at him and he just kept upping the volume on the TV. He blamed me for the tangled lights at the bottom of the tree, but I had to remind him that he did the lights at the bottom and top and I did the lights at the middle. We're still arguing about that. Naturally, I'm right and he's wrong. Why does he even argue with me about such things? Anyways, I was unable to unstring the lights, so I just pulled them down, like taking off a pair of britches.
Christmas tree out the window. This is really an easier way of disposing of the tree. Plus we avoid the needles all over the floor to the door.