So I was at Wegman’s and noticed that they were having a sale on whole hams. I love ham and the smoked, whole hams were just worlds better than the supermarket sliced variety. Those were a treat that we seldom got as children, but when we did, it was always at my Polish grandmother’s house, usually on Easter.

I reviewed the selection of hams, all of them huge. Neon Moon tried to talk me out of it, pointing out that there was only so much ham that two people, namely the Flash and I, could possibly eat, as everyone else in the house abstains. She noted that we have limited refrigerator space. She suggested that we couldn’t possibly even want to eat that much ham, even if we could. At least, I think that was what she said. For my part, I was too busy thinking about sandwiches and the soup I would make when the last sandwich was eaten to pay much attention. I selected the smallest one I could find and bought it.

I suppose there are those who would note some element of similarity between this and Homer and his giant ball of candy or, more aptly, Uncle John’s gustatory efforts, but I disagree. It’s not like I take it to work with me! Oh yeah, I do. Mmmm…ham.