Meat

I am the primary hunter gatherer for my clan. Since my wife and children refuse to paint images on our walls of me coming home with boxes of buy-one-get-one-free Stove Top Stuffing I have to brag to people about the awesome deals I find.

This past Saturday's hunt I came home with 11.5 pounds of pork. The Acme Market was having a sale on a Hatfield (a local meat supplier) bone in pork loin combination, which was a package of ribs, center cut chops and a sirloin roast for 99 cents a pound. (A side note, Lauren thinks I do too much impulse buying when I shop but seriously, 99 cents, I had to get as much as I could.) I felt very good about my hunt, very manly.

Me William. Me hunt food.

Part of the testosterone fueled caveman in me wanted to tie the package of meat to the hood of my car so everyone in the neighborhood could see the bounty of my hunt, but I didn't. I was, however, lucky enough to have my neighbor and Lauren chatting out front as I pulled into the driveway. I thought of holding the plastic wrapped, foam bottomed beast over my head and chanting as I unloaded the car, but I didn't. I carried all of the other groceries into the house first and them I made a big display of having to get the last bag.

As I carried the bag, with two hands mind you, I nodded to Lauren and my neighbor and said, "Acme is having a great sale on pork. I got 11 pounds of it right here."

I puffed out my chest a little bit hoping the two women would ask to see what was in the bag. I wanted to show the fruits of my hunt. I needed to brag, or boast, or something.

Lauren said, "Good Lord. We don't need that much meat."

My neighbor faked a smile and said, "Oh, I don't eat anything that walks on four legs."

I knew in the back of my head that pseudo-vegetarians would not want to see a package of butchered chops and ribs. I was deflated, but I did not give up hope.

"Oh that's okay I only buy pork from two legged pigs." I said hoping I could show the awesomeness of my purchase.

I got blank stares.

They went on to discuss how my neighbor only eats meat of the two-legged variety like chicken and turkey.

Then something happened to me which was very weird. Just as I was about to say something, a little image of Lauren rolling her eyes, her face turning pink and her apologizing for me, flashed across my brain. I opened my mouth, but thought better of what I was going to say, for Lauren's sake. This must be what a filter between the brain and mouth is like. I struggled to not say the thing I was thinking of, mumbled something and went in the house.

Later I told Lauren about the strange struggle in my mind about the pork conversation.

"What were you going to say?" Lauren asked me.

"Well when she said she only eats two legged animals I was going to ask her if she knew any good chimp or human recipes."

"I would have laughed at that." Lauren said.

"Great." I said. "The one time, in the history of our relationship, that I actually thought before I spoke, completely wasted."


Sidenote-My neighbor is one of the nicest people anyone could be lucky enough to have as a neighbor. Her decision not to eat meat is, as she explained but I did not include in the above post, a personal, health conscience decision. This post was not about her choice, or anyone else's choice to not eat meat.