86 kinda randy

I took a picture of the boss Hog BEE-ELL-TEE I had for dinner right before I had it for dinner.  The picture made it look gross.  Flash and bacon fat have their own agendas.  But it was a thing of beauty.  My goal was to get a whole tomato on board, which i did for the shot, but after a bite I picked slices off for sandwich sake.  You shoulda had one with us.  Mayo and tomato (Cherokee purple)  running to my elbow, smeared on my jowls.  Accompanied by the summer's best cob corn yet.  When the butter from the corn starts mixin' with the bread and you get mouthfuls of tomato corn and pig.  Anecdotal evidence of  G—D.  We gotta be in 1% of all humans to eat thusly and I think it's because we deserve it.  [here i pause for you to think about really good bacon] Know how long it's been, a meal like that?  Since like yesterday.  I told a dinner story about how when I was a kid my friend Naughton had an aunt named Peachy who owned a sandwich shop.  We'd do about 15 minutes work stacking boxes and moving displays and get paid in BLT cosmos (that's a hot submarine sandwich for you aliens).  It is on those occasions when I learned to love the tomato on a sandwich and when I learned that no one ever ever says, oh, too much bacon.  Wyatt listened thoughtfully and said, "And Scott Naughton's mom, Barb, yeah, she makes the BEST apple cake."  Tru' dat, boo

today we were scheduled for some skill work and conditioning.  Haven't done any olympic lifting yet.  Sounds like a "Randy" day, no?.  75lbs, 75 snatches for time.  We scaled back to 55lb.  Heather crushed me  7 minutes to 10 minutes.  I only sulked for a moment or two.  Here she is tributing me with the universal sign of uxorial devotion and desire.

True love and home-grown tomatoes.  (Guy Clark is who you really want here but the recordings were sketchy at best.  Apologies)