Everything's Better with Bacon

Bacon has been the flavor of the past week in our home.
I dearly love bacon, but we rarely have it on hand.
During a year I buy one, maybe two, pounds of bacon.

One Slice of Fried Bacon 

Wikimedia

But, under a stay-at-home order and hearing of possible meat shortages,

I spied a ridiculously good price for a pound of bacon at my grocery store.

I caved and bought a pound, even though I had almost a pound in the freezer.

Good thing, too, because this last week has been challenging,
and I have been forced to eat lots of bacon.  
It's been a comfort in a time of trial.

Flickr:  Kim Ahlström   Licence

A week ago, when Terry was long asleep and I was roaming in the wee hours,
I raided the freezer for one of my favorite treats, frozen cherries.
I was worried about my trip to my cataract surgeon early the next morning
and all the Covid-19 protocol I had to follow for my checkup.

As I dumped a cup of hard red balls into a Pyrex bowl,
it occurred to me that cherry juice followed them into the bowl.
But I was preoccupied, and I quickly escaped into a book,
forgetting the juice as I rolled the frozen, sweet treats around in my mouth.

I woke up the next morning coughing, congested,
with brutal body aches, and a very sore throat.
I cancelled my appointment and looked online for a Covid-19 testing site.

"We have more testing capacity than people showing up for a test,"
our governor had just said.
"If you think you have Coronavirus, go get a test."

I drove half an hour to a drive-up, no-appointment-needed site to get a test
and waited as two people heavily garbed in protective gear
tested someone in a car in front of me.

Google

The car drove off, and I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally I got out of the car, decked out in bandana and gloves, and approached them.

"How can I help you?" the male asked.

"I'd like a Covid-19 test," I said.

They determined I had legitimate symptoms

and asked me if I was a first responder or an essential worker.

"No," I replied.  "I'm retired."

"Are you a member of our clinic?"

"No."

"Sorry, but we're only testing essential workers or clinic members here.

You have to go to another location in north Aurora."

WTF?  "But your website said ..."

"I don't know why it still says that," the guy said.

"But it's wrong.  You have to go to another site.

Here's a map with the address."

I left, parked around the corner, and called Terry,

furious and in tears, to let him know I had to drive

another twenty minutes or so to get to the testing site.

"Just come home, honey," he said.

"If you don't get better, I'll drive you to the other site.

Even if you don't think it's safe for us to be together in the car."

By then I was feeling really, really bad and floored it for home.

Before I threw myself down on the couch in a major crash,

I reached for some frozen cherries in the freezer to soothe my throat.

They were soggy and cherry juice was dripping out of the bag.

I reached for a small bag of bacon.  It was flabby.

I felt the other small bags that I had filled with the divided pound of bacon.

They were flabby, as was my previous stash of bags of bacon.

Our eighteen-year-old fridge had croaked.

One Long-lasting Fridge 

It served us well.

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The next few days were not pretty.

As I languished on the couch with a bug,

Terry and I scoured the internet for kitchen appliances.

Our dishwasher had given up the ghost before Thanksgiving,
and our stove was limping along.
We had been holding off on replacing appliances until we moved to Las Vegas.

Since the move to Vegas is not likely to happen,
I was determined to buy what I wanted,
not something serviceable for potential buyers of our house.
I wanted black ~ a bold, sexy statement for our kitchen.

Terry made the rounds of appliance-selling stores
and repeatedly dragged bags of ice into the house
to keep our refrigerator and freezer cold.

Meanwhile I repeatedly unpacked the fridge, pulled out water-soaked towels,
sopped up water, lined the shelves with dry towels,
drained and rebagged partially melted ice, and stuffed it all back into the fridge.
A lot of towels rotated through the fridge, washer, and dryer, let me tell you.
Then I'd perform triage on our Covid stockpile of frozen goods.

One Giant Cooler

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Meals were whatever had thawed.
Mushy peas, mangos, and cherries straight into the garbage,
limp bacon straight into the frying pan.

Finally Terry found the appliances and the deal,
but with a staggered delivery date.
Thankfully the new fridge came first,
and the rest will be coming soon.

Out with the Old #1

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Out with the Old #2

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Out with the Old #3

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In with the New

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My bug is gone today, along with the last of the bacon.

I'm now playing catch up ~ again.

The bacon was a great relief all week,

because of its mouthwatering smell and scrumptious taste.

That smell, that taste convinced me that I needn't bother with a Covid test.

Everything's better with bacon.  
Even chaos.

A Bold, Sexy Statement

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Till next time ~
Fundy Blue



On the Bay of Fundy
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