Tuesday, September 02, 2014
My mom said, "It is a tongue. It's a cow's tongue."
I said, "Well, I'm not gonna eat that." And I didn't.
The next day, my mom gave me a sandwich. "Is that good?" she asked. "Yeah, it is," I told her. "It's the tongue," she informed me, and I spit it out onto the plate. Afterward, we had a long discussion about it being the principle of the thing, and how I was on a strict no-tongue diet. Somehow we never saw eye to eye on this particular topic.
Last week, I was in Port Stanley, Ontario with my daughter. We were in a diner, and she ordered a grilled cheese sandwich. My wife had one too, and she gave me half. It was really very good. It was cheddar and Swiss cheese, and better than any grilled cheese sandwich I'd ever had before. I was fascinated because my daughter would never, ever order anything but American cheese. You know, it comes in that cellophane, and it has enough chemicals in it so it'll still be around when only cockroaches and Rudy Giuliani roam the post-apocolyptic world.
I can imagine Rudy and the cockroach army living forever on a diet of American cheese and Twinkies.
Anyway, only after my daughter ate the whole sandwich, commenting on how good it was, did I reveal the awful secret. I had learned from my mom's mistake. She was horrified, and had the audacity to compare this incident with that of the tongue. While I understand the parallels, it seemed a lot different to me.
I mean, the notion of eating tongue is far more gross than that of eating Swiss cheese, isn't it?
I need some unbiased opinions.
And welcome back to work everyone. I wish you a happy, healthy, and rewarding year. Ignore the grinches. They come and go, but we will prevail.
We're the ones the kids need.