The End of Bacon

Don't worry. Bacon has not come to an end. I'll explain in a minute.

E had his wisdom teeth out a few days ago, and he's having a pretty rough time of it. I, as the nicest wife in the land, have been trying to cook tasty yet chewing-optional meals, and frankly, I'm running out of ideas. I've done mashed potatoes, broccoli cheese soup, chicken and dressing casserole, and tonight, we sup on baked-potato soup.

Baked potato soup is just regular potato soup, unless you garnish it with 80 gagillion calories, disguised as bacon, cheese, and sour cream.

Which leads me to (told you I'd get there) bacon.

MMmmm. Bacon.

Sophie's favorite part of bacon is the "end of bacon." That is to say, the pure fat part on the end of the bacon. When I cook bacon (not often--well ok, more so lately because I've become addicted to the BLT) Soph politely requests everyones "end of bacon" as in, "Daddy. Can I please have your end of bacon?"

Janz, likes his bacon a little on the soft side, unlike his dad who likes it crispy. Me, I really only like the good bacon from the deli--meaty and cooked until just crisp enough to hold itself upright if you hold it out horizontally.

Anyone remember Sizzelean? My mom used to buy the hell out of that stuff. My brother LOVED it. If I recall, the breakfast of his dreams, as a child, was 2 over easy eggs, mashed up, with little pieces of Sizzelean broken up in it. My mom preferred hers on a bagel, with peanut butter. I shit you not.

How about you? What's your bacon preference. What's your perfect strip? Crispy? Floppy? Any good bacon stories?

In further news, I'm going to rename my blog, and give it a huge face-lift. Now that my girl is almost 5 and going to kindergarten, motherhood has actually become a bit more like having a cat than it was back in the day. I just clean out her litter box occasionally and she's good to go. J/K. Thing is, the only way this blog is going to survive is if it moves in a new direction. It's going to be more about yours truly than the Sophinator, though she'll still have a starring roll. Suggestions as to the new title are officially solicited.

Haiku Hodge-Podge

Which one is Sophie?
The begoggled one of course.
Gotta love that grin.

The living room just
wouldn't be ours if Sophie
was wearing pants

"In our new house, we'll
have room for a bunk bed," said
Mom, and stuck to it.

Kitchen from the left
The cabinets and counter tops
had me at "hello."

Kitchen from the right
If I waited for clean-ness
You'd never see it

Sea World Baby--Yea!
This is post lost Sophie, and
pre dolphin-show soaked.

Dad and Soph and Janz
Posing 30 feet or less
from our hotel room

Now mom joins the fun
Soph provides the camouflage
For my muffin top.

Two Jorgensen kids
Breakfast at our regular
Spot at Snug Harbor.

You know when you haven't cleaned under the couch for a LONG ass time, and you think to yourself, "Self, I haven't cleaned under this couch for a LONG ass time; I'd better do that. Then again, it's been a LONG ass time since I cleaned under here, so I don't really want to." So the fact that it's been so long keeps you from doing it, and eventually you move, or buy a new couch, or things begin to evolve and crawl out from under the couch, or whatever, so you finally clean under the motherfucking couch.

What I'm trying to say, very awkwardly, is that it's been so long since I've blogged because it's been so long since I've blogged. So, I'm going to act like I've been blogging all summer, and not try to catch up all in one fail swoop. (Is that right? Is it a fail swoop? How did the swoop fail?)

The new house is lovely. It's actually kind of aggressively tasteful, so mainly I've been tacky-ing it up a bit. There are still boxes in the garage, and the living room contains 3 boxes (one for E and I each to take to work, and a huge one that Soph has cut a door in and decorated and that I am desperate to throw away but know she will freak out and so haven't yet) but for the most part, we've officially moved in. I'll post pictures some day. I don't want to be like, "Hey everyone, check out the pull out drawers in my pantry and the sweet, sweet, built ins in the dining room and living room," but, then again, I kind of do, too.

Soph is having a good summer. I MUST post pictures of her at swimming lessons. She has these lime green goggles that she won't get in the pool without, and no matter what swimming suit I buy her, it's perpetually all the way up her ass. Makes for some highly entertaining moments. We had a tricky start, and she wouldn't even put her face in the water at first, but now jumps off the edge all on her own (with her life jacket on) and lets her swimming teacher take her out and practice all her strokes.

Ok that's it for now. More later.

SAAAN DIAAAGOOO

Well,

Since Missuzj is no longer posting, I'll post some shit from our vacation. Sorry, no clever quips or any shit like that.

Maybe she'll eventually share some stuff with ya'll.

Til then...well, whatever.

Shown above: We have the lighthouse at Cabrillio National Monument, the great MissuzJ hanging onto her favorite tree, the California Cyprus. And last, but certainly not least, SG "striking a pose" at the Cabrillo tide pools.

The VaKay also included a trip to Ocean Beach where we swam with sea otters and witnessed a grown man shitting on the floor of a public bathroom not five feet from the toilet.

There was also a 6-hour excursion to Sea World that involved Sophie being equally terrified and thrilled at all times. Oh yeah, she also got lost. But we found her, so all's good.

Pretty sweet.

As a frequent vacationer to Los Angeles, I was shocked to spend time in a Southern California city that wasn't like being ass-raped with a metal pipe by a pussy-grader.

I mean, I've been to San Diego before, but, never spent any actual time that didn't involve a rowdy concert and heavy drug use.

The best moment from the vacation involved Sophie attempting to comunicate (in Spanish) to the largely Latino hotel staff that they needed to keep the resident ducks "in-check" so she could enjoy her vacation in peace.

Hopefully MJ will return.

E.