Potted meat and other weird-ass shit

As I mentioned, I've been feeling a little under the weather lately. You know, that feeling when nothing sounds good. You just wish someone would put you out of your misery with a .22 between the eyes. The flu perhaps...I don't know, but I am glad it's almost gone.

Last night, I found myself on a Wal-Mart aisle, which so happened to be the canned meat aisle. (Just the name sounds disgusting.) I was waiting for Chris to catch up, when I found myself staring at those tiny cans of potted meat.

I wouldn't exactly put potted meat on my list of comfort foods, but just days before my dad and I were discussing how my mother liked potted meat sandwiches and vienna sausage on camping trips and picnics. So as a comfort food, maybe potted meat just reminded me of my mom for few minutes.

As I examined the cans of deviled ham, and wondered why they still wrapped the cans in paper (and maybe even why they ever started the practice), I compared the prices. $1.44 for a paper-wrapped can of "Deviled ham" compared to 27-32¢ for "potted meat". Maybe it just looks fancier, but to the best of my recollection, they taste pretty much the same.

(Apparently Chris had fallen really behind as I had time for all this contemplation.)

I felt compelled to purchase that little can of meat just to feel close to my mom again. I figured the extra nickel would be well spent for the 32-cent Armour potted meat versus the 27-cent Great Value. Better quality meat maybe, or at least I hoped.

Now, I began to debate, did my mom eat it with Miracle Whip or mustard? Even being sick, it was beginning to sound kind of good.

I wasn't sure if I actually wanted to eat it, or if having the little can around would be my comfort. But I came home tonight and figured OK, I'll try it. I elected for the mustard combo on white bread. Not bad. It was comforting, like a little piece of my mom was here again.

As I sat and ate my little half sandwich of processed canned meat, my dog Scooter was going crazy, jumping around like she was on crack. I figure, basically, she thought I was eating her food.

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