I'm a little sad right now. Not because my daughter wears toiletneck sweaters, but because I ate the last of my Honeybaked hambone soup tonight. I have to admit I cried harder when that chocolate cake was gone a few weeks ago, but I'm blue nonetheless. See, there's a story here.
When we were in Atlanta for Thanksgiving I got my first taste of the hambone soup from Honeybaked hams. They sell this soup mix for $2.99 and the idea is to pick up a pack when you get your ham, then after your ham is gone and you're left with the bone, you make the soup. There's no waste. It's a great idea and the thing is....it's so darned good. So I'd been craving that soup since late November.
But we weren't planning on getting a ham ourselves for Christmas. So I didn't know how I'd be able to make it. But then I heard that you can buy just the hambone from Honeybaked. They don't have more than about one a day, so you have to just get lucky. Reallllll lucky.
I first dropped by the store one day around 11:00 and they told me you have to be there when they open, and it's first come first served. Great, I said. What time do you open? 10:00. Perfect. I'll be here.
So the next day I show up at 10:00, only to be told it was already gone. GONE? Did it put on some Nikes and escape out the back door? No, they said, a lady already came in. You gotta be kidding me. It was 10:02! So one of the girls who works there looks around, beckons me closer, and whispers "You gotta call. Early. Like around 9:00." Alrighty, I said. Will do.
Next morning I glance at the clock, see that it's 8:55, which is most certainly "around 9:00" and I call. The phone rings and one of the girls answers and when I asked for a hambone she told me the one for that day was gone.
!^&*@ !^@&*! !^@&*!!! Vast right wing conspiracy. I asked her if they had a back room I could sleep in because I was bringing my toothbrush and pajamas up there to spend the night to get me a bleeping hambone the next day!
Well the planets must have all aligned the next morning because I got someone on the phone, who told me they had one and they would hold it for me. And so they did. And as they brought it from the back I expected to hear stringed instruments and see a halo of golden light surrounding it. It's a stinkin' PIG BONE, people! Not the Hope diamond.
So after all that, I wasn't about to make my soup on just any night. I wanted to wait until just the right time. I put my treasure in the freezer and waited. But a few days later, Andy was making red beans and rice and had the unmitigated nerve to ask me for some of my hambone to go in it! After all I'd been through... "GET YER OWN HOCK," I hollered at him. "You lay a hand on mine and you'll be drawing back a nub!"
But I relented, and we enjoyed the red beans one week and my fabulous soup the next. All from the same hambone. And now it's all gone. And I'm so sad.
I think I need to get a life.