Hamming it up

Suddenly summer! Boom cars, motorcycles, lawn mowers, people yelling: "Omigod your butt is hanging out!"

Yesterday I took two hours out of my work and we had a ham dinner at my mom's. I picked up another 99 cents a pound ham at Aldi and we gathered in the back yard and ate it.

It was very Martha Stewart because the picnic table was way in the back of this suburban back yard, next to this storage shed. Ever notice how in Martha Stewart magazine, people put picnic tables miles from civilization?


I remember one photo spread where the table was set up over the water, at the end of a dock. Not only was this one old man's chair inches from tipping over into the water, but ... imagine schlepping all your dishes all the way out there!

And then someone would invariably speak up and ask, "Where's the salt?" And you would have to go back and get it!

That sure would make it a challenge to dine al fresco.

What about Al Jolson?


I was just reading lastnight in one of Leonard Pennario's diaries that Jolson was not his cup of tea. I love when Pennario uses that expression. "Not my cup of tea."

The ham dinner yesterday at my mom's was the usual chaos with kids running around but we let the kids run around the back yard and so it was not too bad. Annie came over to visit. She is the yellow Lab from next door. Annie is kind of old and sedate and she had some ham and rolled around with the kids. So that kept them occupied.

Our 12-year-old, Rosie, made me a wreath of flowers for my hair. That was one of the sweetest things anyone had ever given me. That is a picture of me up above with the flowers Rosie gave me in my hair.

But back to what really matters, which is the ham. I was fishing for compliments so I said to my mom, "Mom, so, did the ham live up to the memories of the Easter ham we had?"

And my mom said: "No, the Easter ham was better."

Doesn't it kill you when mothers behave like that? Then she wanted to make me feel better so she said: "Well, maybe I was just hungrier then."

Here is me with the flowers in my hair digesting that ham-handed compliment.


But that is OK. I speak Mom and I know she really did not mean that the ham was not her cup of tea.

Knowing me, next Sunday I will do it all over again.