hamfest. it’s not what you think
Cheese and crackers.
Before making the hop last Friday, I put out the word that girlfriend was heading to the right coast. When asked by the J-Roh as to the nature of my journey, I replied “Hamfest.”[ed: Hamfest in 30 words or less…]
After some amusing ribbing from the J regarding transistors and black and white television sets, we made a few mushy plans to be firmed up post-ham. Imagine my surprise that when calling the J on Sunday, I found myself put on the defensive:
Indeed. Hamfest was a wonderful time.
No really. It was a lot of fun.
Seriously. The ham was incredible.
Of course they’re my friends!
What do you mean a room full of GEEKS?!
I was astonished at the turn the conversation was taking. I mean, for crying out loud. If I want to attend a lovely dinner centered around the second best pork product ever, who is anyone to judge? If I want to eat my body weight in perfectly cooked pig rump, it’s my privilege. Fearing my wrath, the J back-peddled and explained that she was just surprised that I’d be into that sort of thing.
Apparently, she looked it up on the interweb.
Um… Not that kind of hamfest. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
Now, if you will pardon me, there is a rag chew with my name all over it.
On the second Saturday after Thanksgiving, Miss Himsetti makes a phenomenal themed dinner starring The Ham. This past weekend closed Hamfest VII – The Year of the Pig.