The Bacon Milkshake

Three different people sent me the same link on the same day. One of them asking, “would you even drink this?” Clicking it led me to this amazing discovery:

To most the idea of adding meat to a milkshake is horrifying. But for me the answer to my friend’s question was a resounding yes! I would totally drink a bacon milkshake.

I clicked around the internet, somewhat pained by my sheer predictability, and learned that the Jack in the Box Bacon Milkshake was a semi-secret menu item created as a part of their Marry Bacon promotion (a campaign that I can truly get behind). The milkshake is not being put on their menu and would only be available for a limited time in very limited quantities.

To a lot of people putting bacon in a milkshake is everything that’s wrong with American cuisine. They may be right, but I’m not about to stifle anyone’s culinary creativity because you never know where magic could emerge. When I was a kid I united root beer and chocolate milk and discovered that it was a sublime combination.  

On the drive home, I happened to pass a Jack in the Box. As if guided by some strange bacony force, my car seemed to pull over on it’s own. Before I knew it, I was shouting the words “bacon milkshake” at the drive thru speaker box.

Now the shake had been discovered and purchased.  So the big burning question remained: the heck was it? I won’t bury the lead by telling you it was really good.

By sight, there was no discernible way to tell that there was a magical ingredient in the shake. It looked like the standard Jack vanilla shake—complete with whipped cream and cherry on top. But the first sip betrayed the shake’s bacony secret. The initial flavor that came through was rich vanilla, immediately followed by the familiar smoky taste of bacon. The flavors harmonized really well and the balance between the shake and the bacon was perfect—smoky, rich, sweet and a touch salty. Thankfully, the consistency was that of a regular milkshake and there were no visible bits of bacon to be found.

On the ride home I drank half of the shake and had to summon every ounce of my willpower not to finish it before I could share the spoils with the rest of the family. WonderWife™ apparently had not seen my Facebook profile and had not yet heard of the concoction, so was confused when I thrust a fast food milkshake into her hands and said, “drink it.”

“Is that bacon?” WW™ delightedly asked before taking another sip. “It’s really…good.” She seemed surprised by her own reaction.

Passing the cup to the kids, the Bean announced that he liked the vanilla, but didn’t like the bacon. My little carnivore Sprout, who might even love bacon more than me, licked her lips and begged for another sip even after the cup was empty.

I gotta hand it to you Jack in the Box. You make one hell of a meat shake. A bacon milkshake is certainly nothing that should be consumed on a regular (or even semi-regular) basis. But it was a fun novelty treat for three out of the four of us.

39

This past weekend I turned 39. I have one year left of my 30's.

I’m not handling it well.

I’ve never before been bothered by my age or the prospect of getting older. I sailed through the transition from 29 to 30 with ease while some around me seemed to struggle. But recently, the thought of getting older has been infecting my thoughts like some virus from a horror movie. I’m plagued by pictures of me from the recent past that display my darker hair, smaller forehead and a noticeable lack of wrinkles around the eyes. Somehow the younger me appears brighter and more focused.

Of course I am projecting. My reality is not as harsh as it appears to me. At least this is what WonderWife™ tells me, and I’m inclined to believe her since she rarely has anything other than my best interests at heart. But I must admit that it is difficult.

I now understand the compulsion of middle-aged men to buy a flashy new sports car. Something that bright and shiny is meant to make you look cool in a world that doesn’t care if you’re cool. Because the truth is, middle-aged men aren’t cool. Nor should they be.

There are new generations rapidly coming up behind me and I find myself surrounded by a whole lot of people a whole lot younger than me who don’t get my movie references, don’t care about the TV I used to watch and think my music belongs on the oldies station (which, alarmingly it is). It makes me sound ancient to wax poetic about a time before the internet. And while I’m far from yelling at people to get off my lawn, I am no longer a part of the all-important 18-34 demographic that shapes pop culture. As an entertainment junkie, this upsets me.

Again, I know that I’m being dramatic. Life does not end at 40. If my 60-something parents have showed me anything, it’s that there’s a tremendous amount of fun to be wrung out of the latter half of my life. But it can’t be helped that these are the thoughts that bounce around in my brain like super balls as I take my kids to school. These are the seeds of the so-called midlife crisis.

But I’m not going out and getting that sports car, even if I could afford it. I’m not trading in my wife for a younger, dumber model. I will continue to live in my modest house and enjoy my roles as a husband and a father, Because those are good things to be and I do enjoy being them. I will continue to diligently try to carve out my place in this world. I will continue to use my Rogaine, in a misguided effort to stave off inevitable baldness. I will continue to get older, whether I like it or not. And eventually, after a brief period of neurotic gestation followed by some soul searching, I will be okay with it.

But today, I’m struggling just a bit.

Lesson In Equality

It was the day after the MLK holiday. I was getting Sprout ready for bed.

“We got treated at school today,” Sprout said to me as I helped her pull her pajamas over her head.

“How did you get treated?” I asked.

“We got M&Ms.”

“Why did you get treats at school?”

“The teacher gave all the kids with curly hair M&Ms.”

“And since you have curly hair, you got some. But kids without didn’t get any?”

“No.”

“How do you think they felt about that?”

“Bad. But then the teacher gave them M&Ms too. They were treated.”

“You mean they were treated the same?”

“Yes.”

Gender Observations

After spending a good portion of the evening piecing together his new Lego Y-Wing Fighter, the Bean was eager to play with me. He quickly fashioned a crude Lego ship for me to pilot and the space battle commenced. Midway through our aerial skirmish, Sprout slid into my lap, new doll in hand, and also wanted to play. While the Bean was busy dive-bombing my ship, Sprout’s doll complimented my Lego guy’s outfit and asked if I wanted to help cook breakfast. I attempted to land my ship at her dollhouse table, but was under heavy fire from the Y-Wing. Unfortunately, Sprout’s dollhouse took some friendly fire and breakfast was never cooked.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

I was fortunate enough to be one of two people who attended the marriage of Strawberry Shortcake and Lemon Meringue (aka “Lemon Girl”). The surprisingly short ceremony took place on the floor of Sprout’s room and was officiated by Sprout herself. The dolls walked down the aisle, were complimented on their hair by Sprout and made to give each other a hug and a kiss.  Afterwards Strawberry Shortcake made Lemon Girl soup because she was feeling sick.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Over a rare leisurely brunch with some friends, the topic of boys and girls came up. The couple has two girls, but the husband clearly wished he had a boy in his life to balance the scales. As we discussed what life was like with a boy in the house--including, but not limited to: destruction, running around like a 55 lb. wrecking ball, constantly jumping on the furniture (and my back), the ever present very loud noises and screaming, smelly feet, excessive gas… As their girls quietly played with Sprout on the floor, the husband peered at the Bean and looked a little pallid.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The Bean is no longer allowed to play Mario Kart right before bed. He cannot contain himself when he plays, tapping his feet and bouncing on the couch like the Lord of the Dance after a few Red Bulls. The rush of adrenaline causes him to sweat profusely, dampening his just-washed body and clean pajamas and making sleep nearly impossible to attain. We have noticed that this phenomenon is not limited solely to the Bean. While gorging on an afternoon feast of Mario Kart with a friend, both boys were unable to stop squirming while they played.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Upon saying goodbye to his friend, the Bean in a surprisingly effective move swept the boy’s leg like a Cobra Kai and talked him. They continued to flop around on the floor with a ferocity that belied their friendship. The kid’s dad and I just looked at each other and shrugged. Off in the corner, Sprout played with her dolls, either unaffected or decidedly ignoring the rambunctiousness of brother.

Not Funny

It's time for my sabbatical to end. I didn't plan on taking such an extended leave of absence from the blog, but after the craziness and chaos of the year I found that once I shut off my brain it was hard to turn it back on. Thus began the longest break I've taken since this thing began. To be honest, it felt good to check out for a while. I've made no secret of the extensive amount of traveling I did in 2011, which all in all amounted to 2½ months combined. It was important to me that I spend the holidays re-connecting with my family. And while my time off was filled with laughter, bonding and a metric ton of presents, the unimaginable happened.

WonderWife™ always says that marriage is a repeat. After 11 years together, she's heard my schtick many times over. Even my A material causes groans and eye rolls from her. (Though let's be honest, my A material is really at best a B.) So am forced to endure her scorn, criticism or just plain apathy at my attempts at humor. But that was okay because there was my son, my clone, who had an appreciation for his corny dad.

Perhaps it was all of the time he spent with me during my time off or maybe it was the highs and lows of the dual adrenaline rushes of Hanukkah and his birthday that led him to this moment, but somewhere during the end of the year the Bean grew weary of my humor.

During a phone conversation I made some joke. It doesn’t really matter what it was, just know that it was of the cheesy variety and squarely aimed at his 6 year old sensibility. But upon hearing it the Bean paused and said, “That’s not funny, Dad.”

And that was it. My son now joins my wife, my friends and my co-workers in the list of people who endure, but don’t enjoy, my bad jokes.

Sigh.

At least there’s still the girl.

The Best of Daddy Geekdom 2011

The year winds down and the holidays barrel towards us.  It's usually a time of reflection...and eggnog.  Man do I love eggnog.  And WonderWife™ has started making her own...  Oh sorry.  Got distracted. 

2011 was a year with incredible ups and downs.  On the positive side, my family is flourishing like WW™'s summer garden.  Professionally, it was a year filled with great challenges and personal rewards.  I spent more time in airplanes and hotels this year than the last three or four combined.  It was a crazy time with a tremendous amount going on, but we all got through it unscathed.

Somehow I carved out time for blogging (though not as much as I would have liked).  And as we prepare to put this year to bed, I thought I'd list a handful of my favorite posts from the 12 months that made up 2011.

I spent a lot of time this year trying to feed the Bean's inner geek--not always successfully. 

I spoke my mind in a post that garnered some attention.

I ended up living with some unlikely new roommates.

I continued my battle with the worst arts and craft ever.

And I exposed my kids to one of the most whimsical authors of my childhood.


Happy Holidays and Happy New Year!

The Wit and Wisdom of Sprout: Volume 3

Sprout doesn't talk nearly as much as her brother (who pretty much doesn't stop yapping unless he's sleeping or watching Phineas & Ferb), but that doesn't mean she lacks wisdom. Check out these nuggets of goodness:


Sprout: "You made my sauce touch my chicken."
WonderWife™: " Mommy’s not perfect."
Sprout: "Ashley’s mom is." (8/11)

"I’m washing the car soapilly!" (9/11)

Sprout to WonderWife™: "Why can’t you read me a story?"
WW™: "Because I’m going to lay on the couch and do nothing while Daddy reads you a story."
Sprout (bursting into tears): "I want to do nothing too!" (9/11)

The Bean: "This rice tastes like poo."
Sprout: "Winnie the Pooh or just poo?" (11/11)

"Can you help me find Black Bear? He’s black and he’s a bear, Mom!" (11/11)

“Tonight I’m going to sleep with my eyes closed.” (11/11)

“Is smiling laughing without making any sound?” (12/11)

(Holding hand up to her granny's): "Granny, your hand is as old as Bean is." [5] (12/11)



Past Wisdom
Volume 1
Volume 2