Piggly Wiggly

I've hit the wall. As it turns out, there is such a thing as TOO MUCH COUNTRY!

I have been very proud of myself these last 5 years. I arrived back in my hometown all full of energy and confidence as I embarked on my journey to become a country girl. And now I figured that since I have been home for 5 years, I have seen it all.....camps, outhouses, 4-wheelers, fishing, campfires, porch-sitting, peeing in the forest....what else could there possibly be? In fact, I think I got complacent, and way too cocky, so the Universe decided to demonstrate to me I am not fully country just yet!

Last week-end, our friends decided to have a pig roast. I have been to Hawaii several times, and I have been to a luau where a pig is roasted in the ground for many hours. When it is done, the meat is served along with salad, veggies and poi, a Hawaiian dish made from the fermented root of the taro, which has been baked and pounded into a substance like mashed potatoes, but way more gray and tasteless. Roasting the pig was all a very civilized process, mostly because all I really got to see was roasted pig meat (ie pork, as we like to call it in the city), on my plate.

Cut scene to a pig roast in rural New Brunswick. I SAW IT ALL! I didn't just see pork on my plate, but I saw a little piggly wiggly with his front legs up in the air like he was saying, "I don't want any trouble, please don't shoot!" I saw the little piggly wiggly as he (I assume it was a he, since surely some mean old farmer wouldn't kill a girl pig, would he?) was turning round and round on a barbecue spit. It was like he was on one of those rides at the fair that turns round and round and makes your stomach twist all up, but he didn't have a stomach anymore! Instead, it was making my stomach twist all up, and I was neither on the spit, nor on a ride at the fair.

And then there was the turkey. Well, what can I say about the turkey? The barbecue spit is only so long, so in order for the piggly wiggly and the turkey to fit on it at the same time, the pig's nose was shoved up the turkey's bum. I am sure that in the world of barnyard etiquette, it's politically incorrect for a pig to stick it's nose up there. The turkey surely has rights, and in my opinion its rights were being violated terribly!

About 10 hours later, we ate.

I have not been the same since. All I see in the background of my brain is a rotisserie with a pig and a turkey, both waving at me. The turkey is looking frightened, trying to get away from the pig, whose nose is in the turkey's no-man's land. 

I have been eating a lot of toast and cheese whiz since last week-end. Cheese whiz doesn't have eyes that will haunt you for weeks.