The Bacon Tree

The Man and I are vegetarians.

Until we see a plate of bacon go by.

After swimming in the morning we usually head over to
The Star Diner, our favorite place to have breakfast.

It's the kinda place that hardly exists anymore.
Funky charm, noisy locals, fried food that is so bad for you,
but tastes so good.

There's only about eight tables,
or you can sit on a stool at the formica counter.

We enter thinking we're going to order oatmeal.

Ha!

I even bring a little vial of my special soymilk.

Double Ha!!

As we get comfortable in our seats we look
around at what the other diners are eating.

Eggs with chicken fried steak, omelettes with an
orange or white cheese-like substance melted on top,
trash potatoes covered with sausage gravy,
pancakes with blueberry sauce and fake maple syrup,
and BACON!

Honestly, I usually order the oatmeal.
But, when I succumb to my desires and have bacon
I convince myself that it's not animal.
"They pick this off the bacon tree," I tell myself.

In fact, the next time I'm at our local greenhouse
I'm going to inquire about a Bacon Tree.
I'm sure they'll have one.
They have everything.

Go green!