Tomato Butts

Yesterday I was in the pits, worldly affairs had overwhelmed me.  Over the course of the day my spirits got better, thank goodness.  I guess you could say I was morose. 

I like to watch late night shows, if I get to bed on time, and last night I was there for the end of the Tonight Show, and the start of Craig Ferguson's Late, Late Show.  He was having an emotional day as well, it was amazing to see how two people could have such different reactions to the same worldly affairs.  Where I got sad, Craig got angry.  Man, he was mad, mad, mad.  Of course, I didn't blame him.  I think we had the reactions we did simply because as two people, standing alone, we knew there was not a dad-burn thing we could do about the state the world is in.

I'm sure we both feel better today.  I know I do, oh, I'm not jumping for joy or anything like that, but I have moved on.  I've found my glasses, and I've filled my glass with some Jim Beam, Club Soda and lots of ice.  It's all good.

Anyway, as I mentioned last week, over the weekend I had a houseful of company.  It was a great time.  We tackled my Dill Pickle Jigsaw Puzzle.  Oh, I had intended to make it hard.  Oh, Buddy, was it hard.  It only had 252 pieces, but it took us both days to finish it.  We felt quite accomplished when the last piece fell into place.

On Saturday we were having sandwiches for dinner, while the girls started work on a new puzzle, I began to prepare the food.  As I was slicing tomatoes I happened to mention one of the commercials Brook Shields does, in which she is ordering a salad at a restaurant.  She tells the waitress she does not want "tomato butts" on her salad.
For some reason, the first time I saw this commercial, that statement cracked me up.
First, because I'd never heard that term before, and second, because I always, always, put salt on my "tomato butts", and eat them separate. 

So, I was telling the girls about this commercial.  My daughter suddenly shot me a very sheepish look. Pressed her index finger to her lips, and announced she threw her "tomato butts" into the trash.

What?????

I proceed to tell her how I sprinkle salt on mine and eat them separate, and she could at the very least throw hers into a plastic bag in the freezer to add to her spaghetti or Chile sauce.  Nope, she just chucks those suckers.  Well, son of a gun.

Now, here's the thing, and I did not realize this until this morning.  As I was slicing those tomatoes, I did the strangest thing.  I did not eat the butts.  I threw them into the trash.  Is that perplexing or what?  Power of suggestion, perhaps?  I've no idea.

All I know is this morning I can't stop thinking about those "tomato butts" slowly decaying out in my recycle bin.  I'm sorry butts, I know you would have been delicious.