hot dogs

Hi blog friends, I am terribly sorry I haven't written as of late. So many days, weeks, and months have been slipping by and about thirteen different stories (and writing ideas) go with them. (Fortunately) they are not just stories- they are people's lives, and I am right in the thick of living with them, as much as I would like to tell their stories... and mine, time keeps marching on past me. Hopefully God will give me the memory, and smells might do the rest, to remember and revive bits and pieces when I do have a moment to sit and tell a story. Someday I hope to sit and write a very long story, a series of them, about life, pain, friendship, love, and compassion. Other things, too. Hot Dogs. Hot Dogs have to be written about.

What is a hot dog? Why does it taste so delicious inside bread? Why do some put mustard, others prefer onion, and still some like a pickle. Whenever we grill hot dogs around here, our neighbors are elated.

"We're throwing a party next week, Larry!"

"Oh... will there be hot dogs?"

We can cook all the turkey, stuffed peppers, elaborate side dishes, and eight different desserts, and yet, hot dogs seem to be the hottest commodity. It might remind some of childhood, or a happy day when they were on a picnic, or in their backyard having a BBQ with their family.

Chicago is known for their hot dog. Here is a picture.

Who doesn't want a hot dog now? I do. Wikipedia has an article, Mo Willems, a famous childrens' author, wrote a book. Hot dogs get a bad rap for their unknown contents, but they are really just so darn delicious.

That was most likely the silliest thing I could have blogged about at this moment. So many wonderful, beautiful, sad and good things have been happening here. And you will here about them, many of them. For now, I am thinking back to those hot dogs at the Packers games... those were simply the best hot dogs I have ever had. No ketchup, no mustard, just the dog and the bun.