And the Moment That You Wander Far From Me

Last night I pranced in from work and plopped down a Jamaican Patty with the same enthusiasm your cat offers a dead bird at your feet.  I question my mates love of food when he simply smiled and looked at it.  He didn't pick it up and immediately smash it in his mouth, like I refrained from doing.  A coworker brought them for us gals, a genuine treasure.  Homemade patties are flaky, like a croissant with beef inside (chicken in this case) with enough heat and spice to make it memorable.  I love to partake in foods that I would or could never make myself, and this is one of them. I gave that patty exactly overnight to sit in that fridge and be claimed before I commenced to heating it up and pairing with a couple of fried eggs!  

I don't understand this side of some humans.  How anyone could resist such culinary treasures.  How a Jamaican Patty would not be welcomed as an immediate bonus to the present moment. 

When my mate does these things I consider him a stranger and refuse to recognize this side of him.  But later appreciate our differences, especially where food is concerned, otherwise we might be 300 pounds.