Redemption

So I had stayed away from hot dogs since the incident at the concert a few weeks ago.  But last night, we took Spanky to see Neil Diamond at Fenway Park.  And in my previous discussion of hot dogs, I may have mentioned my deep love of the Fenway Frank.  So I couldn’t resist, bun and all.  And it was perfection.  I think I ate all of its foot-long glory in just 3 bites.  In fact, I could have eaten another one, but decided not to push my luck.  Not one ounce of hot dog rejection.  We are back on the right track.

Spanky has had a good introduction to concerts this summer.  Bruce Springsteen.  Neil Diamond.  I think we are providing a good balance.  I was thinking that Spanky was a lucky fetus, how many fetuses can say they saw/heard Neil Diamond sing Sweet Caroline live at Fenway?  But then Neil sang Sweet Caroline again.  And then again, a third time.  Spanky (and the rest of us) didn’t feel so lucky and special anymore.

Spanky Lou rejects hot dogs

Hot dogs have been a staple of my diet FOREVER. I can eat like 6 at a time. And in general, I don’t eat hot dogs any place but home. You never know if non-home hot dogs are all beef, without preservatives, or blessed by a higher authority (I will discuss the bacon exception in another post). Except for Costco. I LOVE hot dogs at Costco. And then there is the bun thing (I will discuss my less than disciplined gluten-free diet in yet another post).

Anyway, Jason, Spanky and I went to see Bruce Springsteen last night. It was a grand adventure. Apocalyptic thunder storms, crazy bad traffic and the most ridiculous drunk people I have ever seen. And I thought the perfect dinner might be a football stadium hot dog. I was mistakenly convinced that it would be similar to a Fenway frank (another exception to the at-home only hot dog rule). But no. I should have known…the hot dog sort of tasted like it was cooked a week ago.

And then Spanky or my stomach decided that it didn’t like this hot dog. I will spare you the details. However, we did have to be those lame people that left the concert early. I am willing to chalk it up to one bad dog, rather than swearing off an entire food group. But I worry. What if we have created a child that actually doesn’t like hot dogs?