Grits pie: Don't knock it 'till you've tried it

I know it sounds bad, even to my Southern ears, but lemme tell you. Grits pie is really good, especially if you take a blowtorch and melt a layer of sugar on top, like the fancy cooks do with creme brulees. Which is what I did last night. "Any time you can combine cooking with the use of a miniature flamethrower, take it" has always been one of my guiding principles of life. Recipe for the grits pie, which is like an egg custard but with a little more body, courtesy of Paula "More butter on that butter, please" Deen, bless her heart. You'll have to purchase a blowtorch and experiment with melting the sugar on top of it, if you want to "Dunnify" it.

I actually purchased the blowtorch to insta-roast some barbecued marshmallows, which is something else you shouldn't knock until you've tried. The sugar coating on the pie was just gravy. So to speak.

Moving on.

For quite a while, The Lovely Missus and Mama Dunn have been saying that Jacob is growing up so fast you can see it. But I couldn't see it. If I looked at older pictures of him, ("People say, 'This is a picture of me when I was younger.' Every picture is a picture of you when you were younger." The late, great Mitch Hedberg), I could see that he'd grown in girth and length, and that his head is in better proportion to his body now, but I didn't get that, "Holy Moses, what happened overnight?!" feeling. Until this weekend. TLM took Jacob to visit her folks and some friends Friday night, then returned yesterday afternoon. This morning, I got him out of bed, and I started to check for birthmarks to make sure he was mine. Whence comest this gargantuan baby, who's aged from 10-month-old to post-adolescent in a weekend's span?

Honestly, he acts suddenly and disproportionatly older, and looks suddenly and disproportionately older. I'm accustomed to looking in the mirror and shrieking because my visage has been surreptitiously replaced by that of a much older, much less hirsute, much wrinklier man. I'm not accustomed to my infant boy looking like he's about to say, "So, what about that stimulus package, Father? Is it a crucial boost to the economy, or just FDR-esque floundering that will only worsen and already untenable situation, vis-a-vis the dollar?"

Did he enjoy the weekend?

Yeah. A little.