Burnt

I had a little funny moment during lunch today that reminded me so much of my quirky Dad. Lunch time for him was quite an ordeal. He would make his sandwich with great care and then add the side dishes, a chunk of cheese, chips, maybe a bowl of peaches or even the occasional prune. He seemed to have a great fondness of Fritos, which went especially well with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.Occasionally while digging through the crinkly bag of chips you would find a burnt frito. Oooooh. We would freak out as children when the crispy chip was found because it meant something just downright awful. My Dad always said that if you ate the chip " it would put hair on your chest." He was very serious and I took him very serious. We would laugh and giggle and contemplate whether we were brave enough to eat it and reap the consequences. I certainly didn't want hair on my chest! We were brave at times and someone would place the dreaded chip in their mouth and crunch it between their teeth. As far as I know, nobody ever developed the "hairy chest"as a child (maybe Keith! I think he stole all the burnt chips for himself in his teen age years!), but simply had a bad taste in their mouth.