This morning I woke up early to get to church to cook breakfast for the youth group who had spent the night in the church for a lock-in.
Things were very quiet when I arrived, but I set to work cooking the bacon and pancakes.
As the bacon started cooking, that most distinctive salty-smokey aroma began to fill the kitchen and fellowship hall, my mind was drawn back to Saturday mornings when we often had bacon and eggs.
Waiting for breakfast after the bacon aroma has already filled the room qualifies as torture. Even as I was cooking the breakfast the wait to finish the bacon and pancakes, my hunger pangs grew even as the youth started making their way into the kitchen, snagging pieces of bacon on each pass.
Maybe the next administration will consider cooking bacon as a replacement to waterboarding and the other illegal techniques that have been employed against al Qaeda. Surely a morning of smelling bacon and only being fed gruel will break the toughest character.