Dear Ham Balls,

25 Aug
I’m sorry. I was wrong about you. I made a quick judgement call and I now realize I was wrong.
It’s not always easy to admit that you’re wrong. You know this from your spat with Pork Chops. Sometimes we make decisions irrationally and too instantly – without doing further research or realizing that one bad experience shouldn’t make one never want to try something again (except with sky diving).
I met you, Ham Balls, on an off day. You were slimy and swimming in a mysterious pineapple sauce; I was not impressed. But last night I learned that you’re different than I thought. That my first impression was wrong. That you actually can be quite tasty, firm, and pleasing to the stomach. For not realizing that sooner, I’m sorry.
I enjoy you. Really, I do. I hope to have further encounters; perhaps I could even share you with others who have not yet had the pleasure of pig in ball form. I only regret we didn’t begin our relationship sooner.
Drooling,
Lindsay S.
[A shout-out and thank you to Mary O. & Co. (including husband, Sam, who likes to keep Snickers in his fanny pack) who saw an intern pastor in need – in need of a positive ham ball experience. This intern pastor had a grand night of ham balls, peach pie, and great company in her last week in ham ball country. Perfect.]
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