Let's just take a moment to remember the book we all hated from high school: The Lord of the Flies. Ok, that's plently long enough. Try to get that nasty image out of your head of the boys dressed in leaves running around with a rotting skull stuck on a stick. Ah, high school, how I miss you.

ANYWAY, this weekend is our family's annual pig roast! And since it was canceled last year because of my marriage to my incredibly calm and completely sane husband, I'm doubly excited. My dad is the pig master. If he were a character in that horrible book, he would be Ralph.

Let me break this down for you because you're probably imagining one of two things:

Prespatou Style Pig Roast

A man shows up to school to pick up his children. Of course, he comes with the tractor. And obviously, it will have a dead, dripping, eyes-gaping pig hanging off the front. Yum. Not. (P.S.- This actually happened. Just sayin')

Townie Style Pig Roast

A man walks into Safeway and asks the butcher for a slab of ham. He greases it up and dumps it into a vat of boiling oil or something. Yum. Not.

INSTEAD:

A man, my dad, heats a 3 foot deep pit for 12 hours using a bon fire. He stokes the fire, heats up the rocks, and dresses the pig. The pig gets lowered into the pit at a brisk 7 a.m. and literally bakes inside the pit for 10 hours. Then we feast! YUM! YES!

Be jealous.