Muffin Binge

First of all, I just have to get it off my chest that I went to dinner at my parents' house and I caught my dad gorging himself on muffins. Actually we were all just sitting there wolfing down our soup and muffins and all of a sudden I see this huge pile of muffin wrappers by his plate.

"Uh, Dad, did you eat all these by yourself?

"Uhhh... Yup."

"Holy cow, Dad! How many did you eat?"

"I had a few."

I counted the wrappers. He consumed an impressive amount of muffins. I had to document the moment:

 He was a little embarrassed. Camera shy.

 He had eight muffins. EIGHT.

^^ Eight empty muffin cups^^

Don't get me wrong, my mom makes amazing muffins, among her many talents. Tonight they were whole wheat and apple, fresh out of the oven, and they were delicious. So I really don't blame my dad for eating basically a whole pan of them by himself. It just surprises me because my dad is one of the most wiry people I know. He does not eat refined sugars, white flours, or basically anything processed. Hardly any pork or red meat (Unless it's deer or elk. No, for reals.). He also works out every day. He rides bikes and horses and runs and walks.

When I was younger, he had his own butcher business and his shop didn't have a rail system to move the big sides of beef from cooler to cooler, so he would carry them everywhere. Like, he would literally lift them up and carry them around. Entire quarters of beef. Twice his weight in raw, red meat. By himself. My dad is a tough cookie. Actually, maybe "tough muffin" would be more appropriate.

But he just doesn't look like the type of guy who could fit EIGHT MUFFINS inside his stomach.

Anyway. Eight muffins.You deserve it, Dad.

By the way, if my dad knew I was writing this stuff about him, he'd probably die. When he found out I had a blog, he was like, "Now you have no privacy." So do me a favor and don't tell him he's basically the star of this post.

He doesn't want the whole world to know "muffin" about him.