Let's talk about breakfast meat: A beginning.

It's presently beeeeee-youtiful outside.

The snow's a-fallin'. And as much as I'd rather admire it from the comfort of my couch, curled in cashmere, sipping a heavily-spiked Irish coffee with a good book and a roaring fire in the fireplace, I'll settle for the white- white- world from my cubicle window. At least I have a window in here, right?

Snow is absolutely lovely, albeit semi dangerous to drive through. And by semi, I mean absolutely.

I'm choosing to have a good attitude about the current five inch dump of white, fluffy sediment from Mother Nature, and judging from the overwhelming general bad attitude on Facebook this morning, I'm the only one spinning this thing to the positive.

Yay, me.

There is something else highly responsible for my foolhardy good mood this morning, and it's a breakfast meat.

That's right, bacon, the candy of meats.

My love for bacon knows no bounds. If the health food craze is lost on me, bacon is largely at fault.

There are things I would do for a well-fried piece for bacon that I wouldn't do to save a life, and I'm completely serious about that.

Last night, in a rare and fiery bout of wisdom, I decided to fry up and bag some of the breakfast meat I hold dearest of my heart for this morning, to encourage a better attitude about life. It's done wonders.

Wonders.

So, I may have slid through a stop sign this morning, barely missing a police K-9 unit SUV, AND had the fear-shakes when I did finally make it work. However, I like my outfit, my hair looks cute, and I had bacon this morning.

Everything is going to be okay.