No, even I’m not that short. It’s a giant can. A giant can of Spam. (And, for the record, those easy pull-tab cans don’t open that easily. Just look at me. I’m struggling.)
Meredith and I went to Minnesota this weekend.
She went to see author Chris Bohjalian speak at a cute little bookstore in downtown Minneapolis.
She also needed to go to Minneapolis to organize the jams at The Uptown Cafe.
Other customers just don’t understand that all the strawberry jams need to go into the same compartment. Because they do.
Ahh…all fixed. Mission: complete.
I went to Minnesota to visit The Spam Museum. It was a thing of beauty.
Even the parking lot is cool.
Here’s a giant display of thousands of Spam cans. Looks just like my pantry.
The Spam Shop is most definitely worth a visit. Not only did I get all my Christmas shopping done (nothing says Merry Christmas like the gift of Spam) — I also learned a great deal about everyone’s favorite can-shaped meat.
I had no idea there was a female quartet called The Spamettes. Their hit — Mr. Spam Man (to the tune of Mr. Sandman) — sounds about as good as the product they pitch. Unfortunately, Spamette CDs were not available at The Spam Shop.