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I may be permanently banned from the Wal-Mart next to my cousin’s house, which is where I was when I got the voicemail about this.

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That’s The Gambit, in a cast from his armpits to his ankles, holding his hips in place so he doesn’t jostle his broken femur. How did it happen? Let’s just say a) his father was involved, and b) there’s a serious investigation underway. I’ll leave it at that, because the details make me break things, and I like this computer.

Anyway.

The Gambit is expected to be cracked out in the first week of August, which is when his right leg ought to be knitted and healed. In the meantime… how, exactly, does one keep an active fifteen-month old happy when he can’t walk, or crawl, or roll over, or even sit up on his own?

Today was the first day of Casted-Gambit-Care for The Wookiee and I. It featured the following:

  • sitting on The Wookiee’s lap and playing Playstation
  • many, many, many books
  • a nap
  • iPhone-ness
  • bananas
  • bananas with peanut butter
  • a bus trip
  • prosciutto with Vermont cheddar
  • Finding Nemo
  • window gazing

It seemed to work out pretty well, all things considered. Only a few meltdowns, but hey — when you want to move and can’t, and when it’s a summer day and you’re inside a nearly full-body cast, I think you’re entitled to a few meltdowns. He’s taking it a lot better than I would.

Three more weeks ’til the cracking.

Building up pet karma.

So, The Wookiee and I are on the interstate, heading north after being gone for 11 days. We’re tired, dirty, and stuck in crawling traffic. And we really, really, really want to be home.

Then we see two beagles on the side of the road, looking confusedly at the big rigs, walking towards the highway, then backing up.

There are moments, sometimes, when you have a choice of whether to do the right-but-hours-delaying thing, or the wrong-but-expedient thing. We drove for another hundred feet (very, very slowly), considering. I wish we could say that we made our decision based on pure ethics, but the fact is, it was a selfish action. We didn’t want to spend the next thousand miles feeling horribly guilty.

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We called the number on the tags and their owner picked them up at the next exit.

Now I want a beagle.

Whew.

Back and alive and with many stories to tell, but first a faceplant.

Saturday Cat Blogging

cerealmilk

You wouldn’t believe the crying on the mornings we have toast.

Reality Fish LXXVIII

You are the only one in the entire world who cares if your bed is made.

figs

The Chef taught me about figs. This is one of the reasons she is my best friend.

A fig dish is all about quality, quality, quality. This recipe is not worth doing unless you’re going to do it right.

You want fresh black mission figs, which are usually available in June and early July (depending on where you live, I suppose). They can’t be bought just anywhere, but they’re not that hard to find, either — check someplace nearby that has a well-varied produce section. The color is less important than the feel, I think — they ought to be very, very slightly squishy. When you cut them open, the flesh should be dark red.

Next, get a good — no, I mean it, a good — cheese. A soft goat cheese is pretty much the standard, but there’s a lot of variation, of course. Any store can give you a basic chevré, and it will work, but trust me, you want to splurge. I know The Chef prefers Humboldt Fog. I used Bonne Bouche recently and almost died of joy. If there’s a cheese shop in your area, with an honest-to-goodness cheesemonger, this is the time to go. Expect to spend around $10. Expect to be happy you did it. (A note: don’t get an herbed or otherwise flavored cheese. It’ll overwhelm everything else.)

Lastly — honey. Once again, splurge and get the good stuff. Your local farmer’s market is your best best, followed by a small local co-op, followed by Whole Foods or something similar. Raw honey is fantastic here, but a regular honey is just as good provided it’s quality. Please do not get the honey in the bear at the big-box grocery store. It will make baby Jesus cry.

Once you’ve got your ingredients, let everything sit out on the counter for a few hours to reach a room temperature. Then slice your figs to about a quarter-inch thickness and lay them out on a plate. If you haven’t tasted your cheese before, this is the time to do it — if it has a stronger flavor, you want to put less cheese on your figs, and more if it’s a milder flavor. The average is about a dime-sized bit of cheese per slice of fig. Follow with a drizzle of honey over each piece.

If you’re worried you’re going to screw it up, a) remember that no matter what, this is going to be delicious, you’re just fine as long as you didn’t get cheap low-quality ingredients, and b) you can always make one little complete piece first and test it out. If you’re not happy with it — want a little more cheese, a little less honey, a thicker fig slice, whatever — try again with another little piece until you’re happy. Everyone’s preference is different. And if you make the dish more than once, you might want to try it with something different the second time, another cheese or something. Again, as long as you’re starting with good stuff, you can’t get this wrong.

Eat very, very slowly.

I’d like to add an important word of warning here. This is not — I repeat, not — a dish to be eaten under any of the following circumstances:

  1. When you are alone.
  2. When you are in the company of someone you could be tempted to have sex with but really shouldn’t.

If you are a non-believer in aphrodisiacs, this is because you have never had black figs with goat cheese and honey. You will want to have sex after eating them, and you’re really only being cruel to yourself if you’re in a position where you can’t, and worse, you’re going to get in serious trouble if you’re in a position where you shouldn’t. On the plus side, if you’re trying to get someone into bed, this is better than alcohol.

To Conclude:

Eat good things. And do not lose sleep over it. Anyone who tells you it’s more complicated is trying to sell you something. End of story.

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