Mine is resolutely geeky. I am happy to be learning new command line vocabulary. I also like cutting up and identifying bits of vertebrate embryos for future use – at heart, I am a true conservative: one who conserves. Waste not, want not. Apparently, Protestant-type thrift (sorry for the ad-laden intro at that link) is back in fashion among a certain socioeconomic set.
We had a party for around 70 people in our rented home and garden yesterday. There are those for whom that would have been torture. We’re old enough to not care quite as much, and I actually had a great time. There is still a bit to pick up, but absolutely no regrets, and some super memories.
After the party, I went out to water the plants at dusk, which at this time of year is around 10:30 PM. (I also have pretty functional rods.) I heard a panicked scream streak by me, followed by the distinctive lope of our neighbor’s black-and-white cat. It wasn’t even making an effort, but the little rabbit it was chasing was panicked to death. Can you imagine, having a monster three times your size and clearly stronger and faster, toying with you before it would rip out your guts from your conscious body? Unfortunately, I can, and I’ve heard it before.
I chased after the cat and hissed it back to its own yard, but did not dare to leave the little leveret shuddering under our doorstep, for fear that its nightmare would catch up to it. My husband came out, and of course wanted to caress the creature. By the time I warned him off, it loped slowly away using what was left of its adenosine triphosphate into the other neighbor’s yard. We were both relieved we did not have to care for it. If it was subsequently disemboweled, at least I didn’t know. It may have joined the hedgehog that we fished, alive, out of the swimming pool that morning.
If anyone comes eating my petunias, though, I might well be placing a contract with our neighborly hunters.
I’m also quite glad to have such domestic preoccupations. My Iranian friends are irate; given how I felt after Bush was more-or-less elected, I can sympathize to some extent, but I’m conscious that I can not really imagine how it feels to hope so much for a country that has been so torn with strife in recent history, and then be disappointed. All I can offer is that usually, the pendulum swings back, and I can only hope that the period is as short as it is in my native country.
You see, I’d have let the cat disembowel the rabbit, then shot the cat and stewed the rabbit.
Think of it as out-sourcing.
It was a really small rabbit… barely a mouthful, and lots of little bones.
Use it to stuff a goose, then.
Is this a European form of Turducken?
The not-so-neighborly hunter below:
took out Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail, and is completely unrepentant. It was a suburban tragedy in the Southern Gothic style. The rabbits were sitting in little grass depressions, like deviled eggs or assorted chocolates (at least as far as the dog was concerned). Hopefully, Peter escaped.
Nature red in tooth and claw. And fluffy-wuffy bunny wabbits. Aww.
PS Kyrsten: No. The Turducken is the American form of ballotine.
I’m disturbed that there are instructions on making your own Ballotine on this page. Surely this isn’t something that people do often? I guess my ancestors moved too long ago to Canada – they just never cooked that way!