Here are some things: Today is February 1. The moon is full. The Australian Open men's final (tennis) is today. It's a hunt day (the season closes at the end of February). There are 327 days until Christmas. And it's Tasha's birthday month! She'll be nine years old. Woof.
Snail shells. Probably store-bought for stuffing and serving. I don't know when, if ever, we used them. We've got snail dishes that obviate the need for shells. Another one of life's little mysteries.
It's just over six degrees this morning. Not really all that cold, but I feel cold. Like, wrap up in a blanket cold.
I don't know why we have a plastic skunk in the house. Perhaps it commemorates an encounter between our former dog, Collette, and one of the stinky varmints not long after we moved into our San Francisco house. Picture it: the summer of 1995, just after we moved into the house. We had just gone to bed when we were suddenly aware of the peculiar odor. Yuck. At least the dog was in the house. Or so we thought. It wasn't long until we realized that the dog's door to the back yard had been left open and that she was sitting on the bed, literally dripping with skunk juice, seemingly proud that she was able to chase the offensive animal out of the back yard.
We spent the rest of that night and most of the next day laundering bedclothes, spraying cans of air freshener and disinfectant onto the mattress, and showering the dog. It was fine opportunity to test the "bathing in tomato juice" method for dealing with the smell. At best, I can report mixed results. And that's being generous. We gave up the fight at home and ended up taking Collette to a groomer to let the pros have a go. After a while (we're talking days, many, many days) the odor began to subside.
So, maybe Ken got the plastic skunk. Maybe someone gave it to us as a "gag" gift. I don't remember. But I will always remember that night thirty years ago.
I got the notification that what I ordered on line from the vet is ready, so today's the day to cross the river and retrieve it. And I have a haircut scheduled. No rain today!
Here's an apple tart ready for the oven. The apples are called "honey crunch." They're tasty, sweet and crunchy. I think we ate almost half the pie after lunch.
It never blooms at Christmas. But it's not far off this time. So this year I'm calling it a Groundhog day cactus. It's had blossoms for quite a while and, just the other day, I realized the blossoms were opening.
This week I'm planning a trip over to the vet's office. I ordered some dental chews for Tasha and she needs a refill of her flea and tick medicine. And I noticed that today is our first (maybe second) three minute day. Meaning that we gain three full minutes of daylight. Yay! On the other hand, we're socked in by fog.
Here's the finished linguini with white clam sauce that we devoured enjoyed on Sunday\. I was just getting ready to take it to the table when I remembered to take a photo, so it's not staged, it's not perfect. Just a quick snapshot.
I woke up to rain this morning. It's only 6.5ºC (about 44ºF) outside, so there's no threat of snow. Still, it's going to be a quick, cold, and wet walk with Tasha when the sun comes up in about an hour.
This is the receipt for the clams I got on Saturday. SARL stands for Société à responsabilité limité (Limited Liability Company). Gump is the name of the company (probably the owners' last name. They're located in a town called La Jarne, a coastal town just south of La Rochelle in the Charentes Maratime. Sales person ID (V6). Ticket number. Date and time of sale. Scale number. I'm not sure what the "PLU" means. Units used. Item (in this case, cockles disgorged, without sand, although there was some residual sand that came out when Ken fed the clams some cornmeal). The details (weight, price per kilo, cost in euros). Number of items. Total cost. Cash, 21.92 (although that's wrong because I used a debit card). Tax information. Thank you, and see you soon!
