For The Love Of A Lemon

My new blog friend Cindy and I have discovered some disappointment in our local food shed. Mine has no lemons and hers has blueberries, but not good ones and certainly not cheap ones. So we are doing a trade by mail. There is surely at least one harpy out there who is dying to point out how doing such a trade is doing nothing to help our carbon footprint and certainly isn't adhering to anyone's notion of a local diet.

I think the future holds a lot more local eating for everyone by necessity. I think that reverting to our old methods of getting our grubby hands on culinary treasures is a noble one: getting them through personal travels, souvenirs from other people's travels, or by trading with friends from afar. These lemons still got to me through the use of oil consumption, but it's use has doubled it's measure by also cementing a new friendship. If oil must be used for any transaction, better that it have personal meaning than just convenience.

You'll be noticing that my lemons have become naked. It's not weird fruit porn, if that's what you were hoping worried about. I'm making limoncello. I'll post more on that soon-ish. I had a rare spare few moments yesterday and decided not to wait a minute longer since it takes a total of 80 days to make this elixir of heaven. The Meyer lemons are from Cindy's garden. You should check out her blog because she is not only funny and politically sharp tongued, she writes a lot about food.

I guess I really am a slip-shod style gal. When I lose a flip flop I just keep going. I chuck convention and go the one shoe route. It's a queer sensation when it's my regular shoes but barely noticeable with these breezy barely there numbers. I suddenly realized I was making limoncello in one flip flop and I thought I should share the state of affairs around here.

Ubiquitous kitten shots: I spoke too soon about the conjuntivitis. I believe Penny has that right now and that means that Pippa will too. I couldn't take them into the vet yesterday or today so maybe tomorrow. They are insufferably cute.

And still tiny.

*Jay does not automatically mean a dude, but without knowing, I'm going with the greater likelihood that Jay is a dude. If I'm wrong- please don't throw rocks!