Vespa Stinks, by Greaseball

GB: I wonder if I should say anything? I mean, if I smelled a little off, I'm sure she would tell me. Isn't telling her the right thing to do?

GB: Hey, Vespa, I know this is a sensitive subject, but... Have you not been bathing yourself lately? Um, I kind of noticed that something smelled a little ripe, and it isn't me.

Vespa: Oh, you have got to be kidding me! Me? Stink? Are you sure you're not smelling yourself? Oh, and FYI, I'm a dog. I don't bathe myself. The boy gives me baths. So if you have a problem with how I smell, take it up with him.


GB: Gack! Her breath stinks, too. Reason number 140 why I am so glad that I am not a dog.

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So, six months later, I've busted out the software that came along with my camera so I can shoot photos in the RAW format. This means that I can spend less time prepping each photo beforehand, and just enjoy shooting, but it also means that I have to tweak each photo to make it presentable. So far, it's pretty fun, albeit a slow process. Slow is a relative word, though, and I am thankful that I don't have to develop any film. That's what turned me off of photography the first time around - I have vivid memories of staying in little dark closet by myself to reel film, only to discover that I did it poorly and there were giant bubbles eating all of my subjects' heads. Okay, so this was in the 4th grade and I'd like to think that I'm more coordinated now, but the ever present bruises on my knees might beg to differ.

My fascination with food has been kicked up a notch due to summer's bounty, so I've been taking a lot of dinner pictures and writing down particularly delicious kitchen experiments. As a little challenge, prompted by reading The Omnivore's Dilemma, I am avoiding most processed foods and, when possible, buying organic, local food. There is a hipster word for this: locavore. Funny, but this is called "how you eat" to lots of other people in different countries, including my own grandmother who still grows most of her own produce out of habit. So, no, you'll never hear me refer to myself as a locavore. I don't call myself a foodie, either, because who doesn't like to eat good food? (Okay, so I can think of one person who ate a tinned fish and a microwaved sweet potato every. single. day.)

Anyway, the point of this all is that I've been experimenting with foods I have not tried before. Last weekend, I bought 2 pounds of cranberry beans from the farmers' market. Opening each pod was like unwrapping a Christmas gift - the color of the beans varied a lot, so I was constantly shouting out, "Ooooh! Look at this one! And this one!" to no one in particular. Let it be noted that Mingus did come over and sit by my feet, because he was sure that he was going to get a treat (he didn't). I believe I also uttered, "This would make beautiful sock yarn!" a few times.

Shelling these beans reminded me of knitting: something useful to do with my twitchy hands. I boiled them for about 30 minutes, drained them, then swirled them with a little bit of meyer lemon olive oil, garlic, and sea salt and called it dinner. The next day, I pureed the beans and used them as a spread for the kalamata olive bread that I baked. Delicious!

There is another International Cat Hat coming up very soon, so stay tuned!

Today's blog post was sponsored by the letter R, for Random.