Moose in the Kitchen

My favorite place to spend money is on what goes in my mouth. So when the Fancy Turkey Sausage People at the farmer’s market yell out, “Best meat in the world!” while proffering toothpicks full of insane spicy goodness, I turn on my heel to barrel over at the most efficient angle. Whether or not someone gets bowled over by my rush to grab three of those toothpicks depends entirely on where they’re standing at the time and how quick on their feet they happen to be. I am the target market of the Fancy Turkey Sausage People. Especially since I like to support local food (blame Barbara Kingsolver) and don’t like to wrestle for parking at the grocery store on a Sunday. So I bought a package of three turkey sausages and oh my good lord, these turkeys must have been raised at the Ritz with a personal staff (teen pop stars to massage their aching turkey wings, nutritionists to prepare gourmet poultry cuisine, unicorns to pull the wagons that transport them to the Ritz pool, etc.), they are that tender and delicious and delicately flavored with fresh organic herbs.

But once you have the fancy, Ritz-bred turkey sausages, you can’t just throw them on a slab of Trader Joe’s wheat bread and call it a day. Before I could eat lunch this afternoon, I had to go to the bakery for fresh rolls. Luckily, there was nice mustard and fresh arugula in the fridge – arugula that doesn’t seem to get eaten unless it’s decorating meat – so my sandwich only required one extra errand and boy, I just dodged a bullet there, didn’t I?

All this to say, I’m quite pleased with my lunch today.

In non-lunch news, I’m volunteering at the SPCA this week to offset my traffic ticket. People working to fulfill a court penalty don’t get the fun Pet the Kitties jobs at the SPCA, they get to do laundry. Which is fine, as I derive twisted satisfaction out of making dirty things clean again. But it involves a lot of polyester, which I pull out of the industrial-size dryer and then realize – for the 16th time that morning – that polyester coming out of a dryer is HOT. So I yelp, toss it in the air, and keep my hands flapping around for the cool breeze until I get everything squared away and remember – for the 16th time that morning – that I really should just hit the “cool down” button before pulling things out of the dryer.

Can you believe an institution of higher education gave me a degree? Yeah, me either. But the Fancy Turkey Sausage People love me.