Well, Clarice . . . Have The Lambs Stopped Screaming?

If there were only a few foods remaining on the planet, I’d hope for dolmas and hummus . . . and lemon meringue pie. I could eat dolmas three times daily and probably never tire of them. Rusty possesses less enthusiasm for the stuffed grape leaf. No one knows why. Similarly, he’s not the fan of hummus that I am. That said, he dons an air of indignation when I state to anyone that Rusty hates hummus. I make hummus often and I usually eat all of it, save and except that first spoonful out of the food processor when I ask Rusty to taste-test for seasoning. So perhaps hate is too strong. But believe me, of every item in our refrigerator, hummus is probably Rusty’s last go-to food. 

Clearly, we're here for a discussion of food and not the myriad adventures experienced with our recent guests. Yes, we visited Buena Vista Lodge, the Diria coffee tour and Rio Celeste. But before we delve into those adventures, let's cover food . . . one of my favorite topics.

My brilliant friend Rob visited us for a few weeks. The first week of his visit Rob was joined by his darling sister, Jenny. Jenny was a special treat in that we'd never met her and were delightfully surprised at every turn. But back to my beloved Rob. Rob eats. Rob cooks, but mostly Rob eats. Rob is easy to please when it comes to cooking; but he’s not easy to fill-up. Did I mention that Rob eats? Long before Rob’s arrival we had discussed making sausage . . . for selfish, hunger-driven reasons, of course; but also as sort of a tribute to our mutual friend, EBJ (in my mind, the Sausage King of Detroit). 

Maybe We Could Express Ourselves More Fully If We Say It Without Words

Under the heading of 1001 Reasons to Move to Costa Rica, reasons 99-801 should involve completely embarrassing yourself. I’m really good at it. Luckily, I packed my sense of humor.

I love Eduardo. He works at our little specialty store. Eduardo is the gentleman whom I kissed in my joy about the arrival of grapefruit juice. Last night we made a quick run to town for a few items. I’ve learned to always grab one or two tins of cat food. One really doesn’t want to be around Nut-Meg when she’s low on food. She senses it. I declare, Meg can see that there is only a single tin in the home. So I squirrel away cans of cat food in secret places as I used to squirrel away a joint in my college days. Why, look, Meg/Kathy . . . here’s an unexpected little surprise.