Dog of Conscience (Part 5)

The girls kept to themselves for a while, sleeping by day, and only rousing themselves occasionally to run cat errands. During the evenings they contented themselves by sitting in the office window sill, or luxuriating in any of our numerous, nearly-dead, potted houseplants. They kept quiet mostly, until, of course, 2:00 am— The Hour of the Cattening— a time when all felines must heed the call and rip through the home like little slot car racers, dashing cutlery and pencils, dispatching your clattery glasses under the piano, and racing up and along the walls in defiance of gravity and house rules. If they got too rambunctious and kept Yoshi awake, he would stumble bleary-eyed off the sofa, stand in the middle of the living room, and emit a single, booming, BARK! which sent the girls scattering to various darknesses, from which they might peer at him through resentful green slits.
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Spud

So we joined up with spud.com, that online organic produce delivery service. John and I had resolved (generally, not New Year's, too gay,) to get more veggies in us, and this turned out to be a great way for our lazy asses to do it. If you leave us to our own inclinations, we'd live off of jerky and Oreos.

Spud delivers produce as often as, and in amounts that, you predetermine. You also decide what kinds of produce you prefer, and then they just show up with a bin of whatever. Sure, you can change it, but where's the fun in that? Not knowing what you're getting forces you to cook creatively and resourcefully. This week's delivery, for instance, had leeks and shallots and potatoes. That was easy; I made soup. We also got brussels sprouts, so I made hash. A few weeks ago I pickled a shitload of beets, and will do so again because it turned out awesome. The yams are going to be made into raviolis. Every week it's something different and exciting.

They also do organic fruit, so there's citrus sorbet and apple crisp and all sorts of stuff. Randy, I'm really looking forward to your comment about gayness. And they have the old kind of Fujis! Remember the old Fuji apples? The sort of small, brownish ones that looked sad, but tasted amazing? They deliver those, instead of the big, bland, pretty ones. It's bliss.