Not Without My Kitten

I wrote a while ago about my daughter’s love affair with the Pawparazzi Pets.  A few weeks after that post, I gave in and ordered Misty for her.  Since she arrived, Misty joined Toby as a near-constant companion.  They go with us to the laundry room, the CSA pick-up, and pretty much everywhere else that’s not school.  Each night Lucy gives them dinner while she eats, and then she reads them stories until they all fall asleep.

Until yesterday.

We were running late so I told Lucy Misty and Toby would have to stay home while we went to the science center.  When we got home, there was an awesome package from Auntie Rebecca including a little stuffed Siamese cat (who is now named Daisy) and then it was time for dinner and then bedtime.  At which point it came up that we were missing Misty.

Oh Shit.

To back up, Lucy stepped on a plate and broke it on Wednesday, which was a tragedy both because the plate, irreparable, was gone forever and also destined for the landfill.  It was a cheap plastic plate bought years ago, so I explained that I should not have bought it, it was dollar store cheapo junk, all of that.  Tears and tears and tears.

Then…Misty up and disappeared.

And folks, she’s nowhere to be found.  I’ve looked.  C has looked.  I’m starting to get worried because we’re leaving in an hour or so and I’m not sure I can pull off the whole, ‘Misty’s having an adventure on her own and when we get home…’ a second day in a row.  Toby is accounted for, and Daisy is accounted for.  Misty has just vanished.

I’m simultaneously dreading telling her and wondering where the hell she put the thing because that kitten is somewhere in this house.

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Deep Kim chi

Back in the house I grew up in my grandparents were fond of saying, ‘You’re in deep kim chi if you [insert verboten, usually annoying activity here].’  I have no idea where this saying came from–it may have been one of Grandma’s infamous made-up threats like ‘I’m going to knock you flat on your arse in the vestibule’ or, my personal favorite, ‘I’m gonna rip off your arms and beat you with the bloody stumps.’  Yeah, that’s how my Grandma rolls.  (for the record, that last one was reserved for multiple, younger cousins acting up while I usually either got the arse-knocking threat or the slightly less original ‘you’re driving me to drink.’  Irish.

Anywho, back here at chez nekoswan, we’re making some of that kim chi.  I have a big bowl of bok choy, turnips and scallions soaking in brine that I’m about to remove, reserve and season with as much spice as I can stand.  And I am really quite excited, because in addition to being a threat received as a child, it was one of my family’s favorite foods.  Or, I should say, IS one of my family’s favorite foods.  The spicier the better.  And I’m hoping that I am correct in my assumption that it’s one of those foods that came about from a need to use up leftover veg because that’s how I’m making it.  If not, I figure bad kim chi is better than no kim chi.  And certainly a step above deep kim chi.  I should note that my grandfather hates kim chi with a passion so my grandma made sure to let me know he’d be disgusted I was making it.  Can you feel the love?

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We have tentative plans to go apple and pumpkin picking this weekend and I am soooooo excited.  It looks like the least amount of apples we can get is a half bushel so I’m hoping to get some apples canned when we get back.  Because, really, I am dying to break out the canning stuff and just haven’t had enough fruit to do it yet.  Making food is fun.  I can’t believe I spent so many years not doing it.

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My to-do  list is huge today and I’m not sure how I’m going to get everything done before we go.  I probably shouldn’t have started a major fermentation project the night before we head out of the city.  Because now?  Well, you know what I’m in.

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