a busted foot and a pimento cheese sandwich

In my infinite grace, I managed to destroy my foot yesterday while playing peek-a-boo with Alston.  As I was heading towards the hallway, I looked back to see if he was following me and BAM, I ran full force into the edge of the doorway, foot first.  What I thought was merely a toe-stubbing of epic proportions morphed into a big, swollen purple lump where my toe knuckles used to be, so I’ve been limping ever since.  It could be worse, I could have actually broken something (not that I’ve actually had it looked at or anything).

Still, it puts a serious cramp in the weekend plans for yard work, let alone chasing a toddler.

So now I’m sitting at the computer, eating a pimento cheese sandwich, thinking about how cool it will be to grow one from scratch.  I’ve made pimento cheese before, baked bread, whipped up mayo and grown tomatoes and onions, but I’ve never made cheese.  Or milked a cow.  Or grown wheat.  Or harvested natural yeast for a bread starter.  And while I know I am never going to press my own oil or mine my own salt, it’s still a fun goal.  To grow a pimento cheese sandwich.


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