Foodie: I’m home!
Beast: Don’t come up here.
Foodie: What did you buy that you don’t want me to see?
Beast: Nothing. It’s just that the raccoon is back. And she had babies.
We’ve had a big fat raccoon living under our deck since the beginning of spring. And this fat bitch decided to make herself a latrine directly in front of the glass door that open up to the patio. We’d imagine her crouching with her back right up against the door, shitting, and then turning her head to look inside and saying “fuck you!” We got rid of her for a short spell by sprinkling about a pound of ground cayenne pepper all over the patio and beneath the deck. But she came back–along with two little baby raccoons–after about three weeks. And the shitting came back too. Here’s the real kicker: the Beast, although he’s very helpful with other icky household chores, like scrubbing the toilet or tub and taking out the garbage, has a very low tolerance for picking up shit. He gags. He whines. He almost cries actually. I don’t love picking up shit, but it doesn’t make me want to cry. So I’m the designated shit picker-upper.
Beast (yelling from the top of the stairs): I’ve got a plastic bag up here we can put the shit in.
Foodie: Okay, let me just get a pot of water boiling for dinner.
I joined the Beast upstairs. He was waiting to go outside.
Beast: Oh god how are we going to get out there? The shit’s right in front! Oh god you go first!
Foodie: Just step over it.
Beast: Oh god I don’t think I can watch. I think I’m going to faint.
Foodie: Give me the plastic bag.
Beast: Is that all you’re using?
Foodie: No, I’ve got these too (two clear plastic produce bags over my hand for double protection). You might want to turn away now.
Beast: Oh god.
Beast: Oh god what’s wrong?!
Foodie: It wasn’t dry yet!
Beast: I’m dying I’m dying I’m dying.
Foodie (going over to hug and comfort the Beast)
Beast: Oh god don’t touch me!
Foodie: I had three plastic bags on my hand! Relax man! I think we better get you inside.
Beast: What’s for dinner?
Foodie: I’m going to make a spring-themed tortellini, and maybe a salad. I thought about picking up take-out food on my home but then I realized we have groceries here so why spend the money? We have to start doing that more you know–just making due with what we have and being creative with it.
I had picked up this little bag of tried tortellini from No Frills a while back. I’ve used them before. They’re not spectacular, but they’re not bad–especially if you sauce them up a bit.
I had some lovely Ontario green onions and zucchini.
So I sautéed them in a little olive oil. And just before the tortellini was cooked, I added a generous handful of frozen peas to the pot of boiling water. Then I tossed all that in with the zucchini and green onion along with some freshly grated parmigiano and a couple pats of butter. That’s when I realized that my creation was screaming for some fresh mint.
Foodie (calling to the Beast): Can you please grab me some fresh mint from the patio?
Beast: Are you kidding? I can’t go back out there!
Foodie: Stop joking around please.
Beast: I’m not joking!
Beast: I don’t even know what mint looks like.
After a few minutes the Beast came down to the kitchen with fresh mint in hand. I ripped it up and added it to our dinner.
Beast: Yes, it is good.
(Silence and eating.)
Beast: What meat do you think would be good in this pasta?
Foodie: I don’t think I would want to add a meat to it. The flavours are so light and delicate–meat would just drag everything down.
For dessert we had a supply of frozen fruit bars from which to draw.
We buy them from the organic green grocer on the corner. I love the coconut, as you can see. I grabbed a couple of them to eat while we watched the evening news.
Foodie: Okay, maybe I’d add some proscuitto. But it would have to be chopped up in matchsticks and it would have to be crisped up a bit.
Beast: Dinner was delicious. I don’t want to sound ungrateful or anything. Also, thank you for always picking up the shit.
Foodie: Thank you for offering to do the dishes.
Beast: But I got the mint!