Time really flies with a little baby. Lucy was a newborn, and then--she wasn't. She has been three months old for nearly a month now, and it seems like about five minutes.
I can tell time is hurrying because the food in my refrigerator gets scary faster.
I just looked in to get a snack, and saw the fennel left over from Thanksgiving sitting in the back of the bottom shelf. For those of you who don't know what fennel looks like, it is kind of celery-ish with feathery green frondy leaf things, and where the stalks join together is this big white bulb which is usually what you eat. For thanksgiving, I made a chicken Provencal recipe with fennel and orange. It was good.
Unfortunately, fennel doesn't seem to be in season for Thanksgiving, because it was the price of gold.
And I had Dyami buy way, way to much of it.
We had about twenty dollars worth of fennel sitting in the fridge.
I used two of the leftovers to make a grilled fish/orange/red onion thing that was good, but that still left two bulbs.
Now to the time hurrying by theme. I keep thinking we just had Thanksgiving, so the fennel can't be past its expiration date.
But it occurred to me, getting out the baby carrots, that T-day was nearly a month ago.
And the fennel is looking a little forlorn there, in the back of the fridge.
Back when the fennel was fresh, Lucy couldn't even turn over.
Today she did a 360 degree flip. It was quite precocious.
So looking at the fennel made me a little misty-eyed. (It doesn't take much, these days).
Oh, fennel. How I miss the days when you were edible!
It made me so nostalgic, I just left it there, wilting, in the fridge.
Well, nostalgic, and it was hard to reach back there with Lucy napping in the sling.
Maybe by New Years we'll start cleaning out those memories.
1 comment:
Oh, sweet fennel, how we will miss you. Or more accurately, oh, oniony fennel, how we will miss you.
Get Dyami to throw it out when you're not looking. Men rarely cry over seasonings.
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