A matter of cut...

Yesterday has been rather eventful; first, Evelyne saw a pine tree being cut and immediately thought that our son Thomas could use the wood. We hitched our trailer, picked up the pieces and drove to Salt Lake to deliver the fuel. While we were there, we picked up some rabbit at the butcher, that we had reserved in the morning. Usually, when we call for rabbit, the meat is prepared and bagged for us when we come to pick it up. This time it wasn't, and one of the butcher asked me if I wanted the two animals cut or not; as a clueless macho in a hurry I simply said “don't bother.”

The following day when Evelyne opened the packets to prepare our favorite meat, she went ballistics as she discovered that the animals were dead alright but whole. While I took the blame for the “uncut rabbit,” I proceeded to play butcher and hash down the two bunnies into a multitude of tiny pieces not so much by choice, but as a direct result of my first “practice run.” At first, my spouse wasn't too impressed with the job, that she considered rather “unprofessional,” but later on admitted that the smaller morsels I had produced worked better in her preparation. I felt like an accomplished master-butcher!