In otherer better newses

[desperance]

Lest you should garner the impression that my life is all misery and frustration, let me just add that I had devilled turkey giblets to my lunch; and then I went awalking and wound up at a Hispanic supermarket. Whence I shall source a number of future lunches, when Karen is safely in the city: they have chicken gizzards and pig's trotters and "beef marrow guts" (I don't know quite what those are, but they look intriguing).

[EtA: I have now googled "beef marrow guts", and am much better informed. The tube that passes from one stomach to another, apparently: tripas de leche if taken from a calf that has only eaten milk. Some people think it's dogfood, other people think it's a gourmet delight. Guess which way I expect to fall?]

Also, draft. I have blundered to the end of a short story that has felt like fumbling through curtains all the way. I still don't know what it's actually about, there's a shocking lack of revelation at the end. If it is the end. If it is a story.

Now I have to make stock to make gravy for the chickens I mean to roast tonight. That's sort of the wrong way round; time needs to be less linear, to yield up the carcases before I cook the birds. *frowns at time*