...but I digress.

     Some days my digression has a theme. Today's theme is cheese. Since it is Bastille Day, that is appropriate, I think.
     I mentioned  to my husband (so far my first and only husband) that I had bought some French Brie to have on crackers before dinner. He said, "I think it's bad. I ate a bite and it tasted burned." I thought a few minutes. "A piece from the cheese in the container, or a piece on the plate?" And in that moment, I knew. "The plate," he said.
     Let me just say we have a very old dog with a skin condition who has to have his medicine hidden in innovative ways. Like stuffing his pills in a piece of Brie. Which he spit out, and which I saved for a second attempt later. So there was a plate that usually belongs to the cat, holding a piece of Brie wadded up around a couple of bright pink pills. And that Brie is gone. And the dog is still scratching but my husband isn't.