A Little Night Music

A couple of nights ago, Mr. Treme made some delicious pulled pork, which started as a culinary experiment and turned out to be one of those ones that just come out beautifully. Accompanied by slaw and beans, it was a poem of a dinner. Of course there would eventually be gastric repercussions, but when you’ve been with the same person for a while (and you’re similarly realistic/ stoic/gross), that usually isn’t much cause for concern.

It wasn’t until later, as we were getting ready for bed, that my guts started feeling a little more blurpy than expected. I suddenly remembered that I’d also had stovetop yeast popcorn for breakfast; to paraphrase Ron Burgundy, that escalated things quickly. Lying stiffly in the dark, listening in mortal fear to the increasingly boisterous warbling down below, we realized that this was going to be a memorable night.

I don’t know what the hell we were thinking, having a couple of candles going in that situation. Not only was my own digestive soundtrack trending toward Wagnerian, but our amazing dinner was starting to work its magic on Mr. Treme as well. We watched in terror as the flames went just a little blue around the edges, too scared to get out of bed to snuff them. (Hiding under the covers would’ve been certain death-by-Dutch-oven at that point.) We tried talking to pass the time, but words like “firedamp” and “backdraft” kept creeping into the conversation, so we eventually quieted down (as far as speaking went, anyway) and just stared sympathetically at the bewildered cat. You’d think her feline sense of self-preservation would’ve sent her wailing out of the room, but this is a deranged little animal who tries to make sweet love to Mr. Treme’s shirts after he works out. So for all we know, she was enjoying it.

Speaking of great reasons to sleep with the windows open…

How ‘bout that beauteous spring going on out there? This is my second-favorite season next to autumn, and right now is my favorite part of it. You can tell winter’s officially over (not that it ever started around here this year) by the thick clouds of sweet white and pink blossoms on nearly every tree. Around now is also the start of the short, precious time when Chico’s open fields take on a blissful, verdant glow.

As we were returning from a recent trip to the San Joaquin Valley, we saw many a jackrabbit derping drowsily in the farmlands—another sign of spring. When they’re not running in front of cars or otherwise freaking out, jackrabbits are actually pretty chill. They’d congregate around my childhood home in the country (during the times we didn’t have dogs), and would spend most of the day sprawled in the shade. You know how cats do that butt-in-the-air-then-lean-forward thing? It’s truly impressive when a jackrabbit does it; those long-ass hind legs make the forward stretch a sight to see.

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Mona Treme sees a lot of evidence that [insert deity’s name here] has a sense of humor, and not just in the mirror.