Last night The Professor and I went out grocery shopping again for yet more ingredients he needs for his foray into the culinary wilderness. This time it was two pounds of cubed lamb. We had to settle for a three pound boneless leg of lamb, which is fine by me since I'll use the other pound to make some shepherd's pie.
[My radio station just put "Time Warp" on from "Rocky Horror Picture Show". That has nothing to do with anything, but is so weirdly unlike them that I had to make mention of it.]
Anyhow, we got lamb, onions, garlic (this new recipe of his calls for sixteen cloves of garlic ... ulp!), butter, and a few unrelated odds and ends. While poking about in the produce aisle we came across prickly pear fruit. He expressed interest so we got one. I, of course, managed to get a nearly invisible cactus needle in the tip of my finger while looking for a sufficiently ripe fruit.
Shopping took a while, and by the time we'd gotten home and I finished making dinner it was nearly time for "Enterprise". We decided to eat in front of the television (since we can't tape the show the alternative would have been to miss it). I set up the tray tables, brought out the food, went back to the kitchen to get the drinks. The Prof set up the television. While both of our backs were turned, Kitten from Hell launched herself from the coffee table at one of the tray tables, sending the Professor's plate of pork roast slices, twice-baked potatoes and broccoli flying. As would have happened with buttered toast or a freshly painted canvas, the plate landed gooey side down. I didn't get to witness anything except the bolt of grey lightning streaking from the living room to the back bedroom, with The Professor close on her four heels giving very vocal chase.
I picked up the food, traded plates with the Prof when he wasn't looking, cleaned the carpet, waiting all the while for his tirade on KfH. He surprised me though. His reaction was a very restrained "I didn't hurt her permanently". He told me to stop worrying about the carpet, that he'd clean it later that night. I stopped dabbing at it, but I'm worried that he forgot and didn't get to it last night. If that's the case, it's going to be miserable to wash tonight. He usually angers so easily - it was an incredible relief not to have him go into a vocal assault on the kitten. Sometimes I give the Prof too little credit, I fear.
The ex emailed me with some questions about anthrax a couple of days ago. Don't know why people expect me to know this stuff. Unless you're a beef cow, I have no idea how long vaccinations are good for, if the vaccinations are modified live or killed, if an anti-toxin is available (which is not the same as vaccination), if natural immunity is longer lived than vaccinated immunity for anthrax. I do know that it's pretty pointless for most of us to even be worrying about anthrax. Unless you work with the famous, or the powerful, or the mail, your chances of exposure are pretty small based on events to date.
I have been part of my own company's bioterrorist plans though. Since we do get mail sent to government employees through our mailroom, we've had to take some extra precautions here. And, because I work with animals from agriculture, I need to be extra sure that there's nothing suspicious with our animals as well. There are days I worry that I'll become famous as the veterinarian who missed catching the sentinel case of some animal disease like foot and mouth that was deliberately introduced from another country by terrorists. I've been taking a lot of time recently going through my foreign animal disease notes and watching some educational videos I have, but it isn't the same as having actually seen the disease. Will I recognize it if it's in front of me? I worry that the answer is "no". And I'm not sure what to do about it, except redouble my studying. I hope I'm never put to the test.