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@achewood Barely passed Oregon driver's test. Lots of rules about Yielding to the Distraught and slow-moving salmon trucks on one-way switchbacks.
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The OFFICIAL Unofficial Achewood Message Board  |  Trivial Pursuits  |  Sports & Leisure (Moderators: CortJstr, wombat)  |  Topic: the Butcher 0 Members and 3 Guests are viewing this topic. « previous next »
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Author Topic: the Butcher  (Read 1819 times)
Nabubrush
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« Reply #45 on: March 20, 2011, 10:30:09 PM »

Also, s_s.






Sometimes the things you write and the way you write them . . . I'm glad sorrow is only your neighbor now. That was hard for me to read.
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« Reply #46 on: March 21, 2011, 01:02:06 AM »

I love sushi, but hate olives.  I loooooooooooove sushi and haaaaaaaate olives.  Interesting that you'd mention those two foods which I have the strongest feelings about.  Sushi is one of my all time favorite foods, and olives are my absolute least favorite.  If someone wants to torture me, the would just have to force feed me olives and it would break me.

I loooooove sushi and I loooooove olives

On the subject of meats and butchery, one thing I love is pâté.

On the other hand, I hate liver.  In much the same way you've attempted to like pork, I have tried to like liver. This is definitely the food that I have the strongest negative feelings toward.   I think I would rather eat poop than liver. 

My grandpa had several morel patches he'd pick from, but I was basically the only person who liked them in our family, and when he died no one knew or cared where the morels were.  Now I gotta go to a gourmet market and pay out the nose for sad looking poor quality versions of them. The amount I used to eat in a single sitting as a meal when I was a kid would be around $100 to purchase at the only market I've seen them at locally.  I refuse to buy them.  I must have eaten a couple thousand dollars worth of morels each spring without even knowing it.  I don't think my grandpa had any clue that they were valuable either, because he was one cheap bastard and would have most definitely have sold them had he known.  He would just pick bags of them when he was out checking his trap line, and no one, I mean no one would want them other than me.  Neither of my parents even liked them, so I got them all to myself.  I can just remember eating one or two heaping plates of them sauteed with a bit of butter in a single sitting, maybe with a piece of bread to sop up the juices.  I'm thinking once we move in four years or so, I want to attempt to cultivate them in our yard.  There's a place locally that teaches inoculation of spores, and I'm thinking I've got to take this skill with spores back.  I'm also going to ask around with the trap-line guys I know to find out if any of them have the inside scoop.  I'd love to learn to find and pick them naturally.

I have a deep love of morels even though I've never tasted one.  I had been meaning to take a picture for awhile now, but after reading your post I grabbed my camera and took this shot.
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« Reply #47 on: March 21, 2011, 01:12:43 AM »

Also, s_s.

Sometimes the things you write and the way you write them . . . I'm glad sorrow is only your neighbor now. That was hard for me to read.

Only Smells could break our hearts writing about mushrooms.

And only Paul would have a photo to go with it.
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Nabubrush
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« Reply #48 on: March 21, 2011, 03:12:03 AM »

Paul, I really like the repeated "oh my goodness" you posted on your friend's photo of the morels.
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« Reply #49 on: March 21, 2011, 05:56:00 AM »

I did not realize I had done that.  Bad form on my part.  I was overcome with oh my goodness fever.
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« Reply #50 on: March 21, 2011, 02:40:17 PM »

Sometimes the things you write and the way you write them . . . I'm glad sorrow is only your neighbor now. That was hard for me to read.

It was hard for me to write actually.  I had a rough day after going there and ended up in tears a few times yesterday because of the feelings writing that brought up.  Best to get these things out though.
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« Reply #51 on: March 21, 2011, 09:29:47 PM »

That whole basement scared the hell out of me, but later it was the only quiet place to go in a house full of people with their hearing aids turned off, so I'd sit down there with the badger, the bear and the dust and study for school.  The couch was right next to the door to the butchering area, so there was always that strange smell of blood and spices in the air (he made sausage at some point too).  It was a creepy refuge, and later a fitting setting for a suicide.
This is the most awesome (in Webster's sense of the word) thing I have read in a long time.  It took me right to that place.  The whole piece is excellent, from the textbook-perfect opening sentence.  Keep at it Mel - whatever else you do in your life, keep writing (even if it's just to us!).
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Nabubrush
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« Reply #52 on: March 31, 2011, 02:08:19 AM »

Every time I see the title of this thread I think of Diablo.
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