“I want us to raise chickens for meat,” CJ said. “Like proper farmers.”
“Seriously?” I said. “When you wanted to breed pigs for meat you fell in love with the pigs and ended up screaming, ‘I will never eat their babies!’ Remember?”
The first time Kowhai jabbed me in the leg with his tusk, it hurt. The second time, a week later, it bled. Both times he was just nudging me, but a gentle nudge from a 300 pound kunekune boar with long tusks is a bit like a friendly slap on the back with a grizzly bear claw. We had to do something about those tusks.
This is my very own special recipe. If you want to make fabulously failed cherry jam like I did, you must follow these steps exactly.
Ingredients
1 cherry tree
1 gruff Kiwi bloke
2 lesbian farmers
“Why won’t you share it?” I asked CJ. We were standing in the kitchen, looking at a carrot cake recipe written on the back of a long, white envelope.
“Because it’s too special,” he answered.
“But all the neighbors are asking for it.”
CJ called me at work on Thursday morning in a panic. “It’s going to rain all day Saturday!” he said. “We need to cancel Thanksgiving!”
Some might think canceling Thanksgiving due to a little rain is a bit extreme. Those people have never been to one of our Thanksgiving parties.
