Brainy

I'm going to post this as part of the main blog instead of as part of my trip blog. The reason is that the trip blog gets mirrored over at sailvelvetelvis.com, and while I get that it would take next to zero sluthing skills to tie this page to that one, I don't necessarily want this story over there, where I'm purportedly running a business.

I'm aware that when it comes to meat, different cultures are used to different degrees of visual separation when it comes to the fact that meat is animal murder (one of my favorite rants when I would prank call steakhouses before everyone had caller id). To be clear, I'm a big meat eater, but I don't want to be reminded that what I'm eating is just seared flesh. But some people are used to that fact in a way that I -- as an ugly American -- am not. And by writing a whole post about it, I'm being culturally insensitive.

We were in the butcher section of a fairly nice grocery store in the Domincan Republic. They had a great selection of sausages, and I stocked up well. They had sliced meats for sandwhiches, packs of chicken, and ground beef. Then, the next refrigerator had the scarier meats:

Brains of some sort

I'm calling this one a human fetus

Pteradactyl, obviously

By the time we got here, Mrs. theskinnyonbenny had moved back out of the butcher section and was still shopping. Ko and I hatched a plan, and then we executed it perfectly.

I pushed the shopping cart up to one side of her. Ko waited a minute and then approached his mother from the other side, and from slightly behind her. "Throw this in there too," he said, handing the package to her from the exact angle where she couldn't see it well, but where it didn't seem unnatural.

She grabed it for a second and then cussed us out.

And that, my friends, is how we got my wife to handle a package of brains.