This spring when I went on my raw food toot, I bought a sprouting jar. And Mitch and I had the following exchange:

Mitch: What's that?

Me: (The label on the jar in 120 pt type reads, “Sprouting Jar.“) It's a sprouting jar.

Mitch: What are you going to do with it?

Me: Make sprouts.

Surely you've had these conversations.

As is the way with good intentions, the jar has sat unused on our baker's rack for months. Periodically Mitch would mention the jar. Sometimes the mention would come with a grumble or sigh or a comment about unnecessary spending or clutter. This was to be expected. There is nothing this man hates more than Unecessary Spending And Clutter--hereafter referred to as USAC.

Happily, in our home, yarn doesn't get categorized as USAC. In all honesty, it probably should. Given that we both work from  our 1,000 square-foot bungalow, open bags of yarn create an element of chaos--cats jumping in and out, errant balls rolling under furniture or unwinding down the stairs--that we rarely need. Clients provide plenty of excitement as it is.

But the stash is a fact of life. And I suppose poor Mitch, after almost 14 years of wedded bliss, has acquired a kind of learned helplessness in the face of something that really is bigger than both of us. 

The jar, however, was fair game.

Since I had exhausted the toot, I didn't argue about the jar. It was USAC. Plain and simple.

But then the toot returned. This week I've been trolling raw food blogs, reading about the raw glow, the inexhaustable amounts of energy and the sheer fun of playing with food in a different way. And at my age, anything that promises “glow” and “energy” in the same paragraph holds great appeal. Down came the sprouting jar. Out came the lentils. And off I went to google recipes for sprouted lentils.

Know what's worse than USAC? Raw lentil soup for dinner.

Happy Friday, everybody.