Bake and Shake

HE GAVE ME A SON: Carl has risen

Carl and I are like Will and Alicia. If that rings a bell, sit down and talk to me in hushed tones, away from anyone we might know. If that doesn't, you probably don't have a television. You probably don't know what shame is, what it feels like, like those children who are able to touch live burners or molten metals, welding tools, all filmed by '20/20' for a later broadcast.

We have a torrid, stupid love. I look at him with awe - how could I have known what joy he'd bring into my tepid life? How could I have prepared myself for the sight of him, every morning? I've started wearing mascara. I think he notices, and responds accordingly. RISE UP AND SALUTE, SOLDIER.

START ME UP: Sourdough, for a new age

"He forages. For wild yeast. Met him at Sue's potluck. I think the kids will hate him, but I'm living for myself, now"

Meet Carl.

He belches, wakes in a shallow pool of of grain alcohol, emits spores of natural yeast and his coloring reminds me of flaccid pastry cream, or buttermilk that has turned. My sallow prince. Some mornings he rises to greet me. Others he stays slumped where I left him. He doesn't care to go anywhere. I've been showing him off like he's some fancy Big Town Blue Ribbon Winner, a high school Quarterback. After a meal, he slaps my haunches and makes me put on a mascot uniform we bought off of Craigslist. Then we run drills from his Glory Days. Later, I rub him down with a salve of rendered bacon fat and pine sap.

Carl is my new Life Partner. He is my Sourdough starter.