Happy New Year!

It's the beginning of summer down here, the days are long and the weather rainy. Lambs, which were born a few months ago, eat people's lawns or get eaten by people. The lambs have already grown quite a bit, so they're on super sale. And what better time for an asado than NY's eve, right?

In the markets store clerks incessantly restocked booze and briquettes while dodging the hordes of people trying to complete their shop before everything closed down. By 5 p.m., the carnicerias had freshly skinned and butchered lambs dangling in the windows. Strings of blood still dripped from their toothy grins. And their eyes, just a spot poppier for having no skin.

As I was walking around town revving up for our New Year's eve events--which did not include any little lambs--I passed several men shouldering black plastic bags stuffed with a clumsy something. Then one man with a bounce in his step and a garbage bag on his shoulder walked by, his long-necked lamb's head bobbing behind him. that solved the puzzle of the what's in the bag.

We're still thinking about buying a lamb to chow down in our backyard jungle. But what to do with the cutiepie when he turns mutton age and we aren't in town anymore. I have a rule about not eating pets.

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