Gumbo talked about this donut for days after eating it. You can see the tip of one of his shockingly white crowns peaking out, preparing to bite. I managed to steal a small piece, and yes, it tasted as good as it looks. The better half and I had attempted to go hot air ballooning that morning in Yountville, but after fog canned that plan we took consolation succor at Bouchon Bakery. The stuff pretty much got you high, all giddy and slapstick, dreamy-eyed and slightly flushed. We tried a chocolate caramel ganache, a passion fruit tart, a 3-nut tart, two chocolate Parisian macaroons, a caramel Parisian macaroon, and a bear claw. Woke up the next morning wanting to do it all over again, glad I don't live in Yountville.
The following Monday I introduced the boy to Slayer in the form of my vinyl copy of Show No Mercy. I dropped the needle, took a brief moment to show him the album cover with the goat-head guy brandishing two swords, with his head on fire, and before I could even tell him anything about the wonder that is Slayer he began teaching me how to listen to Slayer, from the ground up. Right away he started in to bouncin' off the furniture, spinning until he fell down, laughing, shoving, running, just like a real live Slayer show. I did it too. What a hoot.
Gumba attained the ability to pull herself to a standing position from laying on the floor for the first time today. Also, she now sports two fine young teeth, one on top and one on the bottom, sharp as puppy fangs.
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