Lunch, April 13

I’m in the kitchen toasting whole grain bread and frying up a couple of organic, kosher franks. Delicious sauerkraut waiting on a speckled blue plate. As the franks heat up, the kitchen grows fragrant and then fills with a small sound like tiny people screaming as their Ferris wheel spins out of control. “Aiiiiieee!” and “Eeeeek!” come from the stove. I recall Horton and his principled kindness to the least among us. What would Horton do? And Christopher Boffoli’s photojournalism of people helping each other in dangerous food situations, like Cereal Rescue and Blackberry C.S.I. I pull the franks off the heat; I can’t take the tiny shrieks. I collect my toast and franks and turn back to the counter where the rest of my lunch awaits. This tiny world will not be saved. I open a jar and know that I will eat my franks with relish. (Chortle.) Sweet pickle relish. And mustard.