So I jump up, spin around with darkness and the cats questioning meow as a backdrop. When I stop and open my eyes I see tools. Tools of creation and destruction, but then I guess you can say that about most things. Because of my own eccentricities the block that houses the cutting inspiration is also showing to those who would look, little buttons of color.

The knife block holds not only those implements for cutting pears, bread, and the occasional chef; it holds the wonderful instrument, the fondue fork. Eight round little circles in sunny colors stare back across the room at me. Each different so that you can always tell which tiny fork is holding your bready cheesy goodness.

The last time the Fox and I made fondue it was a marvelous blend of sharp cheddar and blue. It strove for and succeeded to be the perfect accompaniment to crusty bread and broccoli alike. My mind is suddenly realizing that with all of this talk of food, I should probably go get my lunch. No gooey melted cheese to make my eyes roll back in their sockets though. Sadly it’s just a chicken sandwich and some salad. But maybe tomorrow will be fondue.

A 200 word writing exercise.