Zest of one finger.

Ah, kitchen wounds. This evening, I baked another rhubarb pie to take to another dinner, and partway through cutting the butter into the flour for the crust, I realized that my little finger was bleeding, right where I'd nicked it with my zester awhile earlier.

First, though, I spent the afternoon out and about, photographing my Canadian friend as she rowed for our college in a Christmas race on the Cam--and, when her boat wasn't visible, photographing other bits of the environment. Good signage abounded, not least on the houseboats moored along the sides of the river.


I saw my favorite on the walk home, though, even though I know darned well what it actually means:


Jesus College's very presence here invites ridiculously bad jokes. "I used to have a friend in Jesus," my friend reminisced once. "We all have a friend in Jesus," I shot back.