Speaking of dirty, this weekend the dude and I picked strawberries which the dude then turned into jam and sorbet. His sorbet rocks my world. Seriously, I normally wouldn't say that about sorbet; I'm an ice cream kind of girl. Anyway, while he was making it, he asked if we had chambord; it turns out this is one of the things we took from my parents' house. (We didn't drive it over state lines. Promise.) He wondered aloud if we would ever use chambord again, so I googled drink recipes containing chambord, as you do. If you follow that link, I am warning you some of the names aren't fit for family hour. The one we decided we wanted to try was a Purple Mother-f'er. We were going to serve it at Sunday dinner, but we can't even say "m-f'er" in front of the 10 year old. (We are now forbidden from being gross, dirty, or otherwise inappropriate in front of the kids. As if they're not learning this shit at school like the rest of us did!) So the dude suggested we call it a Purple Oedipus. And now you know why I love him so much.