Breakin' the Law

It's been a tough week (week for me is any chunk of seven days - I work crazy hours, so the term "weekend" meaning Saturday and Sunday off is foreign to me - FYI) and I think it's about time for a lighter post. One about luxury items and smuggling, customs agents and foreign intrigue, beautiful women and...OK, I'm pushing it - I don't look so great after 11 hours on a plane. Behold the objects of my desire below:

On one of my last days in London, while I was picking up Sweet Babboo's fancy new suit (he's a clothes horse, ladies and lucky for me, he buys me nice duds too!) I stopped at a shrine to one of the items I worship most (those items being food). The one and only Neal's Yard Dairy in Covent Garden, mecca to those blessed with lactose tolerance. Of course, I got a bit out of control and while I managed to eat quite a bit of it (notice only three kinds of cheese left of the five purchased) in two days, there was too much creamy goodness to throw away (blasphemy!) and so I smuggled it in my bag. I even distracted the man at the United counter asking if I REALLY had to pack my knitting (oh loyal knitting - you are my friend) in hopes that he would not notice the extremely ripe smell emanating from my bag. Once on land, I smiled nicely at the customs officer and when he asked what kind of food I had brought home I was a good girl and said, "Chocolate," and he said, "That's fine," and I said, "Oh, and a little tea..." and he smiled at me as I sauntered away with my stinky backpack under my arms. There's no way he was getting any of my cheese.