The Dirty Underbelly of Veganism

Yesterday was just weird.  We tried to improve it by going over to Kate O.’s birthday/Christmas/Chaunaka/Solstice/etc. party.

There were carollers and mulled apple cider and Chris and Amanda and Scott and the Butcher in his funky jacket and it was such a nice time, as opposed to the sadness of the rest of the day, that I just finally felt like I could relax and that things would be okay, which meant that I was falling asleep on the couch by about 10 o’clock.

Sorry, Kate!

Oh, but I learned two interesting tid-bits of information.

1.  Being vegan did not stop Kate from eating a Labrador.  Granted, it was a Labrador cookie, but still.  It’s a wicked side to veganism that I had been unaware of.

2.  Our friend, Scott, claims to have a three-foot penis, which lead to a very sad conversation about how hard it is to find a girl with a three-foot vagina.

I wonder if Kate could write Scott a song called “The Three-Foot Penis Blue”?

Anyway, I’m up early trying to convince the recalcitrant brother to go sleep in the Butcher’s room, because Plimco and Dr. J should be here shortly, but instead he wants to chat about coffee and our cousin and whether we can get up there for the funeral.

But Plimco and Dr. J!  And I made little hats for toes!