Many More Things

On Saturday, S. and I went to the vegan cafe over in East Nashville and I got this sandwich which seemed to be attempting to single-handedly overturn any stereotypes one might have about vegan food being light-weight and not very filling. I could only eat half of it. It was literally the heartiest thing I’ve every eaten. The half I didn’t eat? It became a lumberjack in a sustainable forest in Oregon. I got a postcard from it today. It’s growing a beard so that it fits in with all the other lumberjacks. Even though it’s only half-a-sandwich high, it still has been above quota every day since it started work. It has a girlfriend now–an apple who grew on an old heirloom tree who works at a hairdresser in town, putting women’s hair in elaborate updos for special occasions. On weekends, they rock climb and make their own butter.

Which is weird, when you think about it, since he’s a vegan sandwich, but I guess a sandwich made by vegans might, himself, be only a vegetarian.

I’m just saying–this sandwich was the most ambitious sandwich I’ve ever eaten.

Then that evening the Butcher had a fire and introduced K. and C. to the joys of s’mores made with Kit-Kats.

On Sunday, we went to see Into the Woods, which was amazing. The wolf had this elaborate feather mask and it was just so great and awesome.

And I made curried chicken for dinner last night.

Which means that, when I went for my walk this morning, I smelled like curry and my coat smelled like fire. I smelled like heaven. Anyone who smelled me would have immediately fallen in love with me. So, it’s a good thing, I guess, that I didn’t run into anyone.

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Many Things

–I forgot to say that the afghan for the co-worker is done. I just need to run it through the wash and take some pictures of it. The end tucking was hilariously terrible, but I think I’m making my piece with it just being a chore that must be done.

–My oldest nephew is, as of Sunday, living with my brother. I have feelings. One big feeling I have is that I kind of hope he does go into the military. It scares the shit out of me so much. I can’t even begin to tell you. But I wonder what it would be like for him to be in a place where, when a person with authority over you told you he was going to be someplace at, say, 6 a.m., so you’d better be there, that, when you got there at 6 a.m., he was there. My nephew is awesome and dependable. He doesn’t need the self-discipline the military imposes. But I imagine he’d flourish in a situation where knowing that everyone around him was doing what they said they were going to do or there were clear consequences would be very good for him. From the outside, it looks like every problem my nephew has goes back to trying to count on people who can’t be counted on and then acting out because he’s frustrated.

–I wrote this thing for Pith. I feel kind of like a chump sometimes for picking on Gail Kerr, but sometimes she says stuff and I’m just like, “Oh my god, is this what women here think feminism is?” and I just… ugh.

If you need to live in New York in order to get published the traditional way, then New York publishers can’t bemoan the rise of self-publishing. Not everyone can afford to move to New York. Or wants to live in New York.

–I think I have a good start to the kids’ story. I know the story I want to tell. But damn, finding the right voice, the right approach? Hard as fuck. I’m going to get a draft done and then ask some kids to come have hot chocolate with me and let me read it to them. And then see what they say.

–And the red afghan comes along.

–And I got to watch Sleepy Hollow at its real time, because the Butcher fell asleep watching football and I stole the remote! I wish there were a way that I could arrange for Tom Mison to say something about “baffling mysteries” to me. The directors on that show must have a blast. “Now, I need you to look at the camera with your steely blue eyes” and “Okay, now you give a look halfway between ‘I would like to fuck you’ and ‘I would like to fucking slap you upside the head.'” “Okay, Orlando, why don’t you do something completely surprising that both seems out of character and yet fitting. No, whatever. I trust you.” “Where’s the horseman’s AK-47? Has anyone seen the Horseman’s gun?” I mean where does dude even keep his bullets?!