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.