Hi all! I don't post much on Vox yet, but I'm hoping to make it my outlet for my interests in disability studies and veganism. Anyway, just wanted to know if anyone else has experienced recently a lot of marginalization and social stigma for being vegan. I mean, I know that we all experience it, but I just need to vent and perhaps feel some social camaraderie. :)
To my adorable friends: always sing without fear.
Happy Holidays and may you have a New Year that embraces you with all the good things you desire.
I've been hibernating, drinking hot toddies, taking the Mucinex, and sleeping with the humidifier on. Still not well, but am better. My sinuses are still pretty grim, but I HAVE to go out Monday so I'll be spending the weekend in my jammies and napping.
The BFF's came by last night and delivered COOKIES. Choc. chip, cinnamon shortbread, and cutouts in festive shapes with frosting and sprinkles. Nom! Cookies make it much more Christmassy.
I preferred to think that the tree had not been touched by human hands. Instead, I wanted to imagine a type of botanical, seasonal transition: that the green blood had crystallized into silver, gold and scarlet. And when the joy could no longer be hidden, the blossoms appeared in delicate explosions. Their thin metallic skins would shine with a clear complexion - in colors that were pure and inspirational.
It would be impossible not to pluck this Christmas fruit from the tree that dared to bloom in the late autumn, with winter peering over the Advent horizon like a mischievous child.
They would be irresistible. They would have a scent like an expectant kitchen, full of spices that had traveled through history from the misunderstood continents, the lands of Western fear, of medieval confusion. They would taste like snow falling from the festive clouds: a profusion of crystals blowing through the white air in blissful geometry.
And inside of each one would lie a seed, a tiny window looking into the heart of the fruit. The pulp would be flavored with these sweet prisms - with the alluring light that turned the orchards of this holiday crop into a starry countryside.
And now this tree was heavy with their radiance. But I decided not to pick the glittering baubles from their branches. I chose a different harvest. I left the tree and its glittering yield behind, knowing that I would be enjoying its shining feast whenever I closed my eyes.
I may be coming down with a mild something. I know I've been sleeping with my mouth open the past two nights b/c there's no mistaking THAT feeling when you wake up. So I have a mega-stuffy nose and sore throat.
I was planning to go to Trader Joe's today to get the mixed frozen fruit I like that only they have and some Xmas goodies, but I am also sleepy and a little sore. You know, how your limbs are just a little achy and heavy? So I'm not sure if I should be driving and if I should be out there in the crowds of people with their worse diseases.
Oops, wandered off to feed kittehs and forgot to hit post.
Anyway, I decided a hot toddy was a much better idea. Mr. LT went out to the yard and picked some fresh lemons so I used that, plus ginger tea, honey, and some rum. I'm still sleepy (duh) but my throat doesn't hurt! :)
A couple days ago, HRTortie was maow-ing loudly at me b/c she wanted some gooshyfud. I said, "yes, yes, whatever the Princess wants" and then sang:
Whatever Tortie wants,
Tortie gets,
And gooshyfud is
What Tortie
Loves best!
I didn't see you standing there. Do you mean you're waiting for me? You know you're rather a stranger in these parts - and I make it a point not to fraternize with outsiders.
You've been referred to me? By whom? Do I know this person by name? Oh. Yes - a co-worker. And you've been described as smooth, yet biting and delicious? I notice the cherries - what purpose do they serve? No, I'm not being cheeky, I just don't see them working successfully with a jigger of whiskey.
You know, I've never trusted whiskey. Something masculine about it. The last whiskey drink I had was a whiskey and soda I ordered when I was out on a date. It's an old story, Mr. Sour, and I don't think I need to go into detail.
What? My, you are talkative for a famous mixed drink whose sources date back to the 1870's. I agree - this is our Christmas party, and my intention is to get beautifully tanked before the appetizers are served. I'm not sure how you know this, but yes, it is time to celebrate - sloppily.
And...you like my skirt? Now you're making me nervous. I'm old, and I don't know how to deal with compliments anymore. But in that case, let me say that that is a pretty glass - squat but graceful: I wish I could manage that.
OK. My sobriety is boring me, and I'm sure it's boring everyone else at this table (I'm a jolly drunk, Mr. Sour, trust me ) Are you a sipping drink? I will approach you as such - I did so enjoy our conversation, and it would be tragic for it to dissipate quickly.
(pause)
SIR!
You deny your family name - you are sweet, sublime, and with each sip the maraschino cherries delight and tease my vision. You, sir, are an adorable drink, and you are very well met.
Waiter! Another!