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"While we make better shoes and slutty skirts, a chicken is a healthier entree"

I'm starting to have bad dreams, I've been gone from home too long.  Disaster dreams.
It will surprise no one who knows me that these dreams featured my beloved Scout.
The first night, I dreamt that her long skinny legs were somehow cut off midway down and she couldn't run. She just sort of rocked and wobbled.  When she saw me she jumped like a grasshopper into my arms and up close her face looked no longer like my little border collie…but a nasty big eyed chijuajua.  I was repulsed but didn't want to drop her because those weird cut off stick legs wouldn't hold. 

Last night I dreamt that our family had to move into a big house with other families because we were all suddenly very poor.  We were hiding our dogs, though, because they were NOT ALLOWED.
We had to secretly feed the dogs cat food, because cats were allowed.  That is when I should have realized it was only a dream. No society would allow only cats. That would effect the entire natural balance of things.  Who would clean up the cat exhaust in a world without dogs?  Cats would be everywhere, on everything, eating butter on the counters and horking on the tables.   I like cats.  I do. Just not as well on their own. Uncontrolled.  Cats belong in an ecosystem with a minimum of 2 dogs and/or an old lady who can't smell pee.

This weekend my children came down. We hiked and ate much food.  Carlos insisted on In and Out burger for at least one meal a day.  Cienna likes a better class of food. We ate really good Mexican food friday and saturday night.  Carne Asada and Pollo Enchiladas Verde, Pork Posole….the entire edible animal kingdom in yummy red and green sauces.  Yesterday, after Carlos left,  we had a fantastic salad at a vegetarian restaurant that got great reviews and was truly fantastic…but was staffed by the worst possible representatives of healthy eating you could imagine. It was like they were one shift away from hospice.  Our waiter, for instance, was sweating profusely in the hyper-cooled building.  He panted and his face was bright red from the exertion of carrying our leafy green salads. With pumpkin seeds.   The lady who seated us was death nell thin and so pale I could see the blood moving through her veins.  Her pulse race. She seemed so sad and resigned on the slow march to our table that I feared that when we finally arrived we'd find representatives of the animals we'd been eating all week sitting in our booth, waiting for us,  with guns.  Pissed off chicken, widowed pork….beef with a beef,
"Yeah, NOW you want a salad!"

The food was delicious, though.  Once we were chomping on our plant matter, with seeds, I started looking around and one whole wall was covered in pamphlets and brochures that said stuff like,
'Oh, NOW you want a salad!';
'A Steak is Somebodies Son';
'Eat Meat? You and Hitler Have Something In Common!'….
'A Chicken Nugget is Not A Choice'

I might be paraphrasing. 

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