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to a better one


It’s classy ice cream, bitches (pronounced beechayz). I forgot to take photos of our New Year’s drinks and I had to use the martini glasses somehow for a fancy New Year’s photo. Here it is: coconut Coconut Bliss, cocoa powder, bananas, and hempseed. Rock.

By New Year’s I couldn’t find any vegan champagnes that weren’t bruts so I went with vodka and Godiva (the regular one is vegan but the others aren’t, per someone on Vegweb), a chocolate martini. Or a cocotini, as I’ve been calling it. (I just searched and it looks like a cocotini is a coconutty drink, so don’t try ordering it that way unless you don’t mind coconutty drinks.) This called for martini glasses, but with all the moving around we’ve done over the past decade, who can keep a martini glass from shattering? We hit Goodwill for these pups. Not super fancy but they hold stuff.

No question about it, 2008 sucked some Texas-sized ass. Tom and I got through it with few bruises. We changed states (again) and were still able to find jobs that supported us and we stayed healthy. There were times we cut it super close and had to hustle, but I gotta tell ya, for me it’s easier to be the one in a tough spot than to have friends and family in those tough spots. And all around us people were and are dealing with a very unfairly weighted Rota Fortunae: death, disease, financial woes—the usual suspects. And I’m still trying to limit the time I spend on online news sites because it’s super depressing to learn about problems I am unable to help with in any way.

While I don’t bother with resolutions—I know I’m not joining a gym, putting money from each check into savings, or reading to orphan kittens—I do make wishes on the first of each month. I don’t ever say them out loud so I won’t tell you what I wished for this January 1, but it involves you (the collective “you”). Don’t worry, it’s good.


2 thoughts on “to a better one

  1. Teehee. You said Coc-o-tini.

    Happy New Year to you and the smooth headed boy wonder. Give the tailless kitty a pat on the head for me. I miss having someone to vent to about the clowns.

  2. My cat’s tail is so huge she could share it with, like, three other cats. Legend has it her mother was raped by a squirrel-god.

    And honestly, I sorta miss the clowns.

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