Hanging out with Wingrens brought familiar patterns: sitting in the same room, reading different books, occupying most air space with jokes, and taking a long time to plan things, then discussing which parts of the plan could have been better.
We went for a drought-ridden nature-walk with airplane noise overhead. My uncle and I talked about neuroscience. Noah and I were still playing our vacation game and had located 3 vegan restaurants within a mile, one of them open on July 4th, 2015.
“We are going back to our natural habitat.” Dad and Pat walked with us, impressed by organic fries, blueberry lavender lemonade, and elaborate salads.
Getting on a bus with a selection of suits and dresses was fun, as was being on a yacht.I read an article recently, about how blue is one of the last colors to be named in any given culture – in the odyssey for instance the ocean is “wine dark,” but modern construction states that the ocean is “blue,” so too were many of the dresses at the wedding.
Apparently my cousin and her groom met in the bird aisle of Pet Co, a friend’s speech mentioned how they were brought together by a love of animals. For dinner the options were beef, chicken, or salmon.
Noah, cousin Audry, and I were each given a gigantic artichoke as a substitution. A grandmotherly figure grasped my hand and led me to the dance floor where the rest of the guests followed hesitantly. The next day we tried to skip wedding brunch, but were told our “vegan omelettes” had already been paid for. I subsided on mimosas and had a great time. Turns out my new cousin-in-law (if that’s a thing) recognized me from Austin and knows SCUBA. We were seated next to the groom’s older Italian family, who it was easy to bond with over a shared love of breakfast-alcohol.
Dad and Pat had been toting around this gallon of gas station milk, trying to offer it to passersby. My aunt mixed some with warm Coca Cola by the pool, where we all loitered for hours after checkout.
Dad asked if I would be opposed to drinking milk from a family cow. I said that on a personal level I am not interested in consuming the hormones of other animals. From an environmental standpoint it is less sustainable to operate a small, organic, free range farm than a factory farm, and both are objectionable. Pat was surprised that supposedly “good” farms still killed their dairy cows, after the small window in which they are kept perpetually pregnant (all male offspring gotten rid of on the spot or sent into veal production, and finally calf leather). Her ideology got stuck on the idea of operating her own personal cow and she talked happily about it as we drove to union staton.
At union station we hugged goodbye. Noah and I searched for corn chips to go with our avocado and chile powder and were surprised by cheap vegan orange “chkn” etc. – of which Noah bought 3. The second train ride was only delayed 3 hours. I slept on the floor of the observation car surrounded by pizza-eating boy scouts, a sweater over my head. I finished reading ‘What I Talk About when I Talk About Running” and decided to start running.
Mom picked us up and took us grocery shopping. I bought flowers for Bea and told the cashier I was going to use them to break car windows and kill cops.