My Day, by Lagusta P Yearwood

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(Hey! This only published half of the post before, so I’m reposting. Phone blogging!!)

I started the day fighting with a meat eater.

A truly useless way to greet the morning. Seriously. For all the fun, scroll to “Jeeze.” Even better, DO NOT.

I put on clothes made in sweatshops, Instagrammed about said fact, and went off to do errands.
Coincidentally, at lunch I read about sweatshops.

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Went to work, smoked a lot of stuff (yuba, potatoes, shiitakes, ramps! My smoker is my BFF these days. Someone walked by on the rail trail and said “That chocolate shop smells weird.”), made some June Chocolate of the Month prototypes, gossiped with the crew.

Made dinner (smoked shiitakes, spinach noodles, cashew Alfredo, asparagus, smoked ramps), ate outside at work with my love, watching the fading sun. Jacob ate the last of the chocolate-orange ice cream, because there was too little to sell. He’s good at things like that. I ate Vulva scraps for dessert. I’m good at that, Vulva-scrappin. We talked about what ice cream I should make next. My idea: lemon-tarragon. His idea: coffee-toffee marshmallow fudge with peanut butter swirls, chocolate sauce and caramel sauce. And marshmallows.

Jacob’s ice cream flavors always sell.

My ice cream flavors always break your heart with their beauty. (Everyone at the shop still gets real quiet when someone mentions the infamous Orange Blossom-Cantaloupe Ice Cream of August 2012.) I usually do one of his, then one of mine. Keeps everyone happy. The sugar freaks and the poets. You know, my market.

Worked more, then someone texted me that they just saw my name in Everyday with Rachael Ray, so we went to the supermarket 10 minutes before closing to investigate–and there it was.

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The mainstream world, how nifty and…bizarre. There’s a wiggly approximation of your silhouette, right there in the check out aisle. I like that they mentioned that we’re vegan and you shouldn’t care: mission accomplished. (You know what I mean by that, right? That to the world at large being vegan no longer means you’re starting a mile behind the starting line of deliciousness.)

Came home and sifted through a giant pile of mail to find this: a PRESENT FROM A BLOG READER!!

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Can you even?????

I’m dying. I’m honored. So sweet and thoughtful.

Holy hell, I love my little community. How nourishing and truly kind you all are, all of you out there in 1s and 0s and also in real human bodies, flung all around the world.

X
L

PS: I wrote this whole blog from my phone! What is the world coming to. Technology!

If it looks all screwy, blame it on the phone. Are the last few paragraphs LINKS, or something? I want to go read my new book, I bet you’ll survive.

PPS: Have you noticed that I’m a crazy OCD perfectionist about everything in the world there is to be perfectionistic about–except this blog’s layout? I think that means I’m mentally stable or something. Yes, I know the Kathleen Hanna quote at the top is all weird.

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