Once You Kill a Cow, You Gotta Make a Burger.

Things that were effing AMAZING about this weekend:

health care (you guys, I checked the Times website like fifty times on Sunday and I was walking down the street when I saw that it had passed and I literally fist pumped alone in the middle of the road [the second fist pump of the week, the first having occurred the moment Josh Holloway showed up shirtless on Lost last Tuesday]). Dear President Obama, I LIKE YOUR STYLE; the idea that at some point in time, Lady Gaga explained her idea for the “Telephone” video to Beyonce and Beyonce was like, “hell to the yeah, that’s flipping AWESOME, I would love to dress in a unitard made entirely of breakfast food and poison a diner full of awful men”; the fact that I ate BACON JAM with peanut butter and it was like a giant mouthful of heaven; that I saw a drunk man throw a chicken leg across a subway car; the conversations Tom and I have when he gets home from work early in the morning and I have fallen asleep in front of Roseanne and how they always include me accusing him of  trying to bully me into taking my contact lenses out. also that he said the following sentence to me, and it was true: “Only you would show up at a bar with a purse full of pork butt”; being in the middle of writing three different stories; learning about animal husbandry at book group (I told you I would mention it); being halfway through Mere Christianity and thinking, I wish we had read this in Catholic school; it’s springtime. it’s monday. things are good.