Gastropod.

So the other day I was walking down Fourth in search of new-house stuff (Toilet paper holder, amazing storage solution for bathroom with no storage, etc.) and my eye chanced to light on one of the newest restaurants on the super-chichi strip between the Pick-Up Safeway and Burrard Street. It’s called ‘Gastropod’. Go on, Google it. It’s the first link, and since my cat’s ass is more technical than I am, obviously, I can’t link it.

Anyhow, the name got me thinking. Gastropods are snails and slugs, all marine snails, like whelks and periwinkles, one-shelled marine animals like abalones, and no-shelled marine animals like nudibranchs. ‘gastropod’ means ‘stomach foot’. How is that sexy for a restaurant name?

But I started thinking. There are so many things you could do with that restaurant:

-Cook only gastropoda species, or at least only molluscs.
-Make customers eat with their feet.
-Make customers donate to a program to revive wild abalone stocks.
-Make customers eat raw banana slugs before they could eat the restaurant food.
-Make customers forage for their own wild gastropods and bring them to be cooked.
Too bad they don’t let me run that place.

Touching Base.

It was so great to hang out with Sarah and Michael on Sunday.

One of the benefits of not making new friends too easily is that I keep the old ones for a long time. We know each others’ thoughts and memories and can rub along together easily. To each other, we are worn, flannel shirts: Comfortable and serviceable, but we’re not going to be on Vogue Runway anytime soon.

We still have new thoughts and discussions, and I love their insights. But those insights come from people whose stories I have watched happen, whose experiences I know very well.

Madly dashing for more wine, of course we were going to dance past the nightclub. Of course we would wolf-whistle. Of course I would laugh like a crazy fool. It was perfect.

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