We're so domestic.
I made real dinner tonight, albeit a vegan one. What's more, we (the family) went to the garden store and bought all manner of herbs and vegetables for our kitchen garden. It's odd that you can't really get a wide variety of fresh herbs in hawaii. We've taken it upon ourselves to grow our own.
In contrast to all that domesticity and earth-loving normalcy, sometimes I have shocking reminders that I live on an Army base. Like the flag-draped coffin I saw hanging out of the back of a pickup truck yesterday. A pickup truck in the middle of a lawn, while people in desert camo walked around casually with guns. Pepsis. Bags of Funyuns. Like there wasn't a dead body right in front of them. If I had my camera on me, I would have taken a picture, because it was surreal. I almost went back to the house to get it, but I'm no photojournalist. If the US government won't let photos of coffins be published, what would happen if I published something so private?
Somebody would probably call the spy hotline on me.
Sometimes you don't need to make a statement. Sometimes the issue speaks for itself, and everyone can see.
And sometimes being different feels safe. A vegetarian coastie family has better odds of survival. Although, I suppose we could be hit by lightning or something.
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