The object pictured here was given to me today by Veronica. She came up to me with a shy smile and said, "I got this, and I don't really want it, so, like, I wanted to give it to you." Hmm. Thanks, Veronica. I love it! How did you know I would love this so much? She says it's a donkey. I'm not so sure about that.
Two days ago, Veronica asked me, "Does plucking mean killing, or just taking the feathers out?" I explained, and then she explained that HER MOTHER ATE HER PARROT! WHAAAAAT? Her mother ate her parrot. Plucked it, cooked it, ate it. I asked if this parrot was a pet (I'm not sure what I was getting at here. What else would a parrot be?). Veronica said that, yes, it was a pet. It talked. I wondered aloud why her mother would eat her parrot. Veronica had no idea. She hadn't asked. I'm not sure I would ask my rabid, crazed, Glen Close of a mother either if I were Veronica. Geez!
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