"Now," my grandmother said, as she set two Mason jars on the counter in front of us, "I am not a scientist. I may get parts of this wrong. We'll just hope it isn't the important parts. But I don't think it will be, because--well, but I said that the last time, didn't I?"
Nothing could tempt me to answer that.
Wendalyn said, "I'm sure you've been extra specially careful this time, Mom," and if she sounded a little mechanical saying it, well, I think that was understandable.
"I have," my grandmother said happily. "And while I am not a scientist, I am a cook and a baker. The problem was explained to me in those terms and in those terms, I think, I can explain it to each of you."
My grandmother deftly scooped sugar into both the jars, filling them each about two-thirds full. Then, she added cinnamon in a layer on top of the sugar. She left about an inch at the top of each jar before placing the lids on them.
She handed me one of the jars.
"Will you please shake that up for me, Velma? I'd like it well-mixed, so it may take you a minute or two."
I started shaking the jar. It was, in fact, going to take me at least a minute to get the mixture blended well. I could see that right away. When it looked right to me (and my arm was getting tired), finally, I set it down on the counter, looking a question at my grandmother.
She sighed.
"Well, we aren't actually going to bake with it right now, so I guess that's close enough. What would you call this substance now, Velma? Is it cinnamon? Or is it sugar?"
Oh, for fuck's sake.
"It's both," I said.
My grandmother held up the other jar of cinnamon and sugar, the one that hadn't been mixed yet, and turned to my Aunt Wendalyn.
"What would you call this substance, Wendalyn? Cinnamon or sugar?"
If the look on my aunt's face didn't read, "oh, for fuck's sake," then I'm a fairy myself. But, dutifully, she said, "It's both."
My grandmother frowned.
"Velma says hers is both, and you say yours is both, but they don't look the same to me at all."
"Mom."
I laughed. I couldn't help it. "Now you know," I said to my aunt, "what it was like for us when my mom became a teacher."
My grandmother giggled.
"I'm not going to say what I think of that decision. But all right! It's been a long day. I'll get to the point."
She picked up my jar.
"Imagine this is a chunk of time. Don't laugh! I am doing my best as a non-scientist.
"So. The cinnamon molecules and the sugar molecules are all traveling together in time, and no one cinnamon molecule is ever very far from any one sugar molecule, or vice versa.
"They aren't the same substance, but they form one cohesive mixture; so in a sense, the time sense, they may as well be. If we poured some of this out into a dish, both the cinnamon and the sugar would appear to reach the dish at about the same time. They would travel together.
"Now imagine I had a magnet that attracted only cinnamon, and another that attracted only sugar--"
"Mommmmm!"
"Don't whine, Wendalyn, it makes me lose my train of thought. I don't think you want that?--No, I didn't think so.
"Now imagine I have these silly magnets, and that by putting one at each end of the jar, I can make Velma's mixed-up jar look just like your jar, Wendalyn. Where the cinnamon and the sugar are in the same jar, but still separate. If I poured some of this re-separated cinnamon and sugar into a dish, then, for the most part, the cinnamon would reach the dish before the sugar."
"And why would you want to do that?" said my aunt tiredly. "Why are they in the damn jars to--no. You know what, never mind. Go on."
But something felt like it was about to click for me.
"Grandma," I said, "are you saying that--okay. Is the cinnamon supposed to represent wherever we are now? Aurora Skies? And the sugar is supposed to be Elmira City?"
My grandmother raised her eyebrows slightly and said, "Go on, Velma."
But I couldn't go on. That was as far as I had got. I frowned, trying to coax a little more out of my poor tired brain.
"So... you said that in the mixed jar... in the mixed jar, the cinnamon and the sugar were traveling together--oh! Oh, shit."
"What's 'oh, shit', Velma?" asked my aunt worriedly.
"'Oh, shit' is a perfectly natural (if somewhat vulgar) response," my grandmother said, "to the sudden realization that you have become separated from your home not only by place, but by time."
"Oh," said my aunt. "Oh, dear."
My grandmother was still smiling.
"I haven't told you the good news. The good news is that--if you'll pardon the pun--things should all shake out on their own in a week or two. Naturally! I've only caused a temporary, and really relatively teensy-tiny, misalignment of things."
My aunt and I were silent.
"Get it?" my grandmother said brightly. "Shake?"
She picked up Wendalyn's jar and began shaking it up, giggling.
My aunt turned to me.
"I hope you like French toast, Velma," she said. "From the looks of this? We're going to be having it kind of a lot."
"It's good in cookies, too," called my grandmother after us, as we trudged dejectedly out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
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Hey as vegan leftists we need to be louder about what we stand for. A non-vegan mutual on my main posted about veganism being a pipeline to ecofash and. I did not want to reblog the post itself but honestly there were so many assumptions there.
Like I want a systems change! I want justice for every human and non-human animal that was hurt by this, from slaughterhouse workers to animals killed for meat to the loss of biodiversity from the monocrops grown for the animal’s food.
And contrary to popular belief I do NOT want to start by saying “oh anyone should go vegan!” and “forcing my diet on people”. I want to start by making people look the animal ag industry in the fucking face and seeing what they’re supporting with ANY meat except what they killed and processed themselves, YES even “family farms” and “organic meat”. I do not even feel like touching sustenance hunting until we have reformed the animal ag industry.
My concern is for the animals bc they cannot tell you what they’re facing. My concern for the people is lifting up the voices of those harmed worse by the animal ag industry which is people of color, poor communities, indigenous communities, immigrant workers, disabled people, and apparently child workers.
If you think vegans are a step to eco fash that says more about who you hang around, not what vegans stand for
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