I’ve been to a few big parties/ dinners, and I know there are a few more on the way. There are several traditions made, it seems, to get people to clean their plates. One of these is that once a group of people finishes a bottle of anything, the man who is serving (men are to serve all beverages except tea) will marry a beautiful wife. Another tradition says that the more you eat off the bone you’ve been served (so far, sheep), the more attractive your future spouse will be. We volunteers were under much scrutiny on this account at the feast for Dastan’s circumcision. Everyone wanted to see how beautiful our wives/husbands would be. At this point, our host moms are trying to marry us off to each other. Ryan cleaned his section of spinal cord, Tim did okay with his rib, Teresa and I quickly decided we would rather marry ugly men that eat pure fat, but on Jon’s plate wriggled something unmentionable. “Jon, we don’t even have to tell you how beautiful your wife will be if you eat the sphincter.” Jon ate the sphincter. I won’t be marrying Jon.
It clearly wasn’t a sphincter, but we like to pretend it was. Unless it was an extraordinarily loose sphincter. Hope I didn’t ruin anything. In the interest of accuracy, you know.