How’s my day? HOW’S MY DAY!?!??!
This, this is how my day is going:
This is what happens when you take the lovely rubberized cover off your iPhone and then go to a meeting and, whoops, drop it face down on a beautiful gray granite floor.
I have many, many curse words yet to go today.
By the by…the phone still works. Just not really inclined to run my finger across the screen…..
I’m going to help make you the smartest margarita drinker in the bar.
So what, exactly is Cinco de Mayo?
Ok, so like a super long time ago (1860’s) there was this Mexican president named Benito Juarez…totally like that border town, you know?
Anyhow, Benito stopped making payments on debt owed to France.
And France was all like “Whoa man! No waaaay” and they *attacked* Mexico to get their money.
Then they totally thought they would also take over Mexico, and that would teach them a lesson and stuff.
But Mexico was all like “No way Jose!” and they fought back.
And in this one battle in the city of Puebla on May 5, 1862, the Mexican army totally kicked some French *ass* and there was much rejoicing.
And so we drink tequila and eat guacamole in memory of those valiant Mexican fighters!
Unfortunately…it didn’t really hold up the French for long and by a year later they occupied Mexico City.
Some French dude named Maximilian thought he was all kinds of hot sh*t. Whatever Max!
Then the U.S. was all like “stop acting like children! Take your toys and go home!”
So they did. And Benito Juarez got to be president again.
But anyhow, there was that one super huge battle in Puebla, against all odds, and so that’s why we all have to eat Mexican food and drink and stuff.
It’s super patriotic.
I swear!
Mostly.
Source: Wikipedia
2007 Cinco de Mayo parade, Calistoga, CA. Image by Karen Fayeth.
You know, I’m really very spoiled. Terribly so, and I must work to not let it all go to my head.
But, I must also say…I deserve a little spoiling now and again…
Like, say, around the celebrations of my birth? Yes. Always a good time to spoil me rotten, and my wonderful mom-in-law held nothing back.
In fact, Sunday was a darn good day in my life.
The day started with the opening of Localvision 2010, a photography exhibition. I was invited to add a photo to the event, and was totally geeked out by the first real gallery showing of my photography.
The Good Man and his mom went along with me to be my entourage for the fun.
It was really heady to see my framed print on the wall and to see people looking at it and talking about their impressions of the image. It pretty much made we want to go hide in the bathroom for the duration. But I held strong.
After the gallery opening, we went to my mom-in-law’s place for dinner.
And oh what a dinner.
For appetizers, there was guacamole (yum!) and Italian salami, and olive and feta cheese and oh my!
I was already starting to fill up.
But then, oh then…….
That amazing cook made me chopped chicken livers. Fresh! From scratch! I saw the actual raw livers before the magic began!
Oh my heavenly days! My love of da liver is well documented.
A whole bowl of homemade liver-y delight! All for me me me me!
Whooooo! I get dizzy just thinking about it. It was the best chopped liver ever in my history.
I almost wept. I really did. It was a brown lump of heaven on a cracker.
If loving cooked chopped organ meat is wrong, I don’t want to be right.
As I surrounded the bowl, my husband had to remind me that I could take some home, I wasn’t required to eat it all there. Seriously, I was afraid someone would take it away from me!
But there was more!
Succulent chicken for dinner with the most delicate and tasty potatoes on the side.
And then….
Oh then….
Homemade baklava for dessert.
For me! Me me me me me!
Ok, I shared the baklava with The Good Man since he’ll eat it (and not liver).
But damn!
I loved my multicultural dinner (Mexican, Greek, Italian, Jewish, etc). I felt so incredibly spoiled and it was one of the best birthday presents EVER!
Whoo.
Today I might need to take a walk and burn a calorie or two. I may have overindulged just a skosh.
And that baklava in my ‘fridge. It calls to me. Sings to me. Beckons me to come and sample of the tasty goodness inside.
I. Can’t. Resist.
The chicken liver is already gone. I couldn’t resist it so much I had it for breakfast, lunch and dinner and every snack in between.
*burp*
Feliz Cumpleaños para me!
….that living in the Land of Schwarzenegger, in the area of the Bay, there came to be a fish. A small fish. A fish who was filled with faith and hope.
A fish purchased under the accursed impulse-purchase vexation.
The fish was of the Betta clan, and was given the name of Benito, meaning “blessing” or “blessed one” in the Spanish culture (and meaning tiny little dictator in the Italian tradition).
And so it was that Benito came to live in the house of The Good Man and true to his name, blessed us all.
Benito swam and ate of the bloodworm. And it was good.
Until it wasn’t good.
And forsooth, Benito ceased to eat, and lay on the floor of the tank, flat on his side, and took on a gray pallor.
Which only raised memories of Frank, also of the Betta clan, who came before Benito and expired so painfully.
And so it was that The Girl wept, felt necessary to rend her garments, gnashed her teeth and howled to the heavens, “Why! Why must I have the curse of killing helpless fish?”
Then The Girl resigned herself to the knowledge gained that she was not meant for fish ownership.
Another matchbox coffin was prepared, and sadness befell the house of The Good Man.
In the last, desperate hours, The Good Man proclaimed, “he who believeth in the bettas shall never die.”
Thusly, The Good Man brought his mighty hand down and created freshly treated water and added the miracle of the antibiotic powder.
The limp body of Benito of the Betta clan was deposited into the fresh, medicated water and hope was not held out.
In the break of the morn, The Good Man, in his grace, went to the tankside of Benito of Betta, and proclaimed, “Yea, tho I believe this crazy fish is hungry!”
And chopped up pieces of bloodworm were deposited in the tank, and verily Benito of Betta did eat.
“No %$&#ing way!” came the cry from The Girl, who stared in disbelief at the miracle The Good Man had wrought.
“Yeah, don’t get your hopes up,” The Good Man admonished, but despite his downplaying the whole thing, The Girl did ignore him and did in fact get her hopes up.
And forsooth! Benito of Betta did continue to eat. And became more upright, and began to flap his fins in a normal manner.
And Benito of Betta was thusly nicknamed the Lazarus Fish, having risen from the dead.
So it is that some two weeks from coming to the house of The Good Man, Benito of Betta continues to live and eat and could almost be described as thriving.
And with the focus on a new, recovering fish, The Girl finds the sadness over the loss of Frank is beginning to ease.
With the help of The Good Man, guardian of the broken pets, The Girl may in fact learn to be a suitable owner of small helpless fish.
And for the moment, it was good again.
But don’t get your hopes up.
P.S. Margaret, female of the Betta clan, and The Good Man’s fish, continues to thrive quite nicely, thankyouverymuch.
Cranky. Oh so very cranky. Crakasaurus kind of cranky.
And so, may as well channel my snark for the good of my daily blog post goal.
Today I’m retreating to an old trick used before on this blog, a conversation with the Imagination Prompt Generator.
It spits out a thought provoking prompt. I reply with the first thing that comes to mind.
Herewith, no cheating, taking the prompts exactly as they show up.
IPG: What keeps me going?
Me: A finely balanced concoction of sugar, fat and salt (not necessarily in that order) combined with various quantities of coffee, beer and margaritas, (not necessarily in that order).
IPG: Generalizations are…
Me: Generally useful in a generic sort of way.
IPG: Define kindness.
Me: Refraining from ramming my automobile into the $#&*head who cut me off, and when I honked to notify him of the pending collision, flipped me off, then called me an unflattering name.
I did not sway into his lane. I did not nearly remove the driver’s side fender of HIS sh**ty work truck. I was minding my own business when he came swerving into me.
I could have retaliated when he pulled over and stopped at the mobile taco truck.
I refrained.
THAT is digging deep for kindness.
IPG: If your best friend was right here, what would you say?
Me: They built a new Sonic Drive-In twenty miles from here. Load up, I’ll drive.
IPG: Five books that changed your life are…
Me: Ooh, this is going to be a tough one.
Gonna go with:
Red Sky at Morning by Richard Bradford
Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry
The Boys of Summer by Roger Kahn
Johathan Livingston Seagull by Richard Bach
and
Bless Me Ultima by Rudolfo Anaya
This is in no way a comprehensive list because so many books have changed my life.
If you were to ask me again tomorrow, the list might change. Also, I only picked fiction…there is a whole other list for non-fiction.
IPG: Describe a favorite childhood friend and something you did with her or him.
The visible ones? Juuuust kidding…sort of.
I’d have to say going to the rollerskating rink with my childhood best friend Kathy, wearing bell-bottom jeans and shaking it to the Bee Gees.
Kathy rocked. Wonder what she’s up to these days….
IPG: ____ was my favorite cartoon because…
Looney Tunes. Because they are all oh so very sarcastic.
That’s always appealed to me, ya big maroon!
If I had 15 minutes to evacuate my home before it was to be destroyed by a hurricane, what 10 things would I grab (not including people or pets)?
Oh geez. That presupposes that I have a presence of mind about these things. I imagine if someone said “15 minutes! Go!” I’d spend about fourteen and a half running around in circles howling and freaking out.
Assuming my husband and pets are safe and I have the luxury of grabbing stuff….
Hmm. Hard to say, really, as I don’t get bound up in material things.
The few things that matter most are my wedding ring and some of my folk’s old photo albums.
I’d say my camera gear, but honestly, that can be replaced. My clothes and shoes can also be replaced.
Maybe some vintage family items my mom gave me. And my backup drives with years of my writing stored safely.
Other than that….
Honestly, it is hard for me to come up with a solid 10 items off the top of my head. My family and my pets are everything and most of the rest is replaceable.
But this one has me thinking. A lot.
Maybe this is the question to end on. It’s at least distracted me from my oh so very grumpy state of mind.
Better get back to it.
As the poem goes, Thursdays child has far to go…..
With that, onward to the rest of the day!
