For health reasons I'm not generally one to eat corn products, but we are practically in Mexico, and Seis, this little place with outdoor heaters in the Mercado down the street, hand makes fresh corn tortillas that could possibly heal many of the world's spiritual--if not physical--ills. Yummy little cakes of soft, warm deliciousness. The judge has agreed; they were a sort of corn tortilla paradigm shift.
As far as home cooking goes, besides the leeks and bacon, we bought those ridiculous tiny powerhouse scallions and some ginger and a pound of local, grass-fed beef at the co-op. I LOVE playing with food! Our wok could not have imagined what it was in for when it was hanging there in the shelf at the Brookings, Oregon Bi-Rite. One day it's granola, the next day it's Asian meatballs.
Back to it, then. This country is unbelievable. Not last night, because last night we did not party like it was 1999 (unless knitting and watching zombie apocalypse movies counts), but the night before last we stopped by the house of one of Ben's old friends. Keith was throwing a party at his spectacular home/artist space in one of the oldest barrios in Tucson and we needed to show up with a bottle of something or other, so we drove through the liquor store a few blocks from our casita to get a bottle of wine. They had one. Just one. We took it.
And you read that right. Drive-thru liquor store. It was my first time. If you're from Texas, this probably doesn't strike you as anything out of the ordinary, but we just came from Seattle, where until about a year ago you couldn't get a bottle of Bailey's at the grocery store for your Saturday morning coffee. Liquor accessibility was not so fast and loose as it is in the more southerly states. (The trade-off was that you can openly buy THC laced hard candies at Cannabis City, but those take forever to kick in, and when they finally do, I just get super sleepy. Not highly recommended.)
Leslie is halfie like me, like Ben. In some other post on some other day, I'll get into my developing thoughts on how split ethnic and cultural identities alter your entire outlook on the world and make you abnormal. If you know how I feel about normality, you will know there is no negative implication when I discuss abnormality.
Other than a few minutes with Keith and a loose plan to connect again this weekend, the only other meaningful social interaction we've had was with Ben's old and dear friend, Leslie Newman, who makes powerfully beautiful jewelry, the likes of which I imagine might be found in the tombs of royalty in ancient civilizations, had they access to such a wide array of materials and stylistic influences. (I pulled this photo off the interwebs.)
I do not think that all halfies are shapeshifters, but if one has had the luxury of growing up in multiple worlds and belonging to none of them, one begins to learn to disguise oneself, to sense subtle shifts in environment and adapt quickly. Socially, while the 'normals' develop like a stable and heterogeneous pack of dogs, a halfie develops as a chameleon, no alpha, no pack. Again, no judgment. I love people and I love dogs. Really this has not so much to do with being a halfie as it does with being a misfit, whatever form that takes.
If you are an abnormal, sometimes it takes meeting other halfies, other misfits, other artists, other dropouts, other chameleons, other abnormals, other your-own-kind-of-mutt to make you feel as though you really were just a dog all along and your pack exists somewhere. Your tail wags, your ears perk up, you eat a bowl of phô in the desert and talk about things that matter, whatever those things are to you.
Maybe even normals wear a mask and talk about things that they kind of don't really care about so they can feel like they fit in. It's a good skill to have if one is not to be a complete social moron, but I wish for no one to feel like an outcast if they choose not to disguise themselves all the time.
This is a year of absurdly deep gratitude, to have found a wild creature of my species--evolving as we are--and move through the world with a wagging tail and a joyful heart. I do not wish for a world full of my own like kind, but for people to find their own like kinds and to be less lonely and more loved, because no riches compare. This is all simply to say that I wish you prosperity in the coming year and always.
