home stretch

Hi Everybody! I finally figured out how to get the photos up on the blog. It seems the interweb did not want to upload them from my fancy korean USB flash drive; it prefers to have them on the computer I'm working on. Thanks to cousin Lauren for your thoughtful photobucket comments.

Thanksgiving was a fun time. I made calabaza pies for our Peace House Feast. Calabaza is a pumpkin, but it's harder and more gourdy. A much denser veggie. I got a recipies for pie crust and filling from one of the kitchen ladies and Casa del Pan, and they turned out really yummy. All our extended friends community and some other random gringos came over to eat with us. It was more or less a casual potluck affair, and if we were thankful for anything, we kept it to ourselves.

Other than that, I've been working, which has been a bit tiring and dull. Not many tourists in town currently, and my crazy Texan stoner co-worker lady was working at another restaurant for a few days, so things were quiet in the kitchen. We did get to kill another rat, tho, using the same broom-squashing technique. This time his eyes were popping out of his head. I made Lauren (the Texan) dispose of the corpse this time. We found out where the rats were tunneling in, and covered the hole with some rocks. But they're tunneling in through these planter boxes, so they might just dig around it. The front end manager never seems to worried. I told him we should buy mouse traps to leave out at night, but he never listens. He always ignores me when I tell him about the ants that are always scouting out around the honey jars in the store... ni modos....

Today I am tired. Lots of things to do, but little time, 'specially when I'm working 48 hrs a week. I should be done with the job by next Sunday. I just hope they get someone new in time. I've told a few friends about it; hopefully they'll get hired. The hitch is they need to speak english too, and the guys I know looking for work are Mexican. One I know speaks some english, but he is El Tormenta (The Storm) - the guy who is always yelling incoherently at parties, constantly bumming and chainsmoking other people's cigarettes. "Noooooo maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaammes!" I must admit that I sometimes egg him on by yelling along with him, which makes him yell louder. But knowing him in this social context doesn't give me positive impressions of his employability. That, however, is not my problem. If they hire him, it's at their own risk... hehehe.

The kitchen ladies have given me some new names. Doña Reina, who I work with in the evenings once called me Lorenzo, confusing me with Lauren (Laurena in spanish) in a momentary lapse of reason. The woman who runs the kitchen in the morning called me Geronimo for some reason, probably cuz she couldn't remember my name. I obviously strike some sort of rugged, fierce image for her to call me such.... I'd agree. I also get mistaken for Ian, the son of the woman who owns the restaurant. People keep talking to me as if I were him. This is a little more annoying, but I can deal with it. Since I don't have any new pictures of mine own to post, I'll throw up a MacGyver photo in memory of my first nickname here in Mexico. I would just like to officially disclaim that I am not in any way supporting a presidential bid by MacGuyver in 2008.

My cousin Luke should be in Iraq by now for his second tour over there. My dad told me when he was going to ship out, but I've forgotten when exactly that was. It was sometime in November, which is almost over now, so he must be there, or on his way. I mention this because I'm thinking of him and hoping he's safe, but also because of an email an acquaintance sent me. The friend of a woman I met here in Chiapas committed suicide on Thanksgiving Day after having spent a year in the army in Iraq. And sadly, this isn't the first time I've heard of returned service men having severe emotional problems and committing suicide. It's a really heavy thing, not only this one person's death, but also the suffering of all the other soldiers fighting this war, on whatever side, and all of the rest of us, who witness it, whether in our own homes, communities and countries or from afar, through news and media. War is not the answer.