As soon as the sun set, I was on my way to that wonderland on the Avenida Insurgentes. It was dreamier than ever, but I suppose my nearness to departure caused me to romanticize every step of the way. Walmart was a wonder, reader. I stared lovingly at the laundry mat inside and the fast food options and the little cart that sold elote as soon as you came in from the parking garage.
Monday: Why don’t you study “invisible diseases” to try and understand the suffering some people go through? You know I have Multiple Sclerosis, and I honestly feel healthier than ever, […]
Things that are actually impossible are far and few between, you know? It’s up to you to live a remarkable life. If you’re whining and whinging about how you can’t or why you daren’t, then your main issue is a tragic lack of imagination. You can do anything. You can go anywhere.
I sat in the courtyard with my churros, a bottle of tequila, and a bag of cat treats. Patron and Little Chiffon were laying beside me and then the church bell tolled midnight. I took a shot of that deliciously cheap tequila and petted the kittens and then all of a sudden I was 28.
God I feel light and free. My skin is cleaning, my anxiety is dissipating, my multiple sclerosis is going into remission, my tanning bed burn is fading, I’m losing inches off my waistline. Life is grand!
This turned out to be yet another divine concoction thanks to that wonderful grocery store. Honestly, reader, who would I be without ALDI? Where would I be with ALDI? I don’t want to think of it.
I rounded the corner and there she was before me, the green light of the Olive Garden sign washed over me and I felt as if I were a pilgrim arriving in the holiest spot in all the world. I was giddy with excitement reader, and I veritably rushed for the escalator that would lead up to the doors of the blessed restaurant.
The beginning was simple enough, just a staircase, but after the first major tiered level, the steps became increasingly steep and people were huffing and puffing. I am blessed to be in fairly good shape for doing absolutely nothing to maintain my fitness, so I wasn’t too poor off, but I must admit that after two-thirds of the climb, my beautiful thighs were aching. I mused about how attractive I might be if I climbed a pyramid every day. I think that would be a tremendously amusing fitness regimen. But how many people have access to a pyramid in reality? Very few I suppose.
I’m sure that you’ve seen one of those infomercials about miraculous copper cookware that nothing at all sticks to. And if not, I have little doubt that you’ve probably started a small avalanche in a store when you walk by an aisle filled to bursting with copper skillets. These things are absolutely everywhere. I was sick to death of seeing them. I couldn’t stand to watch that woman in the commercial slide another ugly omelette onto a hideous plate. I couldn’t stand the black and white footage of a distraught gentleman crying when trying to unstick some slab of meat from a stainless steel skillet.
In tiny, packed hallways, shoppers crowded around small vendors. Each vendor sold a variation on a similar theme: witchcraft. Santa Muerte glowered down from every surface, that wonderfully evocative patroness of the lost and downtrodden. Since I booked my flight to Mexico, I have been deeply intrigued by this heretical icon. She is revered by many people in Mexico, but the Catholic Church has condemned her worship. She’s skeletal and terrifying and considerably menacing to some. Legend says she will appear in your dreams, answer your prayers with the right gifts, and bring death to your enemies. She’s charming. Santa Muerte is not a truly Catholic image, obviously, instead she is the perpetuation of ancient Aztec religious belief.