Don't get me wrong. I love Cubans. I married one. I still am married to one. But I have come to the conclusion that they're insane. Not criminally or anything like that. None of them have ever held me hostage or taken my dog out back for a beating. No. It's just that Cubans tend to argue with each other about all kinds of things. Anything. Cheese. Flan. The name of that armless man that used to sell eggs back in Havana...the one with the cleft pallette and the bone sticking out of his leg. Cubans will argue about chicken, sell-by freshness dates and what causes intestinal gas (which, it turns out, is everything). I have seen two elderly Cuban women almost kill each other over whether their mother's arroz con pollo recipe had beer or pimento. The only thing Cubans agree on is that anything under 67 degrees is freezing and requires a parka and a mad dash to the car before limbs begin to fall off. I have seen Cubans spend over three hours getting on their coats and hats and gloves and scarfs for a five foot walk from the door to the car. Once in the car, those same Cubans will spend another three hours taking off their gloves and hats and coats and scarfs because to leave them on in the car will cause an embolism. (I have also heard a complicated theory that orange juice and milk are fine individually, but have them BOTH for breakfast and your stomach will melt.) But I digress.
The point is with all this supposedly interesting arguing going on in my home over the holidays, I was more interested in the really interesting stuff that was happening to John on his travels. And then it occurred to me. I have "interest deficit disorder." IDD is the perception that other people's lives are more interesting than your own. So, to cure myself of this, I've decided to blog on a daily basis and then read what I've done before I go to bed. Hopefully this will make me say, "Wow. What an interesting day I had." Or, "Hmmm. That wasn't quite an interesting enough day. Better do more interesting stuff tomorrow." Or, "I think I've got a book here!"
So, here goes. It's still morning, but here's what's happened so far this morning...
I got up at six to get my daughter ready for school. As I was making her lunch I think I saw Satan out the back window. It was still dark, and it was only for a moment. But he had red eyes and horns and held a Garden Weasel in an aggressive, taunting manner.
Later in the morning my wife and I went to the market. All seemed well until we got to the checkout lane. The boxboy looked at me in a way which led me to believe he is not of our world.
It's time for lunch.