backyard crowing
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inappropriate work crushes and borders
My dad and I talked about illegals tonight, and the longer we got into the conversation, the more I thought of Mario's big brown eyes.
Today he said that a couple of years ago a cop pulled him over and charged him $600 for not having a license, insurance, or either of the mandatory car stickers. He knows that if he gets pulled over, that's automatically at least $200 out of his pocket.
I suddenly feel the urge to marry an illegal. Him, or someone else. I want us to figure out this situation, and do what's fair, whatever that is...
I've heard that Texas and California, the states with the most illegals, are surprisingly the most accepting of them. We've become accustomed to them, we do business with them, they are our friends, spouses, relatives. For this, and a very few other reasons, I am proud to be a Texan.
Strange, that those inner states, those Minnesotas and Wyomings, they don't know the people, and they don't want the people.
He doesn't like me, and he may even be married, but wouldn't it be romantic? I, the English speaker, and he, the Spanish, with Marie in the middle translating and gossiping?
"You learned English?"
"Just in cases."
- Love Actually
Oi, I am a romance fiend! I see love everywhere.
Marie flirts with him all the time, but she has a boyfriend. Our most loyal customer asked her today, "Do you have a boyfriend?" And when she said yes: "I thought so!" He's a friendly old man who always orders the salmon salad, with this and without that. He reminds me a bit of my grandpa, who's forever asking me if I've got one.
I'd like to say it bothers me when this question is asked, and sometimes I am annoyed (after all, who needs a boyfriend when you can have a life?), but it's sort of flattering, in another way. The question gives you the opportunity to tell people about your love life. Its response can be boastful, or you can turn it around--"Heck, no I don't have a boyfriend! That's crazy!" ...and then that's boasting, too!
The real question that bugs me is this one, though: "What do you like about him?" Well, that could take ages and if I'm being asked that, it's usually from someone of a different generation, someone who wouldn't understand my values. And I don't always have a "kosher" reason for liking him. Maybe I just like the way he touches me. Or that he's nice. Or that he's willing to be my boyfriend, that he's honored to take that title, even if he doesn't truly know me. Or maybe he just makes me laugh.
And none of these seem adequate, at least not from the perspective of my grandparents. They want to see that he's responsible, competent, and has brains, but not necessarily wit. They want to see that he makes me happy and vice versa, so long as it's their type of happy. They want tradition and pomp and a white dress and the whole nine yards and it's exhausting. For them, there is no "Mr. Right Now." Particularly for my grandparents, who wed when they were 18 and 20. Or 19 and 20, or something...at any rate, it was all kinds of way too young!
And I know it was the 50s, and my grandma just wanted to be a soda jerk and a secretary, but come on. She's been a housewife since she graduated high school. I know she has regrets; she does expresss them. And grandpa isn't exactly a trouper.
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analyzing a phrase
hell to pay.
"if you don't do this, it'll be hell to pay."
hell to pay, hell to pay, hell to pay.
somehow i don't think hell is cheap. in fact, i'd be willing to bet it's completely unaffordable. and they probably don't take credit cards.
"they don't serve breakfast in hell."
-newsboys
- friday, july 25, 2008
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