if we don't get busted, hope we make it out alive

Today was a silly day. February 2nd is a holiday called La Candelaria, where you apparently get all 12 candles you will use for prayer and such purposes through the year (one per month, duh) blessed. Old ladies also get their porcelain baby Jesus sculptures outfitted in new satiny getups for the occasion. Also, whoever almost ate the plastic baby in the Dia de Reyes loaf must have thrown a tamaleada (party featuring tamales) by today, which means really that all the plastic baby slackers threw tamal parties today. I for one, ate two tamales: one was filled with a black bean paste, and I thought the other one was a rajas one, which means long slices of cooked peppers, but it was actually rajas and some sort of animal. I am pretty sure it was dark chicken meat, but not entirely sure.

To that effect, today I got lost in the bored old lady neighborhood of Oaxaca, where I ended up on my hunt for an X-acto knife. I have been bored lately and I thought a shiny new knife might be just the ticket to un-boring myself. However, X-acto knives are apparently sort of hard to find, and I ended up getting directed into a corner of town (southeast) that I'd never really had a reason to be in before. This part of town was full of stores that sell bored old lady things, like styrofoam balls, wooden dowels, different kinds of scissors, and everything you need to make a custom getup for your baby Jesus. Unfortunately, they had nothing in the way of knives, and I was directed to the Frida Kahlo art supply store.

A thing about stores that sell tiny things in Mexico: you can't touch anything, and most of the time, you can't even see stuff. Most of the time, you just walk up to a counter and say, "do you happen to have tiny knives" or batteries, or a notebook, or whatever tiny thing it is you were looking for, and they will present you with your options, which is to say, they will present you with the one thing they have that sounds the most like the thing you were looking for. No multiple options, no fingering packages and daydreaming until you make up your mind (someone is watching you, so that's creepy, right?), no fun. Shopping is not fun. Which is probably a good thing, if you really think about it (sense of purpose! and whatnot), but it's definitely a different kind of experience. Anyway, I ended up dawdling awkwardly at the art supply store regardless because I couldn't believe that they had an X-acto boxed set (actually a knock-off brand, X-cel) but not just a single knife. (I already have a well-loved X-acto boxed set somewhere among my things in Lenoir.) I showed the lady what I was talking about: you know, just that one, but she shook her head no.

Of course that was total bullshit because I found one buried in a glass case (couldn't touch it, just used my razor-sharp eyesight, naturally) under a bunch of linoleum tools. Victory!

Then, the day slowly wound down with noodles and blanched green beans and bad internet TV.

And then!

Frida/pitty the cat gets to go outside into the courtyard at night because that is when the useless grandma store (unclear what they sell there) is closed, so there is no risk of her ending up on the rough streets of the OAX. She usually comes in and out as she pleases and then we ring a bell, present her with some kibbles and everyone goes on their merry way to slumber, but when Tony tried to call her in tonight, she didn't answer. Everyone ended up participating in The Search, including our landlord-family. Finally, we went upstairs to the dogshit terrace to see if she was up there, and the landlord somehow spotted her a few roofs over. Eventually, we lured her back with food, and I guess she hadn't wanted to come back because she was scared of Barky Schnauzer and his huge dumb friend the Silent Retriever--I had to carry her through while she hissed ("Ain't fucking with me now, huh?" is what I think she was saying in Cat). The landlord, Gil, kept suggesting that perhaps she was en celo and I let Tony explain that she did not have the organos reproductivos anymore. Then, his wife, Maida, revealed to us that Frida had been exploring her hunting instincts, having somehow kidnapped their daughter's hamster and tried to devour it. Fortunately, Maida caught her in the act, so she spit it back out. The vet says that beyond the shock, the hamster is fine. I wonder how this connects to the pieces of toilet paper pitty seems to have killed and left in my room. Perhaps she thinks we deserve a higher quality of gift. I think I wish she'd dedicate her time to more useful endeavors, like making surprised faces or playing the piano, that I might one day post her on YouTube and become famous.

I mean. What?

All in all, not a failure. Happy belated baby Jesus outfit/candle blessing day!