Yo La Tejo

Cuz you gotta have friends.

This post is about friends, and about how I'm blessed to have them, whether in person or through the internets. I know it's been said before, but I'll say it again--knitters are the most generous people on earth. Over the past week, I've been given two presents; one I won through Lolly's Guess-My-Mom's-Name contest, and the other was completely unexpected, from Heather. Just because she's wonderful like that.



Lolly asked people to guess her mom's name, hinting that she and a well-loved knitting brand had the name in common. I guessed Addi, because let's face it, Susan Bates doesn't inspire rabid devotion in people. And I was right! (Except she spells it Addie.) Pretty ironic that I'd win this contest, seeing as how I don't own any Addis, being a ghetto knitter and all.

Lolly didn't just send me stash, neither. She asked me my favorite colors, went shopping, and got me this humongous skein of Trekking sock yarn (top right), in a lovely marled blend of black, red, and gray. She also thoughtfully included an adorable little journal for projects, and a fun post-it pad, perfect for sticking into library books (ah, Lolly. Fellow grad student. You know me all too well.)

And Heather, well. I'm just speechless. She just finished a gorgeous pair of lacy knee highs for her grandma, knitting at the speed of light to get them done in time for her birthday. When I admired them, she offered to send me the pattern, and included this stunning skein of handpainted merino ribbon from Mountain Colors. I couldn't believe it! I consider Heather to be my blogging godmother, because she posted my FO pictures when I had no blog of my own, and was my earliest cheerleader. She rocks.

Ah, ha. Speaking of FOs. I wish I had an FO to show you. And when I tell you about the weekend road trip I had, you will hold my feet to the coals and demand to know why my Broadripple socks are not. Finished. Yet. I don't know! I'm the slowest sock knitter ever! I'm almost there, but I decided to spare you all any work in progress photos, since I know that Ashley is skeeved out by naked feet on the internets (that would be Quirk #4, y'all). Next time, I promise, I will be doing a happy dance in those socks. Just wait and see if you can even catch a still shot of my socks!

Jennifer, who is my roommate and partner in crime, and I went down to South Padre Island this past weekend for a mini-break. The drive from Austin, fyi, is six hours long. Plenty of sock knitting time, I know, but of course there was also plenty of talking and laughing and taking of magazine sex quizzes, too!

When we finally got down there, it was Friday night, so we just went for dinner at Bluebeard's, and turned in. The next day, we went for a long walk on the beach, collected some shells, and took some pictures.



It was pretty overcast, but warm and humid. I love that kind of weather, so I was entirely content. Why go to South Padre in January, you ask? Well, you avoid the spring breakers that way, for one. And it was in the 70s on Saturday--perfect!



We thought these shells looked like they were in love. :-)

That afternoon, we drove across the border into Matamoros. Feeling very brave, we ventured into the city without a map, and followed the signs to el Centro, where the plaza and the cathedral are. We parked in a lot, and set out to find some tacos. Sadly, we weren't going to find them on the plaza--the place was dotted with American fast-food places, like Domino's, Subway, and Church's.

Walking a block or two away, we found an outdoor mall, and quickly zeroed in on a taqueria: Riko Takito! We ordered the exact same thing--one al pastor taco, and one carne asada taco. These tacos, they were like manna from heaven. Y'all, they just don't make them like that here. Garnished simply with chopped onion and cilantro, they came with a side of onions swimming in grease, that were the best thing ever. And I don't even like onions. We polished them off with grapefruit Joya soda.



On our way out, I saw a clown hurrying down the street, in full makeup and costume, probably on his way to a gig. It was such a strange and weird and beautiful thing, this clown...his makeup perfectly done, his head down as he rushed by. No one else paid him any mind.

Jennifer and I needed a little pick-me-up, so we ventured into Cafe Aroma for some coffee, and discovered their lovely little patio garden, tucked away in the back.



Since it was mid-afternoon, we had the entire place to ourselves. We listened to the bubbling water in the fountain, laughed at the pigeons, and shared a piece of flan.



We finally left to try to make it back across the border within a reasonable amount of time. You know how you can just cruise on into Mexico? Well, they like to give you a bit of a harder time getting back into the States. Go figure.

According to my friends, who cross back and forth often, it's not usually a big deal; they just ask you if you're an American citizen. You say yes, and you're on your way. (Although our friend told us the story about her uncle, who spoke little English and who was so used to saying "yes" to that question that he was totally thrown off when the Border Patrol asked him instead where he was born. "Yes." "Where were you born???" "Yes!" His brother finally had to step in and say, in Spanish, He's asking you where you were born, pendejo!"

After letting the car ahead of us cruise on in, we got stopped and guess what we were asked? Yep, the million dollar question. Now, some of you know that I was born in Mexico, but was naturalized later on. I always get nervous when crossing the border, though, thinking that they're going to revoke my papers and ship me back! So, without thinking about it, I said to the Border Patrol, in my best chipper voice, that I was born in Chicago. I guess I was subconsciously thinking that if I admitted to being born in Mexico, I was opening myself up to all kinds of interrogation. And of course because I sound so American, I thought that he wouldn't even give me a second glance.

Well, he did. He asked us both for our IDs, and ran them through the system (what comes up on their system, does anyone know? Felonies? Unpaid magazine subscriptions? The black mark on your grade school record from when you got caught cutting class?). Then he asked us to open the trunk. Of course, we had nothing in there--no food, no liquor, no undocumented family members.

Unable to nail us for anything, he eventually let us go. We have no idea why he decided to keep us. Do these look like the faces of shady characters to you?



Next time: Broadripple socks.

posted by Olga @ 7:21 PM