There are church bells that ring every hour somewhere close. You can hear them here if you're out on the balcony. I'm not sure what time they stop but it tells time in 24 hour time. So at 8:00pm, it rings 20 times. It's hand rung. I can tell because sometimes there's a pause and some more tentative rings in the evening and you can tell they lost count. It makes me giggle every time. I like to imagine that they let children ring them and that's why it happens.
I know they don't go all night because I slept on the balcony last night and was only awakened by a passing storm and the workers next door attempting to raise the dead at 5:30 am by throwing something very large and heavy repeated onto some solid surface in some very echoey part of the progressing high rise next door. That, or God was playing bad drums. Either way, it's probably a good thing I don't own a sling shot. I could have put out an eye. I really really wanted to.
The next thing I woke to was my son panicking and telling me I better get inside because I was under full combat attack by a swarm of mosquitoes. I was. No, seriously, swarm is an understatement. But I didn't have a single bite. They were just using me for a heater? I did come inside though. Coffee. And FOOTBALL! Football is today.
Somewhere between the waking and the football I argued with my husband about nothing. He's in Australia. I'm in Mexico. He's been gone over a month. Almost time for him to come home. Tomorrow is my birthday. He's tired. I'm just waking up. He doesnt want to talk to me. I want to be liked. Same old things. Arguing about nothing. Then, there was football.
I know I'm a girl. That's ok. Girls can like Football too. I was overjoyed to learn last night that my Saints were showing on my Mexican TV! I don't even get Saints games at home in Texas! The boys pitched in and we made a pretty impressive spread from materials obtained from the OXXO around the corner. Junk central. Neither of these boys give a crap about football, but junk food is something they can get on board with! To my sorta kinda surprise, Fox Sports was showing the game with Spanish commentators. I had no idea what they were saying but the expression made it twice as exciting! The Saints lost in overtime. The Vaqueros game is still going. They suck. What else is new? Sorry, Texas, It's gonna be a long season. Maybe they will come to the black (and gold) side now.
So, like I said, tomorrow is my birthday. And generally I'm full tilt, absolute birthday psycho. It's World Shano Day, after all. My favorite holiday of the year!!! But no 12 days of my birthday this year. No grand preparations. No warnings to others about the birthday debauchery. This year, my birthday is me and 2/3 of my kids, Mexicans, and a whole bunch of stranger tourists passing through on vacation. I'm not sure I even want to go outside. There's no one to get drunk with. There's no spectacle. There's no silly drag queen dresses and 6 inch platform heels. There's nobody here to drag around to do whatever I want because it's MY personal holiday. Even karaoke is kind of boring if no one is there to laugh at you. I'll spend the day with my boys. They'll be sweet. It'll be nice. They'll be kind of bored. Because my birthday in paradise is making me sad. But they will make me smile. Because they are them. I'm certain I'll get over it by tomorrow and I'll probably spend the day at the beach in paradise feeling half contented. But it's not much of a celebration without my friends, my shoes. Maybe I'll buy a pinata and me and Brando (who celebrated his birthday early at home but had his actual birthday in Mexico too) can beat the crap outta it and shove our faces full of interesting Mexican candy. Or maybe I won't. Maybe I'll sleep all day. Either way, I'll survive. But World Shano Day just won't be the same. But it'll probably be better than last year anyway. (Hashtag: hadtobethere.) I mean, I think most 30-mumbled-incomprehensible-second-number year olds probably celebrate their birthday in some dreading normal way. Right?
Ok, enough whining. Back to watching the Vaqueros get destroyed. That's cheering me up. Sort of.
(Insert something funny and charming here to save this blog post from total whine failure)
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