So I was in McAllen all weekend for Dave’s dad’s surprise birthday party. He turned 60 yesterday. Sorry for the short posts but wordpress.com didn’t work on the iPhone. I could type text into the headline, but not in the main text box. Annoying. Not that I was going to be writing novels, but I’d hoped to at least have short posts.
About like how Dave doesn’t ever ever ever say, “buey” (pronounced “way”) until we get about an hour outside of McAllen and then when he talks to his brothers, it’s “Buey this, buey that, buey.”
Or about how his mom introduced me to everyone at the party as “la próxima nuera,” or the next daughter-in-law.
Or about I am TOTALLY the Princess and the Pea because we stayed with Dave’s oldest brother and it was obvious they’d cleaned the house and bought new sheets and towels for their guests. And the bathroom smelled like new shower curtain. And all I could think about was what percentage of the crispy new sheets was cotton (forget thread count- thread count means nothing if there’s any polyester at all- even the lowest cotton thread count will become soft and delicious over time). And part of me was ashamed that I was having such thoughts when a stranger had opened their house to me. And the other part of me was like, “But . . . they’re sheets, man. SHEETS!”
i thought it was spelled “guey.” that’s how my kidzos spell it. means “ox,” but it sort of means “dude,” but it sort of means “asshole”?
Yeah, that. It can be spelled either way. (he, he) I looked it up online before I posted. But I don’t think it matters how you spell it.