This is most definitely the most misnamed, misunderstood holiday in the Americas.
It should really be "Drinko De Mayo" because that is the main thrust these days. Our favorite little local Mexican joint actually has a calendar above the front entrance that counts, to the hundredths of a second, the number of days, hours, and seconds until this date. Of course, the clock is housed in an ad for tequila. See my point?
Plus, all last week, I couldn't pass by any respectable Mexican joint that wasn't waving the red, green and white flag, right above the beer company's sign declaring "Cinco De Mayo".
Now, trust me, I'll all into Mexican food. And drinks. So, this was one of my favorite holidays as a single. Now that I'm married with kids? Not as much fun. I mean, SOMEONE has to be the designated driver if I even SIP a margarita. Kind of takes all the fun out of it.
But, regardless of my astoundingly low ability to handle tequila these days, I still have a fascination with this day. And I found out I was more history-ignorant than I previously thought.
I was blissfully unaware that, had this holiday gone 'the other way', we'd have a La Madeleine on every street corner instead of a Mexican restaurant.
French instead of Mexican? Surely you jest. I mean, I can get all behind a good glass of red wine and a croissant. But give up nachos loaded with cheese and jalapenos? No way, Jose.
It turns out, Napoleon III decided he wanted a piece of Mexico's action and sent troops in to overtake Mexico City. Where was America? Just a tad preoccupied, fighting our own little Civil War.
A whopping 50,000 Mexican soldiers lost their lives defending their turf. But, defend it they did. And, WA-LA. Birth of an annual celebration.
So, stuff yourself silly with fried foods filled with gooey cheese, eat chips and salsa until you might bust, and have a little shot of tequila in honor of the battle that meant we get to enjoy all this goodness today.
Just make sure you designate your driver before you start.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Life
As a family, we've been watching the wonderful, amazing, beautiful, awe-inspiring series called "Life". In all the zoos and aquariums I've been to in the last 43 years, I have not come close to seeing the assortment of astounding animals that this world has to offer.
Let me just pause here and say "Thank you, God" and "Wow". There are some incredible animals on this planet.
One theme that our narrator, Miss Oprah Winfrey, has hammered on for several episodes is the amount of time animal parents spend with their offspring.
I can recall several species that fertilize their eggs and take off.
Some species fertilize their eggs, stay until their little ones are born, then take off.
And yet others fertilize their eggs, stay until their little ones are born, tote their babies (either on their chest or back) for a few months or years, then let them fly, walk, or slither on their own.
Regardless of their commitment, these parents, at most, spend eight years with their offspring. Yes, you read that correctly, EIGHT years.
Not eighteen or twenty-two or a lifetime. Eight.
Are you getting this? Humans are the only ones who spend a lifetime worrying about, caring for, loving on, correcting, and generally, giving our lives for our little ones.
And for that, if I look at the cup as half-empty, I might get all pissy. After all, were I a chimpanzee? It would be eight years and then long vacas in neighboring rain forests. With no car seats or diaper bags to carry along. Then, after a long, relaxing period of time with my favorite chimp? I'd be ready to take on another eight years of Motherhood.
But, instead, I'm choosing the lifetime option and looking at the cup as half-full. And I'm saying: "Thank you, God. What a privilege."
Because, in the immortal words of Hannah Montana*:
"Life is what you make it
So let's make it rock."**
*Good golly. I just quoted a pop-idol who is almost 30 years younger than me. I need a life.
**I'm not sure if the fact that I can quote Hannah Montana is more embarrassing to me or to my kids.
Let me just pause here and say "Thank you, God" and "Wow". There are some incredible animals on this planet.
One theme that our narrator, Miss Oprah Winfrey, has hammered on for several episodes is the amount of time animal parents spend with their offspring.
I can recall several species that fertilize their eggs and take off.
Some species fertilize their eggs, stay until their little ones are born, then take off.
And yet others fertilize their eggs, stay until their little ones are born, tote their babies (either on their chest or back) for a few months or years, then let them fly, walk, or slither on their own.
Regardless of their commitment, these parents, at most, spend eight years with their offspring. Yes, you read that correctly, EIGHT years.
Not eighteen or twenty-two or a lifetime. Eight.
Are you getting this? Humans are the only ones who spend a lifetime worrying about, caring for, loving on, correcting, and generally, giving our lives for our little ones.
And for that, if I look at the cup as half-empty, I might get all pissy. After all, were I a chimpanzee? It would be eight years and then long vacas in neighboring rain forests. With no car seats or diaper bags to carry along. Then, after a long, relaxing period of time with my favorite chimp? I'd be ready to take on another eight years of Motherhood.
But, instead, I'm choosing the lifetime option and looking at the cup as half-full. And I'm saying: "Thank you, God. What a privilege."
Because, in the immortal words of Hannah Montana*:
"Life is what you make it
So let's make it rock."**
*Good golly. I just quoted a pop-idol who is almost 30 years younger than me. I need a life.
**I'm not sure if the fact that I can quote Hannah Montana is more embarrassing to me or to my kids.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
MAYDAY!
Ah, May Day. The period fraught with Pagan-based rituals about Mother Earth, fertility, and children dizzying themselves around poles.
This thought got me noodling the actual word "mayday". A quick Google search spit-up the following: Our current "mayday!" (S.O.S.) has its origins in the word "m'aidez', which is French for "help me!"
And, even though you can find all sorts of information about this word being used beginning in the 1940's, I would like to propose that this is actually a word that began post-Babyboomer, around the time that the minivan got its wheels.
That's when May started like this on the calendar:
May 1*:
a.) Testing at school (all three kids). Send snacks for all classmates (60). Must be individually packaged and delivered 10 minutes before school starts.
b.) T-ball practice (son #1), 4:30-5:30.
c.) Soccer practice (son #2), 5:15-6:15.
d.) Karate (son #3), 6:00-7:00.
e.) Dinner with clients (husband), 6:30-whenever the boss stops buying liquor.
f.) Before bed: bake cake for Field Day. Deliver before sunrise to committee chair in field beside school. Suggested: wear bug repellent; mosquitoes wicked bad around field since accident with overflowing septic.
g.) Before bed: create Daniel Boone outfit for son #3 for Colonial Day. Must include coonskin hat (at son's request.)
I won't even go into May 2nd, because I think you get the point.
And my point? I hate to admit that some Frenchy-french might be right, but I think they hit a bulls eye with the definition with this one.
*For illustrative purposes only. Mike's boss doesn't even LIVE in Dallas.
This thought got me noodling the actual word "mayday". A quick Google search spit-up the following: Our current "mayday!" (S.O.S.) has its origins in the word "m'aidez', which is French for "help me!"
And, even though you can find all sorts of information about this word being used beginning in the 1940's, I would like to propose that this is actually a word that began post-Babyboomer, around the time that the minivan got its wheels.
That's when May started like this on the calendar:
May 1*:
a.) Testing at school (all three kids). Send snacks for all classmates (60). Must be individually packaged and delivered 10 minutes before school starts.
b.) T-ball practice (son #1), 4:30-5:30.
c.) Soccer practice (son #2), 5:15-6:15.
d.) Karate (son #3), 6:00-7:00.
e.) Dinner with clients (husband), 6:30-whenever the boss stops buying liquor.
f.) Before bed: bake cake for Field Day. Deliver before sunrise to committee chair in field beside school. Suggested: wear bug repellent; mosquitoes wicked bad around field since accident with overflowing septic.
g.) Before bed: create Daniel Boone outfit for son #3 for Colonial Day. Must include coonskin hat (at son's request.)
I won't even go into May 2nd, because I think you get the point.
And my point? I hate to admit that some Frenchy-french might be right, but I think they hit a bulls eye with the definition with this one.
*For illustrative purposes only. Mike's boss doesn't even LIVE in Dallas.
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