Escape to America

My cousin was kind enought to schedule her wedding for the Saturday after Thanksgiving, so with the girls having the whole week off anyway, we made a trip of it and flew to the States the weekend before. At the airport, Raul and the girls rented a car and drove to my Dad's house while I went to my friend Dana's place for much shopping. (Dana is the shopping queen and I still had all of my accessories (including shoes) left to purchase for my dress).

Dana and I ate out a lot, and everywhere we went, if a dish came with spinach, I ordered it. Dana found this perplexing, wondering how in the 23 years that she and I have been best friends that she never knew how much I loved spinach. I do like spinach, but in Mexico, Popeye's veg is only harvested when it is fully mature with leaves the size of your hand and stems that are almost woody. So I was stocking up for the famine.

We shopped until our feet hurt, and then bought different shoes to switch to so we could continue shopping.

I frequently found myself working out in my head how to say things in Spanish, and when I remembered that I was in Engish-speaking USA, I talked to everybody.

Meanwhile, the girls (and Raul to some extent) caught lizards, went fishing, and went bowling with their Papa Tom. The weather was mild and lovely.

We reunited after a few days, and Raul and I did a bit more stocking up on American goodness by eating at Chick-fil-A and drinking rootbear whenever we could. Thanksgiving rolled around and I contributed to the feast by making Mac-and-Cheese for my brother who would eat only M&C for the rest of his life if he could.

Finally, we headed back to Dana's house which we used as a home base for the wedding. My cousin had decided on a very elegant formal evening wedding, so we had come prepared with a floor-length gown and Raul's tux. My dress fit perfectly before we had flown to the US, but after a week of cramming as much American food down our gullets as we could and Thanksgiving, I had a worried moment trying to get the zipper up. Thank heavens for Spanx. And a crowbar.

Raul and I are actually of the same height; I just happen to be wearing 4" heels. Zorra on the otherhand is wearing flats. She really is that tall at age 11.

The next morning, Raul caught a flight to DC for 10 days of work, and the girls and I flew back to DF. We were not excited to be going back to Mexico. Had our dogs not been there waiting for us, I think we might have tried to find some excuse to never return.