Feliz Navidad

I mailed off my Christmas cards today, whew. I think this may be the latest I've ever sent them. Judging from the doorway where all the cards I've received typically hang, everyone else is running late as well.

This year I was suffering from the rampant inability to make a decision (probably leftover from November's fickle noveling experience...) so my loved ones will be receiving a card and a cheery holiday letter, plus many photos. If you'd like to receive the electronic version of my holiday greetings, comment or drop me a line.

Tomorrow's our department's Christmas get together. This year we're actually doing it at work rather than offsite, which is a bit of a bummer but infinitely more convenient. We're doing the gift exchange/steal the good gift thing, and snacking. I'm going to have to get up early to make guacamole, which I'm bringing as part of a running joke because several people who will be in attendance think only Californians eat the stuff.

Speaking of guacamole, I had a run-in with a real live redneck the other day. This hasn't happened in a while so I thought it worth mentioning. For those who don't realize it, I am of Hispanic descent, half or more depending upon whether or not you think Spain counts. I'm often told I don't look it, so I tend to get more redneck comments than I might otherwise.

Anyway, I was getting my hair done by C. and another woman, K., was too. K. was an out of work teacher and within the first five minutes she told us how important education was to her family, how well-educated she and her parents were, and how well-educated her fiance was, do you get the picture? Somehow we got on the subject of adoption, and K. informed us that her friend just adopted a baby. This is what she said:

"She is adorable. I mean, she's half Mexican, but still, she's really cute."

C. and I couldn't even look at each other for fear we'd lose it. C. also happens to be Hispanic -- how K. missed this I haven't a clue.

So, K. went on to ask me my salary, why I never had more kids, what I do for childcare and how much I pay for that, and then she wanted to know how old I was.

When I told her, she gasped and came and stood about 3 inches from my face so she could get a better look before declaring I didn't have my fair share of wrinkles. Then she wanted to know my "nationality."

I told her, and she didn't bat an eyelash. She then demanded to know if my husband was Mexican, too, or if he was white. Those were apparently the only two options. She then declared my youthfulness on the unfair advantage of my olive toned skin, and moved on to more important subjects, like asking me where she could get good Mexican food in town.

*Sigh*