I just returned yesterday from a glorious escape to the motherland - Ohio. I spent about eight days basking in the warm glory of Ohio summers, and luckily I got in early enough to avoid the suffocating humidity.
[Note: While I was off frolicking in the Promised Land, my roommate Paul was off to Honduras covering the military coup firsthand. He had his story posted in the Wall Street Journal and took some amazing pictures as the events unfolded. And the day I came back to Mexico, Matt left for a film project in Lima, Peru. Let's just say both will receive jealous punches to the face when they return, and congratulatory hugs of course].
On my first weekend back to the U.S. of A, I hopped in a car for the first time since February (eek!) and drove up to Napoleon for the wedding of my OU friends Patrick and Emily. The setting was gorgeous, and though I don't think I could live surrounded by billowing 'amber waves of grain,' it certainly made for the perfect summer backdrop. Reuniting with my OU ladies was an incredibly glorious, short-lived experience that painfully reminded me of those precious years in Athens.
The rest of my Ohio days were filled with all-too-brief moments with family, friends and the new family cat, Miles, as well as all-too-depressing First World shopping sprees that made me both curse the strong dollar and my peso-fied salary with each exasperated swipe of the debit card. But I knew I had to take advantage of the U.S.'s saturated clothing industry, as things in Mexico tend to be incredibly expensive or cheap but tacky and/or ugly. And while I am extremely appreciative for the free meals that my loved ones bestowed upon me at Ohio's fine dining institutions, I found myself cursing American gastronomy as only gryo carts
littered a late-night Arena District while I craved Mexico's delicious all-night taco bars, where ravenous diners can stumble in at 4 a.m. and tally boxes on an order card just like those at sushi restaurants.I also hung around to watch the Friday fireworks downtown for Red, White & Boom (though my heart lies with the Worthington 'works). It was a wonderful chance to see some familiar TWHS faces, wear a star-spangled necklace and randomly burst into patriotic tunes at whim. My actual 4th of July experience took place in Mexico with much less American pride. Laura and I put together a little cookout feast of hamburgers (meat and veggie, duh), watermelon, potato wedges and Rice Krispie treats for seven or so Mexican friends, who despite enjoying the buffet did not want to listen as we YouTube-d songs like "You're a Grand Ole Flag," "Yankee Doodle Dandy," "America the Beautiful," and, of course, a clip of the Backstreet Boys singing the national anthem. Instead our Mexican guests preferred to roll their eyes at the outright patriotism we tried to force upon them. I mean, come on, we rule the universe, can't we gloat every once in a while?
Now it's midnight on a Sunday, which means in seven short hours I'll kick off my last full week at the preschool and begin the fourth edition of my Embassy Row supplement. I already stress-cried once, and the fun hasn't even started yet!
love it
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