A Twitterer I follow (okay, the language for that site is just nuts. Twitterer makes just as much sense as Tweet or Twit.) mentioned the other day that she prefers beer and a game of pool to wine and art. It made me stop and think. Where do I fall on that scale? I’m not opposed to pool or hanging out with those drinking beer, but I certainly would prefer a nice glass of wine and a tour through a gallery. Is one low-key and the other snotty, as implied? This sort of categorical stuff drives me nuts. I don’t want to fit neatly into either box. I’d prefer to be able to bounce between social situations and have fun wherever I’m at.
Do you ever find yourself being shoved into a label that just doesn’t fit?
When we were in Mexico a couple weeks ago, I fell in love with a bottle. Specifically, a bottle of Mexican tequila that I swear is a rubenesque version of a Diego Rivera painting. I thought it was so fitting that the national booze would be linked with one of their cultural heroes. Perhaps after a bit too long at the Tequila Center, I made this apparently very clear to my friends. This included clutching the bottle and giving an art lesson to a slightly amused bartender who made a fortune pouring for our group. It was no surprise last night I was gifted with this very bottle. Isn’t it interesting? (Yep, kinda like Nacho Libre, everyone else thinks I’m a little nuts.)
So, the birthday was a raging success and there is no way I’m going to get to everyone’s sweet comments this week. Thank you! A thousand times over, thank you. I have a lot of great things planned for this year, including sprucing up the blog, traveling, and writing the next novel. I also see margaritas in my immediate future. Thanks Diego! Thanks for coming along for the ride!