Last night I had another opportunity to go to a party with Mexico City's upper crust (ie really fucking rich). I can't say for sure that this family was nouveau riche but all the signs were there. They have a tire business in LA and a house in the new-richest neighborhood in el DF. The party was in the jardin but I went in the house and it was like an 80s movie about rich people- marble, lion heads, mirror walls, the whole nine. Even a maid in an all-white uniform. I can't even tell you what an asshole I felt like asking her how her night was going, half-drunk and clacking through on stilettos. I kind of love and kind of hate going to those kind of parties.

I went for a run today, and then went to the grocery store after the park. While I was walking home from the grocery store, carrying my groceries, I got cat-called 3 or 4 times. I was wearing head phones so I didn't know what they were saying but I could see them. Usually In a walk to of from somewhere I will get one on average, and delivery trucks with two men in them are almost a guarantee-- maybe because they aren't in their own car, they are bored, and they have a buddy to back them up so they feel more bold. This time it was two grocery store employees together, two pairs in delivery trucks, and then the one that inspired me to write this post.

Although anything with the virgin Mary screams Most Mexican Moment to me, I think this story is extra special. This evening when I got home from work, one of my old spinster landladies invited me in to see the candles she paints and sells. She paints mostly flowers but she also does the major candles for masses, and she does the work for free for two nunnery cathedrals.

Hello from Mexico, friends.

Last night I saw a movie with a few friends, and one guy told us about his aunt's funeral the day before. His aunt was relatively young, and died suddenly. Here in Mexico they have a service immediately and it goes all night. They often have a mass several days or weeks later for the dead person.