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Thanksgiving is guava time in the Octopus household. And right now I have over a 100 guavas sitting on my kitchen counter. My mom and I harvested them from her tree this weekend. These tropical fruits have overtaken the kitchen counter, looking like a bunch of weebles that have multiplied out of control.
Every Thanksgiving I give a box of guavas to the Octopus in-laws and they go nuts. They love guavas. I smile and feel like Santa as I watch them gather around, dipping the fruit in salt and chili powder, lips smacking, telling me how they can't get good guavas in Connecticut. I am starting to like guavas myself, and look forward to guava season every year.
Finally! Already?! Can't decide. I've wanted it to be over for a very long time, but only if the result is the one I want. I really hope that by the time I get home from work tomorrow, results from key battlegrounds on the East Coast will be in. If they call PA and VA for Obama, then I'll start celebrating.
I've been reading Dreams from My Father. I'm up to the point where he's studying at Occidental College. The man can write. It's made me think about my own identity, identity crisis perhaps. It's not something I've ever given much thought to. Octopus and I are going to Vietnam in a few months, which will make me really confront how American I really am. Being an outside in the motherland. More on that later.
We were at the Obama rally in Henderson, Nevada, on Saturday. It was awesome. When I saw him come up to the podium, I wanted to cry. Minority in the White House. Could it really be? Afterwards, we canvassed, knocked on doors to see who had already voted, who needed a ride to the polls on Tuesday.
I'll be lining up at the local elementary school to vote tomorrow. I'm prepared for a long wait. Until then!
