Mexican in Maine Mondays #1: On Being from Away

I suck at follow through on most things but since I live here and am Mexican and Mondays come every week without fail, there's a pretty good chance I can stick to this one, considering none of the previously mentioned facts can be altered. In short, I fit the bill. So let's go with it.  

* Wicked is not just a word to describe the witch who had  house fall on her. In fact, it is not even a word limited to a certain age group, like, say, junior high kids who wince when their parents use words in an attempt to relate because helloooo....that's embarrassing, mom.

Wicked, is, in fact, a word i am pretty sure is owned by the state of Maine and the rest of y'all need to ask for permission when using it in a sentence that does not begin with "And then Disney released another movie with an endearing plot that manages to make all step-moms looks like shit."

It's a lovely word and can be used like spice to add flavor to a sentence like "that was a wicked storm" or "it's wicked cold" or "Did you just say "wicked" in a sentence?  Because we haven't been living here long enough for you to be all "I get to talk like a Mainer" yet."

Okay, so that last one was me to The Husband because he's 38 and maybe the junior high kids are laughing at us because we are old and "wicked" sounds so damned cool to say.

Note that I have yet to use it in a sentence of my own with another person. Give it a week. I'll try wicked hard. But I'll probably drop a few F bombs first. Those seem to be universal for me.

 

In case you're wondering how we are doing in the storm- we are fine. This black fly, however, is not. #maine #mexicaninmaine

 

* If you weren't born here, probably in the backseat of a homemade plow truck en route to the hospital in the middle of a wicked blizzard while waiting for a moose to cross the road, then you are, and always will be, from away. No one really gives a damn where you actually came from because you weren't born here, which makes you from away. I'm not sure if there's a secret fist bump or clubhouse handshake that goes with the honor of not being from away, because I am from away. Then again, every person I have met so far is, indeed, from away, too.

I think we need a clubhouse of our own. Oh right. The secret password is "away."

Don't. Tell. Anyone.

 

That, my friends, would be the ass-end of a moose. This is the side you actually *want* to see because they like to charge things like cars when not participating on other local pastimes like saying "wicked" every time the opportunity presents itself. #me

* Important to note: Stephen King lives here for a reason. First off, light will not reflect off the eyes of a moose so you're only warning when driving in the pitch black out here that a moose is in the road is after it's become one with your vehicle. Brights while driving? Seriously wicked genius idea. Keeping your eyes on the road at all times? BRILLIANT.

Also when it's foggy out, I don't care if you didn't believe in ghosts and pet cemeteries before it got foggy because you will while you wait for the fog to lift and to find out how Stephen ends the scene. I just keep hoping I'm one of the main characters who walks away alive. So far, so good.

Time to go work/homeschool for afternoon at the coffee shop. Also? It's fucking foggy out, y'all. #mexicaninmaine

I'm learning to speak Canadian. This is a good thing, considering The Husband's mother is Canadian born, which has nothing to do with the fact that she met his father in Texas after he moved from Mexico because that's just craziness. Also? No Starbucks. It hurts, but you'll eventually learn to deal.

This is how you say "Starbucks" in Canadian. #mexicaninmaine

* It is possible to impress the locals. Sometimes, all it takes is a deep freeze and me on the deck with a headlamp and the grill fired up. Because I'm from away doesn't mean I can't handle the beautiful wicked the weather likes to throw at us up here.

Minus 13 windchill? Grilling in the dark? MAINE? I OWN YOU. #mexicaninmaine