Cinco de Mayo is swiftly approaching.
I’m not Mexican. But, on Cinco de Mayo I get to pretend. I get to high five all the tacos with my face, raise a margarita or two to my mouth hole, and worship all things guacamole. This is special for me. But, almost any excuse to put guacamole or carne asada in my face is special for me. Do we need an excuse? I’m not sure we do. I suppose I could live every day as if it were the fifth of May. Minus the kitschy sombrero wearing and the early afternoon margarita. Yes, every day could be the fifth of May. Therefore every day could be special. Did I just discover the meaning of life? Don’t answer that. […]