Mole mole mole mole

I went down to the second floor of Coffman to visit the kitchen where a nice Mexican lady was preparing mole. She was grinding the ingredients with a Metate y Mano — a hunk of basalt like a rolling pin and another hunk like a small concave table. She conversed with a girl from La Raza (the student group hosting the mole workshop), but my poor command of Spanish left me mostly confused. I would catch words like Maize and canela, but most of the instructions were way beyond my understanding.

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Just Another Manic Thursday

Therapy, work, Physics lab, then a Photography midterm followed by two or three hours in the lab. That was twelve hours.

Oh my goodness!

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What’s that spoo on my car?

I didn’t notice until this morning that my car has been egged.

What’s really weird is that it looks like someone tried to wipe off the eggy deliciousness. Maybe they were hungry.

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I Am Evil Craig Finn

“I hate to break this to you, but my husband also thinks that you look like Craig Finn.”

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Dia De Los Muertos

Skull

Tonight’s increasingly inaccurately named “class” in Mexican Folklore was held at El Colegio, a charter school for the arts and stuff, where they were holding festivities in honor of the Day of the Dead. Sadly, there were no zombies or baseball bats, but there were some great dancers, great food, and an eight piece mariachi band with an amazing female vocalist. Listening to things sung in languages which I don’t understand is like some sort of abstraction of music. I did recognize one particular spanish word which was sung more than any other.

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