Monday, August 18, 2014


Yesterday I wandered through town looking for something to add a bit of spice to Mexpatriate.  But nothing seemed to quite suit my camera.

Until I stopped across from one of our local grocery markets.  We have had a small bit of rain over the past two days.  That means lower humidity.  But it also means standing water in the street.

Usually, that is a nuisance.  I wear leather sandals.  Wading through ankle-deep water is not a good match for my footwear.

But costs often creates benefits.  As I stood looking at the obstacle between the store and me, I noticed something odd about the water.  It was not an obstacle, at all.  It was a mirror image of my little village.

So, out came the camera.  Right next to me, an older Mexican couple were sitting on the sidewalk in front of their house.  When I angled my camera toward the ground, her face took on the type of confused look I get anytime someone tries to explain the difference between sine and cosine.

I showed her the result and made the bold pronouncement: "It's beautiful."  I may as well have added tangent to my list.  She scrunched up her face and said: "Nothing beautiful here."

Her husband took a long look at the screen on my camera, and agreed with me.  "Very beautiful," he said.  Maybe a bit too kindly.

Which only goes to show that even though there may be objective factors for beauty, we can find its Platonic truth in some of the most unlikely places.  My love of Donatello's Mary Magdalene, for example.

I am not certain what spurred me in that exchange to think of The Princess Bride.  But that was my movie fare for the night on Netflix.  I had hoped to watch the only Robin Williams's movie that I thoroughly enjoy -- One Hour Photo.  But it was not in the inventory.

Instead, I spent the evening eating home-made chocolate pudding and re-acquainting myself with the Princess Buttercup, Westley, and Inigo Montoya.  Without doubt, it must be the most quotable movie in Christendom.  When Roy and I presented our periodic legal updates to our fellow employees, we would regularly pepper our performances with lines from the movie.

Such goodies as:

  • "Hello!  My name is Inigo Montoya!  You killed my father!  Prepare to die!"
  • "You keep using that word.  I do not think it means what you think it means." 
  • "I just work for Vizzini to pay the bills.  There’s not a lot of money in revenge."
  • "Life is pain, Highness.  Anyone who says differently is selling something."
  • "When I was your age, television was called books."
With everything that has happened this past week, it was fun to watch a film as clever as this.  I had almost forgotten that I have an acquaintance here who is a dead ringer for Carol Kane's character.   When the credits roll, it always leaves me with a sense of joy.

In fact, let me share them with you.  Try to remember, and smile.
"As you wish."


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