Caravan de muertos

Last night I had three Halloween parties to choose from and I didn't go to a one. Yeah, I was up late Friday night celebrating the Cardinals' stunning victory, but sweet monshu let me sleep in so I was well rested. And, yeah, I did have to unload the largest set of shelving in the pantry, remove and reset all the shelves, and load it up again, but when all's said and done it wasn't that tiring, particularly with the Old Man helping me. In the end, I just didn't feel like dealing with other people, even ones that I like and enjoy.

Also on my mind was our trip to Pilsen today. Friends of ours from up the street happened to be going too and offered us a ride, so I wanted to prompt and perky. As it was, I woke up hardly an hour before they were due to drive up. As usual, the exhibit at the National Museum of Mexican Art was flabbergasting and, as usual, it was the most abstract ofrenda that affected me the most (dedicated to the murdered women of Ciudad Juárez). There was also a groovy found-wood installation and an enchanting suite of paintings from young up-and-comer Elsa Muñoz. At least, if this is how accomplished her work is at 28, then I can only hope we'll see much more of interest from her.

Unfortunately, we were thwarted somewhat in our quest for food. The downside of hitting the Museum first was that we ended up at Casa del Pueblo almost on the stroke of noon, not a free table to be had. I tried to steer us back towards newcomer Sabas Vega which caught my eye as we were crossing Ashland, but first we foolishly poked our heads into Nuevo León, which made us desperate enough to run into the next place we came to. As Ostioniería Play Azul had closed (much to the GWO's disappointment), this turned out to be Los Comales--a perfectly good local spot with no pretensions, but no more than that.

I had a gordita de chicharrón which disappointed by being soft and then a couple tacos de tripa which surprised by being crunchy. Fortunately, Bombon never disappoints, although it was a near thing this year: I've never seen the place look so cleaned out. monshu's first thought was Don't tell me they're closing! No cookies at all, only cakes. We bought two of their last three panes de muertos, plus personal tres leches cakes. (I couldn't resist; I had to devour mine on the spot.)

We did swing by CdP for tamales on our way out and, thanks to the generosity of our car-enabled friends, got back home much sooner than customary. A good thing, too, since the expected rain which had delighted us by staying away all morning finally showed up soon after. We did some chores, monshu sipped a Czarina, and then I ran to the store for a can of black beans with which to make moros y cristianos, which we ate alongside the tamales in the light of a taper affixed to a black ceramic skull the Old Man picked up in the gift shop.

Afterwards, I heated up some Mayan chocolate from Soma in order to have something to dip the bread of the dead into and then we came downstairs to find Little Shop of Horrors playing on Logo--one of the few musicals both of us like. Which is how I ended up on the couch with a full belly and a white-haired droopy-eyed calavera in my lap. If there is an afterlife, I'm betting it will be something like that.