A conversation with the apartment mate regarding the wooden statue of a sea captain from some island in the pacific which is behind her chair. He's wearing a lau lau and cowrie shells, and has a captain's hat. And a glued on-animal hair beard (so you know he's Caucasian). Dignified yet disquieting of appearance. She thought he was a witchdoctor, evil booga booga, and if we weren't careful we'd run out of goats. We have no goats. I explained that he was the nearest thing to a Barbie doll we had here, and that someday, after this is all over, I would show a little girl the statue and tell her that he was just as good as Barbie. Honest.
She looked at me, and blinked.
"You guys are really culturally impoverished, aint'cha?"
"You've got that crazed old coot look in your eyes. Stand back, I have a tazer in my Hello kitty purse!"
My apartment mate is used to my collecting odd things at this point. A few years ago I gave her two 'daemonic' ceramic chickens. Plus, of course, we have several stuffed creatures in both bedrooms. Some of whom are, when they speak, clearly not in touch with reality.
She's also the person who came up with the concept that "butter is truth". Mantequilla es verdad! Which is more 'zen' in Spanish than in English.
Butter is beautiful.
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