Lest I Feel Homesick for Three Feathers

This year, I am celebrating Independence Day in my new home in Doodlehem, instead of with my parents in Three Feathers, land of the Attack Chickens. Seriously. My mother got pecked by a chicken this morning and had to go to the hospital to get it disinfected. Where they asked her if she knew the name of the chicken who pecked her. (She didn't, but offered to share the various things she had called it. Sensibly, the triage nurse declined, saying she could use her imagination.)

Anyway, back in Doodlehem. For supper, I had a dish of spicy channa dal, which stunk up my kitchen fabulously as it was simmering, and now I am being serenaded by my drunken neighbours, who are singing at the top of their lungs in Spanish semi-unison around the grill on their back patio. One is gesturing with his cigar, the other is using his Corona as a microphone as they bellow some cumbia classics. Times like this, I love this country. Every crazy bit of it.

Later on I'm gonna ask them if they know Cielito Lindo.