¡Feliz cumpleaños!
I am returned, flush with victory from my belated-birthday party that I threw! Well, actually, I was a little disappointed at the smallness of the crowd: of the ten or so OMSI people I invited, none showed up. It was just me, the housemates (Kristen, Steven, and Emme), the gentleman Kristen is dating, my ex-housemate/adopted older brother Adam, Adam's amazing girlfriend Hillary, and our mutual friends Cindy and Ben. Still, what we lacked in the number of guests we certainly most definitely up for in quality! So much good fun, so many stories, and Danny (the fellow Kristen is seeing) is my new best friend. He's funny, very engaging, half-Cuban, a bass player, and moved here from Miami about three years ago. In other words, he's practically like family. Holy shit, we bonded. Big time bonded. I don't think my housemates have ever seen me that loud and, well, ethnic before!
Never underestimate the power of belonging, people. Even for me, a kid who never grew up around other Cubans and can't decide from day to day if I'm more white, hispanic, or something else entirely, it is such a breath of fresh to meet people who I don't have to explain certain things to, people who automatically share certain life experiences. Where were all these Portland Cubans when I needed them growing up?!
Anywho, good times. I just wish I'd known it would be such a reduced group because I literally cooked a metric fuck-tonne of food. Two kinds of sangria. Pasta salad (both vegan and non). Plantain chips. Mango salsa. Spicy mojo salsa (which Steven made, he is my hero). Brie, Dubliner cheese, and fruit. Bruschetta. Little cupcakes with brownie centers that looked like itty bitty hamburgers, people! The whole house is going to eat well for weeks now.
I'm not going to say that I didn't freak out. I did, especially in the crunch to finish cooking, and in the long wait for more people to arrive. Still...a job well done, Allie ol' girl. I kick ass sometimes.
Never underestimate the power of belonging, people. Even for me, a kid who never grew up around other Cubans and can't decide from day to day if I'm more white, hispanic, or something else entirely, it is such a breath of fresh to meet people who I don't have to explain certain things to, people who automatically share certain life experiences. Where were all these Portland Cubans when I needed them growing up?!
Anywho, good times. I just wish I'd known it would be such a reduced group because I literally cooked a metric fuck-tonne of food. Two kinds of sangria. Pasta salad (both vegan and non). Plantain chips. Mango salsa. Spicy mojo salsa (which Steven made, he is my hero). Brie, Dubliner cheese, and fruit. Bruschetta. Little cupcakes with brownie centers that looked like itty bitty hamburgers, people! The whole house is going to eat well for weeks now.
I'm not going to say that I didn't freak out. I did, especially in the crunch to finish cooking, and in the long wait for more people to arrive. Still...a job well done, Allie ol' girl. I kick ass sometimes.