In honor of margaritas and family.

We spent the day at the Tucson Sheraton Hotel. The air was dry and cold from the whir of the air conditioner. We woke up early, I finished my final paper on literacy education. Mom and I left the house at 5:30 am. We didn’t learn anything about ADHD in the conference. I thought about behavior, the speaker’s point about how behavior must be conscious in order for it to truly be behavior spoke to me. “Good point” I thought. The speaker’s indirect point about only boys and husbands have ADHD made me roll my eyes. Is this a thing? Does this speaker actually think only men have ADHD? Does the speaker think no one in this room could have ADHD? I think so. Lame.
We leave at 4 pm, hungry and thirsty. My mom and I are spending a few days in Bisbee, Arizona. Bisbee is a ghost town not far from the Arizona-Mexico border. The air is warm. The sun is out. This makes my Phoenix-expat heart sing. I think about how I could possibly live in Seattle when there’s a beautiful desert to explore. I’m moving back next Spring and my heart is full of love for the place I grew up, the place my dad grew up, the place my grandpa grew up, my great-grandma, great-great-grandma...
As I walked the streets of Bisbee, a town that bills itself as a “liberal oasis in conservative Cochise County”, I thought about how livable Bisbee is. I thought about renting a little apartment above one of the many antique stores. I thought about walking down the street and getting a kombucha and sweet potato fries for lunch every single day. I day dreamed about a fully stocked pottery shed with heating and air conditioning. I’d spend my days throwing pots, fighting for free movement, and collecting vintage talovera.
And my nights...my nights would be full of love, tamales, smokey beans, and margaritas. Sweet reader, we haven't talked about tamales yet have we?
Margaritas. There’s something about the salt that hits your lips as you take your first sip of a margarita. Will this be a good margarita or will this be terrible? This is a learning curve for every bartender and some places just aren’t margarita bars. The tequila takes a back seat to the mix. Limes, something a little sweet, a little orange liquor, and tequila. Tequila. Tequila. Tequila. It’s salty, sweet, sour, smokey, all at the same time. If I gave awards for best margarita, it still goes to Edison’s in Cleveland, Ohio. Sorry Arizona, your margaritas haven’t impressed me as much as one place in Cleveland. More research is probably needed.