Run for the Border

In early May I learned my divorce was final. My lawyer informed me the court had signed the order in mid-April but took a couple weeks to send it to him.  I wasn’t mad about the delay. After all, no one expects a court to put down its golf clubs just to stick a civil status update in the mail.

At about the same time but in an unrelated development, my friend, S, invited me to be her guest at her cousin’s wedding in Mexico.  But it wasn’t a destination wedding, per se.  S is from Mexico, and the majority of her family still lives there, including the marrying cousin.  S and her siblings are not 100% Mexican, though.  Her father was Mexican and her mother is half-Chinese.  My twelve year-old nephew heard me describe this ethnic blend and said, “Oh, so she’s Chexican?”

Random invitations have been kind to me on the whole, so that gave me one good reason to accept.  Celebrating my official return to singlehood was another (traveling being a popular way to bounce back, as discussed here). And to complete the hat trick of good reasons, what Gringa in her right mind would pass up a chance to go to a Chexican wedding?

My mom and others expressed concern about my travels based on drug-related violence in Mexico.  That didn’t deter me, but it did prompt me to send my family the following “just in case” email the morning of my trip:

Hello, dear family!
News of murder, abduction and general mayhem in Mexico may prey on your nerves as I head south, but don’t let it. First, I am traveling with a Chexican and predators know better than to mess with S. Second, we’re going to safe, nice, tourist places (Cuernavaca first, then Taxca, then a day touring pyramids near Mexico City). So at this point my main natural enemies are bottle-dwelling fermented worms.

But if something untoward happens to me on the trip, Lynne knows where my will is. (I left something for everyone so don’t believe her if she tells you otherwise.) And if I get abducted, give them whatever they’re asking for except for the mooning lawn gnome and my Boones Farm collection.  Those are family heirlooms. If something even worse than that happens, you can know that I had an awesome run that involved turning  a huge corner before kicking the bucket. And that I love you very much.  Then go throw the mother of all parties. Cheers!

Stay tuned for further details of my cross-border adventures....