the explorer

I didn't grow up in California or Arizona, so I'm not going to pretend that I know what 'authentic Mexican food' actually is. 90% of my Mexican food experience has been sizzling chicken fajitas in a cast iron pan with a little oven mitt on the handle ordered from a restaurant named either 'Los' or 'Dos' something. However, when I heard about the new little taco joint in town that made homemade corn tortillas, even this Midwesterner knew it was something special.

Well, it is special. And delicious. Maize is tiny, but where else can you eat pumpkin flower quesadillas and huitlacoche (corn fungus: looks like newborn poo but tastes like heaven)? Given its size and growing popularity, it's not the easiest place to eat with a family of five. However, given Lori's current 'state,' if it's Maize she wants, it's Maize we all get.

The second we squeezed our way in, Zoe picked up on the authenticity. Not the food or the smells, but the language. The students were still on break, so we were the only native English speakers in the whole place. And Zoe was not about to be an outsider. It started out soft and surreptitious. With her eyes half closed she made a noise and nodded her head in approval when the server/cook/cashier brought us the chips and salsa. Zoe was saying "thank you," but she wasn't. She was warming up. I continued watching her, wondering what her next move would be. She honed in on the two women at the counter speaking lighting fast Spanish. Then she looked at me and I knew it was on.

Zoe began speaking Spanish. Only, it wasn't Spanish, it was nonsense. And she didn't stop. She utilized her English vocabulary only when it was absolutely necessary. For example, when she wanted some of my quesadilla she said, "Ma na ma na fooo shee tan too wooo wee taco." The words sounded Chinese but her accent was Eastern European. I was really hoping that the hours spent watching Dora would pay off. That she would throw in a "mochila, mochila" or a well placed "Vamo-nos!" but no, it was consistently and persistently Sino-Ukrainian nonsense.

As she became more comfortable her chatter got louder and she became more insistent that I join in the fun. I didn't know whether to use the little Spanish I remember, or start going fluent Portuguese. I decided against any attempt at legitimacy, and I too became a Muppet. Ma na ma na. Zoe was very pleased. Our conversation extended beyond utility (va shee mono too tee ly ly chips please?) and into the personally significant. If we are going to do this, by golly we are really going to do this. "Va la mee tok na na, boys?" Zoe responded unintelligibly, but I'm pretty sure she meant, "You're the only boy for me." She then began using hand gestures and telling me about her day. I think.

When the server/cook/cashier prematurely came and took our chips, I was kind of in a groove, so I almost told her "fa shee no khana me me Swiper." Which means, "Swiper no swiping." But I didn't. Zoe and I smiled, and then resumed our adventure.

so you think she can dance?

During 2011, like most other years, we danced a lot in our house. Some of the things we do frequently as a family we're good at, and should be continued. Dancing is not one of them. When Lori dances, the kids lose it, doubling over with laughter and awe as their typically reserved and mild-mannered mother dishes out something that was popular circa 1998 at the Pike house in Murray, KY. Me, I'm a deliberate disaster. I'm there for the laughs, that's it. However, over time the kids have built up immunity to my ridiculous gyrations, causing me to up the ante with each successive dance off. The result is basically Urkel doing a Napoleon Dynamite impersonation. Minus the moderate level of fame. It's border-line grotesque.


Brennan is convinced he has the same dancing potential as his friends Zaire and Omarion. He can do a pretty nasty worm, is getting better at the Dougie, and has mastered (thanks to my brother-in-law Kelly) the Bernie*. But that's the extent. Most of the time he looks like he's having a seizure. A very white seizure. I have NO idea where he gets it. My gosh, what am I doing to my son...


Zoe is the exception to our familial dancing woes. She can kill it. I don't even know where she gets some of her moves. When she is in the zone, completely oblivious to her audience, the girl shows that the 'B' in 'Ballet' is for 'Beyonce.' It's like watching The Nutcracker on BET. I'm both impressed and concerned.


Ava is still a bit too young to tell. She certainly gets out there with everyone else, but only (I think) because it is a 'big' thing to do, and if it's 'big' it's Ava's. Her trademark move at the moment is a very subtle shake of the butt. Which, when you're as small as Ava, turns into a very subtle shake of the entire body. But if we draw attention to how cute she is being, the show stops. Immediately. "Kiss my back."



With that series of unfortunate movements in your head, here's a list of 11 songs that we danced/listened** to a lot in 2011. My hope is that we find 12 new songs in 2012. And that we listen to them. Sitting still.

Happy New Year***.

Ashes & Fire Ryan Adams
Quarter Chicken Dark Duncan, Thile, Meyer, Yo-Yo Ma
Here Tonight STS
Towers Bon Iver
Scarlet Town Gillian Welch
Helplessness Blues Fleet Foxes
How Come You Never Go There Feist
The Show Goes On Lupe Fiasco
He Won't Go Adele
Drmz AA Bondy
Ballad of Treason Abigail Washburn

* Kelly taught the Bernie to everyone on Christmas day. You can learn it quickly by watching this video, or the classic 1980s movie, Weekend at Bernie's. I would suggest watching the latter. I should add that it's easy to confuse this dance move with a tantrum. Like the other day when I told Brennan he couldn't play the Wii, and Zoe asked, "Why's he doing the Bernie?"

** ok, we listened to a LOT more Black Eyed Peas than this list would suggest.

*** maybe the fourth Franz will bring a little more Zoe, and a little less Brennan, to the dance troupe. We'll let you know when she arrives in early July.