Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Irish Drunks, Latin Lovers, and Other Myths

Not a craft related post at all this time, just silly musings. I'm still stranded at home. I asked my neighbor for a ride to the grocery store because the cupboard was bare. We went to the small grocer close to home. Since moving out of New Orleans proper, I've had to deal with the stares. No one in New Orleans gives me a second glance. Out here, I stand out like a flashing neon sign brightly illuminating "Not from around here, huh?" We've been here long enough that I've grown on most people. Heck, some of them even like me. But occasionally I run into someone who didn't get the memo that they have a freak/weirdo/goth in the mix. Tonight was one of those occasions.

A couple of middle aged women gawked but didn't say anything. On the frozen food aisle, I was lost in my own label reading world when I realized an elderly black woman was literally inches away from me. She scowled and said, "Can't get used to white people with dreadlocks! It ain't right." She had a young man with her, about 15 or 16 who I assume was a grandson. The poor kid turned red and gave the "I'm so sorry" face. I had to chuckle and walk away. Lucky for me, I don't care if I'm violating the stereotype ordinance. One race didn't corner the market on nappy unruly hair.

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