Mexican Tupperware

I love my family. I really do. I may not see them as often as I would like to, or even as often as I should, because, after all, there's a lot of 'should's' when it comes to family - and I should be doing more of them. (I should stop using should so much - it's such a place holder for 'do nothing.')

For instance, I should visit more often, all eleven brothers and sisters.  I should spend more time with the kids (no reason not to since I ain't got none of my own), I should call more just to say 'hi.' You get my point, rigth?

So, when I get gems like this, it's the next best thing to being in my family's presence - it's so Us.  I also have to document gems like this quickly, in a sort of if a tree falling in the woods sort of way.   Because in my family, we deny things a lot. If I don't memorialize it, it didn't happen.  I know if I don't get this down, my sis will deny it, insist it's just not true.  But here's the proof. I've got the pictures to prove it happened. 

Okay, so short story long, my sister B planned on making our mom's recipe of champurrado for Christmas Eve. My other sister, F, was part of that plan - they were going to make it together.  I was invited, but I stayed home and work on material for my other blog - the blog I get paid to write for.

Short story longer, after a few hours, I'm thinking I should have gone too.  I was getting tired and melancholy.  I should have (see, there's that Should again) so that I could get some of that delicious champurrado - moms recipe is the best I've ever had, and now I'll probably have to wait another year before one of us make it again.  It also would have been nice to catch up with my sisters, to remember mom and dad and, simply, just do anything else than work - but I stayed home instead, like the good little blogger I'm becoming.

Anyway, so F finally gets home really late with a few goodies from the evening.  My neck and arms are aching from spending, literally, the day at the computer (when you're on a roll, you have to stick with it - that's my philosophy and I'm sticking to it) not realizing the day had slipped into night.  My fingers were freezing even though I was bundled in layer, upon layer, upon layer of clothes (because my blogging and writing ain't good 'nuff to make the big bucks that would allow me the free-lancer's luxury of heat).  I'm tired achy and hungry and I'm thinking I could have had some champurrado if I'd gone, when F tells me suddenly, "oh, B sent you some champurrado," and holds out a white plastic bag.

Where ever Cockles are located on the body, mine began to warm at the mere sound of that.

Freezing and shaking I reach for the bag F is handing over to me like.  With one hand, and still shaking, I pull a pot from the cabinet in my best Dickens flair, holding the white plastic bag with champurrado in the other, and place the pot on the stove, still shaking but now anxious to warm up this bad boy so I can have a cup - I reach into the bag, pull out the container...and fall out laughing.  laughing.  F looked at me with suspicion, certain I'd really lost it this time.  

Bless my sister B. I needed this laugh more than anything else.  I instantly knew two things: B cares, and B wanted to make sure this champurrado made it home, to me, and not a single drop be lost, so she pulled out the big guns as far as containers go -- the Mexican Tupperware.

As God, and now you all, is my witnesses, B, you can't deny this one.

And the champurrado - it was delicious, every single last bit of it.  As I polished off the last drop, all I could think of was poor old Ebeneezer Scrooge being warmed right back into humanity, connecting with his truest, deepest self.  (Could this be the cockles?)

That champurrado in Mexican tupperware touched that deepest, truest self place in me - but I think that the only thing there is this funny bone, the other trait in my family: laughter at someone else's expense (maybe this is what led to the denying stuff in the first place?)  

I was moved to laughter so deep - I felt human again.  I think it might have touched my cockles.    
Mexican Tupperware - the container of champions, not for the feint of heart - to be used only for the most serious storage jobs.