|The Devil, It Seems, is in the Details
||[Feb. 24th, 2005|12:25 am]
Wizard of Changes -- ©cdozo 2004 to 2015
|[||The river is
I went to a birthday party for a friend of Georgie's who is from India. I was the foreigner, the only one not from India. I drank delicious chai tea, and ate crunchy things made from something for which no one knew the english name. Then I tried a crunchy thing from another bowl. It was a potato chip.
I learned that in India the milk they drink comes from buffaloes. They all said it is delicious, much creamier than cows milk. One of the woman had tried milk from a Texas buffalo. She said it was not anything like Indian buffalo's milk. So she'll drink cow's milk, and dream of buffalo milk until she goes home.
One of the women there told a story about how she had picked out a cake at the grocery store for her husband's birthday. She was telling the sales clerk what to write, when the clerk realized it was for a man. The clerk then explained that the cake design (red flowers) and the color of the icing for the writing (pink) were the colors for a cake for a woman. The clerk helped her pick out an "appropriate" cake.
Everyone discussed this, and someone said something about "for a boy it can't be pink." "How about that? Is it true?" Georgie's friend's mom asked me. When I told her it was, she exclaimed how that explained her son's refusal to wear certain clothes to school because they were "girl colors." "Would they really tease him?" she asked.
She put the candles on the cake and lit them. Her son blew out the candles as we sang him Happy Birthday. She sat down next to him and fed him a piece of cake. Then the cake was served. Everyone ate fast and then left. I gathered up G and his things and we went home.