I spent the whole morning out in stores with my grandmother. She wanted to buy shoes. I will not tell you the amount of shoes she checked out or the number of stores we went into because I can’t remember but I can tell you that she’s now back home, without new shoes.
I have wrote before about how I resemble her in so many things it’s scary, but it still spooks me to see her picking up a pair, turning it around, talking about what a nice and pretty shoe it is and then rejecting it because it’s not the shoe she saw inside her head. DNA replication is AWESOME.
Anyway, on the way to the mall she was talking about family stories and such and she mentioned this. When she was younger poor people got food from the government, not money for it, but actual food. There was a package of meat that people loved because it was very tasty and fresh and people called it by the name they saw written on it; “notubisol”. People picked their meat and often sold it to other families. I guess because it was given so often they didn’t need all of it, or maybe they just wanted money for it, but the thing is my grandmother’s family bought this meat package from many friends often and cooked it in “guisos” (a kind of soup) and she remembers the exchange fondly. Especially because the meat was Not To Be Sold, = no tu bi sol and that’s exactly what everyone did xoD