Carving out a Snack to the Second Knuckle

Honestly It happened just a few days ago.  It was one of those moments that got both Hubster and me.

Never do I leave our neighborhood in the car without seeing something amazing.  Something stunning. Something beautiful.  Something grotesque.  Something shocking.  Something unjust.  Something devastatingly sad.  Something that speaks of death, destruction and pain.  Something that speaks of life and hope.  It is a true kaleidoscope of color and of the unexpected.  We love it here most of the time.

With friends here for a few days I was out less than usual but when I did get out it was great to see my neighborhood and city through different eyes.  I love my city, most of most days.

Well we were out.  Our whole family and there she was standing as a bit of an island in the traffic.  She was in her fifties or perhaps a little older. She was tall, well padded and wearing a glorious sari.  She was obviously wealthy due to her jewelry, skin and color.  She carried herself with poise.

Those were all instant assessments made while passing her in the car.  I could tell you her sari color and if I was an artist I could draw her face.  However why she stood out was that she had her finger up her nose to the second knuckle.  The second knuckle.  That is a little deep even for our culture.  I had to laugh, partly because my Hubster, focused on driving in a place where motorcycles swarm like gnats around the front of your car, saw her as well.

She made me think of a blog entry I was dying to write about picking my nose in public but thought better of it due to the sensibilities of some familial readers.  When I read this amazing, perceptive yet humorous post I was thrilled to see the subject broached within the confines of another topic.  Check it out if you have time.