Turning 44

~ Kiki Writes ~ 4 Comments

For better or worse, I have once again completed another trip around the sun and have hit the magic number of 44. Double digits is always a fun number. I don’t know why. There’s just something bouncy and fun about it.

I would love to have a bouncy and fun 44. I’m not entirely sure what that would look like, but I think it’s something to work for. Maybe.

I admit to being off to a rough start. I had Covid for Christmas and I spent New Year’s Eve/Day blowing my nose. An unfortunate incident involving one of the cats and a glass of wine has slowly made the laptop I bought at the beginning of last year unusable. So, at the beginning of this year I bought yet another new laptop in a fit of frustration and now we all need to cross our fingers that this pretty shiny lasts longer than its predecessor. Trust me, neither I nor my credit card are thrilled with this turn of events, but I gotta do what I gotta do to stay in business.

So, yeah, I closed out 43 a lot harsher than I’d planned, which makes me cautious going into 44.

Good thing I’d already planned on taking baby steps.

This is part of The Remarkable Life Deck work I started last year when I turned 43. It’s a 10 year plan after all, and surprisingly I haven’t gotten bored and wandered off, so here I am at 44 still working on it. Last year, I spent a good chunk of time off and on working through the deck and and answering the questions as honestly as possible. Towards the end of the year, I looked at everything I wrote down and came up with a few baby steps I could take to work my way towards the ideals I’d detailed in the journal.

My idea for 44 is to make it a year of baby steps. Every month, I will take conscious baby steps toward my ultimate goals. I have no idea if this is exactly how you’re supposed to use the deck. The way Debbie Millman describes it is that when she did this, she found things happening as if by magic. I get how manifestation and visualization work, but I also believe that those things don’t happen unless you do things to signal to the Universe that you want them and that you’re ready for them.

These will be my signals. Big ol’ flairs sent up on a monthly basis. I think that’s reasonable. And I don’t think it has to be a drag. It sounds very dry and boring, like doing chores, but I don’t think that it has to be or that it will be. After all, the point of this is to work my way into the life that I want. That’s not dull. There’s joy in that. So, naturally there will be joy in the baby steps.

Maybe it’ll be how I make 44 fun and bouncy after all.

Setting the Vibe for the Year

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I have developed an odd New Year habit.

Even though I usually don’t leave my house for New Year’s Eve or New Year’s Day, I still put a lot of thought and effort into the outfits that I wear. I want to close out the old year and begin the new one with the right vibe and I do that through my fashion choices.

I can’t remember when I started doing this. Probably around the time I decided it was my New Year’s Eve duty to drink an entire bottle of champagne and toast the New Year appropriately. I can’t remember exactly why I started doing this either. I think I decided that staying home didn’t mean that I couldn’t have fun and dress up. I decided to use it as an excuse to wear outfits I didn’t think I could get away with wearing on an average Tuesday afternoon.

At some point, it morphed into a way to set the vibe for the New Year and it’s become an important part of my celebration. The outfits I choose tend to be funky and a little sexy. They’re fun and colorful and sometimes a little extra. Not at all practical for a night in or a morning after. But that’s kind of the point. It’s a celebration. It’s supposed to be fancy. Just because I’m not out in the streets doesn’t change that. I don’t dress for other people anyway. I dress for me. And when it comes to New Year’s, those outfits set the tone of my year. At least, that’s the intention.

So, when I got Covid this past Christmas, it put my vibe-setting ritual into jeopardy.

The household had done pretty well when it came to avoiding it, but our luck ran out when my roommate brought it home the week before Christmas. She tested positive that Tuesday night and my dad tested positive on Thursday evening. Even with masking and a constant fog of Lysol and hiding in my room as much as possible, I couldn’t hold it off forever, but it did at least take a week to get me. I tested positive on Christmas morning. Ho ho ho.

We were fortunate to get a mild version, my roommate getting it a little worse than the rest of us, my dad faring the best. For me it was like a bad cold. However, I haven’t been sick since before Covid became a thing, so I was way out of practice. It knocked me on my ass for a couple of days. I had a weird sore throat that was almost like an afterthought, spent a couple of days sounding like I was doing an Ursula the Sea Witch impersonation (not a bad thing), and I generated so much mucus I could have skated across the country on my face like a slug. But with a lot of naps, cough drops, and some Puffs with lotion, I bounced back. By Saturday I was feeling well enough to trade my pajamas for lounge clothes. But I wasn’t quite well enough for my New Year’s Eve/Day splendor.

So, instead of closing out 2023 and starting 2024 in some funky threads, I opted for cute and comfy. And a little funky.

That’s a good vibe for 2024, too.

I Impressed Myself This Year

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I know what you’re thinking. You read the title of this post and you thought to yourself (or maybe said out loud as you laughed), “That’s not hard to do!” And for what it’s worth, you’re right. I’m easily impressed. Blame it on the fact that I have somehow managed to retain some childlike wonder, even about the most mundane things like making little changes in my life and the little world that I occupy.

I go into every new year wanting to make changes, wanting things in my little sphere to be different, improved. And usually, I get to the end of that year and nothing has been significantly affected. I have spent years doing this, just being straight up stuck. Its frustrating. I feel like I’m flailing in quicksand and just sinking lower and lower. I acknowledge that much of this is my own fault and the fault of my bad life choice making skills (I also acknowledge the role played by living in a capitalistic society that has a fetish for poverty, bootstraps, and monetizing every aspect of life, but we’re going to focus on me today). Keep doing what you did, you keep getting what you got, right?

This year I chose to do different, so I got different.

Most of these changes were not actually big changes or big decisions and many of them came in the latter part of the year. I sort of think of my Charleston trip as a big turning point in 2023. There’s what I was doing and how I was feeling before Charleston and what I was doing and how I was feeling afterward.

To be honest, I really impressed myself with Charleston. I couldn’t believe I actually did it. Not the actual going on the trip, but the deciding to go on the trip. I’m notorious for wanting to do things, but then putting them off or justifying not doing them. However, my limit had been reached and I was in the mood to do something drastic.

By the time I got on that plane to South Carolina, I was burnt the fuck out. I had a lot of projects going at the end of 2022 and the first part of 2023. Things at the library were hard. Thanks to staff changes, I spent most of the year training new people and working short-handed (that particular shitshow is still ongoing). It felt like I spent most of my time barely achieving the bare minimum of what I needed to get done with no energy for anything else. I was fed the fuck up.

The time away from everything, the physical distance from it, allowed me to gain some new perspective as well as a much needed break. I came home in a better mood and with some baby steps to help me improve my current existence. The real difference this time was that unlike my previous attempts, I actually did the baby steps. I didn’t immediately sink back into the mire of my usual routine. I came up with the plan and then executed said plan. Granted, the plan wasn’t any elaborate scheme, but the fact that I did it -and am still doing it- is progress that I haven’t seen in a long time.

And so far those baby steps have had the desired impact. I’m seeing little improvements. I adjusted my priorities and changed up my schedule and made efforts in certain areas of my life that I wish to improve. Seeing the results of those little changes has encouraged me to keep taking those baby steps.

This sort of thing has a cumulative effect.

By the end of 2024, there’s a good chance I’ll be really impressed.

A Grinchmas Story

~ Kiki Writes ~ 2 Comments

I’ve probably told this story already on the blog, but I’m too lazy to look it up and besides, who doesn’t like frequently re-told tales? For us old folks, that’s all we got.

Anyway, when I was in my single digits, I shared a room with my younger sister and we had bunk beds. These were not your standard, store-bought bunk beds. My grandfather made us these bunk beds. They were wooden with cubbies built into the head and foot boards for our stuff. They also had larger cubbies on the each end of the bunk bed, which we used as a bookshelf on one end and I think Barbie and My Little Pony storage on the other, if memory serves (and it frequently doesn’t). I had the top bunk and my sister had the bottom.

At Christmastime, my mother would go full ham on the decorations in the house. We rarely put up anything outside, but inside there was Christmas shit everywhere. My mother had a Christmas village that she’d set up on a table. A papermache angel that she’d made in high school would sit in the middle of it (if you even thought about touching it, Santa would give you more than just coal in your stocking). She had crocheted Santa Claus doorknob covers that made it impossible to open doors and the Christmas countdown chain and/or the cotton ball Santa beard countdown among the other decorations we’d bring home from school.

And of course we had a tree. Some years it was in the living room foyer, crowding the front door, which made us grateful we only used it to get the mail. Other years, it’d be put in the dining room near the windows, right next to the bedroom my sister and I shared. I liked those years best because I could fall asleep with the glow of the Christmas tree leaking into our room.

Decorating the tree was a big deal. Like many people, we had a collection of ornaments of sentimental value that always made it onto the tree. I made a Rudolph tree topper in 2nd grade that topped the tree for years. My grandmother had made everyone their own wooden ornaments of various figures, painting them and putting our names on them. Most of them have been lost to time, but I remember I was a rabbit and my sister was a deer. The only ones I still have are my grandpa’s –a drum major- and my grandma’s –a drum. I don’t have a big tree anymore, but I still hang those two ornaments up every year.

My favorite thing, however, was my stocking, which along with my sister’s, was hung on the end of the bunk bed with care.

Over the years, I had a few different stockings, but my favorite was, of course, one that my grandma made. My sister got one, too. For years everything we had was matchy-matchy, but in different colors. Both of our stockings were crocheted with little stuffed snowmen that fit in the top. Mine is green; my sister’s is red.

When Santa still stopped by our house (the presents Santa left under the tree were always the ones my mother didn’t want to wrap), my sister and I would know that he’d been there because after he’d fill our stockings, he’d put our snowmen in bed with us. Of all of my childhood Christmas memories, that’s my favorite. Waking up incredibly early against my will -thanks, Lulu- to find my snowman next to me. My sister and I would then empty our stockings and check out what Santa had brought us before moving on to finding what Santa had left under the tree.

Honestly, it was a brilliant move by mother. The snowman signal allowed us to raid our stockings and bought her a little more time to sleep (our dad worked nights at the time, so he usually got home around the same time we woke up our mother to officially start Christmas). It also created some extra special holiday magic that I still think about to this day.

Fortunately, I found our old stockings years ago and I sent my sister’s to her. I hang up mine every year on my bedroom door. I’ve had to sew up some holes and sew Frosty’s eye back on, but it’s otherwise in pretty good shape.

Santa doesn’t stop by my house anymore, so I don’t wake up to find Frosty in bed with me on Christmas morning, but that stocking still has some magic left to it.

It’s filled with Christmas memories.

An Apology to Everyone Who Has Ever Encountered Me in the Wild

~ Kiki Writes ~ 2 Comments

If you have ever come across me in public and thought I acted a little (or a lot) weird, I apologize. It’s not you. It’s me. It’s definitely me.

I wasn’t prepared to see you.

Yes, despite living in a small town, I expect to move through public spaces without seeing anyone I know out of the context I’m used to interacting with them in. Sure we went to school together and we’ve been Facebook friends for years, but I don’t expect you to know me, recognize me, or talk to me. This isn’t to say that you shouldn’t. It’s just that I don’t expect you to.

And because I was caught off guard by this clearly unusual occurrence of people who know me actually knowing and acknowledging me, I am fully unprepared for the ensuing social interaction. What follows is several agonizing minutes of small talk that I didn’t study for while my brain screams at me to just be cool, man! The end result is me being painfully awkward and ruining the entire interaction, at least in my mind.

I have had smoother conversations with cops who have pulled me over at one in the morning for speeding. Very unattractive considering as a rule I shouldn’t be talking to cops.

My brain truly short circuits during these interactions. It’s particularly bad if it’s someone I primarily interact with online. We’ve already covered how I struggle with my own object permanence. If I don’t expect people to think about me, I definitely don’t think they remember me or would recognize me out of my own context in their existence. It never fails to shock me when someone knows who I am. And then they try to interact with me and it all goes to hell.

It’s funny how this happens. You would think that someone who works in customer service would be able to function in these situations. After all, I’m making small talk with strangers about their gut flora and peripheral vision on a regular basis (people really will talk to you about anything), so you would think I’d be able to do it relatively easily with people I actually know in some fashion. But no! Not my brain configuration.

I don’t know if the people I’m conversing with are feeling as awkward as I am, not because their brains are plagued with bad wiring, but because my awkwardness is so palpable they can’t help but catch it. It’s none of my business if they think I’m weird and incapable of simple conversation, but I’m pretty sure they think I’m weird and incapable of simple conversation.

And for that, I apologize. It is never my intention to inflict my awkwardness on others. I want to assure you that if we have ever met unexpectedly in the meatsphere (or if we ever happen to cross paths in the future), my behavior has nothing to do with you. You are fine, I’m sure. You’ve done nothing to warrant my terrible small talk.

I just come by weird more naturally than anything else.

Read This If–You Need Your Hallmark Christmases Queer and/or Spicy

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I’m not a big fan of Christmas movies and I’m definitely not interested in any of the Hallmark variety (unless they have an actor I adore, then I will make the sacrifice, even if they’re only in one scene; yes, this is based on a true story). But if there is any way to change my perspective on this mistletoe industry it’s to make it queer and/or spicy. Throw in some body positivity, and baby, I am sold. Julie Murphy and Sierra Simone have combined their powers to create the Christmas Notch series and it is everything my Grinchy heart could ask for.

A Merry Little Meet Cute— Bee Hobbs has made a name for herself (Bianca von Honey) as a plus sized adult film star. Her career path takes a turn to the straight and narrow thanks to her producer Teddy getting her cast in a Christmas movie for the very clean Hope Channel. Her onscreen partner is childhood crush and ex-boyband member Nolan Shaw, whose manager Stephanie is working hard to rehab his career, which proves to be a challenge when Nolan recognizes Bee from her other line of work (he’s a big fan) and the two give in to their overwhelming chemistry. However, there’s a lot riding on the two of them keeping their relationship –and Bee’s other career- under wraps.

The first book in the series, I almost didn’t read it because I just glanced at the synopsis and somehow missed that this book was written for me. Our protagonists, Bee and Nolan, are both bi. Bee is plus-sized and a sex worker and Nolan finds neither of these things a turn-off. And there’s the whole issue of keeping their relationship a secret vs. loving out loud that hits me right in the feels. Also, it’s fucking hot and I appreciate that.

Snow Place Like LA— Angel, son of producer Teddy, and Luca, Teddy’s #1 costume designer for both his adult and his Hope Channel flicks, connected on the set of Duke the Halls. However, their relationship ended when Angel took off for art school in Europe without a word, breaking Luca’s heart. Months later, Luca is confronted with the man who ghosted him, and finds himself in a world of hurt -literally and figuratively- as he tries to avoid reconnecting with Angel.

A novella ebook between books one and two, this one focuses on Luca, the fabulous costume designer with an undying love for figure skating, and artist Angel. Because it’s Luca and he is everything over the top, the way he and Angel are thrown back together is hilarious. It’s sweet, it’s sexy, and I read the whole thing on the plane coming home from South Carolina, so I hope anyone snooping over my shoulder enjoyed it.

A Holly Jolly Ever After– Kallum Lieberman, Nolan Shaw’s ex-INK bandmate, was always considered the funny one and his post music career has been pouring his heart and soul into his pizza chain Slice, Slice Baby. But after his sex tape with a bridesmaid goes viral, he achieves a sexy dad bod status that lands him a lead role in the Hope Channels first Hope-After-Dark Christmas movie. His co-star is Winnie Baker, a career good girl who had her reputation sidelined in part by a careless action of Kallum’s years before, but also due to her divorce from her childhood sweetheart and tabloid rumors about drug issues, but which is really an undisclosed narcolepsy diagnosis. She’s decided to embrace the new Winnie and is hoping that Kallum can help her.

The second book in the series and honestly, you had me at dad bod. But I love how both Kallum and Winnie are trying to establish themselves as something more than who they’ve been perceived or told to be and they end up establishing a pretty solid friendship while Kallum teaches Winnie how to have sex on camera because living the pure life got her exactly zero orgasms. It’s incredibly hot the way Winnie throws herself headlong into her studies with Kallum acting as such a good teacher. Even when it’s messy, their relationship has a patience and a kindness that’s really sweet and hopeful.

There is a third member of the fictional INK boy band and I know he bought a place near Christmas Notch, so I’m really hoping that there will be a third book. Maybe I’ll sit on Santa’s lap and ask him for it. Ho ho ho.

If you give this series a try, I hope it jingles your bells. If it doesn’t, well, don’t go putting coal in my stocking about it.

2023 NaNo Winner!

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

For the 16th year in a row (out of 20 years with 17 total wins), I have crossed the 50,000 word threshold in 30 days officially making NaNo 2023 a winner. I hit the mark on the 28th and I used the last two days to finish up the first draft. Total words written in November will hit right around 53,000 and the total words for this first draft will be around 55,000 because I kept some of the original short story, but not all of it.

When I started working on the expansion of What Happened to the Man in the Cabin?, I thought I knew the story I was writing. By that I mean that I thought I knew what the story was truly about and where the ending was. And then I hit a point in the word accumulation when I realized that the story was actually really about something else and the ending wasn’t the ending. I had something of an outline written, but as I wrote, the story revealed more of itself and I ended up surprising myself, which always thrills me. It makes me feel like I actually know what I’m doing.

It also made the words difficult to come by about half-way through. I went from hitting my daily word count before heading off to my library shift to having to finish the day’s writing after I got home. I ended up gamifying my writing to get my words written in a timely fashion (I play a game that has ad breaks; every ad break, I’d write 500 words before I go back to my game).

It also didn’t help that I didn’t do a very good job of preparing my schedule for NaNo like I’d done in previous years. I failed to get as much podcasting stuff done before November and as a result, I ended up with a bit of a full schedule that made writing more of a chore than it should have been. That is not a mistake I wish to repeat and I endeavor to do better about that next year.

This year, though, is in the books. I have a decent first draft that I can work with to revise into something that could be pretty nifty. It’s so different from anything I’ve written before. Revising it will be interesting.

Meanwhile, my hope to keep up with That’s Punk while also doing NaNo did not work out. I made it about half-way through the month, but ended up failing due to other scheduling commitments. Thems the breaks. Hopefully, I’ll be finished with the first draft of that story by the next NaNo.

As for this NaNo, it was a little more challenging than I would have liked, but I’m not going to argue with the results.

I do love a winner.

Tales of Black Friday

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

Despite working multiple Black Fridays in my retail life, I don’t actually have that many wild and crazy Black Friday stories. I mean I was still working fast food when when one of my friends and future coworkers got punched by a customer over a Furby and my sister witnessed three customers wipe out and eat shit running to get a Tick-Me-Elmo.

My first Black Friday, I was a cashier, literally trapped at my register by mobs of people in our little six lane Walmart scoring their deals, carts absolutely full of Christmas gifts. This was back when the store still had lay-a-way, too. There was only one lay-a-way computer at the customer service desk. That line was unhinged, competing with the two other lines at the desk. Sporting goods, electronics, and jewelry all had their registers open and running, too. It was stressful madness. All hands on deck. We absolutely were not paid enough to deal with that chaos.

The next Black Friday, I was a department manager in charge of automotive and sporting goods. One of my besties at the time was in charge of seasonal, which meant lawn and garden in the spring and summer, and Halloween and Christmas in the fall and winter. Our departments were next to the five aisles that made up our small Walmart’s toy department. This gave us front row seats to the two middle aged women who nearly came to blows over a Razor scooter. I had to be at work at 4 in the morning for this.

My last few Walmart Black Fridays were spent in the jewelry department. This was my last go-round and by this point I was a rodeo champ. I didn’t have to be in first thing (which was 3 AM one year) and I sure as shit wasn’t going to volunteer for it. I was good enough to do a 7 AM shift one year, but then 11 AM shifts after that. By that point, the madness was long over and the rest of the day was pretty easy.

I kept this practice up when I worked at The Limited in the mall. I was on the floorset team, working after hours to switch out merchandise and displays. Sometimes we’d only go in twice a month, but when it came to the holidays, we could be there every week. And we were required to work Black Friday even though most of us never worked when the store was open. My first year, I signed up for a four hour mid-shift and ended up spending the whole time folding clothes after people had gone through them. So many people didn’t even have the decency to even try to fold things again. They’d just hold it up, look at it, and toss it back on the table. It was the pricey clothing store equivalent of trashing a toy display to get the one they wanted. Utterly manner-less.

In my four years at The Limited, I only worked one other Black Friday, a mid-shift as usual, and it was pretty not busy. I spent most of my time walking around trying to look busy rather than actually being busy. The other two Black Friday shifts? I was called the morning of and told not to come in because they didn’t need me. I was very content to not be needed

I’ve never shopped on a Black Friday, not after working them. The idea of willingly jumping into that fray just to save some money doesn’t appeal to me. I’d rather stay home in my jammies and eat turkey leftovers.

And with internet shopping the way it is now, I can do just that. Have my Black Friday at home.

Curiously enough, though, I don’t. I rarely shop or buy anything on Black Friday.

Guess those deals aren’t as great when I’m not in danger of being elbowed by a stranger.

I Am a Universe Unfolding

~ Kiki Writes ~ 2 Comments

Once upon a time I was talking to a friend about the disaster of a human being I am and how I find new and interesting ways to fail. And he told me “You are a universe unfolding.”

Damn I love that line. That’s a good line. I don’t mind being a disaster, but being a universe unfolding encompasses so much more than just the disaster element. I mean, when you think of it, the universe was something of a mess when it first got started and there are bits of it now that are most likely in disarray, but there are some nifty areas, too.

That’s something like me.

“I’m not the same person I used to be.” That’s the ol’ personal growth saying, isn’t it? And it’s true. I’m not the same person I was twenty years ago or ten years ago or five days ago. That’s not necessarily a good thing. Growth happens in all sorts of directions, doesn’t it? Cancer is a growth, after all. Can’t say too many people are thrilled with it. In all of my unfolding over the years, I can’t say that I’ve gotten it all right. I know I’ve unfolded some horrors, some really deep dark dimensions that weren’t for the faint of heart. I believe they like to call those times the dark night of the soul and baby, my soul was a pitch black moonless midnight, not a star to be seen.

Not every change I make to my existence is one that works out in my favor. Or in other people’s favor.

The interesting thing about being a universe unfolding is that not everyone appreciates it. Not everyone digs your expansion or your new disasters or your changes or your newness. They prefer you as you were because that’s what’s comfortable, that’s what’s known. Not everyone signed up to boldly go, you know? I can’t blame them. After all, they’re a universe, too.

The comforting thing about embracing myself as a universe unfolding is the unending aspect of it. I don’t mean that I suddenly think I’m immortal or that I’ll be remembered for eternity or anything like that. My legacy is none of my business because I’ll be dead and that presents a different set of concerns. What I mean is that I’m unending. I’m always new. I’m always finding and creating and destroying different aspects of myself and my existence. Even as a person who craves stability and who sometimes struggles with change, there’s something warm and fuzzy about the idea that I’m always…unfolding.

I am still very much a disaster in many ways. I frequently set fire to my own life with my choices. My brain can be an absolute hellscape of anxiety and depression. But instead of offering these things up as evidence of the complete failure of a human I am, I can now show them as examples of the universe I am. These are my black holes. But if you swing that telescope ’round, you’ll see the planets of my creativity and the constellations of my work and the stars of empathy and humor and intelligence, and the meteors of greatness that whiz by.

I truly am an interesting place.

And there’s always more of me to discover.

Read This If–You’re Looking for a New Recipe

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I do most of the cooking in my house which means I’m the one responsible for coming up with meals that these people will eat. It’s exhausting and I hate it. But! It does give me an excuse to look at cookbooks that I find interesting and sometimes I luck out and find few recipes that I like.

Here are a couple of cookbooks that are both interesting reads and have some tasty recipes inside.

Cook Real Hawai’i by Sheldon Simeon–I guess if you watch Top Chef, you’ll recognize Sheldon’s Simeon’s name. I don’t, so I didn’t. But! As someone who does a podcast about a show that was set and filmed in Hawai’i, I’m naturally curious about things I come across pertaining to the islands. I really like this cookbook because it shows all of the cultural influences on Hawaiian cuisine -Korean, Filipino, Japanese, and Portuguese- and how they come together to form a culture of its own. I haven’t tried too many dishes out of this cookbook, but my favorite is the kimchi dip. You really can put it on anything and I even tried it on Cool Ranch Doritos as suggested. Yep. It works.

I know most of the time you want to skip past the stories to get to the recipes, but Sheldon’s stories in this cook book are definitely worth reading.

Trejo’s Cantina by Danny Trejo–I think we all agree that Danny Trejo is great (if you don’t, you’re wrong) and this cookbook is fabulous. Not only will you find a variety of recipes to satisfy the vegans, vegetarians, and meat-eaters, as well as quench the thirst of the drinkers and teetotalers, but Danny even takes the time to explain what a cantina is all about and how to best stock yours, including your bar. I haven’t had the time to try as many of the recipes as I’ve wanted, but we did eat a lot of shrimp tostadas during the summer. As it turns out, my life is greatly improved by having access to chipotle lime creama.

Danny’s also got stories and bits of wisdom in this cookbook. Read every word. It’ll make your day.

If you decide to try these cookbooks, I hope you find some recipes you enjoy. And if you end up with food poisoning, I never gave you the shopping list.