I got to thinking, wouldn’t it be cool if we all had a nictitating membrane?? A third eyelid, translucent, of course, that we could use to wet the eye yet maintain visibility. Right now my eyes feel so good when I close them, but I’ve got things I want to finish first tonight. I need my own nictitating membrane.
I looked it up online to make sure I wasn’t wrong in remembering what a nictitating membrane is (I’ve been a little gun-shy ever since the “grin” issue, where I always thought a grin was a huge smile while others informed me that a grin was a tiny, closed-mouth upturn of the lips) and found out I’ve been pronouncing it wrong all this time. It’s not “nictating,” like I had previously thought. There’s an extra syllable in there. Who’d have thought?
So there you have it. It’s “nictitating” and not “nictating.” Several online sources agree, so if you believe it’s “nictating,” take it up with them. Leave me out of it.
I conned Kurt into taking me up to Providence when he got home from work. I thought he would be done early since it’s ship ride week in which most of the office is out of town on a field trip, but he had actually quite a lot to get done. Then he had to meet with his partner from his Spanish class, as his final, an oral recitation, is tomorrow. Keep your fingers crossed for him, mmmkay? So it wasn’t till close to four o’clock by the time we got out of the house.
Shockingly enough, I conducted my business at the mall in record time. I don’t think we were there for more than about 30 minutes. Sad, really, when you consider it takes us 45 minutes to get up there, but I’m trying to cut down on what I buy. If I’m in the mall for less time, I buy less stuff. It really does work!
I was craving Mexican food, thinking of Kurt’s Spanish final tomorrow, and the GPS told us that there was a restaurant less than a mile from the mall. How did we exist before GPS devices?? How I love mine. I’m not a fan of taking the highway everywhere I go; for me it’s less the destination and more the journey, which is why I love to get into the car and just drive drive drive. The GPS shows us alternate routes, prevents us from getting too lost, and also tells us where the nearest Mexican restaurant is.
We ended up in Federal Hill, which the internets is now telling me is Providence’s Little Italy. Oops. We had Mexican. We did notice the proliferation of Italian restaurants up there; we were simply craving Mexican. I fell in love with the area immediately. It’s like driving down Main Street, USA, but it’s just outside downtown Providence with the State House and the financial district. One moment you’re in Big City America, and the next second you’re out in the midwest in a small town. The difference is amazing.
There was so much I wanted to photograph there, but the temperature was dropping quickly, and none of us had brought a jacket. I have a feeling we’ll be going back on a warm summer night to investigate further. There’s so much I want to poke around in and peek into.
That, and apparently the restaurant we visited has molcajete. I didn’t even notice it on the menu since we opted for the three-course fixed-price special, but a couple near us ordered the two-person version of the molcajete. I haven’t had a good molcajete since we left Washington — a tomato-based spicy stew of beef and chicken and mushrooms and shrimp and cheese, served with tortillas. It’s truly delicious.
And now I compensate for my lack of nictitating membrane and close the only eyelids I own.