Cool peeps

I opened the refrigerator today only to find a package of Peeps left over from what I assume is last Easter. That my wife and I have six-month-old leftover chilled holiday candy is surprising enough. What really threw me off guard though is that I must see them countless times when going to get a coke and yet I only now realized they're in there. That means I usually don't look at them with anymore skepticism than I would the ketchup, the olives or the crisper drawer. Worse yet, I now wonder if they date back to an even earlier Easter. After all, Peeps probably have a shelf life of a gazillion years. I would throw away the little blighters, but I think they might work like baking soda and absorb odors.

I can't say I don't like Peeps because I don't recall ever having eaten one. For me they fall into that category of seasonal candy you grew up with but never cared for. I feel the same way about those hard candy-coated marshmallow Easter eggs. Ditto for candy corn and those chewy sugary waxy pumpkins that come out around Halloween. Yuck. That stuff just looks like a root canal waiting to happen.

Green card not required

This past Labor Day weekend I added another country to the list of places I've been. Nogales is a Mexican border town just south of Arizona. Catering to U.S. tourists, merchants are hawking everything from locally crafted trinkets to non-prescription (at least in Mexico) pharmaceuticals. Suburban Sally can buy margarita glasses at one store and Oxycontin just next door. Prices are always negotiated and the U.S. greenback is the currency of choice.

Sightseeing in this place is amazing. In just the few hours I was there I saw a guy chasing a chicken, two six-year-olds peddling bracelets, a live donkey painted to look like a zebra and a sign that read "REAL CUBAN CIGARS -- NO BULLSHIT." I passed on the bracelets, the cigars and the donkey. To the guy chasing the chicken I got close enough to snap a picture, but I sure wasn't going to lend a hand. Tourists don't participate; they spectate. The average tourist here is fat, forty and flippant. I was an exception. I'm only 33.