Let Me Ex-spain.

So its official. We're Spanish. ¿Qué sorpresa?

So, as some may know, my dad's family, the venerable McAfees, trace their history in the Americas to Atlanta (then Terminus) in the early 19th century. We all get together every year around the country to celebrate our shared heritage and of course our rather idiosyncratic proboscis. This year, apparently, they decided to do a little ancestral digging, Watson style.

So there has been some talk of using DNA testing to discover what would otherwise be, impossibly difficult to attain African ancestry. Fortunately, the McAfee's have been blessed with pretty solid records of our ensalved African ancestors, and of course our European forefathers. Native American? Well, they're in there somewhere. In any case, this year they decided to do a some DNA testing, which is apparently quite popular, to see where in Africa we all come from.

Guess where?

Apparently, a little known part of Africa called Spain. Kinda of a surprise. Not that it means so much, but apparently our Spanish nucleotides are quite obstinate. Anyway, just thought I'd share. Unfortunately, this has done little to sharpen my Spanish language skills.

Somos españoles.

Non Sequitur

Ah the country. It serves as a good counterpoint to the hustle and bustle of work. I didn't get a chance to go recently but CLEARLY I've got a nice weekend approaching rapidly. Maybe, I'll see you there at the Webster ranchito, Dancing Oaks. You can smell sweet sunshine there.

Hurricane Engagement.

Finalmente.

So, My closest Morehouse friend and Boogers got engaged. Unfortunately I was in such a rush to get over there that night after brunch (yeah you read right), that I completely neglected my camera.

Sigh.

In any case, I'll post the photo of the two I framed for them; it was the first evening they were all googly-eyed to each other in public. Think David Beckham and his paycheck.

Admittedly, I clearly was the last to know about the two being an item. I've known DB since college (way back when) and I've seen my dearest Malyalam Bedford-native vomit in one star southern Egyptian 'hotels.' The odd thing is, my relationships with them were completely independent. I'd shoot the Scheiße with DB over some sort of organized sport, esoteric indy film, or some delicious multi-culti food. For the flaca South Asian we'd play ping pong ad nauseum, feign resistance to game night at the Afropersian's place, and globe trot together. Great stuff, eh?

Then they had to get all lubby dubby. I'd call one and get the other. I'd want to go out mysteriously they'd be unavailable during evening hours. Then the most miraculous thing happened.
Hurrican Rita.

I know, I know. Acts of God generally aren't thought of as blessings. Especially hurricanes in the Gulf of Mexico circa 2005, but let me explain. As any logical human being would, I decided to evacuate, mercifully ending my surgery rotation. So who do I take with me to inland Texas? DB and Flaca of course (Kevin my roomy declined a speedy logical exit for other reasons).

People reported spending 18 hours in traffic, suffering from late summer Texas heat reflected by a rivers of concrete highway. Others say they siphoned gas just to get going given the shortage. We shopped for routers and were greeted by my grandmother's pie. With some creative motoring and back roads we were 100 miles inland in two hours.

Essentially we made an extended weekend of the ordeal and got allot closer (in a non-biblical sense). Our trio traded stories, ate delicious food, watched movies, soaked in some cool night air, and star-gazed. Since then the whole DB-Flaca thing was demystified and any question of how and why was replaced by "finally."

Two years later I still feel this and am terribly grateful that I will forever be able to see them together. We toasted the couple after a emphatic 'yes' response earlier that Sunday evening. In any case, congratulations again! My your new relationship be as delighful as our Hurricane...and less initially anxiety provoking.

Incognegro

I promise I'm still alive. Many many things to talk about. Fortunately things have gotten a bit more busy than my beautiful lazy days of fourth year medical school. So, alas, patients (there is a not so subtle pun in there).

Just so you know, I'm not near the picture above, but think of it quite often. Its no Shetland Islands but everyone needs something, eh?