Corn is life! Take 2…

So, I know that I already had a pretty long and drawn out conversation with my hypothetical internet friends that read this blog about the power and prevalence of corn in this country and culture.  I just have to share one  more… 

So, the other day, Tina, Juli, Malea, and I went and climbed La Muella.  La Muella, for the record, is amazing.  It has amazing views and was a really fun hike/scramble up to the top.  Here’s one picture… the rest will be saved for a further blog post because telling of the beauty of the hike is not my goal…

Back to the story…

On the way back down La Muella, we were slipping and sliding our way down.  Being the proud person I am, I had zero desire to sit on my butt and slide down the dirt.  Therefore, I struggled to make it all the way down standing up.  In a world where cleanliness is forced to be redefined in order to avoid going crazy (aka you don’t actually  need hot water to be clean, or showers… or water in general), I really valued the moment of cleanliness that I felt by not having dirt all over my butt.

So, I was proudly and cleanly walking down the mountain…

And then it happened.

The thing that always happens when you’re proud.

I fell.

I was fine.  Just a scrape all up my right forearm.  That’s no big deal… I’ve definitely been much worse off before (we try to not talk about those times…).  So, I called it good, went home, took my shower, and put on some Neosporin.  When my host mom and sisters got back from their mysterious location, my oldest sister looked at my arm and yelled, “Mooom!!!  Mira Cat!” (Mom – look at Katharine!).   My host mom comes running around and looks at my arm…  “we have to put some lotion on that,” she says.  Not wanting to disagree with family and cultural traditions (obviously it won’t  kill me since my whole family has all their limbs and seems to use this lotion for bug bites, scratches, stings, and emotional wounds that aren’t visible but the lotion ceases the tears.), I willingly obliged to the mothering care of putting this white pasty lotion ALL OVER my arm.  At one point, you could see a tiny bit of the scratch, and that visual stimulus mandated a whole other application.   Then, they saw my hand, and when they were done with that, I looked as though I had the chicken pox.

After my family went to bed, I was totally intrigued by this lotion stuff.  I went to look at it and as I read the ingredients, it said… “75% lotion and 25% Corn”

Corn is still life.