Noah’s fiancé, otherwise known as Santi and Dion, are often at the house without our being aware of it.
First the basement was trashed, then they cleaned it, now there’s a TV and a Wii to go with our collection of other people’s drums.
We were playing hide and go seek the other day and Santi remained under the up-turned troth-table for over and hour.
Santi is usually doing something uncommon and disciplined.
“Santi, do come over by the fire and tell me about your supplements”
Santi trotted behind mom, lifting the weights I had left out.
“Pine oil, pine oil with resin, pine oils with even more resin”
“What is pine oil?”
“Resin activates immune system”
Noah from the other room: “but it’s poison isn’t it?”
“…to an extent… BUT”
Noah turned on music and I couldn’t hear the conversation any more.
We walked around the house doing a fashion show with bags on our heads.
“Hey Santi, I dare you to take this shot of vinegar.”
That’s not a dare because most of Santi’s diet is clay and apple cider vinegar. He’ll also eat whatever is for dinner around here.
His plan for the next 4 months is to move to the forest and live off the things you can live off of in the forest.
In the meantime he appears unexpectedly in the basement, listening to some pretty good Spanish music.
Dion asks me the password when I go down to the bass. The password is: “Santi is a hipster.”