no habla espanol

I awoke fairly early today. At 10 am. I plan to do the same tomorrow. This marks a new consistency for me in a weekly schedule that usually involves waking up near noon each day.

I had time before I had to report to my job to do some shopping this afternoon and wandered up Clark street to do so. My desire: earrings!!

I ventured into Sally Beauty and found that they do sell earrings. I looked through their selection and found some that I wanted. The woman at the counter helped me retrieve them from the case; a pair of studs and a pair of hoops.

As she rang up the order, she said to me, "You're not Latino, are you?"
I looked at her. She looked to be about 40 years old. She was Latino, but I did not recognize her as such until she asked me.
It's a question I've had to answer many times. I have yet to work out a natural response that concisely sums up my situation.
I often say, "Yes, I'm half Mexican.", but when I say that, I know that that infers a cultural connection on my part to Mexico, when the reality is anything but.
My father is a full blooded Mexican, and my mother is very Caucasian (whatever that means now), but I don't know my father. I know his name, and have an address he might still reside at, if he still lives. My only memory of him is of a vaguely shaped shadow in a doorway from when I was about 7 years old and very sick with the flu, laying in bed. I've no connection with him, Mexico, Espanol, or any Latino community, so I feel near to a lie whenever I tell anyone that, yes, I'm half Latino. It is in my blood and my appearance, but that is about all.
So, after a moment of silence, I told her, "I've never known my dad. I don't even remember what he looks like."
"Oh," she said. She was quiet for another moment. Then she said, "I have a cousin who is half Latino."
It was not uncomfortable. Our conversation remained pleasant and short.
I felt pretty good about it, and happily left with my jewelry.