tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33899569537359097772024-03-13T06:12:43.317-07:00Café Con Leche"As a woman I have no country.... As a woman my country is the whole world." -Virgina WoolfTeresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18307791196308568275noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389956953735909777.post-5427743544391277992013-12-12T11:05:00.000-08:002013-12-18T16:00:56.030-08:00Mermaid tails and Santa wings<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7mFN_BCb5h6NFYJJxqdZO0kTt4pm-nwqJNwczDbmijDWgsI0IX1L0OslIRvraaxqJaEK7_KwsSwbu_qWUV3_QLOR7iwGGgQ6B4nSgL9F7lTNJmk9E3fQ5rSvhbpgdAi5Nl7GEAoB2GwTt/s1600/DSCF1353.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7mFN_BCb5h6NFYJJxqdZO0kTt4pm-nwqJNwczDbmijDWgsI0IX1L0OslIRvraaxqJaEK7_KwsSwbu_qWUV3_QLOR7iwGGgQ6B4nSgL9F7lTNJmk9E3fQ5rSvhbpgdAi5Nl7GEAoB2GwTt/s320/DSCF1353.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">"Can't you see I've got my hands full with ONE?"</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Mom, why I live on two planets?” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>asks
four-year-old Isa from the backseat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We’re driving to Trader Joe’s for eggs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know exactly what he means.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Isaias was born on the feast day of San Jerónimo, the patron
saint of our tiny town in Oaxaca, where the donkey cart is still a common form
of transportation and you can see most of the stars on a clear night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He learned
to walk on dirt roads and in alfalfa fields; he took his first solo steps while
we were helping our neighbors shell corn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He held hours-old chicks and rabbits in his hands and kissed a baby goat
on the lips one time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we needed
eggs, we walked across the yard to the chicken enclosure, greeted the ladies by
name (Mago, Bárbara, Ramona, Macorina, and Darkwing, thank you very much), and
rooted around in the straw.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now when we need eggs, we get in the car and drive to Trader
Joe’s along smooth paved streets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No
stars or farm animals in sight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Two planets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, I know exactly
what he means, but hell if I have an answer for him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Today I’m sitting in one of the five Starbucks (Starbuckses?)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>found within a mile radius of our house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took a personal day at work because today,
almost seven months after we hugged him goodbye in the Oaxaca airport, my
husband is sitting in the American consulate in Ciudad Juarez, waiting for his
visa interview.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He could be here,
theoretically, as soon as Tuesday, in time for Christmas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or he could be put off for another two or three
or seven months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s December 12, the feast day of the Virgin of Guadalupe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I try to see that as a good sign.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember sitting on a plane, years ago,
having just said goodbye to my future husband for the first, but not the last,
time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tears pouring down my face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we flew out over Mexico City, the elderly
woman in the seat next to me patted my arm and said, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ten fe, ten fe</i>.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Have faith.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All week I’ve been unconsciously repeating
her words to my husband via text and badly-connected phone calls:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ten fe,
mi amor, ten fe</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Faith in what, I
don’t know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Guadalupe, in our family,
in our story, in the journey, something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The other day I was looking at a map of Mexico, trying to
put my husband’s presence in Ciudad Juarez into context, and suddenly saw the
country as a mermaid’s tail, poised for the downstroke that will propel her
towards the surface, where two worlds meet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Ciudad Juarez would be her navel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Her face, of course, is Guadalupe’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My love will pass through the navel of the mermaid and then our family
will be complete again, and reborn as a family with two planets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Why we live on two planets?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If there’s not a reason, we’ll create one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Christmas is coming, and four years old has got to be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">the</i> age for Christmas magic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Isaias is excited, and full, of course, of
questions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Mom, why Santa not wanna be seen?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Mom, why Santa have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">panza
grande</i>?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Mom, why Santa brings the presents?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why, Mom?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When he bring them?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s hard to talk about Santa to a kid who lives on two
planets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Isa’s first friends were the
three youngest children of our neighbor in Oaxaca, who lived in a house with a
dirt floor and shared one rusty tricycle between them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He knows that not all kids have new toys, not
all kids have adequate shoes or enough to eat or glass in their windows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I almost want to tell him the truth, but my
husband emails imploring me to not to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ten fe</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I get to the part about the eight flying reindeer, Isa
stops me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“No, Mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Santa have
wings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Santa can fly.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We visit Santa at Christmas in the Park downtown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Isa asks for a monster truck, and I ask for
Papá’s visa, which makes Santa laugh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s
been trained, I notice, not to make any promises: “A monster truck!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why, that’s a fine idea!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Afterwards, I ask Isa if Santa had wings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Yup.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Red and green
wings like a butterfly.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And that’s that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So here I am in Starbucks, waiting for a phone call from
another planet, from the belly button of a mermaid with the solemn face of an
Aztec goddess.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When will she break the
surface, when will we be three again?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Santa’s
fluttering up there somewhere on butterfly wings, jolly and enigmatic, saying, “All
of you together for Christmas?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s a
fine idea, very fine, indeed.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmowrfxC1BB3KjRt6ZYy4ozWzcwhusRBJ0bRk6AWcyb_UxHFSlJPBy71xHPpId4zRXbQ0obLRmv7WOExrOA0ynfHRMmMpTRUNuNlvRsXxH4DIgB_noIxXoGOWMzBWtyDofKjh-HlwFHHd-/s1600/DSCF1358.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmowrfxC1BB3KjRt6ZYy4ozWzcwhusRBJ0bRk6AWcyb_UxHFSlJPBy71xHPpId4zRXbQ0obLRmv7WOExrOA0ynfHRMmMpTRUNuNlvRsXxH4DIgB_noIxXoGOWMzBWtyDofKjh-HlwFHHd-/s200/DSCF1358.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Why we live on two planets, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">m’ijito</i>?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So our hearts will grow
big enough to fit them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So we’ll
learn to grow butterfly wings for flying and mermaid tails for diving deep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> So we’ll learn to laugh and cry at the same time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span>So we’ll learn to have faith in something: in
life, in each other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So we’ll be able to
sit in a strip mall Starbucks in Silicon Valley at ten thirty a.m. and remember
the stars are up there somewhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>UPDATE: Five minutes after I finished writing this, I got a
text.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’ll be here next week.</em><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18307791196308568275noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389956953735909777.post-33000333207569227102013-09-26T17:59:00.000-07:002013-09-28T19:04:58.353-07:00Diferente.<span style="font-family: inherit;">A shocking number of years ago, when I went to Mexico for the first time, my host family asked if they could call me "Tere." I said I'd prefer </span><a href="http://www.cafeconleche-oaxaca.blogspot.com/2011/06/me-llamo-teresa.html"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Teresa</span></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">, really. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It's been so many years I've forgotten my host father's name, but I remember him saying in Spanish--maybe the first significant Spanish sentence I ever understood perfectly--"We want to call you Tere, because in Mexico we think it sounds cold to call someone by their full name." I thought that was weird, but I decided to go with it. I never expected to spend more than those few months in Mexico, anyway. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Fast forward to this past school year, in Oaxaca. I knew I'd really started to assimilate because I reflexively shortened my students' names after the first couple of classes, if I felt warm towards them--"Fernando" to "Fer," "Mónica" to "Moni," "Karla" to "Karlita," "Adriel" to "Adri."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Now I'm in the U.S., teaching Spanish in an afterschool program as I search for the full-time job I know I will eventually find. I have a student named Victoria, a tiny, brilliant, little thing. I keep calling her "Vicky," and she corrects me, and I catch myself thinking, "But that sounds so <em>cold</em>!" </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">***</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I told Ibis on gmail chat the other day--that's where our marriage mostly happens now--that it's weird being here, because people talk to Teresa, and Tere answers, and they don't even notice. It's a homecoming, technically, but it's also not. I'm sleeping in the room that I slept in when I was 11. I'm volunteering at the same agency I volunteered at in high school. There are memories everywhere, but I feel oddly detached from them. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Maybe I'm just old. But I feel like I'm also a little bit someone else. Someone who sometimes dreams in a language I didn't even understand back them. Someone who's done things so differently for so long that everything from Before seems about equally familiar, and alien. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Ibis said he understood, because people see him and talk to him and think he's the same without us, but he's not; he hasn't even gone anywhere yet, but he's not the same person, either.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">***</span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm volunteer teaching ESL to a group of Mexican women, mothers of young children enrolled in a nonprofit preschool. Many of them have been in the U.S. for years, but still speak only bits and pieces of English. They want to learn now because their kids speak to them in English and they don't know what they're saying. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Yesterday they told me two remarkable things: one, that they wish I could teach them every day, because I'm their favorite. That means a lot when you've applied to approximately five million jobs in the past four months and only some skeezy insurance company wants to hire you full time. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">They also told me that there's a flower called "Teresita." It's one we have in our garden in Oaxaca--my mother-in-law calls it "paragüitas," little umbrellas, but according to my students, it also shares the Spanish diminutive of my name. It's one I've never especially liked, but I guess I have to look at it differently now. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I guess you never know where you might find yourself.</span> </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmpEgQh67hC3-pBeE6rWnS6z6X7UBMm4Gdh5eoT_zimwggZ5wwjscdKMHsUFgxZDKBy7f78rfS3Sh-Z-IeXy0dWhbHuT3QhtPIYi5y-O56mfQUq9wv4_TWM8zm5cEDgnPyPCcmImOlWSp9/s1600/untitled.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmpEgQh67hC3-pBeE6rWnS6z6X7UBMm4Gdh5eoT_zimwggZ5wwjscdKMHsUFgxZDKBy7f78rfS3Sh-Z-IeXy0dWhbHuT3QhtPIYi5y-O56mfQUq9wv4_TWM8zm5cEDgnPyPCcmImOlWSp9/s1600/untitled.png" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><em>It's poisonous! It's medicinal! It's...Teresita! (<a href="http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Starr_070906-8657_Catharanthus_roseus.jpg">source</a>)</em></span></td></tr>
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Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18307791196308568275noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389956953735909777.post-48874466961410008102013-09-09T16:36:00.004-07:002013-09-10T09:43:48.558-07:00Opting in, opting out.<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I thought that maybe what I've been doing wrong is trying to follow my heart too much. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I thought that maybe my heart was trying to take me to a place that doesn't exist, some sort of misty-mountaintop-multicultural-Renaissance-Faire-magical-realism-fantasy-land where people wear lots of colorful flowing garments and struggle nobly for Truth and Love and Justice (a place something like </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Fifth-Sacred-Thing-Starhawk/dp/0553373803"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">this</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">, or <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Stories-Luna-Isabel-Allende/dp/0743217187">this</a>, except maybe with fewer orgies). And that maybe, in order to ever have a chance at financial stability in the world we actually live in, I would have to opt into it and tell my hippie-dippy do-gooder little heart to shut the hell up. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijSEo6FhgARRltYCWEe4bgn0P1zJ7GLTrTyf-JTWV2ErMigGLDTad4zWLC-S3npfE1AGgHTImSwi3CUhrsRQMFArsKL5RJskMAG3Ogqaau7OGxC-STcofdWocTvbxMjMBqjeRD-golrsse/s1600/the_fifth_sacred_thing_by_dreamnectar-d5h4c5u.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijSEo6FhgARRltYCWEe4bgn0P1zJ7GLTrTyf-JTWV2ErMigGLDTad4zWLC-S3npfE1AGgHTImSwi3CUhrsRQMFArsKL5RJskMAG3Ogqaau7OGxC-STcofdWocTvbxMjMBqjeRD-golrsse/s400/the_fifth_sacred_thing_by_dreamnectar-d5h4c5u.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Here! I want to live here!</em> (<a href="http://dreamnectar.deviantart.com/art/The-Fifth-Sacred-Thing-331086738">source</a>)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So I started applying to jobs that didn't really interest me, and I got a job offer, and I couldn't stand the search anymore, so I spent the last couple weeks getting certified to sell insurance in the state of California.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I've also been volunteer teaching ESL to a group of lovely Mexican immigrant women, and working on my little novel, and playing cars and trains and dinosaurs and penguins with Isaias, and drinking a little wine and a lot of coffee with some of my favorite ladies, and running three miles a day, and working on Ibis's visa paperwork, and reading books by </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Pema-Chodron/e/B000AP9Y2A/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1378765219&sr=1-2-ent"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Pema Chodron</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">. I'M STILL ME. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I thought, if I can do this stupid job and earn fifteen hundred bucks a week, and still be me in my free time, and send a big fat money order to my </span><a href="http://www.cafeconleche-oaxaca.blogspot.com/2013/04/el-mangal.html"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">mother-in-law</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> every week, and put something in the bank every week, that is good. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I thought, I'll opt in a little, and just be present with the absurdity, and I'll learn something and it will be fine. It's what I need to do for my family, because what my family doesn't have is money. (Okay, and maybe I thought a little bit about how I could buy myself a couple pairs of really nice shoes, with fifteen hundred bucks a week.) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So I passed my state licensing exam (with an 80% thanks very much. I can tell you all about double indemnity and nonforfeiture options, if you want....What, you don't want?) and started training last Thursday. I spent a couple hours with Cecilia (not her real name), watching her make calls. I thought, I'll be good at this, this isn't too bad. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Then I spent Friday morning calling all Cecilia's "Spanish leads." She was thrilled to have someone who speaks Spanish and I was feeling pretty smug. Few people answered the phone. I set up one appointment, and Cecilia told me, "If we make that sale, I'll take you out to dinner!" A few more people answered, but weren't interested. Cecilia couldn't understand my end of the conversations, but she could see that I wasn't following the script. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Just stick to the script," she told me. "Don't answer their questions. If you answer their questions, you give them the control. You have to be in control." </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I thought that was interesting. I filed that away to think about later.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">On Saturday morning, Cecilia had me making calls from home</span>. First two, no answer. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Third call, a woman--who'd supposedly been referred by her mother--told me angrily in Spanish, "I don't know who you people think you are, but some woman named Cecilia sold my mother something that she thought was from her union but it's not, and my mother doesn't even speak English, and she thought it was a one-time payment but they're taking money out of her account every month, and that Cecilia belongs in jail."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I told her, "Thank you for telling me this, because if that's the way it is, I don't want this job. I just started, but if that's the way it is, I'm quitting." That's not in the script. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">She seemed surprised and grateful that I was a human being. She told me some more stuff and I thanked her again and hung up the phone and sat there. I looked at the sheet of phone numbers and realized I'd been speaking to </span><a href="http://www.cafeconleche-oaxaca.blogspot.com/2012/01/eight-moments-with-guadalupe.html"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Guadalupe</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">. I cried. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">This is what I think now: maybe this is an isolated incident. But even if it is, if it had been my mother-in-law, or my grandmother-in-law....No. Not "if it had been." It might as well have been. Even if it means another month without a penny to send to Doña Charo, or put in the bank, or buy cute shoes, even if it was just that one lady who was tricked, I can't do it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Sunday night was the Guadalupe moon, the thinnest possible crescent. Today is Doña Charo's birthday, and I can't send her money, but I can honor her faith and integrity and honesty. I called Mr. Insurance Man and read from MY script. <em>Feliz cumpleaños, suegra querida.</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I learned a lot from this experience.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I learned that I don't particularly care about being in control, but that I sometimes cede control when it would actually be useful for me to take it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I learned that my desire to help people, while genuine, gets all tangled up with my desire to be nice and be liked, and that I have to put that aside sometimes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I learned that I can master the absurd grown-up world if I just try to do it. (Seriously, don't you want to know about nonforfeiture options? Annuities? Reduced paid-up whole life? Anyone?)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I learned that if there's no connection, there's nothing. If time is money and people are leads, clients, or zeros, there's nothing. And I remembered all the people and places I'm connected to at the heart.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And now that I'm connected again, I keep stumbling into the Eternal. I'm in the Silicon Valley, but it doesn't feel so distinct from that misty-mountaintop place anymore. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Maybe I will never have cute shoes or a comfortable bank account. But I have a group of students who need me, a third of a novel that I'm pretty proud of, a son who wants to be a penguin when he grows up, a husband who is helping other people with their visa paperwork even as he waits for his own visa interview, friends who may even understand what I'm trying to say here, and a heart that I can go on listening to. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Right now it sounds about like this:</span> <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://img.youtube.com/vi/dTPf1_pecAE/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://youtube.googleapis.com/v/dTPf1_pecAE&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://youtube.googleapis.com/v/dTPf1_pecAE&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div>
<br />
Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18307791196308568275noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389956953735909777.post-83448320359084336682013-08-09T05:00:00.000-07:002013-08-09T09:44:36.755-07:00Cinco.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Five years ago, we were here:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrG2hsY1pTpub3SEFC8floHOIgNKI7h5ueKi4fXaJDSBb6wlkvTRH3ZxWlXZeVzs0dsh-tpgiWyzkmv46uVD3DuErgNa1zx7B5Of9UM8jkMPcbffau2cWo9Tu6WNqIdnItiU0e79zEkj4q/s1600/IMG_0661.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrG2hsY1pTpub3SEFC8floHOIgNKI7h5ueKi4fXaJDSBb6wlkvTRH3ZxWlXZeVzs0dsh-tpgiWyzkmv46uVD3DuErgNa1zx7B5Of9UM8jkMPcbffau2cWo9Tu6WNqIdnItiU0e79zEkj4q/s400/IMG_0661.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Now you know who to blame for the Great Confetti Shortage of 2008.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now, I’m here, and you’re there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or you’re here and I’m there?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s what it feels like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’re <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">here,</i>
where we began, where we had our first date, where we got married, where I gave
birth to our son, where we planted our garden and made our life, and I’m <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">there</i>, somewhere else, somewhere you’ve never been. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Five years is the wood anniversary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We haven’t seen each other in almost two
months, and surely you’ve got wood to spare…but in terms of presents, I’m
buying you a secondhand wooden desk, for when you get here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I’m asking you to buy and plant a little
tree for me, for when we get back there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That has a nice symmetry. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">From the U.S. State Department, we got our present a couple
days early: your paperwork is moving along, and soon you'll be able to request your visa interview!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also, our
Fischer-Price counterparts had a romantic dinner date:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSu5wvOb8C4hwU2EG5l_qwcqDE68WKs7CI8WlZJPaewIUsKjapqQrBPAMf3i2OlZw9gy_t7HuLcJhb2xsTJijGBrUG5ziTZzJXX3l-6MW19Jeb7CoEG-EoQK32BKTFs6SXOcdeHAb4BWuD/s1600/DSCF1004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSu5wvOb8C4hwU2EG5l_qwcqDE68WKs7CI8WlZJPaewIUsKjapqQrBPAMf3i2OlZw9gy_t7HuLcJhb2xsTJijGBrUG5ziTZzJXX3l-6MW19Jeb7CoEG-EoQK32BKTFs6SXOcdeHAb4BWuD/s320/DSCF1004.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This would be a lot sexier if we had arms and stuff.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We met on a bus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You
proposed to me on another bus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our
wedding changed venues with fewer than forty-eight hours to spare.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We put <a href="http://matadornetwork.com/notebook/conscious-acts/">100,000 kilometers</a> on our car in our
first four years of marriage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> We've said goodbye and hello again in airports and bus terminals all over Mexico. </span>Our relationship has always been defined by movement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>I know
you’ll be here soon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYslTrv_ttrMxFFe95ePbqExjf2qK1f1yW7ymdWZ6LGtAP3Gbg_ZcjjbxsAHRDWuAl9ztTXKoyvZUSp8ll8z_6uoy5H8Gu65uQYEwO7DnnulyygYcmsWmeHFsDFmHYu3iSc4lrdQCAbTdc/s1600/IMG_0481.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYslTrv_ttrMxFFe95ePbqExjf2qK1f1yW7ymdWZ6LGtAP3Gbg_ZcjjbxsAHRDWuAl9ztTXKoyvZUSp8ll8z_6uoy5H8Gu65uQYEwO7DnnulyygYcmsWmeHFsDFmHYu3iSc4lrdQCAbTdc/s320/IMG_0481.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More confetti.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18307791196308568275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389956953735909777.post-8802146480701326512013-06-14T08:51:00.004-07:002013-06-14T08:51:30.061-07:00Welcome, little son...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGNshHHojkZBjfAXIhBY0xYFRQmCe2q8gNXafNGa_V0ltn7NbBaAvUL5EeiXhsi6GMwe3XVX8bVGN8EGwmmWLEwzlg3YRcoylKIT_1BTU32EBWC5pt1zX6CWwyw1G6sf6EbB_uTFgSncn9/s1600/DSCF0870.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGNshHHojkZBjfAXIhBY0xYFRQmCe2q8gNXafNGa_V0ltn7NbBaAvUL5EeiXhsi6GMwe3XVX8bVGN8EGwmmWLEwzlg3YRcoylKIT_1BTU32EBWC5pt1zX6CWwyw1G6sf6EbB_uTFgSncn9/s320/DSCF0870.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
...to this strange land where the toilet paper goes IN the toilet. </div>
<div align="center">
<br /></div>
Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18307791196308568275noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389956953735909777.post-83900360449062375222013-05-17T11:29:00.002-07:002013-05-17T11:29:53.442-07:00In no particular order, 21 things I will miss about Oaxaca.
<br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> 1.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Having a rooster for an alarm clock.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">2.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The smell of ripe mangos in the market in
season, so thick I could almost take a bite out of the air and be satisfied.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">3.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The cave of white and magenta bougainvillea in
our front yard, filled with cheeping birds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">4.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In Salina Cruz, seeing the Istmeña women, short
and wide and freaking gorgeous in their boxy embroidered blouses and long
skirts floating in the wind. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">5.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The tender shapes of the hills and mountains
around our house, like loaves of bread and breasts and pregnant women lying
down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">6.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Marigolds on Day of the Dead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">7.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tacos and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">leche
arroz</i> at eleven p.m. on the way home from the airport.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">8.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">My little students’ pride when they form a
sentence in English that I have not explicitly taught them: “I don’t like
boys!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“My mom is excellent!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Qbjg5CgyHL-rAPsWKzeLsDmC3OOX8qUoZJ431cpaFyDqZ-tBSHfJyws3boe-ZdILI2RZUfxKy_OcO7gwhdfcQLbQmatgbeCHMZxrOVQ5LNzId7lxgfYxNLE40SUJJ5jlkdnP0nRXf9zk/s1600/DSC06292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Qbjg5CgyHL-rAPsWKzeLsDmC3OOX8qUoZJ431cpaFyDqZ-tBSHfJyws3boe-ZdILI2RZUfxKy_OcO7gwhdfcQLbQmatgbeCHMZxrOVQ5LNzId7lxgfYxNLE40SUJJ5jlkdnP0nRXf9zk/s200/DSC06292.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the way to the market.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">9.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Walking to the market in Tlacochahuaya,
recognizing and greeting just about every person I see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">10.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Seeing horses and cows and donkeys every day,
just going about my business.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">11.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Fresh tortillas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">OKAY</i>, IBIS?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I WILL MISS FRESH TORTILLAS.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YA CÁLLATE.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">12.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The green-misted-with-purple of fields of
blooming alfalfa.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">13.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Waking
through our bedroom and thinking, “I gave birth to Isaias right…here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">14.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Looking down on the valley from the Zapotec
ruins of Dainzu, and wondering what the people who built these stone walls
felt, looking at this same view.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">15.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Being called Tere, and Teresita, and ‘manita,
and mi reina, mi vida, mi nena, mi corazón.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">16.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The smell of rain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">17.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The color of adobe bricks as the sun’s coming
up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">18.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Little old ladies with long braided hair woven
with satin ribbons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">19.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">How you can buy anything in the world at the
Tlacolula market on Sunday mornings: live turkeys, nail clippers adorned with
unicorns and rainbows, rat poison on paper plates with photocopied labels reading
‘The Last Supper’, cookie cutters in the shapes of houses, pigs, and horses made
from cut tin cans, embroidered purses, boiled sweet potatoes, seeds, real gold
jewelry, fake gold jewelry, pirated DVDs, potty chairs, bowls made of dried
gourds, barbequed goat, matches, clothespins, machetes, candelabras, chairs,
speckled eggs, fresh-cut flowers…</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">20. Sitting in graceful old colonial buildings with courtyards and fountains while on the most mundane of errands. </span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">21. Knowing all my neighbors' names, and all their business, and having them know mine. </span></div>
Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18307791196308568275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389956953735909777.post-87226298363493526552013-04-30T12:43:00.001-07:002013-04-30T12:48:13.566-07:00Love Stories. <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">For their fortieth wedding anniversary, el Don y la Doña
both dye their graying hair a startling, shiny black.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>El Don looks small and fragile in his good
white guayabera.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His wife has a good three inches and twenty
pounds on him; she’s solid and strong under her pink lace dress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They both wear the same slightly pained,
unreadable faces they wear to wakes, weddings, and the dinner table, even as
they walk into the hall to the cheers of their family and friends and the happy
welcoming notes from the band: DA-da DA-da da-di-da-di-DA-da!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Their three daughters and one daughter-in-law all wear short
fuchsia strapless dresses and silver heels; their son clashes in his light blue
guayabera.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ibis is their extra, honorary son;
they took him in when he was a lonely university student in a strange
city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Their youngest daughter left home at nineteen to marry a man
everyone said would be the ruin of her. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their little girl was born missing a hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s six years old now, and when
her doctor suggested fitting her for a prosthesis so she could have two hands,
she said, “But I already have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">one</i>.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tonight she’s wearing an orange and white
dress and a cascade of curls, and as her parents dance, she follows her small
cousins around, picking them up when they fall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The middle daughter, a doctor, dances barefoot, and works
her way around the room, making sure she talks to everyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Five years ago, she got married in a
blue-and-white church.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eight months
later, she got divorced.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now she says
she won’t leave her parents again for any man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>To study maybe, but not to get married---besides, she says, she’s almost
thirty, who would want her?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She dances
with abandon, laughing, her skirt working its way up her gorgeous legs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The oldest daughter only in the past year, in her late
thirties, married a man with three teenagers from a previous relationship, and had a baby of her own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone
said, “It’s about time.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just a few months post-partum, her body is soft
and thick in the tight magenta dress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The next day, looking at photos, she says, “Ay, look at my enormous
belly!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s that I had just eaten,” and
laughs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s never given much of a fuck
what people expect.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The daughter-in-law is orbited by her two little boys, who
wear magenta guayaberas they picked out themselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She and I were married within months of each
other, and were pregnant at the same time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
Our husbands are best friends. </span>Now we sit and chug beers and take turns herding the kids back into the hall when they head for the street. And she tells me that her husband has a
girlfriend on the side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That he comes
home at 2 a.m. or not at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Later, an
aunt drags them both onto the dance floor and shoves them together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They each grab one of their sons, and dance without once looking at each other’s
eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In the car on the way home, Ibis asks me, “Why do you think <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">we’ve </i>lasted?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Because we’re both such great communicators,” I say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(We’re not.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He laughs and punches me lightly on the thigh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“No,” I say, “I think it’s because we both believe in our
story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And we’re both too stubborn to give up on
such a great story.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Maybe,” he says. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s
a good story.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We turn onto the dark highway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The pueblos are webs of light scattered
across the black valley.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From here, it’s
a straight shot home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18307791196308568275noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389956953735909777.post-68866376509905603632013-04-26T11:18:00.000-07:002013-04-26T11:19:59.926-07:00Out Cold.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRCqw4NESLR8G8LTohyphenhyphen2m65CODEEU5C7oKIi1AJgmrflGPhtdgK0lNxn12v8tjXZNrHQprgV3nmKjuXwIqasTHzdjAYusy4laeO2Q892n0OX6DoxDg7AZqqUUW944nkb_NthPGI6gikwY7/s1600/DSC08005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRCqw4NESLR8G8LTohyphenhyphen2m65CODEEU5C7oKIi1AJgmrflGPhtdgK0lNxn12v8tjXZNrHQprgV3nmKjuXwIqasTHzdjAYusy4laeO2Q892n0OX6DoxDg7AZqqUUW944nkb_NthPGI6gikwY7/s200/DSC08005.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These guys.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I passed out cold while I was teaching on Tuesday
morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Turns out I’m anemic!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So that’s fun.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One second I was saying, “Okay, chicos, close
your books and go back to your seats,” and the next moment, I wasn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the time it took to go from standing to
lying on the floor with a desk on top of me, there was no I.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I opened my eyes, the sun was streaming through the
window, and one darling, bossy little girl was shouting at some of her
classmates, “Didn’t you even notice that La Teacher fell down?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, no they didn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The teacher was gone and life went on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ve been doing some work at <a href="http://matadoru.com/">Matador U</a> recently, and one
comment I find myself making over and over on student writing is, “The subject
of almost every sentence is ‘I’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>See how
the focus changes if you go from ‘I notice a bird flying’ to ‘A bird flies’?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Soon I won’t be here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Soon I’ll be somewhere else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
here, the shadows will still play over the hills.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chicks will hatch, and some will die, and
some will live to peep and scratch and chase bugs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The chayotal will send tendrils racing up the
adobe wall, if the damn rabbit doesn't chew through them first.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rain clouds will roll in, and sometimes pour and sometimes leave the hard red soil thirsty<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My little students will dance and trade tazos
and tell Pepito jokes and learn the English past tense from someone else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The good folks in immigration will make some
other gringa cry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I won’t be here to see or notice or observe, and it won’t
really matter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">See how the focus changes, Teresa?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>See how everything important goes on, even
when you’re unconscious or far away?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There’s nothing to be scared of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(I’m so scared.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18307791196308568275noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389956953735909777.post-38466392046554038972013-04-03T10:49:00.000-07:002013-04-03T10:50:00.350-07:00El Mangal<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In La Colonia nothing seems to change.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The generations slowly shift, but today’s
18-year-olds cook over wood fires and have too many babies, just like their
great-grandmothers did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s no cell
phone signal—there’s one phone in town, in the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">centro; </i>if you get a call, they announce it over the loudspeaker
and you run.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everything revolves around
corn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tortilla is a verb: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">tortillar.</i></span></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwD-XtqK8b6mlDgrIzMFJJlkiS_srzqCSAhwhjp7vctEzITBW9mpG3jxoEWXGIga8EstHSm-KPMkfWlX08i5GVmh4nQPI6kaUG35UdT28PyjTOA8I_Nyz4_lCPzMjf9NXjtMGHK7pZ_Ki8/s1600/DSC08734.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwD-XtqK8b6mlDgrIzMFJJlkiS_srzqCSAhwhjp7vctEzITBW9mpG3jxoEWXGIga8EstHSm-KPMkfWlX08i5GVmh4nQPI6kaUG35UdT28PyjTOA8I_Nyz4_lCPzMjf9NXjtMGHK7pZ_Ki8/s200/DSC08734.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The mango grove has been there as long as my mother-in-law,
the indomitable <a href="http://cafeconleche-oaxaca.blogspot.mx/2011/07/one-about-dona-charo.html">Doña Charo</a>, can remember, on a remote piece of land that
belongs to nobody.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> She </span>came
here with her brothers and sisters when there was nothing to eat
at home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The huge mango trees rustle and
whisper in the breeze just as they must have forty years ago, when Doña Charo
was Chayito, a girl with long golden ringlets and an empty belly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One thing has changed, on this trip: the road between the
town of Cintalapa and La Colonia, which had always been dirt, is paved: a long
straight avenue planted up the dividing strip with magueys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The avenue is named for a rich local
man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a name Doña Charo recognizes:
when she was fourteen, and this man was in his thirties, he wanted to marry
her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">She was beautiful, and she had nothing: no money, no father,
a step-father who drank and hit, a steady stream of younger brothers and
sisters to take care of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>This
wealthy man told fourteen-year-old Chayito that he would set her up like a
queen, that she would never want for anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She said no.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He spoke to her
mother, offered her money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I imagine
Doña Catalina—pregnant, probably, patting out tortillas in the smoky adobe
kitchen—saying, “M’ija, marry him, go on.” Thinking that it sounded like a damn good offer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Chayito said no, and no again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Nunca
me voy a casar con un hombre de por acá,” she said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll never marry a man from here. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When she had a chance, she left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s not a queen, not even close.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s wanted for things, since she left La
Colonia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But her life is her own.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The mango trees reach and moan and whisper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I never imagined I would come to this place
with my son and my grandson,” Doña Charo says, peeling a green mango.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s not blonde anymore, but she’s still
beautiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The most beautiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I have such nice memories of these trees,” she says, “but I
don’t have a taste for mangoes anymore.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18307791196308568275noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389956953735909777.post-20449602405732100042013-03-13T12:24:00.000-07:002013-03-13T12:24:32.845-07:00The Color of Chocolate<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfpRx_j67HiwbicovPuMYe8onKc7t4P7Er5u5jci3Lz8DBFRsTVYMPRDWrIwDfiq8gH6DauELNtRic2XJTFBBTEgmwUGW2lol1JeW2A2fqMEknUvlq0B9jTEhgfKv76v3EKcRV-Ngva4nm/s1600/flesh-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfpRx_j67HiwbicovPuMYe8onKc7t4P7Er5u5jci3Lz8DBFRsTVYMPRDWrIwDfiq8gH6DauELNtRic2XJTFBBTEgmwUGW2lol1JeW2A2fqMEknUvlq0B9jTEhgfKv76v3EKcRV-Ngva4nm/s320/flesh-4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
It's ironic but true that in Mexico, where the vast majority of people are not this color, this color is still known as "color carne": flesh color. <br />
<br />
Last week in Isaias' class, they were coloring paper dolls of their families. The teacher asked what color skin is, and the children chorused: "COLOR CARNE."<br />
<br />
But Isaias said, "NO. Mi papito es de color <br />
caf<span style="font-family: Calibri;">é</span>. Mi papito es el color de chocolate." My daddy is brown. My daddy is the color of chocolate.<br />
<br />
His classmates laughed. Many of them are, themselves, brown. All of them have family members who are brown. And they laughed. <br />
<br />
Isaias insisted. He would not color his papito the wrong color. His papito is the color of chocolate. Finally his teacher said that he was right, and told the children not to laugh. And he colored his papito brown. <br />
<br />
He didn't stay inside the lines. But I think he did a beautiful job. <br />
<br />
Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18307791196308568275noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389956953735909777.post-16909672236057581722013-02-01T12:55:00.000-08:002013-02-01T12:55:52.090-08:00Things I as a Non-Mexican Will Never Understand: #43We have had this conversation at least two dozen times. <br />
<br />
Ibis: I'm hungry. I'M SO HUNGRY. I haven't eaten ALL DAY. I'm going to die if I'm not eating something within five minutes because I'M SO INCREDIBLY HUNGRY OH MY GOD. What food is there?<br />
<br />
Me: There's chicken/rice and beans/spaghetti/eggs/(insert some other perfectly adequate food product here). <br />
<br />
Ibis: Are there any tortillas? <br />
<br />
Me: No. <br />
<br />
Ibis: I'm not really that hungry. Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18307791196308568275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389956953735909777.post-1467590298067561592013-01-30T10:31:00.000-08:002013-01-30T10:31:08.783-08:00Here, now.
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Driving home. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s early evening, and the sunlight sifts between the hills
in golden sheets.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In a field of long grass, some horses are grazing: one
spotted, one gray, one white.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And on the white horse’s back, a white egret is perched.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The curve of its neck a question with no
answer but this valley, sliced by light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18307791196308568275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389956953735909777.post-64544389812624158722012-10-31T12:01:00.000-07:002012-10-31T12:01:51.965-07:00Why, Mama?
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“What is it, Mamá?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“It’s sheep poop, my love.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Why, Mamá?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why do we
want sheep poop?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Because we’re going to make compost with it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Why, Mamá?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Because the plants like it, my bird.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Why, Mamá?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Because it has good things that they need to grow.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Why, Mamá?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Well…because everything is a circle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sheep eat the plants, and then their poop
helps new plants grow, and then they eat the new plants, and poop again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And some of the plants go into the compost
pile, and they turn into compost too, and help new plants grow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like
that.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Why, Mamá?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Because the worms and other little bugs eat the sheep poop
and the dead plants, and turn it into compost, and the compost is like food for
the plants. See?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here’s a worm, look!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Qué bonito!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>Pink!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“You’re right, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">es
bonito</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you want me to put it on
your hand?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Oooooooooooooooh!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Do you like it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Late afternoon, walking through the cemetery with Isa’s hand
in mine. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s been a long day
of sitting still and being quiet for a three-year-old, and we’re not immediate
family anyway; though I'm truly sorry, I honestly can’t even remember having met the guy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ibis
can represent the Alonso Ponikvars for a while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="http://matadornetwork.com/community/teresita/our-little-deadies/">November second</a> is only a few days away, and many of the
graves are decorated, already, with marigolds and the magenta flowers called “cock’s
comb”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>I want to stop and look, read the
old-fashioned names—Delfina, Tomasina, Natalio, Heriberto—see who’s been
remembered and how.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But Isaias pulls me
along, back towards the entrance, towards the promise of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">chicharrines</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">gelatinas</i>
and all kinds of junk food for sale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On
one grave, someone has placed an opened bottle of Coca-Cola.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You have to open it, see, so the spirits can
smell it, when they come.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I buy my son a bag of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">chicharrines</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As usual, he requests salsa, and then
requires me to eat everything that it touches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We sit on a bench next to a large, seemingly random wood carving of an
owl grasping an amorphous rodent in its talons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Why, Mamá?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why does
she want to eat her?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Because owls are carnivores, like T-Rexes and tigers, and
they need meat when they’re hungry, and meat comes from other animals.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“And from other dinosaurs, right, Mamá?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Right, my love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Dinosaurs, too.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Why, Mamá?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why do
carnivores need meat?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Because that’s how their bodies are made.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They need meat to be strong and grow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’re an omnivore, so you can eat meat or
fruit or milk or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">chicharrines</i> , but
carnivores need to eat meat, or they won’t be strong.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“But why, Mamá?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why
does she want to eat her?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Why do we
have to die?)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Because she’s hungry, my bird, and she needs to eat meat.”
(Because it’s all a circle, because that’s the deal, that’s all.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Quiet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Crunching on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">chicharrines</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
hole is being filled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The father and
the son of the man I don’t remember meeting cling to each other, crying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mounded marigolds seem to glow with their own
light, guiding the spirits back to this world for a day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I love you much, Isaias.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I love you much, Mamá.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCg83D3Wa-I96ZvQqyHaK9btHIzJjcLtM1ezKZg9KgWXWYZCsZeSVjpte91dGS-GlenrJJZrJzO0S0Frv0pfPSv92xCygLeYez-MPahE646oYIIUmDKb2cOiWenf2URx0OyUP3t-gznNKs/s1600/tapetes16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCg83D3Wa-I96ZvQqyHaK9btHIzJjcLtM1ezKZg9KgWXWYZCsZeSVjpte91dGS-GlenrJJZrJzO0S0Frv0pfPSv92xCygLeYez-MPahE646oYIIUmDKb2cOiWenf2URx0OyUP3t-gznNKs/s200/tapetes16.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18307791196308568275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389956953735909777.post-48933403006150766542012-09-27T11:58:00.001-07:002012-09-27T11:58:44.646-07:00Three Good Guys
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">At the end of this Seemingly Endless Day of Nonstop Bullshit, I would
like to acknowledge three random strangers whose miniscule acts of kindness somewhat mitigated my
desire to bash my head against a wall until I lost consciousness:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The young man at the Oxxo minimart who observed my
crestfallen expression when I realized that the coffee machine was being
serviced, said, “Just for you, ma’am” and hooked it back up, so I could get a
hit of liquid caffeine and sugar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The man who took my picture for my immigration document, who
laughed heartily at my joke, and didn’t even raise his eyebrows when he saw my
terrible, terrible photo. *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The gas station attendant who filled up my flat tire and
called me “my little queen,” even though I didn't have any change with which to tip him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>Señores: gracias.</em><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">*Terrible, but fortunately not in accordance with the trend of increasing terribleness. The first year in Mexico, I looked ugly, but dignified, in my FM2 photo. The second year I looked like a man. Last year I looked like a sad zombie. This year, I figured I would end up looking like...what would be worse than zombie? Lindsay Lohan after a binge, maybe. Instead, I'm going to look tired and pissed, which is at least accurate. </span></span></div>
Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18307791196308568275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389956953735909777.post-71035614652015107572012-09-19T15:02:00.002-07:002013-09-22T11:31:22.352-07:00Two things I have in common with Miley Cyrus, or, I want to be a hunter-gatherer when I grow up<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ibis and Isaias left me to my own introverted devices last
weekend while they went to visit Abuelita, and I divided my time neatly between
the two halves of my split personality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">On Saturday I put on skinny jeans and went into town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a fancy coffee and graded homework
assignments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought about getting a
manicure but didn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wandered around
the shops and tried on some clothes, bought a pair of slacks for work, and then had pozole and beer and gossip
with some relatives, went home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was
perfectly happy with my day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">On Sunday I woke up early and didn’t even change out of my
funky cut-off sweatpants and stained tank top. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I spread compost around the garden, cleaned
out the chicken yard, built a new compost pile, transplanted chile seedlings
and a little tree, cut some grass, dead-headed the dahlias and the zinnias.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I collected the eggs and cooked “eggs in
purgatory” with fresh oregano and thyme and parsley from the garden, and made
mint-lime-lemongrass water with fresh everything from the garden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was perfectly happy with my day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was perfectly happy with my day, and by the end of it, my
nails were dirty and broken and my knuckles were scratched and something had
bitten or stung my left index finger, leaving an impressive welt, and I thought,
what if I had gotten a manicure yesterday?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That would have been stupid. And I wondered a little what the hell is wrong with me, that I can contemplate having my nails done one day, and pick up chicken crap with my bare hands the next. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, okay, I contain multitudes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If I had had any delusions that I’m alone in this,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>they would have been dispelled when I turned
on the TV Sunday evening and your friend and mine Hannah Montana popped up, lip-syncing
her heart out in adorable lady-executive garb, only to run backstage and return
in pigtails, a gingham blouse, denim skirt, and cowgirl boots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You can change your hair, you can change
your clothes,” she mouthed, “You can change your mind, that’s just the way it
goes.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tell it, Miley.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It's true, you can change your hair and your clothes, but
you can only change your mind about the important stuff so many times before it
becomes tiresome and impractical. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There
are some decisions to be made in the coming months, big ones, and I don’t know
which part of me should make them: the sipper of lattes or the builder of compost
piles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They want such different things.
They have such different concepts of security.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>One of them feels safe and satisfied when she sees that her paycheck
will cover the month’s expenses; the other, when she can make her entire meal
from the garden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ve been tempted to break it down into a question of
head-vs.-heart, or to condemn the latte-sipper as superficial, but I realized this evening that that’s not quite it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After supper we were out in the yard. I was admiring a pale
green spider sitting inside a magenta hollyhock flower.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ibis was burning the weeds and grass that
can’t go into the compost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Isaias was
picking sunflower seeds out of the flowers to nibble.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt
a satisfaction so deep it startled me, and I understood it was because <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that’s what we’re made for.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Paying close attention to the natural world,
burning stuff, and foraging for things to eat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Never mind that we would starve to death trying to hunt and gather for a living on our tiny scrap of land.
</span>It’s not head-vs.-heart: it’s the hunter-gatherer I’m genetically
programmed to be arguing with the resident of the twenty-first century I am. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I don’t know how much that realization will help me decide who
gets to call the shots, but it always feels better to have things figured out. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">(Oh, the other thing I have in common with Miley Cyrus?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I've had to delete the photographic evidence because this is a family blog, but let's just say it involves cakes in the form of a portion of the male anatomy. Mine, I would hasten to add, was bestowed upon me by my mother-in-law's prayer group; I'm pretty sure Miley's was her own idea.)</span></div>
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<br /></div>
Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18307791196308568275noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389956953735909777.post-14723458805866524782012-05-31T15:37:00.001-07:002012-05-31T15:37:35.763-07:00For Monica.<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I don’t really believe in souls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">At least, not in the sense of a sort of me-shaped mist that
can step away from my body and continue thinking and functioning, continue
being smart or not-so-smart, continue liking such-and-such color, continue
being nice or catty or outgoing or shy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
Facebook-profile self, the music-I-like and jobs-I’ve-had and
my-favorite-passtime self: that’s wonderful, that’s fine, but I don’t think it’s
eternal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyVDNvs_aVes8YzwVOUT4Y8szR96_QrpXsL8A-paV4pTlsQPGm-3Ziq3L5GO8uTponBfaAJkMuU-VkklSWA8enWlG3oHbwME7mlCHwQO9iAlLqdPe4_2GMDCHMbjQa8g8kq5kUnQYR4tyf/s1600/mon&animals.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyVDNvs_aVes8YzwVOUT4Y8szR96_QrpXsL8A-paV4pTlsQPGm-3Ziq3L5GO8uTponBfaAJkMuU-VkklSWA8enWlG3oHbwME7mlCHwQO9iAlLqdPe4_2GMDCHMbjQa8g8kq5kUnQYR4tyf/s320/mon&animals.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My adopted aunt, my friend Monica, died last weekend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She wasn’t even fifty.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I could list adjectives, I could tell you that she was
creative, and courageous, and joyful, and generous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That—you know how when you know someone
really well, you tend to associate them with a color?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or is that just me?—that when I think of her,
I can’t narrow it down to any one color, she was a rainbow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But what was truly amazing about her was that she was able
to see something eternal, and valuable, in everybody.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Super-smart or severely retarded, nice or
mean—she saw beyond all that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s not
say that she loved everything that everybody ever did all the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Certainly she had to tell me to snap out of it
on a couple of occasions; certainly she complained about bad behavior.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But she could look at the scrawniest,
ugliest, puke-colored, flea-ridden alley cat and see life, and light, and
value.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This week, thinking about her, about how terribly stupid and
unfair it is that she should be gone already, I’ve found myself looking around
and thinking, “YOU, look at YOU, asshole.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What’s so great about you that you should still be here, when she’s
gone?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And you, too, you’ll never amount
to anything, why couldn’t YOU have gone instead?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But Monica wasn’t about that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I make myself stop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">She saw something of value in every life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not a soul, not in the sense of a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">personality</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But some spark, some seed, that each of us—however
lost, however sad, however much of a damn failure—brings to the table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe it’s not
eternal-eternal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe nothing is. But it matters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">She saw it, so I know it’s there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18307791196308568275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389956953735909777.post-90624980862338753452012-04-27T09:07:00.001-07:002012-04-27T09:08:21.918-07:00Inside out<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We’re in the Zocalo, having a beer and botanas with some
friends at one of the outdoor restaurants.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m dressed (at the insistence of my school’s principal, and to Ibis’s
great amusement) as a China Oaxaqueña, in a flouncy red skirt, soft white
blouse, green shawl, braided hair with ribbons—we’ve just come from the Calenda,
the parade-cum-dress-rehearsal, for the traditional dance festival some of my
students will participate in the next day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Isaias is dancing up a storm alongside the table, admiring the balloons,
and eating spicy peanuts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I see the girls—I always see them—the ones in shorts and
sport sandals, carrying woven bags stuffed with water bottle, journal, camera.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was one of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And there’s one—there’s always one—in the
company of a local boy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know they’ve
just met, because of the way she watches his lips when he talks, and nods even
when I can see in her eyebrows that she hasn’t understood. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because she’s so obviously exhilarated. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because I can see her pride when she orders an
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">esquite</i> in Spanish. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There were two local boys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>One became my husband.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One was a
bad guy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I look at this girl, and wonder
what’s beginning for her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wonder what
she would give to be on the inside, to be wearing a flouncy skirt and beribboned
braids, to be Nena <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to her husband, and Mamita
to her child, and Doña Somebody to her neighbors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wonder what I would’ve given.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wonder if I gave it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As we’re heading back to the car, we run into Rosy, on her
way to the late shift at the pharmacy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
double-takes at my outfit and cries “Qué guapa!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Qué guapa!” as we hug and kiss quickly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>An older woman I don’t know stops me to ask what time the dance festival
will be held the next day, and I tell her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Being on the inside feels good, but not as transcendent as I imagined it
would when I was that girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Less
transcendent, in a way, than being on the outside, and longing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And the things I never imagined: running up a perfectly,
boringly, familiar street, long skirts swishing, holding my husband’s hand,
chasing after our son, and suddenly catching a whiff of the Mexico Smell,
whatever it is, or was when I first defined it: Fabuloso cleanser and tacos and
exhaust and old buildings and boiled corn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And instead of exhilarating, it’s comforting: it reminds me that I was onto
something, when I was that girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18307791196308568275noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389956953735909777.post-68043485371303068692012-01-13T14:40:00.000-08:002012-01-13T14:40:16.893-08:00Eight Moments with Guadalupe<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhscMKLVd5tCMTEH-iLhtf7RiTHNxGQz1kG4bA5Ys8gocqYpIrcPDuTtP4qCpp-P8YqstCRPcu_e-uA_QpJ63J6bMvMIIjJIUFM5HttSSpZ_JA0U8Iyc91LJXYVmTONRuFxSbaj93joyecD/s1600/hmp21_guadalupe_blk2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhscMKLVd5tCMTEH-iLhtf7RiTHNxGQz1kG4bA5Ys8gocqYpIrcPDuTtP4qCpp-P8YqstCRPcu_e-uA_QpJ63J6bMvMIIjJIUFM5HttSSpZ_JA0U8Iyc91LJXYVmTONRuFxSbaj93joyecD/s320/hmp21_guadalupe_blk2.jpg" width="277" /></a></div>
1. I first see Oaxaca under a full moon. Ibis, who I’ve known for six hours, is asleep next to me as the bus labors up and over El Cerro del Fortín with an orange moon floating up from behind it. <br />
<br />
<br />
2. I pull the orange roll of Marías cookies out of my backpack and bite them into halves and crescents, and imagine I’m eating that moon, making it a part of me. <br />
<br />
3. I sit in a hot and empty church and pray without thought to the Virgin of Guadalupe, breathing in and out, “You are good, eres buena, you are good.” I know that I will leave. I don’t think I will return. Guadalupe stands on her crescent moon and says nothing. <br />
<br />
4. I stand in my empty bedroom in Montana. I’ve just packed my car; in the morning I will drive south. I’m going back to Mexico to marry Ibis; going back to stay. And in the middle of that empty room, something gleams: The Virgin of Guadalupe pendant I wore through all the months of staying away. I haven’t worn it since I traded it for an engagement ring. How can it be there? There it is. <br />
<br />
5. One morning on the radio they say that “Mexico” means “in the bellybutton of the moon.” I don’t know if it’s true, but it makes me smile all day. Makes me remember how grateful I am to live in this ridiculous and beautiful and troubled and blessed place. <br />
<br />
6. It’s been a hard year. Sometimes I’ve wanted to give up, I’m not going to lie. But when my son and I return to Oaxaca from Christmas in the U.S., it feels like the first time: that sweet. And it doesn’t surprise me at all, as we walk across the tarmac towards the airport and Ibis, to see a perfect Guadalupe moon in the sky: the slenderest of crescents, resting on its curved back. <br />
<br />
7. I believe and I don’t believe. Not first one and then the other; I fully believe and fully disbelieve both at the same time. I believe and I don’t believe that coming home on that crescent moon meant that this will be a year of coming into fullness, that this will be the year that Guadalupe’s intentions for our family, in this place, begin to be revealed. And if that’s true because it’s destiny, or true because I’m determined to make it so, I don’t even care. <br />
<br />
8. Driving through our pueblo one night after buying a Three Kings cake, my son points to a silver half-moon and says with certainty, “Cayó moon! Cayó moon!” The moon fell, the moon fell. I can’t understand what he means, but maybe? It looks touchable, it looks attainable, that moon. It’s closer to us than it used to be. <br />
<br />Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18307791196308568275noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389956953735909777.post-51183215330009506392012-01-12T13:41:00.000-08:002012-01-12T13:44:55.500-08:00Verbs are hard.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgonZMm0cGmR5Xr3sGN1p73xCYikS6xUq6YvLcTN2UBdQKA30EyLkEceLvTT8GaE2Qp_DpvN4XMU_G3WX646IwPjL9RzBfs4tuxBdYLHnGbxGhjU1NFsR2yH_FZ_ORJE0Sk4uOruQ9NHimv/s1600/DSC07235.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgonZMm0cGmR5Xr3sGN1p73xCYikS6xUq6YvLcTN2UBdQKA30EyLkEceLvTT8GaE2Qp_DpvN4XMU_G3WX646IwPjL9RzBfs4tuxBdYLHnGbxGhjU1NFsR2yH_FZ_ORJE0Sk4uOruQ9NHimv/s200/DSC07235.JPG" width="162" /></a></div>
“Mamá, wheel broken. Pongo?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Quieres que lo* ponga?”<br />
<br />
“Ponga. Sí.”<br />
<br />
(I put the wheel back on).<br />
<br />
“Okay, Birdy, ya lo puse.”<br />
<br />
“Puse. Gra-sas.”<br />
<br />
(Ten minutes pass.)<br />
<br />
“Mamá, wheel broken. Pongo?”<br />
<br />
“Ahora ponlo tú.” <br />
<br />
“Ponlo?”<br />
<br />
“Sí, tú ponlo, Isaias.” <br />
<br />
(He puts the wheel back on.)<br />
<br />
“Mira, Mamá! Wheel!”<br />
<br />
“Ya lo pusiste?”<br />
<br />
“Pusiste?”<br />
<br />
“Sí, lo pusiste. You put the wheel on!”<br />
<br />
. . . . “Poot?” <br />
<br />
*<em>Sticklers for Spanish grammer: yes, "wheel" in Spanish is "rueda" or possibly "llanta," both feminine, and thus "la." All English nouns in Spanglish, however--at least in Alonso-Ponikvarian Spanglish--are masculine: "el wheel," thus "lo". You're welcome. </em>Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18307791196308568275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389956953735909777.post-85695890178163981782011-11-08T14:35:00.000-08:002011-11-08T14:36:28.107-08:00What It Looks Like Here.In the fall, I miss Missoula. How could I not miss this? <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj77LThlPusbflPEA2FMBCHc76rWHSvIZgy5zpv4IaNUwC50-tPMwAJtHXqJOfDvNN96EjF_oxWeOk1GEHhwgmX7bonCeZvrNekrGhIhpnxefZ5hjnxvSpqg-5ujWuYOVH3rgF-xPOFI76J/s1600/autumn_missoula.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj77LThlPusbflPEA2FMBCHc76rWHSvIZgy5zpv4IaNUwC50-tPMwAJtHXqJOfDvNN96EjF_oxWeOk1GEHhwgmX7bonCeZvrNekrGhIhpnxefZ5hjnxvSpqg-5ujWuYOVH3rgF-xPOFI76J/s400/autumn_missoula.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
That’s what fall is supposed to look like, isn’t it? Never mind that in well over half of the habited world, it doesn’t. <br />
<br />
It doesn’t in Oaxaca. It’s November, and the lime tree in our yard is in full bloom. Here, you could comfortably wear sandals about 350 days a year. <br />
<br />
The first year we lived here, I kid you not, I sometimes completely forgot what month it was: no outside indicators of the seasons. It drove me a little crazy. But like most things, it’s really just a matter of paying attention. <br />
<br />
I’m trying to plug myself in to what the seasons mean here. <br />
<br />
Fall in Oaxaca is the mountains green fading to brown, because the rainy season has ended but not so very long ago. <br />
<br />
It's butterflies, orange and black and yellow and white and blue, small and large, floating through an amber afternoon light that makes you sad. <br />
<br />
It’s strong winds, without fail, on October 31, when the departed return for Día de los Muertos. <br />
<br />
It's a tiny beige frog crouched on a leaf of the avocado tree I grew from a pit, right outside the office window. It's tiny beige frogs smushed into the dirt of the road, or hopping across it, invisible until they move. <br />
<br />
It’s cool mornings and warm afternoons with perfectly clear blue skies. <br />
<br />
And it’s yellow: marigolds for the dead, and all the yellow wildflowers blooming in fallow fields and vacant lots and along the roadsides.<br />
<br />
All that yellow against the green-brown mountains against all that blue, blue sky. It almost reminds me of something. Sometime. Some place. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18307791196308568275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389956953735909777.post-10344136242335427062011-08-29T08:53:00.000-07:002011-09-23T16:29:45.576-07:00The Spectrum.<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">The last time I visited the U.S., I called someone "sir" in English for the first time ever. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">He helped me get my bag down from the overhead compartment, and I said, "Thank you, sir." It just slipped out. It was weird. I'm from California: we address groups of elderly ladies as "you guys." We call our parents "dude." We don't say "sir." </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">It made me realize how much I've acculturated to my adopted country: the effusive politeness, especially when dealing with an elder, has become second nature. I don't have the entire script down, yet, though: a real, old-school resident of Tlacochahuaya can draw out a simple "thanks" into a ten-minute exchange. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">It's that way with a lot of things: I'm stuck somewhere in the middle, no longer entirely comfortable in my home culture, but nowhere near being Mexican. Look! I made you a poorly formatted </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">chart!</span></span></div>
<table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoTableGrid" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-collapse: collapse; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-yfti-tbllook: 1184;"><tbody>
<tr style="mso-yfti-firstrow: yes; mso-yfti-irow: 0;"><td style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: windowtext 1pt solid; border-left: windowtext 1pt solid; border-right: windowtext 1pt solid; border-top: windowtext 1pt solid; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0in; width: 1.2in;" valign="top" width="115"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
</td><td style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: windowtext 1pt solid; border-left: #f0f0f0; border-right: windowtext 1pt solid; border-top: windowtext 1pt solid; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0in; width: 121.5pt;" valign="top" width="162"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>San Jose</strong></span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: windowtext 1pt solid; border-left: #f0f0f0; border-right: windowtext 1pt solid; border-top: windowtext 1pt solid; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0in; width: 2.1in;" valign="top" width="202"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>My Little World</strong></span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: windowtext 1pt solid; border-left: #f0f0f0; border-right: windowtext 1pt solid; border-top: windowtext 1pt solid; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0in; width: 119.7pt;" valign="top" width="160"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>Tlacochahuaya</strong></span></div>
</td></tr>
<tr style="mso-yfti-irow: 1;"><td style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: windowtext 1pt solid; border-left: windowtext 1pt solid; border-right: windowtext 1pt solid; border-top: #f0f0f0; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0in; width: 1.2in;" valign="top" width="115"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>Politeness</strong></span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: windowtext 1pt solid; border-left: #f0f0f0; border-right: windowtext 1pt solid; border-top: #f0f0f0; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0in; width: 121.5pt;" valign="top" width="162"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Person A: Thanks.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Person B: Sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: windowtext 1pt solid; border-left: #f0f0f0; border-right: windowtext 1pt solid; border-top: #f0f0f0; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0in; width: 2.1in;" valign="top" width="202"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Person A: Thank you, sir/ma’am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Very nice of you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Person B: It was nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
</td><td style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: windowtext 1pt solid; border-left: #f0f0f0; border-right: windowtext 1pt solid; border-top: #f0f0f0; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0in; width: 119.7pt;" valign="top" width="160"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Person A: A thousand thanks, sir/ma'am.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Person B:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, it is <em>I </em>who thank <em>you</em>.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Person A: You’re too kind.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Person B:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Truly, it was a pleasure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Etc., etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
</td></tr>
<tr style="mso-yfti-irow: 2;"><td style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: windowtext 1pt solid; border-left: windowtext 1pt solid; border-right: windowtext 1pt solid; border-top: #f0f0f0; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0in; width: 1.2in;" valign="top" width="115"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>Meat</strong></span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: windowtext 1pt solid; border-left: #f0f0f0; border-right: windowtext 1pt solid; border-top: #f0f0f0; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0in; width: 121.5pt;" valign="top" width="162"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Eats only pre-packaged, pre-cut, de-boned, and de-skinned meat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Or, optionally, vegetarian.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: windowtext 1pt solid; border-left: #f0f0f0; border-right: windowtext 1pt solid; border-top: #f0f0f0; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0in; width: 2.1in;" valign="top" width="202"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Eats meat that is clearly part of an animal’s body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can look at organ meat without puking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: windowtext 1pt solid; border-left: #f0f0f0; border-right: windowtext 1pt solid; border-top: #f0f0f0; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0in; width: 119.7pt;" valign="top" width="160"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Chews on the chicken foot, orders brain tacos.</span></div>
</td></tr>
<tr style="mso-yfti-irow: 3;"><td style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: windowtext 1pt solid; border-left: windowtext 1pt solid; border-right: windowtext 1pt solid; border-top: #f0f0f0; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0in; width: 1.2in;" valign="top" width="115"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>Patience</strong></span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: windowtext 1pt solid; border-left: #f0f0f0; border-right: windowtext 1pt solid; border-top: #f0f0f0; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0in; width: 121.5pt;" valign="top" width="162"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">"I want it yesterday."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: windowtext 1pt solid; border-left: #f0f0f0; border-right: windowtext 1pt solid; border-top: #f0f0f0; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0in; width: 2.1in;" valign="top" width="202"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">"I want it tomorrow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or the day after."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: windowtext 1pt solid; border-left: #f0f0f0; border-right: windowtext 1pt solid; border-top: #f0f0f0; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0in; width: 119.7pt;" valign="top" width="160"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">"I’d prefer to have it by next Wednesday, but I’d be willing to wait six or seven months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While standing in line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the burning sun."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
</td></tr>
<tr style="mso-yfti-irow: 4; mso-yfti-lastrow: yes;"><td style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: windowtext 1pt solid; border-left: windowtext 1pt solid; border-right: windowtext 1pt solid; border-top: #f0f0f0; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0in; width: 1.2in;" valign="top" width="115"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>Technology</strong></span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: windowtext 1pt solid; border-left: #f0f0f0; border-right: windowtext 1pt solid; border-top: #f0f0f0; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0in; width: 121.5pt;" valign="top" width="162"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">iPhone, iPad, iPod, iHouse, iBrain, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: windowtext 1pt solid; border-left: #f0f0f0; border-right: windowtext 1pt solid; border-top: #f0f0f0; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0in; width: 2.1in;" valign="top" width="202"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">$20 cell phone with no camera.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>5-year-old digital camera (larger than a pack of cards).</span></div>
</td><td style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: windowtext 1pt solid; border-left: #f0f0f0; border-right: windowtext 1pt solid; border-top: #f0f0f0; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0in; width: 119.7pt;" valign="top" width="160"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Donkey cart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18307791196308568275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389956953735909777.post-36693616933959886142011-08-24T09:32:00.000-07:002012-04-27T09:07:45.732-07:00The Perils of Fluency.<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was sitting across a desk from an immigration officer the other day (because it’s my favorite time of year: Time To Renew My Immigration Document!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Happily, the trio of women who made me cry during this process (both last year AND the year before) were gone, but now I was faced with the task of explaining various funky aspects of my immigration status to a new person, all of which boil down to the fact that the good folks in Pachuca, Hidalgo, who originally issued my FM2, messed it up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I began, “It’s that the people in Pachuca…” and stopped short, because the ONLY Spanish words that I could come up with to complete that sentence were “<em>me chingaron</em>”—they f***ed me over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Obviously not something you really want to say to someone who has the power to deport you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I started again, “It’s that they…” and came up with “<em>hicieron un desmadre</em>”—untranslatable, but call it “they made a f***ed-up mess.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I made one more run at it: “The ones in Pachuca, they…”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a long pause while the guy looked at me oddly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally I finished, “They didn’t do it right.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Ah,” he said, and continued shuffling through my papers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I started paying attention, after that, and realized that, damn, Ibis and I have some filthy mouths on us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The difference, of course, is that he can come up with non-filthy synonyms when the occasion calls for it (just as I can control my English cursing), but my proper, college student, I’m-reading-the-works-of-Sor-Juana-NOT-in-translation Spanish has gone directly down the tubes in the last few years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And, well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have an almost-two-year-old child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One day his four-year-old best-amigo-neighbor was watching <em>Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron</em> with him, and called out to me, “<em>Doña Tere!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Este pinche caballo se pone bien chingón</em>!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Which we could roughly translate as, “This goddamn horse is a real badass!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I confess that I laughed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I’m pretty sure that if that had come from MY child, I would have felt like a terrible mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Something else to work on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yesssss!</span></div>Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18307791196308568275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389956953735909777.post-14419235136625280652011-08-22T10:27:00.000-07:002011-08-22T10:29:04.004-07:00Choose.So I came across this mysterious Word file in a mysterious folder-within-a-folder among the mess of random files and photos and folders scattered across my computer desktop. (Sometimes being pathetically disorganized pays off in unexpected ways.) I don't remember writing it, though I clearly did at some point in the not-so-distant past. It was the advice I needed to hear today, though. And it's advice FROM MYSELF! So I get to congratulate myself on being terribly sage and compassionate and admonish myself for being a materialistic idiot AT THE SAME TIME! <br />
<br />
No, really. When my fantasy life starts to run along the lines of "wealthy benefactor treats me to a week alone in some random large American city where I know no one and can stay at a fancy hotel and go to day spas and buy myself anything I want as long as it's JUST FOR ME because those are the terms and I'm not allowed to feel guilty"...well. That's when I need to hear this:<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">"Decide to be happy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just make the decision.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stop fantasizing yourself out of your life, even at night, even when you’re sick, even when you’re sick and tired of everything being hard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Live it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Choose it again every day, all of it, everyone, every inconvenience and every bowl of beans and every scorpion and every class that goes horribly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Choose the weariness and the backaches and the wanting to talk to someone in English.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Choose the laundry and the dishes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Choose the traffic and the bloqueos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Choose Ibis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Choose his smile and his problems and everything that’s good and everything that could be better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Choose your Little Bird, even when he doesn't let you sleep, even when he doesn't let you do ANYTHING for yourself, even eat. </span>Choose it and be happy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s all."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Because once I'm reminded, how could do I anything else?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc942WmMmGZqC8_jJvDOyuk9LSAaO_E6gCc542ZAAp6PR-5-p2LCfnVRpstvGbgevOcwC50LW1Dka5F8Dsu3qZYG9rMXjLk2xQ0arnsGhWWW71TvEOCG0RtvCOcwIke1k1aiHRyPE97YLQ/s1600/DSC05709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc942WmMmGZqC8_jJvDOyuk9LSAaO_E6gCc542ZAAp6PR-5-p2LCfnVRpstvGbgevOcwC50LW1Dka5F8Dsu3qZYG9rMXjLk2xQ0arnsGhWWW71TvEOCG0RtvCOcwIke1k1aiHRyPE97YLQ/s320/DSC05709.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div>Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18307791196308568275noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389956953735909777.post-3881935413329718152011-08-11T13:43:00.000-07:002011-08-11T13:43:09.612-07:00This Is the Twenty-First Century Too, or, Shove it Up Your App<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH3SR12AKUC_4j53WArsB-43VKYvwlazImTR2TIOcc3GqJF1tFv1i4cqCcMJ9SiBLPSz5xnYB8vZr6nuaKy2Vc4f3QL6lEqNr59n9WHPrT5_Ojoo5blPimuxA7Z4Sic2Auv9UOcA9oJrCV/s1600/5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH3SR12AKUC_4j53WArsB-43VKYvwlazImTR2TIOcc3GqJF1tFv1i4cqCcMJ9SiBLPSz5xnYB8vZr6nuaKy2Vc4f3QL6lEqNr59n9WHPrT5_Ojoo5blPimuxA7Z4Sic2Auv9UOcA9oJrCV/s400/5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>"Macs, iPhones, and iPads aren't 'consumer electronics.' They're lifestyle essentials...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqdce7Nea_bTJCQ2ajEqYC6IENMXUpjC5-jQ9VlPwihUPvyepJIJMIB3ITitiUtXGE6Vp6oOIBuT68vbSSCrKR4o1rh83FpSso1l3cdyNydttVJsmKPl0tIwdG8_g8SNgewWwdZ_L6X-t4/s1600/pachuca5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqdce7Nea_bTJCQ2ajEqYC6IENMXUpjC5-jQ9VlPwihUPvyepJIJMIB3ITitiUtXGE6Vp6oOIBuT68vbSSCrKR4o1rh83FpSso1l3cdyNydttVJsmKPl0tIwdG8_g8SNgewWwdZ_L6X-t4/s400/pachuca5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">...helping us get more from travel, fitness, home design, and more...</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1LcWQeiGGhULq4i6dDnbSuC3VMC36EX106u95XSntRiIMkdpBua1ULQR8bcrFDElHgnJ_xXrThEEKPzcz_asbB_ZPGwo4sox3GnyfKN_fo2aJyMgSSnnIXGjifbYPpz8O0jzcjBdAHQRE/s1600/13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1LcWQeiGGhULq4i6dDnbSuC3VMC36EX106u95XSntRiIMkdpBua1ULQR8bcrFDElHgnJ_xXrThEEKPzcz_asbB_ZPGwo4sox3GnyfKN_fo2aJyMgSSnnIXGjifbYPpz8O0jzcjBdAHQRE/s400/13.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">...so you can explore your passions and keep life simple." </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><em>--text from an ad for the magazine MacLife. Photos from Pachuca, Hidalgo, and Palestina, Chiapas, in the 21st century. </em></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18307791196308568275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389956953735909777.post-10444239711876211272011-07-27T11:30:00.000-07:002011-07-27T11:33:54.972-07:00Ten Things You Wouldn't Guess About Ibis Based On This Photo <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLuJuBUkkehNWtozuNYVc41skxJ0ROXji6KZYngEIJmn9W-zkrtME5eZ0_1LwzfT1bnXodtlUdUdkXu4IBs5bxRJ0pF_utTYJvdhNcBWzduSD5Xuf-HdQRjuB4UUjTkyPCmjqk2FRkS3rX/s1600/z_ibis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLuJuBUkkehNWtozuNYVc41skxJ0ROXji6KZYngEIJmn9W-zkrtME5eZ0_1LwzfT1bnXodtlUdUdkXu4IBs5bxRJ0pF_utTYJvdhNcBWzduSD5Xuf-HdQRjuB4UUjTkyPCmjqk2FRkS3rX/s400/z_ibis.jpg" t$="true" width="276" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>My husband, before he was my husband, circa 2005</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
1. That shirt he’s wearing? It’s pink. (It is, in fact, just one of several predominantly pink shirts he owns, including his beloved Lucky Shirt and the legendary Shirt That Doesn't Even Match Itself.) <br />
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2. He is not now, nor has he ever been, in any way involved with gangs or organized crime.<br />
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3. He loves baby animals. Fuzzy puppy dogs and tiny widdle baby chicks and so on. <br />
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4. He’s been known to cry. <br />
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5. He enjoys a nice cold…glass of milk. <br />
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6. If you give him a present--anything, a pair of socks, an ugly-ass stuffed animal, an I-heart-San-Francisco mug--he will treasure it forever because <em>you gave it to him</em>.<br />
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7. He’s a Michael Jackson fan. <br />
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8. He gets genuinely excited about any and all flowers, fruits, vegetables, and herbs that I manage to grow. <br />
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9. He can work the night shift, from 9 pm to 7 am, and then come home and play with the baby for hours, or take us out for breakfast.<br />
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10. He was once described by a young friend of ours as “just like <a href="http://www.google.com.mx/imgres?q=%22the+rock%22&hl=es-419&sa=X&rls=com.microsoft:en-us&tbm=isch&prmd=ivns&tbnid=xQ2AU32Vliuv4M:&imgrefurl=http://javi-therock-javi.blogspot.com/&docid=hc0TR2AMqIhfDM&w=220&h=299&ei=n1gwTu61NunniALepsgr&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=1057&vpy=94&dur=78&hovh=239&hovw=176&tx=137&ty=110&page=1&tbnh=126&tbnw=91&start=0&ndsp=24&ved=1t:429,r:7,s:0&biw=1280&bih=584">The Rock </a>, but softer." And that was just about right.Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18307791196308568275noreply@blogger.com2