30!

TOP 5

30 Days to 30 Moments!

1- My purple hair. I think I need to keep it until I turn 40. This was the biggest surprise; how much I love it and it actually…fits me.

2- Realizing how integral my family is in everything I do. Although I don’t consult them or even tell them about everything, this process taught me exactly just how much they are a part of everything I do.

3- All the encouragement I received from my friends. Although there weren’t many comments, people close to me took time to tell me in person about how a certain post inspired thought in them and in their own lives. It was great knowing so many people were invested in my process and took the journey with me.

4- My Tattoo!

5- Writing this blog. As much as I whined internally and got behind, I enjoyed sending my thoughts and observations out in to the world.

There was some stuff on the list that didn't get accomplished, but a good amount of it did. The road ahead looms, and I'm not sure what it'll bring, but I am excited, blessed and entirely grateful for every part of it.

Heaven on a Plate

Green chile crab enchiladas. Heaven on a plate, and eaten, as also dictated by the lovely Krista Xiomara Alvarado. Best vegetarian dish I have ever encountered. Thank you Kiki's, and Krista!

I'm out of witticisms for this blog, unfortunately. It's hard writing everyday and keeping up with it. Harder than it would seem. In the middle of the day, I'd have a nagging feeling like I forgot to put on underwear or something, and I'd realize, I hadn't planned adequately for my task for the day. I'm glad my 30 days is over because it was exhausting and exhilarating all at once. I won't miss the pressure of getting something done on a daily basis, but I will miss the thrill of trying new things. I resolve to allow myself to be more open to new things, and continue on with a spirit of adventurousness.

Thank you for reading :-)

Swing!

Today was my dear friend Krista's day to choose. Krista's & my friendship is remarkable because although we met in 7th grade, we were not truly friends until more than 10 full years later. Having kept up with one another through various ways, it wasn't until the shit hit the fan that we found ourselves true friends. Despite the distance that has always separated us, Krista is one of those people that just "gets" me. No questions, no judgments, just friendship. Several hundred, crazy, incriminating, daily e-mails later, I can scarcely remember what I did or who I called when something important happened to me before we were close. Although we are very much opposite in many ways, she is family to me.
She arranged something super-cool for me that I have never done before. She asked me to take the morning off and meet her friend Jeremy at the Lone Star Golf Course and let him teach me how to swing a golf club. Krista is insanely healthy and athletic; she might be pint-sized, but she could kick my ass…and yours. So when she said golf, I obliged. It was a little nerve-wracking meeting a complete stranger to get this done at 9:00 on a random Wednesday, but there I went.

It’s a gorgeous morning, but after the nasty winds yesterday, it was still a little cold and breezy. I spent time on my “golfing get-up” after Krista gave me explicit directions to “Wear argyle!” Alas, I own zero argyle, and zero knee socks, so I did the best I could. I wore some Capris, a polo shirt, a cardigan and a pair of pearls. You coulda called me “Muffy” for the day. I felt like a character from National Lampoon’s, but I was determined to get it done. I was a little nervous about spending the morning with a stranger, but if he’s Krista’s people, he must be my people too.

Jeremy turned out to be incredibly friendly and very awesome. He showed me some basic technique, like keeping my head down when I swing and how to hold the putter correctly. I actually had an amazing time this playing this old man game! It was fun…and lots more difficult than it looked. By the end of a bucket of balls, I was hitting every ball I attempted. Not far, and not always straight, but I achieved contact.

Great morning!
Ready for my Titleist photo shoot!

xoxo~
s

Brazilian FAIL

Today I woke up feeling like complete and total ASS despite the fact that I slept all day Sunday. My crazy stint as Annie Oakley, and my loco jaunt to Marfa left my body completely drained and germy. I dragged my ass to work, only to get sent home, after being called a "cesspool of infection" by one of my students. I mumbled..."good vocabulary use..." and dragged my ass home, where I proceeded to sleep and drug myself until Tuesday morning.

Sorry, Zahira, if you are reading this...I did not get a Brazilian wax. There was just no way I could stomach such a process after this weekend's shenanigans. I'm sure one day, I'll manage to try it, but that day is definitely not today!

I was kinda curious about getting this fu manchu removal...but it can wait. No one sees my bikini line anyhow.

Back to my Mucinex and Kleenex.
sniff.

193 Miles to Marfa

  
For the record, Saturday, April 16th was the longest day of my life on record. It was a day that I had off from my Saturday job, and the final Saturday of my 20's, so I knew I'd be busy playing catch up, but also with the regular day to day of things. So being the nutso planner I am, I scheduled a full day. Now, as I said before, my plans don't always work out, but today, they did and I managed to get everything done, much to my great excitement...and EXHAUSTION.

4-16-11 Itinerary

8:00: Wake up, get dressed
9:00: Ride on C's motorcycle! Yay!
9:15-10:30: Breakfast at Corner Bakery
10:30-12:00: Drive to BFE to shoot the gun
12:00-1:30: Drive back from BFE
2:00: Arrive home, power shower!
3:00-6:00: Drive like on fire to Horizon for super necessary study group
6:00-10:00: Drive like on fire downtown for Shakespeare's birthday party to meet London trip classmates
10:15: Drive like on fire home so C can pick me up & head to Marfa
10:30-12:00: Passenger to Marfa
12:00 Midnight: Midnight picnic in a moving vehicle. My meal: Subway sandwiches and Redbull
1:30 A.M: Arrive in Marfa, TX
1:45 A.M: Leave Marfa, TX
1:45-4:45: Drive back to EP
4:46: Deliriously realize there are still TWO FUCKING HOURS TILL SUNRISE. sonovabitch.
4:47-5:30: Go to Wal-Mart to buy Easter gifts for C's nieces and nephews; generally annoying Wal-Mart employees
5:30-6:30: Breakfast at IHOP as the sun rises.
6:35: Bed, at last. Panza full & happy, germs multiplying unknowingly in my body.
12:47: Awaken, sick as a dog, congested to no end. Body's message: "Dont eff with me, Sarah! Stay up all night and I'll fix your ass! Here's a nasty cold to set you straight!"

Here's the deal: the reason I ended up in Marfa on the last Saturday of my 20's is this; I told C I wanted to stay up for 24 hours straight to watch the sun rise and going to Marfa was his idea. Color me silly, but I had no idea what the big deal about Marfa was. Apparently, for at least 50 years, there have been strange sightings in Marfa that are unexplained. They are lights that appear from nowhere after dark. People have theorized that they are aliens or ghosts or some other crazy phenomena. The lights appear in any kind of weather at all different times of year. So C suggests it and I say ok. The man wants to drive me around all day and night, who am I to say no? LOL.

So to Marfa, we go. Several hilarious and amazing things occured over the course of our voyage. Marfa lights, however did not. He drove all that way, and all we got to see was a starry sky. There was no semblence of lights anywhere, despite the town's "Marfa Lights Viewing Station" specifically for this purpose. It wasn't disappointing though, because on the way there, we listened to my ipod the whole way. All 2, 642 songs. C's truck was like a mobile karaoke session. And while I'm sure C got tired of my screechy singing voice, he didn't complain, and I'm sure it at least kept him awake. Then there was the mystery of the Marfa Prada store.

 
As we approached Marfa, in the middle of miles and miles of dirt, was what looked like a neon-lit shoe store. In my exhausted-ness, I figured I must be seeing a mirage. I looked at C and said, "Was that a shoe store???" We agreed to check it out on the way back. For the record, I am not one of those crazy shoe-whore types of girls that goes crazy buying shoes. I just really thought I was going nuts. On the way back, we stop and see that it is not only a shoe store, but what appears to be a Prada shoe store. Now I really started looking for the genie and the psycho female that had conjured up this wish in the middle of the effing desert at 2 o'clock in the morning. There were a few fishy things about this Prada store; one, there is no parking lot. Two, there did not appear to be a door, a cash register or a back room, or even a place to sit and try on shoes. I know a bunch of places go for that minimalist look, and I'm sure Prada isn't too jazzed about opening up a store in Marfa, TX, and wouldn't want to spend a lot of money on it. It was just too crazy.

So the google queen here looked up Prada, Marfa to find out that it isn't a store at all, but a folk art installation. Prada approved of having their logo used for it, and donated the shoes and products. It was hilarious, and the mystery of Prada, Marfa kept us up for awhile in suspense, then laughing once we found out.

Here is my stinkin' sunrise. It was beautiful, but by the time it came up, I was a living zombie walking around, brain dead and babbling nonsensical things. It was a fun and worthwhile night, even though I got really sick on Sunday. As for C, I had a lot of fun with him, but I still don't know what will happen in the future. Remains to be seen.



xoxo~
S

She Shot Me Down..

When my first (and only) roommate Deana and I lived together, I remember telling her that as two single, foxy ladies living together, we should have protection in our apartment. I suggested we take classes to learn how to shoot a gun, and she looked at me like I was insane. I remember her saying something to the effect of..."Hell, no! I'm going to be sneaking in some night, and you'll end up shooting my ass!" So even though I always found guns dangerous and fascinating, I never did get around to taking those shooting lessons. Despite living in Texas, I had also never randomly had to the opportunity to do so, surprisingly.

I googled shooting ranges in EP, and again, surprisingly, didn't find much. I posted on Facebook, and almost everyone recommended I try this shooting range out in the NorthEast. But, due to Easter weekend, it happened to be closed. Then comes in my "friend" C, who I used to date last year. Without getting in to specifics, he kinda screwed up last year, and has been vying for another chance for the past YEAR. I don't know how I feel about this; we hang out occasionally.  So he offers to take me shooting today, and I accept.

He took a ride to Canutillo to pick up the gun (it belongs to his uncle, an ex-cop) on his motorcycle, then took me on a brief ride, then we took his truck out to the far east side, where we drove almost an hour in to the desert. Little did I know, C himself had never shot a gun, so once we found a spot that he found suitable, I started wigging out a little. HE didn't know how to shoot a gun??? Holy shit, one of us was about to lose an eye! Or a lot of blood. Then I started thinking about the legality of it...albeit  a little late. Is it illegal to shoot a gun you don't own or have a permit for? I should have googled extensively. But, I was there, and the moment was upon me, so I figured I should take advantage of it. He set up a beer bottle about 10 feet in the distance, and asked me if I wanted to take the first shot. The gun was heavier than I expected, and it felt powerful just holding it. I told him he could take the first shot. I cowered behind his truck as he took the first shot. I got to witness the recoil, and where the bullet casing flew, so I'd have an idea what to expect.

The first shot was scary, but such a THRILL. It was much louder than I had anticipated, and that made me a little hesitant to try again. Neither of us had great aim, and all we hit was dirt, but I'm glad. Breaking the bottle might have scared the beejesus out of me. I think being out there and realizing we were super uneducated and inexperienced really took away from everything. I would have much rather shot a gun in a range, knowing it was a controlled environment.  Being out there, we both figured that we had come that far, so we kinda had to do it, but any fun we might have had was overshadowed by the logical fear.

Ultimately, we were careful, and no one was injured. I should have been more vocal in making sure he knew what he was doing. He had enough knowledge about guns to know how to work the safety and load it, but still. Fun, but scary.

Alas, Annie Oakley, I am not. Sometimes even my nerdy proclivity to google everything fails me at times, but at least I made it out of the desert with all my limbs, and a full tank of blood.

bang bang!

Sarah_ Blank

Today was one of the tasks that I both feared and was the most excited to conquer. Getting another tattoo has been something I have wanted to do for 10 years. The story surrounding my first tattoo is a little comical: picture cute little 19 year-old Sarah in far, far away Davenport, Iowa. Imagine me working 18 hour days and feeling like the coolest girl in the world on her day off, sitting in a pathetic excuse for a Mexican food restaurant with two older co-workers, thinking that I'm the shit because I'm drinking a fishbowl sized margarita, and admittedly, getting pretty wasted. My two older co-workers were talking about doing something wild on our evening off, like getting their tongues pierced (because that was the cool thing to do in 2000) and somewhere along the line, pierced tongues turned in to tattoos....we should ALL get tattoos! I never had any interest in tongue piercing although during the course of my youth, I had several other interesting piercings....but somehow the idea of a tattoo was intriguing and dangerous. Now mind you, up until this moment, the extent of my drinking experience was Blue Hawaiians in Juarez and keg beer, so this margarita was clouding my judgement somewhat. So we three ladies headed to the tattoo parlor. One girl got a tribal butterfly, the other, some sort of ying yang thing. Even in my buzzedness, I knew I couldn't get a generic tattoo that everyone else would have when they're 80. I kept looking and looking, pawing through the books while the others got theirs done. Music was playing as I looked, and the Lenny Kravitz song, "Let Love Rule" started right as I laid my eyes on a tattoo of a heart with a crown on it. I thought of it as an omen, and got it tattooed on my right hip. I vaguely remember the experience as feeling like hot little pinches on my skin. I remember the tattoo artist saying, "Welcome to your new addiction," after he finished, and over the years there have been so many tattoos I wanted and thought about.

So it was time to actually get it done. I hemmed and hawed over so many tattoos online, and did my research this time. I knew that I would know the right tattoo when I saw it, and I'd feel it in my gut when I saw it, just like the first one (which I don't regret; it's one of my few great, crazy stories) When I found this art deco callalilly, it appealed to me for several reasons. One, callalilys are my Mom's favorite flower, and we both love art deco style stuff. Next, it wasn't too big or too small.

It had few elements I thought needed to be modified, so I drew in the changes. I made the leaves a tiny bit more swirly, and added an S underneath the leaves.

My final decision. I added the S, not for Sarah, but for Sally, my Mom's name. Callalillys are really her thing, and when I saw it, I knew it would be beautiful, but also symbolic in a non-obvious kind of way. Driving to the appointment, I was freaked. Up until the last moment, I still hadn't decided where to put the tattoo. I'm very adamant that my tattoos should be hidden. I have respect for visibly tattooed people, because it isn't just a decision thats forever, but it's a forever decision that people can see everyday. Tattoos are art, and I commend those who choose to display them, but for me, I know that I'd much rather keep them to myself. They are for me, and those I choose to share them with. As I was driving, it struck me. This tattoo has to go somewhere on my back. I learned how to be strong, to have a backbone from my Mother, and if this tattoo is for her, it has to be on my spine. There is a quote I love that reads, "Never grow a wishbone, daughter, where a backbone aught to be." I love that quote, and it's always made so much sense to me because growing up, I was always a timid, shy little kid, and my Mom was always encouraging me to be more vocal, more assertive. I've grown out of it, but those words of advice she has given me have always stuck around.

There was no way in hell I was going to get a tramp stamp, or put it on my shoulder, so I chose to put it directly in the middle of my back, right underneath my bra. Good thing it wasn't a long drive, so I didn't have time to really think about how much it was going to hurt to put it there.

And hurt it did. I felt like hot nails were getting dug underneath my skin. The outline, as predicted, hurt the worst. It was all over within an hour, and I was very pleased with the final product.

Cheers to pain! And my Mama :-) Mission completed.


PS-The song above is the one playing on Pandora when I found this tattoo :-) Amanda Blank is anything but timid or shy. Lovesit!

Go Greens or Go Home!

So originally, today I was supposed to get drunk on a work night/school night. After my revelations out at Alehouse with Robert the other night, I knew that shit wasn't going to fly. I revised my scheme for today, and decided to go to the entire other end of the spectrum and go vegetarian all day. My inspiration for today's exploit is my lovely friend Krista, who is a recent vegetarian and literally, the healthiest person I've ever met in my entire lifetime.
Today started off with a bean burrito, made by my Grandma. I was already high-fiving myself on one meal down when I remembered...oops. She likes to add a bit of bacon fat to her refried beans for flavor...guess my meal wasn't quite so vegetarian if you want to be specific about it. Damn, I was so mad! Mostly cause I really enjoyed my burro until I realized!
Lunch consisted of a spinach salad with feta and cranberries and poppyseed dressing. With an eagle eye, I examined the poppyseed dressings' ingredients for any lurking meat products, but no! One full veggie meal consumed!
For dinner, I cooked two "flame broil" flavored Boca patties with cheddar on a wheat bun with some very tasty Pop chips. I mostly bought the Boca burgers because I thought it was laughable that they could create a "flame broil" flavor, but the joke was on me because it was super delicious! Go Boca!
To make a long story short, what I learned today is just how hard and diligent one must be in order to adhere to their principles. It must be a pain in the ass to be a vegetarian all day long, but it's admirable to be someone who makes life adjustments based on their beliefs because they truly
are that crucial to them.
Being the uber-carnivore that I am, today was definitely a lesson I won't forget in awhile. With so many healthy soy options out there, it might not be such a bad idea to switch it up once in awhile and lay off the steak.

Happy chomping!
S

Look at Me Now! Wha?!

Who knew I was a culinary genius?!
For once, I did not create a disaster that tastes good but looks nasty!

The Menu:
Appetizer:  Parmesan Artichoke & Avocado dip with white corn tostadas
Main Course: Stuffed Chicken Breasts marinated in red wine vinagrette with feta cheese & mushrooms
Sides: Green Bean Casserole, fried red tomato slices
Dessert: Baked Apples with honey & brown sugar topped with whipped cream

Viola!
It only took two hours to cook, and I didn't burn down the kitchen.

The Parmesan Artichoke dip was from a recipe that a classmate had brought to class one night that I really enjoyed. I'll admit, this part didn't involve much cooking, but I wanted to try making it in case of potluck. Even though I'm not much of a cook, I like to have a few easy standby recipes in my noggin for when last minute potluck recipes are needed. The dip is canned artichokes, drained and peeled, with chicken chunks (canned or cooked), avocado slices and a dash of parmesan cheese. With tostadas, its super delicious!

Meanwhile, I had chicken marinating in a red wine vinagrette in the fridge. Raw chicken always gives me the heebies! I imagine our insides feel similar to raw chicken meat. Bleh!

Here are my ingredients to fry the tomatoes. I will be the first to admit, I have odd eating habits. I LOVE tomatoes, but I can only eat them HOT. I like them in burgers, but not in sandwiches or salads because they are cold, and seem slimy. So I have always wanted to eat fried green tomatoes. I couldn't find green tomatoes (although I hear they taste the same) so I used red. I salted the largest tomatoes I could find, dipped them in egg and bread crumbs and fried them.

Meanwhile, my chicken breasts got stuffed with feta cheese and fresh mushrooms and I stuck them in my FlavorWave oven. Yes, it's that gadget you see on infomercials at 3 A.M. {For the record, it works great and I fucking love it, it cooks EVERYTHING, even frozen food super quick} While all this was going on, I stuck my green bean casserole in the oven. I hate bean greens personally, but my Grandma loves them. Every Thanksgiving, she wishes for a green bean casserole and says she has tried to make them, but they don't "come out". I think she just has trouble following directions. So I wanted to make it for her. It's not pictured, but I added fresh sliced mushrooms to it as well since the recipe calls for Cream of Mushroom soup. Everything is made better by fresh mushrooms, in my opinion.

These are my lovely finished chicken breasts. They were delicious, if I do say so myself ;-)

My fried tomatoes were the best part, methinks. Don't worry, I soaked out all the grease. YUM!

Finally, my dessert! I cored Red Delicious apples, and stuffed them with honey and a scoop of brown sugar and baked them for 10 minutes, then topped them with whipped cream. The result was a warm, sweet apple that was cooked enough to be chewy, but raw enough to still have a crunch.

Two happy recipients!
;-)





PS- I have a big weekend coming up...tomorrow I have to ask someone out that's not my type. Friday, I get a new tattoo; Saturday, I stay up all night for a midnight picnic and to watch the sun rise, and Sunday, I get my Annie Oakley on...goin' shootin'! And in the evening, I have my private activity! Playing catch up this weekend! I'm excited!

I Try

So today's activity was chosen by my boss, Joel. Despite his crazy eccentricities, like sporting motorcycle helmet head 24-7 and creating hilarious, insane situations out of thin air, he is one of the most excellent human beings I know. Never in my life have I met a person who is more dedicated to his job. The students we deal with in our school are sometimes a handful; many of them have been in and out of jail or juvie, we have teen moms, homeless students, students with mental health issues, you name it, we have it. No one pushes and advocates for these students more than Joel. The man has a heart the size of a planet, and it's evident in the activity he choose for me today.

He asked that I enlist the help of one of our students who lives at the Rescue Mission of El Paso to recommend a homeless young lady from the shelter who I could spend the afternoon with, maybe take her out to eat. My student, Jamie, thought of a girl at the RM right away, named Shana who wants to be a teacher, and who seemed to need a pick me up. A few months ago, there was a stabbing at the Rescue Mission; an older man stabbed a younger man in the neck with a pencil and killed him. Apparently the fight ensued because the older man was interested in this same young lady, Shana, and she was having random conversation with the younger man, and the incident occured. Since the young guy died, life has been rough for Shana, and she had been facing some verbal abuse from the other residents at the Mission, who blamed her for the death. She has since transferred to another mission, but still feels lonely. This was why Jamie chose her.

Naturally, I didn't tell Jamie that Joel had given me this task. I told her I wanted to help someone out at the mission, and that's when she recommended Shana. Jamie and I had talked about this at the begining of April, and Shana had agreed, so today we gave her a call around noon to remind her today would be the day we would meet. I talked to her on the phone and she said the mission has a strict curfew and she needed to be back by 6. She seemed pleasant on the phone, but a little bit tired. She agreed to go out to eat.

When I arrived at the mission to pick Shana up, nothing went as expected. When the director brought Shana up to the lobby of the mission, it was evident that Shana is suffering from anorexia, and very ill. It looked like her hips were in pain as she walked, and although she had a tired look in her eyes, she was smiling slightly. I felt incredibly insensitive for asking her out to eat, but I had no clue of her condition when I had asked. I remember thinking in my head...why didn't Jamie mention this? We sat in the garden of the mission and talked for a few minutes. She let me know that she had tried leaving a message for me at the school that she wasn't feeling well, but she must have called after I left. She didn't directly say that she was anorexic, but she did say that she has just recently started walking again and eating better. We made conversation, and I learned that she is Master's student, like me, and a recent El Paso transplant. Her father is also here in El Paso, so she has a small support system, but knows very few people. I didn't ask any questions, and we made plans in a few weeks to start taking short walks together to help build up her strength.

Meeting Shana today was an eye-opening experience. While many people in shelters do have issues seeking employment or have lack of education, this is not always the case. I never thought about personal issues being something that would cause a person to end up in a shelter. I always thought that people in shelters were those who had been raised in poverty, and then fell on hard times as adults, and did not pursue their education out of need to work, or care for their family. It had not occured to me that anyone, even someone like myself, can end up in a situation like that if emotional issues take hold and derail them.

Shana seemed pleased and taken aback that I would show an interest in getting to know her. She seemed very shy, but excited at making a new friend. We only spent about 45 minutes talking, and I'm not sure if that time made her feel comfortable enough to call me in the future, but I know I definitely left with a new perspective.

Baby, baby, baby

My sister-friend C-M is the biggest Beatles fan I have ever met, which says a lot, considering you can throw a rock and hit a Beatles fan anywhere. This girl made me sit through both Beatles movies when I was 17. We have been friends a long time, and have been long distance friends for a majority of that time, but have seen each other through everything; babies, engagements, divorces, major changes, you name it. So there was no way that I'd miss her baby shower, even though it was a little stressful and much too quick of a trip. When her first daughter, Sydney was born, I met the greatest and most awesome kid alive. Syd is 11 now, and sooo ready to be a big sister. At one point in time, C-M was convinced she was never going to re-marry or have other kids, and she was a self-admitted pessimist. When she met Andrew, it shook her up and all her plans for the future. So now that they're married and have another girl on the way, I want to jump up and down at her happiness every chance I get.

My plan today was to read Baby Mae a story. There was so much madness surrounding the baby shower. We woke up at 5 so that we could drive from C-M & Andrew's house in Buena Park to Andrew's parents house in San Diego two hours away. Apparently, even Sundays in Cali involve traffic. Ugh. Another reason that would prevent me from living there! But, we got there around 9:30 so we could help Andrew's family get the house set up. Andrew's sister Greta, is amazing. Andrew is super lucky; he has siblings that are near in age, and they all have babies. Sunday was babies and kids GALORE.

I let Syd in on my plan, and we read to Baby Mae together. Greta's son Zac, came and joined us. I brought this cool kids book on luchadores to read to Baby Mae. Not the most girly choice, but the story was super cute.

The rest of the shower was great, mostly because Cristina's family has become like extended family for me. I got to visit with her brother Miguel, his wife Erlina, and their impossibly adorable baby, Milo. All of Andrew's family are crazy and funny, and wonderful, and always treat me like family. 24 hours in Cali was crazy exhausting, but worth every single second :-)

C-M, her belly (Baby Mae) and the gorgeous San Diego view.

<3,
S

24 Hours in California

Shortly after my arrival for my friend Cristina-Maria (C-M)'s baby shower, she took me to eat Pho (pronounced FUH). Crazy girl tried to scare me by making me eat TRIPE. I think she forgot I'm Mexican, lol. Tripe can't scare me, yo! Given, I am a really BAD Mexican, and I don't eat salsa or chile rellenos, or any other beaner staples BUT, somehow, I do eat all the "gross" Mexican foods like tripitas, menudo, etc. All things pig are good for me.

Pho turned out to be magically delicious. The broth was yummy and came with cilantro, lime and mint leaves on the side. I hate cilantro, so I opted for the lime and mint, which went in to the boiling broth and tasted AWESOME! I also added some cherry sauce and voila! Delicioso!

Next, Cristina-Maria tried to threaten me with lengua tacos. Again, I'm Mexican, lady. I have fond memories of my favorite Uncle Henry, or my Tata, as I called him, cooking lengua when I was little. He used to chase me around the house with the whole tongue, still wrapped in clear cellophane, telling me to look at the cow's taste buds. Minced well, lengua is delicious. We didn't have any cause the Pho was super filling, but she still cracked me up. 

She tried so hard to gross me out. Given, she had a very brief window in which to do so, considering I arrived at 9 at night, and all we had was hour or two to have dinner before stuff closed, and the next day was 12 hours of baby shower madness. Ultimately, the verdict was....

Cristina's gross out food, 0

Sarah, 1

YEAH!

Kissing a Fool..or a Fool for Trying?

Once upon a time, about 5 years ago, I'd listen to this song as I was getting ready to go out. I'd strap on my highest heels, and my friend Celeste and I would put on our game face (AKA man-hunting face) and head out, wherever. It didn't have to be a club or a bar, we could even be going for dinner, but we always looked our best because we were...on the hunt, I guess. It was never hard to find guys to flirt with, maybe even meet one that was worthy of deeming "a potential". This was around the time I graduated from UTEP, I myself worked in a bar (a gay bar, albeit) and I had dodged one engagement and had not yet met Noe, my self-admitted, alcoholic ex. This was when life was simple, I guess. So my task tonight seemed simple enough: find a stranger and kiss him. I haven't done anything like that since....I was 21, maybe? 23 if I really stretch it? I wanted it to be the last stupid hurrah of my 20's so I could say I did it. But the reality is, I'm not the same girl I was when I was 21, or even 23, or even 5 years ago. Now the person that I am is one who works. And studies. One who goes to sleep gratefully at 11, and wakes up early, and does not even consider kissing strange men. Being in a bar is probably the last place you will ever find me.

So as my brave friend Robert and I set out on Friday, I didn't know what to expect. My friend Robert is a noble soul. He was like, "Shouldn't you be doing this with...uhhhh...other chicks? Do you want me to act like your gay sidekick?" LOL. I told him it was fine to act like himself. We ended up at Alehouse, where we sat at the bar, and he had a few beers and I had one Malibu and cranberry. The bar was filled with rude GIs who insisted on leaning in to me like we were friends, and 25 years olds out hunting like I did a few years back. I didn't see one single person that even remotely appealed to me, and surprising, I was gripped with fear at the idea of approaching someone. I am not as cute as I was 5 years ago, not even nearly as thin, nor am I out to have a few fun drinks at the bar; I was on a mission.

A mission that failed miserably. I did not kiss anyone, but the truth is...I really didn't want to be there. I was happy that I was in good company with my friend Robert, who never fails to entertain me with his "El Coash" stories and as we navel-gaze together and talk about relationships...but our time would have been good anywhere. The more we were there, the more I realized that I hate bars and I hate what they represent. In my past I've had too many people I care about fall prey to alcoholism; one fiance, one serious boyfriend, and an aunt I love very much. While other people go to bars for fun...I'm just not like that. Maybe its dramatic of me, but a lot has changed for me in 5 years; many outlooks on life. What I learned today is that going out for drinks with co-workers on Fridays is something I can do. We stay an hour, re-cap the week, and go on about our lives. Going to a bar once in awhile with friends can be ok. But the lifestyle I used to lead, hanging out in bars all the time is not for me, and probably never will be again. Is this what you call growing up? My Mom has friends that still booze it up in bars all the time like they're still 21. To each their own, I guess. I'm not married, and I don't have kids...so I haven't yet had any real "You're an Adult now"type moments. Maybe it took this for me to realize it.

I guess what today served as was as another way of showing me that while change is rapid; it's subtle. It happens so quickly that we don't even notice. I thought I was still capable of acting like the same carefree girl I once was, but I'm not. I know better now. A casualty of that change is a friendship I had with Celeste, who I mentioned earlier. I guess when one person moves on to a different lifestyle, its hard to stay friends. Sometimes I'm sorry for it, but I also know that I can't keep up with that lifestyle anymore, nor do I want to. Does this make me lame as hell? Maybe. Does this mean I'll permanently trade in my heels and Pharrell? No, but I'll be bootyshaking in my car and while blow-drying my hair more than anywhere else. Lame? Maybe, but I'm ok with that. And you know what? I can bet my life that even if I was still as cute and thin as I was, I'd still feel the same. Sadly, the person I kiss most is my dog, Serena. She gets rained with kisses all over her ears when I get home everyday. This will not always be true (I hope, LOL). But I know that when I finally do meet a handsome stranger I want to kiss, chances are, it will not be in a bar. And for sure, I will never again be the girl that goes looking for him in one.

Amazing!

Some amazing/hilarious things have occured in the past few weeks. Since I do not have a task for today, I thought I'd share a few.

This is a wall of books from a bookshop in Mesilla, NM, that I was at at last week. No joke, the sight of all these delectable books made my mouth water. I haven't had time to read a book for pleasure in so long. I know books are considered by some to be a dying art form, but damn. I love books. In August, when I decided to go back to school, I bought a Kindle, thinking...I'll need this. I have limited space in my parent's house for books, and this will really come in handy if I can download textbooks in here too. When I got it in the mail, I hated it. It was so blah, the screen, and ugly. What I missed the most was the ability to highlite and annotate my books as I read them. I'd miss the excitement of wandering over to the Goodwill and saving a few titles from extinction. I'd miss the smell of the binding, old or new. I returned the Kindle. My ex-boyfriend Noe, who has the emotional sensitivity of an old gym sock said, "I knew you'd hate it. You're a purist when it comes to books. You should know that." Well, duh, but still! I miss reading that isn't required.

This is quite possibly, the world's ugliest chocolate rose. I am on the board of the Women's Studies dept at UTEP, and I was tasked with making chocolate roses for a Mother's Day fundraiser we are working on. The whole purpose of our efforts is to fund a Women's Studies intern, who normally go unpaid all semester, a very noble cause. Because my group was meeting while I was in CA for the weekend, I was to make red chocolate roses alone. The task IS simple. Microwave the chocolate in a baggie, pour in to plastic molds, freeze for 15 minutes, repeat. THIS contraption was what my two hands created. I burned myself, I cursed, I almost killed the microwave in a sea of red chocolate. I got chocolate EVERYWHERE. And I mean everywhere. It was in my hair, stained my nailbeds, stuck to the tablecloth. It was a fucking fiasco, to say the least. Maybe it was funnier when I was laughing/cursing/moaning/praying alone in the kitchen at 11 PM on a school night. Eventually, I got the hang of it. Chocolatier, clearly, I am not. I knew there was a reason I hate chocolate.

This is quite possibly, the best text I have ever recieved in my life. Definitely in the top 5 compliments I have ever recieved. LOL. Joel is my boss, and he sent me this text after a slight disagreement with another co-worker of ours. In friendly conversation, Joel and I were discussing a non school-related topic, and my other co-worker stepped in and made a sexist, quasi-macho comment out of no where, even though he didn't really know what we were talking about. I was taken aback, because not only do I have the utmost respect for my co-worker, but I'm not usually the first person to step up when I disagree with people. I am extremely non-confrontational by nature. I usually believe that people are entitled to their opinion, and if it differs from mine, so be it. I hate arguing with anyone. Something in me must have gone on autopilot, because I sprang to action and made a respectful but firm (and apparently ballsy) comeback at my co-worker. Enough to make him come to my office and apologize, and cause Joel to send me this text. Turns out Joel was laughing because of what I said, not because of the sexist remark. Made my day.

This was seriously one of the funniest things I have ever seen. On the corner of Montana and Geronimo on a random Wednesday afternoon, was a PIMP! A real life pimp, complete with white cane, feather fedora, zoot suit and a toothpick in his mouth. He was chilling on the corner, not trying to cross the street, just posing. I almost died laughing and had to take a picture. I know it isn't very good, but this man was working IT. Only in El Paso.

On my way to California this Saturday, I managed to snap this photo from the plane. These are the mountains in El Paso/Juarez. Although it's fuzzy here, it was very clear to see "La biblia es la verdad, LEELA." Any El Pasoan/Juarense is familiar with this phrase on the mountain, although I'd never seen it by plane. It was a very cool sight.


These things amazed and dazzled me in the past week. I hope you also saw something this week that cracked you up and dazzled you.


-S

Work It Out

I'll be the first to admit...there are few things I hate more in this world than exercise. Ugh. I work out my most important muscle all the time...my brain! Everything else, I usually use as needed, not for exercise purposes. Hence, today's challenge.

Recently, I started reading my friend Sarah's blog about her weight loss journey and all these amazing life changes she is making to get this done. She inspired me to try swimming as exercise again. Last year, I had started swimming at the Memorial pool, which was near my old house, and I liked the exercise, liked that I never feel sweaty, and I've always liked water. But the pool was always super crowded, and when I saw a little boy LITERALLY pissing in the pool, I gave up going. After reading Sarah's blog, I started heading to the Hawkins pool, and its been a fantastic two weeks. Its always empty, and I am yet to witness any small children doing their dirty in the shallow end.

So today, I headed to the pool as soon as it opened at 5 A.M. It is still dark outside at that time. I was cursing everything; this blog, my impending 30th birthday, lack of sleep, everything under the sun for causing me to be awake at this ungodly hour. But the pool is warm at that time, and after my initial bitching, I realized it was a pretty great way to start the day. I swam for about an hour, and the day went by as normal. I thought I might be tired, but surprisingly, I felt ok. I did want to ingest a small country when I got out of the pool, but that is to be expected, I guess.

When I got home from work, I was tired, and I had reading to do. Some evil voice in my mind was saying...We don't need exercise, part two! Let's not and say we DID! But no...I got my lazy ass up and walked the treadmill. I walked, then I ran, just to get the damn thing over with. This is why I hate stationary machines. They make me feel grouchy. I even feel grouchy just thinking about it! It's like being a hamster on a wheel!

But I did it. It's done. My once-in-a-lifetime two a day :)

Tell Mama

Sometimes getting my Mother to do the simplest thing is like pulling teeth. I had to hound her for an entire month, then weeks, then days, then hours to get her task for the day. Turns out her request was really very simple. All she wanted to do was spend the day together.

It used to be that Sundays were family day, and it was a non-negotiable thing. Now that I live at home again, family Sundays have kinda fallen to the wayside. Sundays are my only 100% day off out of the week, and I almost always have homework to do, so it was welcome to spend some time with my crazy Mother.

When I say she's crazy, I really mean it. Crazy as in fun, not crazy as in Sybil. I think my friends might possibly like her more than they like me. She is fun. She never hesitates to start dancing in the grocery store aisle or tell a dirty joke. I glare at her when she does these things, but they secretly amuse me.

Anyway, our day was nothing super exciting. We ran a bunch of errands and shopped for C-M's baby shower gift. We argued a little, as we tend to do when we are rushed, and I marveled at the ways in which we are so ALIKE. The day ended, and it was just like any other.

Then yesterday (I know, I know, I'm behind on my posts...) I asked her to come with me to pick up some materials for the FOWS fundraiser, and she did. The sun was setting, it was a gorgeous temperature, so we lowered the sunroof on my car and played Florence + the Machine full blast. It was one of those wonderful, perfect moments that you can't possibly plan. We laughed and laughed until the moment that laughter becomes a cackle, the way I can only laugh with my Mom, and it was just a perfect moment. I will collect moments like that in my mind forever.

The Weight of All Things

Out of all my tasks, I will admit, this is the one I dreaded the very most. I haven't been to my Dad's grave since the day he was buried. Partly because I felt uncomfortable with the idea of going to visit him. Visiting is time for missing someone, and honoring their memory, and I don't know how to do that for him. It's hard to miss someone that wasn't a big part of my life, hard to honor someone who I had limited, and mostly negative memories of. I googled where to find his grave, just in case, although my Mom ended up coming with me, and she visits his grave often.

The Ft. Bliss Cemetery is an intense place. The way that the rows are perfectly straight is pretty crazy. It's a testament to the way the military expects their people to be; on the straight and narrow in life as well as in death. My dad was a Marine and he served in Vietnam when he was really young, only 17. The effects of that choice have reverberated in my parents' marriage, divorce, and subsequently, in my life.

Looking at his grave, I didn't feel a desire to cry. I wish I did. I wish I could mourn him, but I find it very hard to do so. I see how my Mom misses him, despite their divorce, and all the arguments I saw them in growing up. I wish I would have seen those good sides to him, but all I ever saw was someone who was broken, someone who was tired. I wish things could have been different, and ended differently, but I have let go of the bitterness I used to attach to that desire. I can't be mad at him for the things he didn't do. At least, now I can see his grave, and hope that wherever he is, the struggle I remember seeing in his eyes has ended.

Dia de los Arboles

Originally, I wanted to plant a tree today, but lack of space in which to do so prevented me. Knowing I had these limited means, I added hug a tree, just in case. I read somewhere that the greeks believed that the spirits of gods lived in trees so that they could watch the lives of human undisturbed. I don't know about that, but I do know I like trees. I wouldn't mind coming back in another life as a tree. A weeping willow, if I had my choice.

 So today, my classmates and I drove to Mesilla to attend the Border Book Festival. The theme of the festival was "Vasundhara-Madre Tierra, Mother Earth". The tree planting ceremony was intended to pay homage to Mother Earth. When we were planning the trip, we had been assigned a writing assignment on a literacy activity that we were to choose and attend. While normally, you wouldn't think of a tree planting ceremony to be considered literacy, but we were pleasantly surprised. There was a poetry reading, music, and an interactive part that allowed us to draw and write about our favorite tree.

The ceremony was especially awesome. There was a group of 10 kids that gathered around the tree and called to the various elements of the earth (wind, fire, water) to ask permission to plant the tree and ask the earth to accept it and bless its entrance in to the dirt.

 *************************************************************************

This is my favorite tree, a pecan tree in our backyard. I hope that out of the many genetic gifts my family has bestowed upon me, I'll also inherit a green thumb. Planting trees, growing things, working with my hands is something I look forward to doing in the future.

 The view of my tree, looking up.

Hug a tree. Sounds silly, feels good.

The Speed of Life

Originally, today I was supposed to Hug a Tree/Plant a Tree, but I switched that to tomorrow, as I will be heading to Mesilla for the Border Book Festival for a tree planting ceremony. It seemed apropos to postpone and combine my activities. BUT, there was no way I could get my Annie Oakley on today, with limited access to a gun on a Saturday afternoon. Ugh...I get frustrated when my plans don't work out accordingly, but I was able to complete at least one task today, which was write a long overdue letter.

The letter I wrote that was long overdue was one I wrote to myself. I often think about the whole concept of "I wish I knew then what I know now" because I think part of life's process is re-learning lessons we never really grasped the first time around. Unfortunately for me, many of the lessons I re-learn are stuff I should have grasped a long time ago. Sometimes I feel like my life is like a groundhog day that is on one endless loop.

Here are some excerpts of things I have learned, but I need to periodically needed to remind myself of:

-planning does NOT equal doing. I am a huge planner. I like thinking, if I put something on a list, I know what to expect, out of my day or week or...life. But it doesn't always work out like that, right? If I put it on a list, chances are much higher that I will get them done, but it makes no guarantees. The reality is....I make a lot of lists and while I may get through most of the tasks, I don't get through all of the tasks. Somewhere in my brain, I know I put way too much emphasis on the list. I know I need to stop spending my life planning what I am going to do next, and JUST DO IT. Throw caution to the wind.

-stop selling myself short in the relationships I involve myself in. My grandma said to me once that I have been dating different versions of the same guy since high school. The more I think about it, the more it becomes true. Every single person I've ever dated has "needed" me in some way, regardless of education, body type, personality, etc. They all had some sort of major hang up that hindered the relationship from ever really evolving in to anything. Instead of saying, "Oh he was a loser," or "Oh, we didn't work out because of _____," I need to examine what made me be attracted to these people in the first place. What is it inside of me that makes me seek them out? Am I afraid to be with someone that is balanced, that can challenge me in good ways? The next time I meet someone I'm interested in, I need to consider these things.

-I need to take care of myself. No one else is going to do it for me, and as I get older, it becomes more and more true, in every way. I need to make time for it, follow it, and live by it.

The rest I should keep to myself :-)

M.I.A.

Sorry, dear reader!
I know you anxiously anticipate my daily posts, but I got a bit behind! I'll admit, my 30 day journey had to hit the backburner in the last week. Friday, April 8, as hard as I tried to plan a midnight picnic, I had a long week and I FELL ASLEEP before midnight :-(

Imagine my lameness!

I will make it up. I have to. I can't lose sight of the reason I am doing this. I will combine my midnight picnic with Saturday, April 23, when I stay up to watch the sun rise.

Diaper Duty

Ismael Portillo, age: 1 1/2
Here, dear friends & faceless readers, is my challenge for the day. Ismael is my friend Adriana's adorable little son who she has so graciously lent to me for today's post. While I recieved many offers to change diapers in various locations and with various ages, this young man won the prize of my fumbling and nervous diaper duty.



Adriana said she wished all day for a poopy diaper, but the diaper gods were smiling on me today, and my little friend only had a "Number 1" filled diaper waiting for me. I wasn't afraid of the poop or the pee...just afraid I'd do it wrong and he'd start wailing. I don't have any brothers or sisters; the last baby born in our family was Maya, my cousins' daughter, 7 years ago, but they live out of state. Before that, the only other baby born in my family was born 24 years ago, my cousin, Sam. In neither situation was I on hand to change diapers. Friends of mine have kids....but diaper changing is kind of an intimate act. People just don't go around asking you to change their kids' diaper, normally, and this is how I lived for 29.9 years without ever touching one.



So Adriana gave me the details on how I need to "pat", not "wipe" the little man because of his diaper rash, then she laughed out loud as I did it. I guess I was being too cautious, and maybe I kinda just neglected a major area (the ahem...penis) and she reminded me you don't just wipe his butt. LOL. I knew that. How does one learn such things? This was amazing to me. As mothers, do you just know? Trial and error? No one wants to err on their kid.



Please note my look of sheer terror, but the steely eagle eyed focus that exists in my eyes.




Proof that Ismael is a pro: Here I am, nearly shitting my OWN pants trying to get this done, and he's multitasking. Smiling for the camera, checking out his Mom's DS, all while getting the diaper changed. Cool as a cucumber.




Nothing like a job well done. He looks happy, he didn't cry, and I have not scarred him for life. Mission accomplished. Yay for diaper duty! 



Adriana said, "Now you are ready for Motherhood!" uhhhhhhhhhh.......not quite. We've come a long way, baby. Not that far yet, however. Babies will come in good time, I hope, and maybe I'll have the first one ever born with an instruction manual.

till then,
xoxo,
S