Tradition Vs. Betrayal

(click on the title above to see a great photo gallery of the May 2005 mission trip!) my words have been locked up inside of me for over two months now, and i have decided to let them come out and play. since i last wrote, i have resigned one job, secured a new one, given notice on an apartment, found a house in my new city, heard some incredible music, been to mexico, heard more incredible music and had some very peaceful days and nights. in that order. the title here? i was recently in mexico on a mission trip and as seems the pattern, i find myself very focused when visiting there, whatever the mission. this time, it was actually a mission. a mission trip with my church (www.cypressvalley.org) in a little town in Guanajuato, called San Felipe. about the size of my own hometown and also famous for hand-turned pottery. when i was in school in mexico last summer, i was enrolled in a mexican folklore course taught by a highly educated man named sergio. it was in that class that i first became aware of just how deeply steeped in mysticism and superstition the mexican version of catholicism is. i was thinking about those lectures, and it occurred to me a startling, yet not coincidental, distinction: in the Spanish language, there is only one letter's difference for the words meaning "tradition" and "betrayal". the letter D. for "Dios" perhaps? i might be giving away a Masters' thesis topic here, but it just struck me, especially there where the tradition of the rituals and religion associated with the people's upbringing has a grip on their souls that only God can loosen. i was visiting with a little girl there who had said that she wanted to be baptized, and we were having a little Q&A. one of my Q's was, "if your mom tells you that you are not to leave the house and go outside to play, but you decide to do it anyway and disobey her, what will happen?", and she responded with real conviction, "i'll go to hell". chilling. let me back up. on Saturday May 28th, we left east Texas on a bus decorated all about its exterior with a rainbow. we might have known that we were faced with more adventure than usual when it took us two-and-a-half hours to go the first twenty-three miles. that bottle-neck shook loose, and we went another fifty or sixty miles and encountered another. then we (a 33 passenger bus and a giant truck pulling a trailer) made these extremely cowboy moves that resulted in 180º turns on the interstate and led us to the alternate route. that was the bulk of the first adventure. stop to eat in waco. my turn to drive. the truck pulling the trailer. as fate would have it, the first part was smooth sailing but shortly thereafter, it began to rain. the torrential kind. and i could barely see the road. and anyone who knows me well knows that there are very few things on this planet that put fear in my heart. driving in the rain while being responsible for other human lives is certainly at the top of the list. we survived. on to the border. we had a spanish speaker on the bus, and i was the designated spanish speaker on the truck. we pull into the customs area/border crossing, and we go through one checkpoint. then we get to the next. david (who over the course of this account will be dubbed "king david") gets out to talk to their agent. i, having freshly applied my new favorite lip gloss (MAC "wonderstruck"), jump down and go to see if david needs any help communicating. i see that he has the keys poised to unlock the padlock on the trailer and swings the doors open wide. i talk with the agent in spanish a little, he asks me what we have loaded on the trailer and what we are going to use it for, and begins verbally considering if he is going to make us unload everything so that he can confirm. and then ...he was wonderstruck. and he motions to david to shut and lock the trailer and proceed to the next step. we get back in the truck and dave says, "whatever you do, do not lose that lip gloss!". we pull in and park our vehicle and wait for the bus carrying the remainder of our 22-person party. we see them in the distance, and we see them being detained. finally they come to us, and they have been given their tourist visa applications. i am handed one that i filled out the previous december, and i am to find out if i can still use that one or if i have to fill out a new one. we go inside, and i walk up to the counter where the silver-haired man is sitting. i hand him my december visa, and he begins to scold me harshly, telling me i should NOT still have possession of this document, that i am in violation of the law, that my visa expired seven days after it was issued and that i will be slapped with a fine. una multa. a strong one. una muy fuerte. fabulous. fabuloso. so i turn around, while trying to show him respect so he can finish screaming at me, to try and tell my three other friends who are returning with me from the december trip to rip up and/or hide their old applications. one multa fuerte is enough. no need for 20% of the team to be punished. so we are shuttled through the visa application process. i just remembered in this instance that we were not asked for our passports. just our money. generally, we are asked to turn in our passports with the visa application so that they can put a face or at least an original legal document with each visa applicant's form. i don't remember doing that this time. unlike december, however, i do remember our being charged $22 U.S. per person for entry into the country of Mexico. on to securing the vehicle permission stickers. the vehicle permission stickers. you should recognize that this process is begun in confusion, for even though they have their service windows identified with giant numbers -- 1, 2, 3, 4 -- they are placed in reverse order -- 4, 3, 2, 1. somewhat unsettling, but not as much so as the process of working your way through them. we secure the truck permission first. not without incident but certainly quicker that what you are about to read. then the bus permission. first of all, every vehicle that is going into mexico has to have this sticker. if you make it in without it, congratulations, but your vehicle will be seized, no questions asked, if you do not have it just below and to the left side of your rearview mirror. 4, 3, 2, 1. once you get to 3, you begin considering a sigh of relief. and then they send you to the copy stand to get a copy of one of your pieces of paper. then you go back to the front of the line, which, even though it's policy, undoubtedly enrages all the hordes of people who have been standing in line forever. the agent's cell phone rings. she answers. no she does not. oh yes, she does. and she giggles. and she turns to the side. and chats. at this point, i'm going on fifteen hours without a shower, which is not terribly uncommon considering how busy and ambitious we Americans are. but, i am fifteen hours without a shower, and i am guaranteed at least another twelve hours in the same condition. she sees the impatience on my face, perhaps. or maybe she finished her conversation. she puts her phone down and tries to get us through window 3 so we can go on to 4, and there is a problem. she asks someone to show us where our bus is. he goes out and scribbles a few numbers on a piece of paper. he returns. she tries again. shakes her head. back to 1. go make copies. scribble down numbers. back to 2. make some more copies. what about this guy? where's the bus you brought here in december. oh yeah, all the air conditioning stopped working, so we brought another one. you cannot get another vehicle permission because you did not cancel that one in december. can anyone else here take out the permission in their name? perhaps. wonderstruck. wonderstruck. wonderstruck. there's no place like home. there's no place like home. wonderstruck apparently has no same sex powers unless you use it expressly for that purpose. we run to get someone else whose name is at least on the permission letter from the church. here he is. so, thankfully, we use the written language barrier to convince the agent(s. yes, agents. there are multiple puberty-pushing officials now on our case, tossing their heads back and laughing smugly from time to time). so now we have copies of all the wrong documents because we have changed permission-getters. back to copy station. back to 1. back to 2. go to the head of the line. ...to be continued the long and the short of it is...wait, there was no short of it. we were detained for six-and-a-half hours trying to unravel the mystery. after our third or fourth pass through the numbered windows, someone comes from behind the counter to peruse our documents then says, as if surprised herself, "oh. this is a bus. yes, it's the same bus you have sent three different agents outside to confirm is a bus. we do not issue vehicle permissions for buses in this office. are you kidding me? since when? about two months ago. the law changed. we did not get the memo. where do we get said bus permission now then? at the federal palace, about six blocks from here. six blocks from here. walking. because we do not have permission to drive our vehicle. walking through the bullet-riddled, drug-war-torn streets of nuevo laredo, mexico. gringos. (http://www.nytimes.com/aponline/international/AP-Mexico-Lawless-City.html?). but the federal palace does not open until 8am. it's 5:30 in the morning. so we sit around. most everyone boards the bus, and i remain inside with the ones who are involved in the vehicle near-transactions. i climb the stairs to go to the restroom, introduce myself to a guard, and i ask him where is the federal palace and how do we get there from here. he explains it to me. then says he would be happy to be our guide to getting there when his shift ends. in an hour-and-a-half. Jorge. so, we wander over to the in-house restaurant -- it's like they know they are going to keep you waiting, so they provide sustenance -- and decide on plain coffee. outside to get fresh air and drink it. time passes. jorge's free. so, david, russ, martin and i take off walking with a complete Mexican stranger in the general direction of the federal palace. i chat with jorge. he asks me if i'm single. and which one of these gentlemen is my father. perhaps he's going to ask for my hand right there in the street. mi vida loca. we arrive at the federal palace, which is not very palacial at all. and it's also not very open. why? it's Sunday. it does not open until 8am on Monday. great. however, in a fit of extreme hopefulness, we circle the building twice. and look at the closed for business sign. twice. we confirm with a local policeman that it is a fruitless mission. at least for today. we walk back through the war-torn streets of nuevo laredo at sun-up, and we thank jorge for his time and efforts and re-enter the customs building. new strategy? wait for a shift change. another hour. we avoid the scary old man from the first phase of the experience, and i find another gentlemen who looks far gentler. he dispenses a little hope and notes that he will have to consult his supervisor who apparently does not punch the same clock as he does and who is likely to arrive in another quarter-hour. so we sit. and loiter. i check back in. another member of personnel asks to go inspect the bus. we are given written, special dispensation to take out a vehicle permission for the bus, and we are sent back to the head of the line. window 1. we get as far as 3, and one of the same agents looks at us quizzically, as if to say, haven't i seen you here before? haven't i denied you entry once today already?. she takes all of our papers, marches us back down to the customs window and asks what the special note is all about. and says that it does not really clarify that she can give us the sticker. her writes a little more. stamps it again. and she seems satisfied. back to 1. a boy comes up and begins hand-writing a vehicle permission form, takes our payment and hands me the form through the little 3-inch opening in the glass. i notice that he has not signed it. which undoubtedly renders it worthless. i point it out. he laughs. as if his oversight would not have cost us our bus and however many thousands of dollars it would have taken to get 22 people back the the United States without it. he signs it, returns it. i go to the bathroom, and we roll out of there. at about 10am. 22 hours without a shower. only 12 more to go. i never knew how much i enjoyed being clean. on we go, pretty much without incident. that's the story of the point of entry. the rest will have to wait.

A true moment. A nice summary of many many years of friendship and late-night talks at the Waffle Houses of Music City.

Here's a glimpse of the strange duck-age that we encountered at Nick and Rudy's for a wine tasting. weeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Waffle Houses and Wine Tastings

that is the best way i can sum up my spring break trip to nashville. in fact, i could actually use it to sum up my entire former career and life in nashville. last saturday, i set out in the VW to drive halfway 'round the world to tennessee (mainly the part between memphis and nashville feels like half way round the world), to visit some old friends and a little bit of family. i did not really have any agenda for the trip other than that i wanted to eat some great food, visit and hear some live music. i did all of those things. a few of them a little too much! the first night, i hung out with my sister until she had to tuck in to prepare for work the next morning, then i went to visit another friend who got home around 10:30 FROM work. we had a lovely visit, listened to music, drank a little red wine and talked about boys. and, you know, no matter how much you grow up and how much the boys grow up, the 'talking about boys' always feels a little bit the same. it's not a criticism...just a reality. so, you would suppose that, after all these years, when our conversations about boys continue to focus on the same issues, sometimes in the same order, we girls would be advanced enough to learn from our past experiences. yet, speaking for myself, it does not appear to be so. is it the proverbial hopeless romanticism? is it hopefulness period? an X-chromosome-related belief that this time it will be right? i suppose relationships are one of the most constantly changing yet staying the same aspects of our lives. they follow patterns whether we recognize them or not. and in saying that, i wonder, when i am teaching my little three-year-old students to recognize AB patterns (red, yellow, red, yellow, red, yellow), am i giving them a jump start on figuring out their future relationships? is that why i have not fully figured it out yet? because i did not go to pre-k or kindergarten, and i had to become aware of AB patterns all on my own? possible. of course, now, as a grown woman, i know that only God knows what pattern every single thing and every single person will follow. darn free will. anyway, we had a nice time -- digging around in thoughts -- my own and those of others -- is one of my favorite pastimes. the next day, i went to one of my favorite coffee shops with my friend and had breakfast and then returned home to rest up for a night of live music. we went to hear a great songwriter and musician names maia sharp. check out her music at http://www.maiasharp.com. one of my friends was supposed to be playing with her, but she did not show. which made me sad because i love her and her music, too. then, for a great historical moment, we drove out southeast of town to meet our friends jeff and rick at the waffle house for rick's farewell to nashville waffle-fest. he did not even know i was in town, so it was a special surprise. we sat with them for quite a while, eating too much and visiting with the very colorful staff of the Bell Road waffle house. Kay and Rick were the servers, I think. (I know I'll be corrected if I'm wrong here). a few tidbits from that interactions. first, you must know that quite unusually, they were cleaning up and preparing to shut down the griddle for a super-Ajax-ing due to inspectors coming by to check out the place later that day. we remarked to kay that she shared jeff's last name, and she quickly retorted, "it was my husband's last. i'd already bought the house before we got the divorce." then, kay the server said re: her phone number too, "I was gonna change my number, but it took me forever to remember this one. hell it's easier to get rid of him." then, in a special culinary moment, she said, regarding the mess they were cleaning up over there on the griddle, "all that grease that comes out of that kitchen, y'all will never want to eat at the waffle house again." at that point, i realized that if i did not whip out my pen and paper, those moments would be tragically lost forever. monday. what did i do on monday? here is where i lose track. oh, i went to eat thai food with my sister, and we both agreed that, no matter how spice you like your food, always go with mild or medium at the Royal Thai. then we went to walk our friend's dog, where i discovered that i am the only person on planet earth whose photo is not stuck to her refrigerator, so i left her a nasty note scribbled on a paper towel that i stuck in her door. then, we went to visit with a friend at Sony, and we caught up with him and his family and their goings-on. he let us pilfer his CD giveaway boxes, so we are knee deep in new music, which was nice for the drive home. he's a good friend and a good man -- one of those people you are truly glad you met, however that happened all those years ago. then we met a few other friends for dinner at an Irish pub. fish and chips there. and a nice pinot grigio. we learned, by accident, that bars and restaurants sell out of their limited wine selections by the end of the weekend, first of the week. because on sunday and monday, our first choices had been all drunk up by people who got there earlier than we did. so we second-choiced our way through a bottle of Jacob's Creek something-or-other on Monday that cost us almost twice as much. it might be a marketing ploy, come to think of it. "yes, ma'am, we are all sold out of the $14 wine. all we have is the $26 wine." sure. so that was fun, and we spent a few hours laughing and reminiscing with them. always a delight. some of the best folks i've ever known. on to tuesday. honestly, i have no idea. except for in the evening, my cousin came over for dinner, and my sister cooked a lovely casserole of chicken spaghetti. on wednesday, i lunched with my friend john over an Indian food buffet. we talked about music and film, as we do when we get together. it's rare to find someone whose taste you trust in those two areas. am i wrong? he allowed me into the "prize room" where i got a few new CDs for the road. then it rained. then i returned to karyn's place, invited helena over, and we talked for a long time about finding peace in this world and learning to be faithful even though it does not come naturally in a world so full of pain and questions. we shared some stories, cried a little and lounged around watching the film being julia with annette bening and jeremy irons which was really quite good. i think i had to stop watching during the last few minutes to get ready to go to a wine tasting. which was a bit of a farce, but we had some nice cheese and were repeated accosted by older gentlemen of various ethnic backgrounds. enter paul, the russian. too weird to even write about, i've decided. needless to say, we were the cutest girls there, the least worn-out, anyway, which drew us a lot of attention. that we did not necessarily want. we almost came to the decision that we might have been the only women there who were not "on the clock". yikes. after that, we went to an old haunt, "the sportsman's grille" for a catfish basket and cheeseburger. both delightful. talked more and shared more stories. thursday, i spent with one of my favorite families on planet earth. they have a new baby i'd yet to meet, and we spent half a day catching up and talking about all things. my friend, the mama, has started a new business making fabulous skin products for other mamas and their babies. you can buy some at www.babybearshop.com. truly special. that night, i went with some friends to eat cajun food and then to a songwriter's night/benefit at the wildhorse saloon. four of the most talented ever: craig wiseman, rivers rutherford, leslie satcher and bob dipiero. it should have been splendid, but sound problems and a yappy hostess kind of ruined the entire effect. and i left more bothered than uplifted. however, afterward, we went to get some hot Krispy Kremes and had a hilarious moment in the drive-through with the octogenarian on the microphone, and it all seemed worth it. i packed up my things and prepared to head westward on friday morning. which i did. and it was a nice and sunny drive with lots of new music (some of what i have liked so far are miranda lambert, trent willmon, butch walker, bobby taylor, john legend...more on all that later).

spring break 2005 1,348 miles into the journey. somewhere on I-40 west. arkansas, i think. 

mile one thousand three hundred forty eight

am home from the journey. but am too tired and disorganized to really write at the moment. so i am uploading a photo instead. more later.

spring break, my style

so i decided yesterday to just kind of go ahead and drive to nashville to see my sister rather than fight the stand-by lists at the airport. and it was a beautiful day today, and i listened to music rather loudly. i did have to stop in germantown for a frappucino and a new bonnie raitt live cd. well, an old bonnie raitt live cd. but new to me. enjoyable. i am getting tired now, but i am going to visit with a friend in a few minutes when she gets home from work at the airport. i already washed my face and braided my hairs. might even put on pajamas before going over there. that's the kind of girl i am.

more than anything in this world...

in THIS world, that is. it is 12:17 am, and i have been asleep briefly tonight once already, but now i am fully awake. i am three days away from having ten days off of work, and i am still not sure what i am going to do with the time. i was introducing a friend to www.sidestep.com last night, a wonderful travel price comparison web site, and i checked a fare to mexico city for this coming saturday, and much to my surprise, i found that it only cost $265 from houston. only $390 from little shreveport, louisiana. oh, how i would love to go. but there is the dilemma of where to stay. a friend offered me his family's place, but they are engulfed in the passing of his grandmother, so it no longer feels like the right thing to do to take him up on his offer. but how nice it would be. i would be able to experience Holy Week first-hand, something i have always wanted to do, being a Spanish speaker and teacher of the language and all. i have been overwhelmed lately by the realization that so many of us here on earth work so hard and expend so much energy trying to manage our lives and our problems and those of others that we seldom stop to admit that we are simply not in charge of it all. we (and i include myself very definitely in this subject pronoun) make ourselves crazy with the trying to figure it all out and the wondering if we did the right thing. we are focusing on decision-making in our small group study in the student ministry at church, and every week, i feel like i am the most attentive student. or at least that i should be. and i am the discussion leader! it is amazing the way that God works to present us with opportunities to exercise what he has taught us. i am praying about my work and some very special friends and family members who are in need of direction as well. i am praying about what is my next professional move. graduate school? moving to Mexico? moving to a bigger city? getting involved in parent education? sitting still? moving on? see, here i am doing it! but the good news is that i am allowing it all to come to me gradually. i have no set deadlines, and i have no intention of barreling through to the wrong decision like i did about this time last year. i ran into a friend last weekend who was really stressed about her work, and we stood in the grocery store sharing stories, only to find out that we both have the same issues and some almost-identical personal concerns. why don't we talk about it more often? why don't we share our weaknesses? and our successes? do friends not have the right to burden their friends with their problems anymore? isn't that what we are here for? to support? and to listen? and to advise? i think so. i hope that i am that kind of friend. i love having that kind of friend. sometimes, i do not even need anything more than a little quality time with a trusted friend. it is amazing how helpful just a few hours can be for me. or for someone else if i salvage the time to spend with them. it is truly ironic to me that in a world where we can make phone calls for free over the internet to communist countries, where we can type instant messages with someone halfway around the world and we can have instantaneous communication in various forms with friends and loved ones and even strangers, that we seem to be becoming more and more reclusive in our actual one-on-one human face-to-face contact. why is that? is the distance a comfort to us? a buffer of sorts that keeps us from getting too emotionally close to someone while being physically close to them as well? are we becoming far too comfortable with our parallel lives? comforted by sharing the extremely personal in an even more extremely impersonal manner? i believe it may be true.

experience, regrets, mistakes, stepping stones

they all seen so interwoven, but i believe that they are distinct. i do not believe in regrets. i believe in acknowledging mistakes and using them as stepping stones to find your way to experience, which is what should truly be our jumping off point to start each new day. i struggle regularly with how to share my experiences in such a way as to humbly recount them in hopes that someone else can see them for what they are: stepping stones, part of a worldwide pattern. human nature is human nature. even if someone is ten years older than i am, i can look to their life's experiences and somehow match some of my own to theirs, and if i am attentive enough, i can look at their path and that of my own -- or the choices i am about to have to make -- and i will undoubtedly be able to recognize a pattern. something that occurs almost exactly as it has occurred in millions of people's lives before me. and after me. how do we share those experiences without sounding like a know-it-all? without sounding like someone's mother or father? why are we all so stubborn that we cannot recognize ourselves voluntarily putting ourselves into the same pattern that led us to such deep sadness and trouble once or many times before? when i can answer this question, i will be truly wise. and hopefully, that wisdom will give me the words and the ability to help others to seek for themselves.

???????????????????????

like a falling feather i drift without direction yet somehow, i always land in a moment of perfection while i sit here with my eyes closed tight i consider myself so blessed i wish i could make the world understand this place of silent rest my eyes are open now but still i do not look where i am told to find the way that place, that gift, that nook one thing i can say i've learned is how to give it up to not concern myself with what i cannot change i have to leave it be it's much too big for me i hand it over to my true lover and sing myself to sleep.

alphapoemorama, part deux

Arrogance Brings forth Confusion Determining Everyone else's Fortune Grieves me Harangues me Intrigues me Jostles my mind Kindred spirits Leave me Mystified Needing Openness Placation Quivers Reminds me of Stupid Things I've Unlearned Vigilance Wasted by eXcavating Your presence in my Zoo of memories.

alphapoemarama

After 12 hours Becoming what I loathe Could it hurt anymore? Determined to overcome Excedrin is my friend Finish me off Give my daughter the shot! Help me to my bed Is that all there is? Just help me sleep Keep me Lingering Meanwhile Nudge me Onward and upward Praying like there's no tomorrow Questions answered Reminding myself of You Studying Teaching Understanding Wondering eXamining You Zealously.

Entertaining Angels

would it not be amazing to discover that, unbeknownst to you, you had entertained angels at some point in your life? or that you had been an angel to someone else? wow. i have decided to open my mind up, officially, to the possibility of a move and/or career modification. and my official position is that if someone wants to hire me and needs an answer from me when i am not prepared to give them one, then i will tell them to ask their question of someone else and to make their decision notwithstanding my response. so there. i have been having these weird episodes of what feels like arrested circulation and weird fluctuations in body temperature. i'm too young for the change, right? i certainly like to think so. tonight was our last night in the study of hebrews. what an amazing journey. i need to go back and read all my notes and just camp on them for days. so it stays fresh. i bought the new lee ann womack CD, and it's amazing. it's called there's more where that came from and everything about it is designed like an old country record from the sixties/seventies. photography, songs and graphic design. i love it. i called a friend of mine the other night while he was playing on the Grammys to check in and, as an aside, to give him permission to tell jamie foxx that i, indeed, would go out with him, if he asked. some people can do everything. i must go now as i am about to fall out of my chair with fatigue. have had bad headaches too. will check back in with the doctor tomorrow.

Sometimes, You Just Know

So, I have been down with fever and achiness since Wednesday last, and today, as I was singing in church, it occurred to me that God had taken me out of work for those few days to prevent me from acting rashly in a very uncomfortable work situation. I truly believe that. God weakened my body to strengthen my spirit. And my resolve. The previous week and a half had been very stressful because I had been required to leave my students and my co-teacher with a less-than-humane group of people posing as educators and caregivers. And upon my return, I tragically realized that in that short four days, they had retrained themselves, using their basic instincts, to respond only to people who scream at, threaten or otherwise dominate them into submission, at whatever the cost. And I was allowing myself to be retrained by them to become one of those malicious attackers. I just saw one of my little students at the local Mexican food dive, and she shyly asked me, "Maestra, when are you going to be able to come with us?", and my heart melted. They know the difference. Thanks to God for delivering us all from the horrible aftershock of their experience a few weeks ago. Tomorrow, we return, refreshed, revived and rededicated.

100 Things I Want In A Partner

created on 14 november 2004 1. a Christian 2. strong spiritual leader 3. positivity 4. financially sound 5. a lover of books 6. a great lover 7. adventuresomeness 8. likes to communicate 9. inspires me 10. challenges me 11. environmentally conscious 12. understanding 13. enjoys travel 14. loves people 15. faithfulness 16. supportive 17. thoughtful 18. enjoys writing 19. encourager 20. peaceful 21. assertive 22. admirable 23. strong values 24. God-given 25. kindness 26. healthy 27. not sarcastic 28. healthy perspective 29. sense of humour 30. enjoys films 31. good listener 32. not an addict 33. full of joy 34. likes touch 35. likes coffee shops 36. stillness 37. provocative 38. communicator 39. musical talent 40. a great writer 41. strong hands 42. great kisser 43. knowing eyes 44. pretty teeth 45. great hair 46. loves my family 47. interested in me 48. likes to drive 49. speaks spanish 50. (edit) curious 51. willing to counsel 52. not a hoarder 53. spiritually adept 54. knows me 55. defender of honour 56. great father 57. good with tools 58. passionate 59. forward-thinking 60. not sports-obsessed 61. good leader 62. nurturing 63. tolerates me 64. empathetic 65. sympathetic 66. learns from mistakes 67. understands loyalty 68. sensitive 69. enjoys great wine 70. loves to create 71. enjoys cooking 72. seeks new opportunities 73. respects my space 74. respects my privacy 75. respects my alone time 76. not jealous 77. trusting 78. complimentary 79. complementary 80. public displays of affection okay 81. sensible 82. well-balanced 83. energetic 84. awe-inspiring 85. loves God 86. full of good ideas 87. sense of urgency 88. directness 89. focused 90. literate 91. aware 92. mission-minded 93. emotionally intelligent 94. connected 95. expressive of feelings 96. open-hearted 97. sense of self 98. good self-esteem 99. confidence 100. in love with me

100 Things That Turn Me On

so, recently, i purchased a book that is supposed to inspire people like me who like to journal to greater heights of creativity. one of the chapters is called "lists of 100". and it suggests thinking of a category and then making a list of 100 things that belong in that category. quickly. here is the first one i did, dated 6 november 2004: (in no particular order, except for the order they came to my mind) 1. a great song 2. joy 3. beautifully written books 4. intelligence 5. nice wine 6. beautiful art 7. pens 8. God's love for me 9. a sexy man 10. talent 11. humility 12. perseverance 13. initiative 14. surprises 15. beautiful weather 16. the smell of a fireplace 17. solitude 18. traveling 19. learning 20. laughter 21. a singing voice 22. flirting 23. (edit) 24. massage 25. sweating 26. new makeup 27. lipstick 28. good coffee 29. sunsets 30. oceans 31. great food 32. martinis 33. passion 34. compassion 35. softness 36. xanax 37. salt and pepper hair 38. (edit) 39. (edit) 40. singing 41. writing 42. glancing 43. france 44. studying 45. knowing 46. new people 47. helping 48. serving 49. cooking 50. hot teas 51. my eyes 52. french kissing 53. chili 54. numbers 55. teaching 56. anticipating 57. courtship 58. forgiveness 59. spontaneity 60. pretty curtains 61. painting 62. writing haiku 63. smart kids 64. kindness 65. my eyebrows 66. hot lipstick 67. sheryl crow 68. memories 69. mexico 70. speaking spanish 71. learning italian 72. a fan blowing on me 73. skin on skin 74. hand on my back 75. enrique 76. memories of philippe 77. my sense of self 78. learning about the Bible 79. verbal sparring 80. power 81. being well 82. recognizing talent 83. soft sheets 84. good pillows 85. holding hands 86. walking 87. yoga 88. listening 89. sweet potato pie 90. helping parents 91. new pens 92. cohesiveness 93. real butter 94. great coffee 95. a day in the sun 96. being warm 97. scarves 98. hats 99. nice shoes 100. love

Published

it's so not a big deal, but it's almost as impressive as the first time. when i was twelve years old, i was a huge professional wrestling fan. back in the day, when the flashiest thing you saw might have been some factory-manufactured fringe Singer-sewn onto a pair of Lycra dance pants in the way of costuming or "character" development. anyway, it was fun for me, and one night, the infamous members of the Texas wrestling family, the von Erichs, came to wrestle a series of matches at the civic center in my humble hometown. i attended, along with my equally (perhaps more) fanatic friend Beth, and we had a large time. afterward, i was so impressed and inspired by their presence in my midst, that i wrote a heartfelt review of the evening's events. well, lo! and behold, the next month, there was my review published in one of the biggest national wrestling fan magazines that existed. but it was my first brush with sexism. in their magazine, i was no longer of the female gender. they truncated my otherwise feminine and girly name to its very masculine and un-dainty masculine counterpart. why? because how could a girl have such insight into such a grotesque and hideous sport? who knows? either way. tonight, i was leaving a jimmy buffett-themed party at a local bar, and i picked up a local magazine on my way out. and there were two of my favorite haiku published in its pages. random. you just never know. perhaps someone will be changed for the better upon reading them. perhaps they will line a bird cage. one cannot know or even guess. but it was fun to see it. upon second reading, i have realized that they typo'ed out one letter at the beginning of one of the haiku which renders the entire poem senseless, so here they both are in their entirety: eyes the color of coal that warms me in the fall lighting a spark ...passed along the way... going to meet the future said, 'don't i know you?'

Yet Another First

so, here it is, 2005. and i thought i was never even going to make it to 1998 all my life. i have just returned from a CVBC (www.cypressvalley.org) mission trip to San Felipe, Guanajuato, Mexico, where i was part of a 27-member team sent by our church to further some work on the church that we have planted there. we took three crews -- construction, women's study/crafts and children's study/crafts. all three did very impressive work. in the church building, door facings were constructed and installed, holes were patched, roof work was done, lighting was installed, heaters were installed, bathroom improvements were made, storage shelves were built. i'm sure there were more improvements made -- i just wish more people could have seen before and after photos! the children and women's groups worked on arts/crafts projects to use to decorate the church. the first two nights we were there, we showed (on a BIG screen) The Passion Of The Christ (with Spanish subtitles, of course) to two full houses (40 +) people, church members and other community members. on tuesday, after working for four hours to get the audio/visual kinks worked out, we ended up having to go and buy an additional DVD player from a San Felipe electronics vendor. jokingly, while preparing to pay for the player (the one we had brought was useless to us as we had somehow arrived without the remote control to operate it), i said, "...unless of course, you just want to loan it to us...". and Javier, the shop owner said, "you just need it for today and tomorrow?". i said, "yes." and he responded, "well, just buy it, and when you return it tomorrow, i will give you your money back." okay. so we did. and when we went back the next day to return it, his shop was already closed. so, feeling like he would consider me a liar, we got it back to him the next afternoon, and he was not in the shop. javier, his son, said, "are you returning a DVD player?" and i said, "yes. we came here last night, but you were closed." he asked me if i had the receipt, and i told him that one of my friends had it and that i had forgotten to get it from him. he went to the desk, withdrew 950 pesos and gave it to me. every peso we had paid him. no questions asked. amazing. only in mexico. i left javier (the dad) a nice note thanking him and blessing him for having done us the favor, and we went about our evening. on the second night, Russ asked me if i would be interested in going to León the next day to donate blood on behalf of one of the church members, Zacarías, who is scheduled to have a surgery in the next couple of months. i said, "sure." so, at 4:15 the next morning, i got up, showered (in very cold water) and jumped in the truck with six other team members, Zacarías and his wife Éster, for the 1.5 hour trip to León. when we finally found the hospital and checked in at 7:15 am, we learned that they accept donors on a lottery style basis, and they were accepting only thirty for that morning, all of which spaces had already been ticketed/claimed. so, Éster went to talk to the doctor, letting him know that she had seven potential donors from the United States who were leaving the country the next day. he issued ten more tickets, and we began the complicated process of eligibility to donate blood. in Mexico, apparently, (or at least in this place), someone who is going to have a surgery is required to rustle up twenty blood donors to give blood on his/her behalf before having surgery and twenty blood donors to give blood on his/her behalf after the surgery is completed to replenish the blood bank. the process was tiresome and lengthy. first, we had to wait for our number to be called. one at a time, we went up to a reception window to give personal information -- address, date of birth, occupation, phone number, level of education. then, we were called again to give a blood sample for typing purposes. then we sat back down in the waiting area. then, we were called into another room to have our blood pressure checked, our measurements taken and our weight checked. then we sat back down in the waiting room. then we were called, one by one, into a small private room with a doctor who asked us the series of very personal questions and, in my case anyway, spent time reviewing with me the results of my blood tests. he marveled at my good health and set about telling me what every count, percentage and number meant. all the while comparing me to the average Mexican woman. he complimented my apparently healthy diet and general good health. that was a freebie. then, we sat back down. then, if we were not disqualified by any of our answers or results, we waited until they called our number (coincidentally, mine was thirty-seven, the age i just turned last month) and went to lie down on the elevated blue lounge chairs to be punctured by what looked like a 900 gauge needle (aka garden hose) to begin the extraction of the precious fluid. earlier, in the waiting room, a rather tall, dark and handsome doctor type walked by and caught the eye(s) of my friend Sally and me. while i was lying prone on the vampire chairs, said tall, dark and handsome doctor walked over and spoke to me, in English and then Spanish after i answered him in his native language. then, my pal David shouts from his corner, "hey, C*****i, is that the doctor that you wanted to hit on you?". eeeeeeeeeeek. i looked at him and said, "hello, he's bilingual!" and David and Chris and Casey proceeded to laugh out loud. all i could say was, "great, now they won't get any blood because it's all in my face!" fabulous. the doc who did the sticking was pretty good with a needle, and he was a little too excited about my "venas muy buenas" (very good veins). i thought one time that he was going to try and suck it out of both arms at once. anyway, apparently i broke some record for quickest filling of a blood bag (seven minutes), and i lay there to recuperate for about 20 minutes -- snacking on the bag of goodies they gave me. a three-piece-of-white-bread ham and cheese sandwich, a tangerine, a boiled egg, and some guava nectar (there they've got the American Red Cross beat). actually, i only delved into the sandwich because i had not eaten since about 10 pm the night before -- we were told we had to fast (total -- nothing to eat or drink) for at least eight hours before donating. which made no sense to any of us since we would have NO strength to donate. of course, upon arrival, and after reading and translating the twenty-four rules posted on the wall of the waiting area, we realized that we could have had water, juice, fruit and/or vegetables. with big holes in our arms and food on our minds, we got our proof of donation and proceeded to the truck to set about finding lunch. i had seen a Pollo Feliz on the way into town, and we were determined to find it before heading back to San Felipe. we found it, and read the sign "Only To Go". so we decided to have a tailgate party. we ordered a couple of chickens, several quesadillas and got chips and hot sauce and sodas to lay out on the tailgate of David's truck. as we were wolfing down the (amazingly tasty) food, David said, "Happy Chicken, 60 pesos, Quesadillas, 12 pesos, Tailgating with friends on the street in Mexico, Priceless." and we all laughed. perhaps the best quesadillas i've ever put in my mouth. the ladies at the stand told us they make 10,000 corn tortillas daily. daily. two women. in a room the size of your smallest bedroom. it was great. we got back to san felipe and checked in at the church. we wrapped up some details and prepared for the Lord's Supper that evening. at the last minutes, we realized we had forgotten to buy the bread. oops. so we hopped in the truck and set about navigating the maze of one way streets hoping to find a bakery still open. we finally found one and had to settle for a sweetened sesame bread (to date we have found no Biblical prohibition of said bread type) to use for the service. it went off mostly without a hitch, and we had a very dynamic dialogue during the service. after packing up and setting the alarm for 3:15 am, i went to bed. as consolation for not being able to make the fun side trip to san miguel de allende before returning home, my roommate and i were granted special permission to sleep in the makeshift rolling bedroom otherwise designated for drivers. the full size mattress in the camper of the truck bed. heavily sedated, i snuggled in for a nice five hour nap which lasted until the first bathroom stop somewhere north of san felipe. then, i crawled into the cab of the truck. where i made the rest of the trip, sitting in the back seat. i made a few new friends, as has been the blessed pattern, and i was reminded of the power that God has and is not afraid to use. several new believers came to faith during the trip, and i believe that several of our lives were changed in ways we could never have expected. and the toilets flushed, as designed, every time. happy new year, and i hope you are healthy happy and spiritually sound!

Also from landscape art installation in Dec 2005, Sonoma, CA. www.cornerstonegardens.com

Photos of landscape art installations in Sonoma, California, www.cornerstonegardens.com

Travel and Friends

It's Christmas day, and I feel like I have been celebrating for six weeks already. Our family is a little more disjointed than ever, and that requires a lot of maneuvering of schedules and locations to create all the pieces so that the puzzle can at least fit together figuratively. As soon as the bell rang on Friday December 17th, I quickly worked together with my teaching assistant to tidy up the room to some degree, and I dashed to the car to drive to the Dallas airport. That day, I flew to Oakland, where some friends of mine picked me up and drove me to their place in the North Bay area of San Francisco. They live in Tiburón, a quaint little peninsula. I used to work with them in Nashville, and I cared for their little boy, who is a total delight, thanks to some well-intentioned training and caregiving on the part of his parents. We spent several days catching up, visiting, eating great food and drinking great wine. We went to Sonoma one day to look around and pulled over to enjoy a beautiful garden art installation, we visited one of the oldest missions in California, ate a fabulous lunch at The Girl And The Fig just off the city square, and then we took the scenic route home through the Napa Valley. Just lovely. After my California visit, I then accepted an invitation to visit a friend I met this summer in Mexico, at his home in Chicago. There were more travel adventures involved in that leg of the trip, but he waited patiently for me and my bag, which arrived even later. We ran errands together on Tuesday, then finished the day off with a great Italian meal at Francesco's Fiore and by tasting some wine at a great wine store called The Cork on our way home. We spent hours talking and enjoying our wine, listening to music. I won a sizeable bet over a disagreement about U2's recent musical releases. I was reminded how much I love Sarah McLachlan and how you should never continue the conversation past the point of exhaustion, no matter how interesting you both are to each other. I have almost finished packing up for my departure to Mexico tomorrow. I am truly tired, and I hope that I am able to get some rest on the bus and hopefully not have to drive too terribly much. Driving is not my friend. Sleeping is. I hope each of you have had a blessed holiday, and I pledge to keep in better touch with all my friends, from all over the world, and from every part of my past in 2005. Love, Me.

Hello, She's Dolly

So I just left a fun little office party hosted by a friend of mine. And I was delivered two tickets to see Dolly Parton tomorrow night in Dallas. Could I be more excited? Probably not. Only if I was going to be able to meet her -- because I think she's so talented and precious. My friend emailed me to tell me that she has set aside my favorite lip gloss (the last of its near-extinct kind) for pickup whenever I can get to it. I had a fabulous dinner-snack and some pretty good wine, and there is a new episode of ER on tonight. I started a new and potentially mindless novel last night which has already made me laugh out loud. Yes, it's "chick-lit". Sadly, I learned today that one of my favourite students might be moving to Houston, which makes me very sad for him and for me, too. I was hoping to spend the rest of this year AND all of next year growing that little boy into a fabulous student. I now know how it is that parents get run over by their precious offspring. He kills me. Today, after I put him into his car, he grabbed my hand and kissed it as I was leaving. I cannot stand it! Am debating whether I really NEED to go wash clothes before going out of town tomorrow or if a sink-wash of key underwear might suffice.

my heart

is fairly accessible to someone who really desires to get to know it. i make it available, honestly and sincerely, and the people who are blessed enough to have the gift of wisdom have historically found their way inside.

Fear Of Being Typical

is the worst fear of all. I slept all the way to 8:54 am today. i woke up, made some Ibarra hot chocolate, some oat bread toast and commenced to making a collage. then i made another. then i decorated the front of a new journal. now i am on my way to volunteer at a 5K run my friend Sally organized to raise money for the school/orphanage she worked at in Mombasa, Kenya. i might have to call this a perfect Saturday.

After The Nightly News...

So, tonight, for the first time since school started, I watched prime-time television (other than Will & Grace and ER, that is. Those are my only regular must-sees. And I stayed up extremely late for me. I was watching television clear through to eleven pee ehm. Apparently, the only people the networks expect to be watching television between 10 and 11 at night are people with bad credit and/or erectile dysfunction. thankfully, at this point, neither situation applies directly to me. I suppose at some point in life I could be a second party to at least one of those crises, but for now, I'm in the clear. it's 11:11 pm, and i love that. sometimes, i capitalize, sometimes, i do not. someone who barely knows me suggested the other day that i write children's books. hmmm. maybe there's something to that...and i can write them in english AND spanish. cha-ching?

Was That A Joke?

Today, at work, a co-worker actually said the following words to me: "Well, I'm just happy because I finally got my baby to be interested in TV." And went on about how until recently, her son would only like to look at books and play. Of course, that meant "that's how I've been able to keep from buying video games for all this time". He only ever wanted to play with his mother. Until she worked really hard to get him interested in sitting down in front of the television. Here, honey, I'll give you your first rock of crack for free. It will be okay. Unbelievable.

J..J...Just Like Dawgs

last evening, i traded stories with other teacher friends, and we were laughing our lips off -- it is absolutely unbelievable some of the things that parents obviously discuss within their childrens' earshot or what they allow them to see in the media. i was told recently that the american pediatric association's official position is that no child under the age of three years old should be allowed to watch television. at all. there goes the baby einstein theory. the truth is that we are born with rounded eyeballs, and they do not begin to flatten out naturally and healthily until we are much older. and that watching television as infants and toddlers forces the eyeballs to flatten themselves out (against nature and their will) in order to compute what is being seen on a flat television screen (now, if you have not invested in the FLAT SCREEN per se, you are not absolved of any guilt here...the old-fashioned screens are definitely more flat than round...so they are bad for childrens' eyes as well). okay. stepping down off of soapbox. there is a television and VCR in my classroom that has yet to be pled for by my students. i hope to not turn them on in their presence for the entire school year. although i am sure there might be a few occasions...i did it twice during last school year. clifford before nap time one day. and winnie the pooh in spanish another day. all for naught. i talked to my sister for an awfully long time on thursday night. it was fun. i miss her much. of course when we lived in the same city as each other, we were horrible at spending time together. how silly is that? and my father is about to move halfway around the world, and i will probably see him more once he's there than i do now, when he lives a mile away. we have all got issues. of proximity and honesty and communication. i ran into an ex-classmate the other day in the grocery store and recognized her face but could not conjure up her name. but i wanted to let her know that i recognized her, so i said, 'didn't we go to school together?' and in response, she called me by name and then offered up her own name so as to save me from embarrassing myself by having decided on the wrong name for her. anyway, she had her child with her, who was as tall as each of us. shudder. i still like to think i look younger than most of the people i keep running in to that are my same age. except for a few days this week, i looked into the mirror and saw a 45 year old woman. who had not drunk enough water or taken enough vitamins or exercised enough. i am certain it is not as bad as i initially perceived, but it had a sobering effect on me. well, i am struggling with whether or not to cook breakfast at home (my inclination) or to wait for my company to wake up and get ready to go out for food. she will likely sleep at least another hour and a half (as she never has the luxury), which i do not resent. so perhaps i will shuffle into the kitchen. i have been awake for 2.5 hours so far, have been reading and drinking english breakfast tea lying on the couch with my snuggly quilt my paternal grandmother made for me in 1979. that is life.

The Power Of An Endless Life

How captivating and powerful is that phrase? I heard it for the first time last night in a bible study that I am doing in the book of Hebrews. It comes from Hebrews 7:16 -- (15. there arises another priest) who has come, not according to the law of a fleshly commandment, but according to the power of an endless life. Wow. Anyway, I was thinking that that phrase would make a great book title, so if Void If Detached does not work for my future publisher, perhaps we will have to take a different route and go with The Power Of An Endless Life. It takes my breath every time I read it. I should be finishing this quarterly assessment that I am working on for work, but I am continually distracted. First by an incoming email. Then by the occurrence of a little idea I had which inspired me to call a friend in California. Then there is this fabulous music I am listening to. And to top it all off, today, there were bestowed upon me two tickets to see one of my all-time favorites, Dolly Parton, in a private suite situation in Dallas -- I'm calling it a birthday present, simply because it falls about two weeks before my actual birthday, and starting a few months ago, I told my friends that seeing Dolly was all I wanted for the big day. I was thinking yesterday that I had saved another idea for a book title, but I, of course, have forgotten it. I will have to consult sent emails as I know I sent it to one person in particular. Oh to have a staff to do these things for me. My life would be much more enjoyable and productive. I met someone recently who is a newlywed, and she is already complaining that she wants her new husband (i think it's been four days now) to let her sleep once she's gone to sleep. Yikes. Long hard road ahead, eh? I am taping Will & Grace in a feeble attempt to force myself to focus on this little bit of work I have to get done. And I have no plans to watch ER until the weekend. Considering they are the only 1.5 hours of television I watch on a regular basis, if at all, I do not feel so pathetic. Am not sure what's come over me, but I am using capital letters which is kind of exhausting. I watched a muy dark film yesterday called In The Cut starring Mark Ruffalo and Meg Ryan. Whew. Muy oscura.

Swaying

Did you know that swaying from side to side actually activates the brain to calm you down? I have been doing these Brain Gym exercises with my students, and I swear it has made for a more peaceable classroom. Of course, it all depends on the day, and it certainly depends on the moon. Lunatic does not start with the Latin word for "moon" for no reason. These kids just go bat guano whenever they are anticipating a full moon, whether they know that are awaiting it or not. I am just listening to Lee Ann Womack's new single, "I May Hate Myself In The Morning", and it is quite beautifully executed. It's good to hear her voice next door to a steel guitar solo again. Right where it should be. And it's a good thing. Why, all of a sudden, am I using capital letters? Good lord, does this mean I am growing up? Without my knowledge? Or even my consent? I am sleepy, and I am afraid that I have missed the "go-to-bed" window that is so very crucial in my life. If I miss the window, it's very likely that you will be reading another entry from me, after hours of failed attempts at sleep, somewhere around 3:30 am. Look for it to be far less coherent. Which should put fear in your heart. I cannot believe it's time to vote for president again. Vote for the best friend of Israel so as to accelerate the rapture and Jesus can just come back and take me home!

What Next?

am in the process of considering what God wants me to do next. is it plannning an exit strategy? is it continuing to do what i do but in a different setting? what are my career options? i am teachable. how important is it to me to do something that really matters in the world? i think very. money is not all that important to me, although i would like to have enough of it to use recreationally from time to time. it is better to keep my creative exploits unencumbered by deadlines and other expectations? perhaps so. does anyone really even care? pray for me.

Urban, Pollock, Picasso, Rothko and More

I am just back from a much-fun 29-hour chick-weekend adventure with my friend LM. we went to see keith urban in concert in the DFW area, and it was an incredible show. if you get the chance, you should check him out on his current tour which goes into november in america, i think. www.keithurban.net. not a sour note played or sung throughout the entire show. very impressive as always. then we went to grab a bite to eat and a drink at humperdink's near six flags and were approached by a selection of men. one man from odessa who was stupefyingly short on words and two others who were quite intelligent, confident and engaging. it is always refreshing to desire to maintain an ongoing conversation with someone. it is official -- i find someone in command of the english language and a broad vocabulary very intriguing and sexy. it is somewhat sad that in saying that is the inherent implication that finding such a person is such a rare occurrence (the exception rather than the rule) that it immediately draws my attention and interest. today, we went to esperanza's -- one of my favorite spots to eat in the fort worth area. then to The Modern -- a beautiful building and stunning collection of modern art -- the second largest only to the MoMA in New York City. i loved it. i find my connection to modern art, for the most part, provokes in me a sense of tangibility and empathy with the artists that it is difficult to muster with artists from ages past. i feel their pain, i suppose. do not get me wrong -- i find a large quantity of what is considered art in the modern era not only intangible but also downright pretentious. and sometimes, i wonder if a piece's entire purpose might not be to make fun of the very art community that is deifying its creator in the process of admiring or purchasing it for their collection. therein lies the beauty of art, i suppose. all for now. going to read my sunday times. and to try to get some decent sleep that does not involve 14 thread count hotel sheets on an undulating mattress in a 20 degree room. wait that was last night. erase.

Anticipation

Sometimes, I wonder if, in anticipation of things to come, we do not waste away the perfectly potentially wonderful moment that we are inhabiting. I find myself completely guilty of this mistake almost on a daily basis. Whether a symptom of having been taught to think on a higher level or whether a symptom of a brain chemical mis-fire, I am committing today to myself to not waste my time or God's time anymore by wondering. I am going to do and make happen. Of course, I have no idea what it is that I am supposed to do or what it is that I am supposed to make happen, but I am at the very least promising to not clog up the messageways with my own intentions. I pause to see if I feel any differently. I am certain that I will feel a burden being lifted fairly immediately. I am taking off my engineer's cap and no longer driving this train. Being, by nature, a more reflective person, perhaps the caboose is more my speed.

Fake

Inauthentic. Disingenuous. That is what I am afraid of being. Yet it seems that our everyday lives are carefully constructed to encourage inauthenticity. Countless numbers of emotionally unintelligent people in whom we cannot confide, who were never cared for and bolstered enough by a significant adult -- parent, teacher or employer -- to be able to not only tolerate but perhaps invite constructive criticism. I am not saying that I am not one of these people on any given day -- downright fragile at times -- but as a rule, I want to be and know and do better, and I cannot be, know and do on my own. Maybe that is why I should continue to do the work I do and work on my own ability to deflect the negative influences of other people and their flawed philosophies. For today, that is where I stand. Maybe this is why I should drink coffee every morning.

Irrational Thoughts

although it should have no effect on me at all, that the office worker who had no idea i was around today felt that it would be alright and socially and professionally acceptable to openly criticize my classroom in a roomful of co-workers, has deeply affected me. i kind of felt like the top of my head might blow off while i was overhearing the other co-worker caution her that i was less than three feet away, though out of sight. a few minutes later, said perpetrator, skulks into the cubicle in which i was inadvertently hidden and greets me, "hi...miss ********". shrouded in a cloak of anti-hypocrisy, i did not even cast her a glance. i just continued doing my paperwork and filing my papers. i was so taken aback at the lack of professionalism, even from an office aide, that i had to focus on the task at hand or i might have launched into a less-than-professional tirade myself. today, for the first time ever, i actually contemplated all of the pros and cons of breaking a contract. seriously. i have skills.

Tonight I Want To Cry

I am listening to a song of this name on Keith Urban's new CD Be Here. It's a good one. If I were dating someone, and we broke up, I would probably put it on repeat and listen to it until the wine was gone. Tonight, while I was out walking three miles, I decided to run for a chunk of it. I don't run. But don't tell my body. I am sure it will get me the message loud and clear tomorrow.

Cookies, Milk, Etc.

does it drive anyone else crazy when people write "etc." like this: "ect."? not the same. i just made some chocolate chip-pecan cookies that resulted less than stellar. partly because i forgot about them and partly because i had two fairly unsavory arguments with customer service representatives at verizon wireless while attempting to enjoy them. upon receiving an almost $200 bill, i contacted the company to question why, even though i had dates/names/quoted figures and specific written instructions on a calling plan change i made last month, they are refusing to acknowledge that "eleanor" did, in fact, speak with me and make a calling plan change in anticipation of my trip to mexico. i am still waiting (after third phone call) to speak with a supervisor. my question is this: what, in fact, was "eleanor the phantasm" doing for the fifteen minutes that i was engaged with her on the customer service line. peeling grapes? i did not invent this web site to vent my frustration with the functionally illiterate in our midst, so i shall not tarry long to complain, but i had to tell someone, and the other friend i called to unload on was trying desperately to celebrate her birthday in a loud restaurant. so i excused her. billing dispute resolution is no way to spend your birthday, anyway. i started reading a really good book today called bee season. it reminded me of how i was 1st runner-up in my school spelling bee in the sixth grade. and how nerve-wracking it was to stand up there in front of the whole world only to spell "piecemeal" wrong. oh the shame and humiliation. i also bought, much to some of your delight, memoirs of a geisha and i know this much is true. both about a million years later than the rest of the reasonably hip literary set. having botched the cookie batch, i will finish my mini-glass of organic, hormone-free milk and get back to bee season. i think i can finish it this weekend. to the detriment of lesson plans and mounds of paperwork, i am sure; but in the end, i shall be a happier worker bee.

The Truth - Not The Cold, Hard Variety

It is not very often that I wake up these days that I do not find myself actually voicing thanks for something that has occurred in my life. One day last week, I even found myself giving audible thanks for having hit a freak dip in the road which caused $426.29 (at least) damage to my car. I am trying to work my appreciation muscle in an effort to somehow always see the bright side. While I do not really consider it my nature to always see the dark side, I do know that I am prone to equate being realistic with being negative. My actual thanks went a little something like this, "Thank you, God, for this little setback since the technicians might find something else wrong with my car while they are in there that can be repaired while my car is still under warranty for a few thousand more miles." That oration did not feel all that ridiculous upon reflection. Yesterday, I attended a Brain Gym workshop, and it was quite enjoyable and informative. It is a bit like yoga for the classroom. So of course, I liked it. Speaking of yoga, I have inadvertently misplaced the two yoga DVD's that I used to own before packing and moving. Of course, that means that they could be in any number of the places that I stopped over the summer. Hopefully, they will turn up soon. I have been kind of craving a little downward dog. Am poaching an egg whilst I write. Have just finished first cup of English Breakfast Tea. Am contemplating how/when I want to go pick up my car at the VW place. I also have a few birthdays to decide how to accommodate. I had a great idea for one of them, but life got in the way. Will it seem like an afterthought if I pull it together after the actual birthday date? Even though I have been thinking about it and planning for it for weeks but just could not pull it together? I do believe that I have nothing else to say right now. Never mind. Yes I do. What is happening to our sense of relationship in this world? I was in a book study group the other day, and person after person was reflecting about how they never take time to stay in contact with their friends. How they do not email them or call them or try to see them. I suppose I am that way a little bit. But conversely, I find myself frustrated because I want to sit around and talk to friends and share and reflect and pontificate, and no one else seems to have the time or energy. Not that I have bountiful reserves of either, but I do wish more people in our world would make genuine efforts to stay connected. I think that our relationships are what feed us and teach us. Maybe therein lies the problem: we do not want to be taught. In order to to crave teaching, do we have to admit that there is something we do not know? Is that too much of a stretching of the humility muscle? Have we become so involved in "reality" programming on our televisions that we are forsaking our own reality and then wondering why we are left wanting more? Is the encouragement of our society to claim rights to everyone else's lives causing us to let our own lives slip silently from our grasp? Something to think about? When did it stop being acceptable for a parent to have an hour to themselves? To read a book, take a quiet walk, listen to a favorite album? Taking time for one's self does not inherently mean that one is stealing that time from someone else. And so what if he/she is taking that time from someone else? A deposit of one hour's time in an emotional tank can yield hours, days, perhaps even months of benefit for everyone in that person's midst, simply because their spirit has been renewed and they have remembered that they, too, are human. I believe that the sooner that we allow each other to have a bad day, to need some time alone, the sooner we will see our relationships flourish in unimaginable ways. Because no matter how much you love somebody, you always need to take time to love yourself.

Place In This World

Am wondering (not out loud this time) if being a part of the public school system is the place for me. Why do I wonder? The expectations of teachers and students, at best, are questionable, and I am beginning to see that if the parents are not educated -- as parents and as educators themselves -- all of the work and expertise in the world is being misspent. Why do I say this? I say it because I am seeing more and more developmentally inappropriate practices in multiple grade levels, but especially in early childhood (and I include PK, K, 1st and 2nd grades in this category...maybe even higher elementary grades). It is quite alarming. I am currently faced with a strange situation in which I have a co-teacher whose point of view is very different than my own. Lots of yelling. Punishment and exclusion. I do not understand it. I know it is the old school way, but it is giving ME high blood pressure. I can only imagine how the three-year-olds feel. I made my first report to Child Protective Services today, to relate a story that a three-year-old has told me over the past two school days about his father having burned him with cigarettes and with matches. I got a call back this same afternoon -- very impressive. Who knows what will come of it, as I am sure that there are no Spanish speaking social workers either, just like there are no bilingual speech therapists or physical therapists or psychologists or doctors or dentists. It's really becoming more and more heartbreaking for me. I wish I thought I was the kind of person who could work on obtaining a Master's degree while having a full time job, but I know that I would absolutely burn out beyond recognition if I even attempted to do such a thing. Must buy lottery ticket, soon. I decided to work on coming to terms with the obvious fact that I am likely never going to fit in with a group of primary school teachers. Our experiences are far too varied and disparate, and I see life as limitless instead of finite and confining. Perhaps when I make peace with that harsh reality, I will be able to guiltlessly move into the next stage. Today, I was wondering if my place might not be in parent education. I was asked to apply for a parent involvement coordinator job by a supervisor this summer, but I had already signed a contract...blah blah blah. I am tired, and I want to read some before falling asleep. Have overslept the past two days and am not sure what that indicates. Innate laziness. Boredom with daily routine. Reluctance to go to bed. What? I think I have PMS. No other apparent trigger for this doldrum.

Pain In My Neck

i lifted a bunch of weights on thursday and have had a wretched kink in the muscle in between my shoulders which apparently is the muscle in the body that controls every other part of the body as i have been experiencing a tremendous amount of pain ever since in my neck, arm and shoulder. i´m sure it´s some wicked plan by the Evil One to discourage me from continuing to work out, but it will not work. I have gone walking since, and i have another appointment scheduled with the wicked personal trainer who is encouraging me through this torture. it does feel good, i have to say, to work the muscles i forgot i had. at the gym, they have this crazy scale machine that can tell you how much of your body is composed of fat. let's just say that, according to that number, there is a goddess under here somewhere. spent the weekend working around the apartment again and trying to get some rest. oh, and watching the entire first season of sex and the city on DVD. rented from my favorite enterprise of the 21st century, www.netflix.com. seriously. if you have wacky taste in films or are really interested in documentaries, foreign films or musical performances, Netflix is your friend. especially if you have that not-so-rare condition that prevents you, without fail, from returning a video on time to the store. with netflix, no late fees. ever. i am listening to the MTV Video Music Awards from the next room. Could not bear the audio AND visual stimulation any longer. especially when chaka khan sashayed on stage and was singing in an entirely different key than the performer she was attempting to sing along with. too much to handle. where's U2? Sheryl Crow? of the people I saw on the show, however, I do really enjoy Maroon 5. i am fairly befuddled by jessica simpson, though. i made the mistake of taking a 1.5 hour nap today in hopes of alleviating the shoulder muscle pain, but i am afraid that all i may have accomplished is assuring myself of a sleepless night.

Good Lord, Thelma!

so, we are one week into school (plus a few days), and the adventures continue to build. one day last week, one of the Hispanic parents looked at me as I was speaking in Spanish to the class, and she said, "Are you Mexican?". Needless to say, I had to restrain myself from jumping up and kissing the poor woman on the mouth! How exciting is that? To be mistaken for Mexican by a Mexican? Muy, let me tell you. The number of chronic criers and sufferers from separation anxiety has diminished greatly, although there are a few who still have a big bawl at least as they are arriving. There was a little boy who, during the first week, cried almost nonstop for the first thirty to forty minutes then again at nap time. Well last Friday, he just marched in like he was six feet tall and bullet proof and said, "I don't whine and cry anymore. I am coming to school." Okay then. Earlier in the week, he had called for me from the bathroom to ask me to wipe his bottom after he used the bathroom. My teaching assistant intervened and walked in and handed him the paper. Muchas gracias. Well a few days later, he went to the bathroom, walked out, having washed his hands and said, "Ya, Maestra, no necesito que limpies mi cola." Translated, literally, that means, "Now, Teacher, I don't need you to clean my tail." Isn't that precious? ¿Qué más les digo? It is absolutely incredible the things that these three- and four-year-olds do not know how to do. Hardly any of them can tell me where their head or chin or chest is. About one-third of the class has no idea how to use scissors. Unbelievable, yes? That is why we are there. To catch them up with where they should be developmentally at their ages. Because their parents either work too much to be able to help them at home, or they have no concept of what to do with them. Or they just ignore them. Or a smattering of all three. It has been a fabulous parenting class for me -- about what and what NOT to do should I ever have children of my own. And it makes me want to learn more and more and more about parent education. We shall see.

Swiss Army

i thought the swiss were supposed to be neutral. if so, why does a swiss army even exist? and why do they make so darn many knives? these are the things that occur to me while waiting for prescriptions to be filled (non-psychotropic drugs, by the way) at the Walgreen's. drifting up and down the aisles. still trying to find the perfect mascara. faithful that it exists. but it remains a mirage nonetheless. today, at school, a little girl came up to me and said, "do you have a boyfriend?" no. "do you have a spouse?" no. "are you pregnant?" um, no. "my mom is pregnant, and she is going to have a baby." really? "yes, and one day, i'm going to be a woman, and i'm going to be pregnant, and i'm going to have a baby." well, dear, it's good to have goals.

I Almost Forgot

what it is like to have a crush on someone. i forgot about boy time and girl time. and how i could smile in my sleep. i forgot about the actual chemical changes that take place in our bodies when we are intrigued by someone. and how even those changes can be amplified when we believe that someone is intrigued by us. i spent the better part of this week getting to know my new classroom. trying to make sense of it and wondering if there is any way that i will be able to endure the beginning of another school year. this year, my class will be a multi-age classroom, with some children who will barely have turned three years old when school starts and others who are about to turn five years old. huge disparity, especially when you consider that when children are that young, it's almost like dog years. one year of development between the ages of three and four can seem like seven. can i just say how much i love internet radio? when stationed in an area where the flora blocks radio waves from not very far away, it's a welcome change to be able to listen to indian, arabic or baltic folk music. random. i actually find it sort of calming in that i do not even have to begin to worry about the lyrical content of what i am listening -- i could not understand it if i tried. the instrumentation is generally very mesmerizing as well. i think we have just gone from muslim chanting to a track from the cold mountain soundtrack. or maybe it's yanni. i just watched one of my favorite films of all time, amélie. could anything be more beautiful? the film is just beautiful to look at, and the story is enchanting. i highly recommend it.

Circle In The Square

this weekend, i attended the 12th birthday party of my first niece. we spent the day at a water park in western louisiana. i, thankfully, got one of the not-so-coveted non-swimmer's tickets, which was a good thing because i deliberately did not wear or even pack a swimsuit. did not sound fun to me. i was there for the fellowship. i renewed my wonder and awe about how women perform their duties as mothers whilst having to attend to 8,000,000 other people and other demands of life. at one point, i was feeding my newborn niece a bottle with my left hand, contorting my body to rock her carrier with the elbow of the same hemisphere of my body and somehow managing to drink water and wedge my novel under the carrier to hold down the pages so that i could read simultaneously. it's a marvel. mothers of the world, i salute you! anyway, after the party was over, my mom and i went to a local mall to see if there were any new-job-appropriate clothes on super-end-of-season sale yet. the answer is 'no'. or perhaps 'yes' but not my style. i'd rather wear overalls and a t-shirt to wallow around on the floor with three- and four-year-olds. since beginning work in my new job, i've been wondering if it would be socially and professionally acceptable for me to write a personal statement/bio to introduce myself to all the people i will be working with in my new position. and if it would be so, what would i like to tell them? hello, i am coming to you after two years of doing this same type of job in another city. before that, i spent 8.5 years in the music business where i was exposed to every kind of pressure, social and professional, that you can imagine, and i was lucky enough to have the opportunity to encounter many different kinds of people. the experience as a whole was a fruitful and enjoyable one, and it gave me the opportunity to observe and understand human beings and our patterns of behavior in ways that i would never have been able to if it were not for the experience. from a very young age, i have been very interested in distinct cultures -- inside my own family, country and the world. i have been gripped by fear and completely fearless at various stages of my life. i have been victimized by gossip and therefore do not understand the need to take other people's trial and tragedy and trivialize and editorialize it. i believe that every one of us is on this earth, created by God, with a specific purpose to fulfill. i believe that when we work toward fulfilling that purpose, there is no greater sense of happiness and fulfillment. i believe that the reason that i took my first spanish class was to be able to take this job with gusto and serve what is rapidly becoming the majority population of our country and continent. i believe that none of us is born knowing how to be a parent, a husband or a wife, yet these are the absolute most important roles than any of us may ever fulfill in our time on earth. in my work, i believe that it is my job not only to teach the children but also to teach their parents -- to convince them that they are, in fact, their childrens' first teacher and that they have to make whatever personal effort and sacrifice to give that child the best social, emotional and academic base that they are able. my sense of humor is equally funny to some and completely lost on others. i love to read, and i love to encourage others to read. i believe that any and all efforts that we make to do a great job are fruitless if we are not exposing ourselves to some form of art continually and habitually. the same goes for our intellectual self as for our spiritual self -- if we are not feeding our spirit and our brain, we will have nothing to give to those with whom we want to share. i am so looking forward to the coming school year -- as daunting a challenge as it may be -- and i am looking forward to surrounding myself with a great team that wants to make great things happen with these children and their families.

Sometimes I Wonder

i wrote earlier this evening, but after i was finished, i chatted online with my cousin, who is awaiting security clearance to go overseas and do one of those jobs that none of us knows exists but we all reap potential rewards from one day. i would say more, but i do not think it would be prudent, not to mention i do not really have a true idea of what constitutes the task at hand. anyhoo, we determined that we are twins separated at birth. both with similar interests and propensities. yet we have not seen each other in sixteen years. weird, eh? i wish someone would fan me right now. it is boiling hot in the room i have this computer set up in, but it is the most convenient (and uncomfortable at the moment) place in the house for it. today, i saw a number of people with whom i graduated high school. isn't it strange that when you are surrounded by too many people from a particular era in your life that there is some strange compulsion (or perhaps it comes from inside of us) that transforms you into the person you were when you knew them twenty years ago? or maybe it's just me. i would be interested to know anyone else's perspective on that phenomenon. today, i sat in a room of about 140 people in the same profession as i am, and i could not, based upon first sight or introductions, pick out even a handful that i thought would end up in my circle of friends. i wonder if that is some sort of prejudice on my part or if it will be a self-fulfilling prophecy. or if it is just fact. i wonder.

Does Anybody Really Know...

what time it is? the past week and a half has been filled with teacher training and workshops and all manner of thrills. today, i spent three hours being instructed on how to send an email. not a joke. well, actually, i was writing letters and sending and receiving text messages, which i think proves that i have enough technological savvy that i could have tested out of that workshop. we do what we must, i suppose. i have been thinking lately about how easy it is for us to get into patterns of lifestyle and behavior. good or bad. another thing that has really become evident to me since my return from mexico is a sense of sadness about how our american society has conditioned our men to not necessarily opt for chivalry. what do i mean? i have seen a number of situations where a gentleman wanted to open the door for a woman or allow her to pass in front of him through a doorway, and she has brushed him off to do it her way. and have we conditioned our men not to feel comfortable complimenting us in a tasteful manner? it is not always, or even most all of the time, sexual harassment. maybe it is just a man wanting to compliment beauty. i don't know. i just finished reading an interesting novel called the dirty girls social club by alisa valdes-rodriguez. it dealt with six college friends, all latinas, who have at least two annual get-togethers to keep in touch and share life stories. there is quite a bit of spanish in the text, and it is not always translated for the reader. but it was fun and even a little culturally informative at times. and it's a pretty book cover, which, sometimes, is all we are really looking for in a book. a few days ago, i started another Ann Patchett novel called the patron saint of liars. i was talking to my sister yesterday, and she just finished reading it. synchronicity. neither of us knew the other had it in their possession. i am taking my temperature right now, because i thought i was having some kind of hot flash or something. it's fixed at slightly above normal. ever so slightly. and i am tired of holding the thermometer under my tongue. i think it's making a bruise. so far this week, i have received three pieces of mail at my new apartment. all three of them were hand-written correspondence (muy exciting AND a little old-fashioned, which i love), and all of them were invitations to little girls' birthday parties. this weekend, my niece is having her 12th birthday party at a water park in louisiana. next weekend, my life long best friend's little girl is hosting a tea party for her 4th birthday. and the weekend after that, a former co-worker's daughter is having a 'down on the farm' party, including an actual chuck wagon, for her 2nd birthday party. and i was worried about my social calendar not filling up. when i see a number of birthdays piling up in the same month, i always am compelled to count forty weeks back and see if there was a common occasion that those couples might have been 'celebrating' when they conceived. like, i think i might have been a valentine's celebration, as my birthday is 40 weeks to the day after valentine's day. coincidence? i think not.

One of the best dinner parties ever...San Miguel de Allende July 21, 2004. 

Shock Cultural

Fairly certain that the grammar in that title is Spanglish, at best.  It is Sunday of the first full weekend I have been home, and everyone says I look different.  Some said it in different ways, but the essence is the same.  I wish everyone could make or take the opportunity to do for themselves what I have just done.  I was thinking about why it always seems that I make such interesting friends when I travel.  And I came up with the following:  1)  We all have in common from the start a sense of adventure; 2)  We are fearless, some to a fault; 3)  We love learning; 4)  We are looking to live like we are dying, to appropriate the lyrics of the new Tim McGraw single.  There was another time in my life that I called myself living like I was dying, because I was convinced that I was destined to be dead by 30 years of age.  That epoch was filled with adventures far more adventuresome than skydiving or Rocky Mountain climbing but in a not-so-good way.  In a more self-destructive way, with the end in mind.  The past several years, my living in the moment has been driven by a more forward-thinking, positive force.  I have reclaimed my spirituality with a far more considerable fervor than even I would ever have guessed possible.  Fervor, not fanaticism.  I am more conscious of my place in the world.  Having almost lost it last year in a car accident, I decided for sure that I have not just a place, but a purpose here in this mad, mad world.  What exactly it is remains in the process of unfolding, but the journey is ever-changing and full of stories. 

Sobreviviendo San Miguel / Surviving San Miguel

i have just returned from having lived in san miguel de allende, guanajuato, mexico, since june 27th, 2004.  talk about culture shock.  i had an amazing time in the city, making new friends that i really believe will go the distance.  there are only so many stories you can share with a group of like-minded (or at least open-minded) people and not avoid being friends for a long, long time.  at one point during the stay, i commented to one of my house-mates, "are you sure we are not being secretly filmed for the new season of MTV's THE REAL WORLD / San Miguel?".  It would undoubtedly have received pretty good ratings.  We were conjuring up enough crazy anecdotes to at least get a shot at starring in our own telenovela. 

El Limerick y La Cucaracha

Good lord at staying out toda la noche.  

But I was not the only one, ¡Gracias a Dios!  Sarah got home at 0800 hours and Julia at 1030 hours.  So my adventure began at around 7:30 or 8:00 pm. Closer to 9:00pm.  Melissa wanted to go salsa dancing, por supuesto, and I went with her.  We went to Mama Mia's first for dinner and a drink.  It was delicious -- Italian food -- we had a pizza and an ensalada caprese (fresh mozzarella, basil, tomatoes and greens).  So we left there, going to El Ring, where they were supposed to have salsa between 9 and 11 pm.  

Not so. 

So we walked around and then went to the Limerick Pub -- an Irish pub in Mexico, owned by Argentinians -- and listened to U2 and various other popular bands (not in person) over the (very) loud speaker.  Then Choc showed up.  Then Henry, who went to Baylor at the same time I was there and dated one of my brother's ex-girlfriends, the sister of one of my ex-classmates.  Henry graduated Baylor law school and practiced in Dallas as a public defender for a while, realized a dire need for being able to speak Spanish, and got permission from his boss to spend a month at a time in San Miguel learning to speak it.  Then, after a few years of intermittent study, he decided to leave his lawyer job and come to San Miguel to teach English as a Second Language.  Now he writes for a SMA newspaper.  
So Melissa had already left, and we were just hanging out and people-watching, considering out loud when was the last time any of the three of us had had what we would call a "real date".  (Answer:  On average, about a year and a half).  So we stayed at The Limerick until sometime between 1 and 2am and then went to a local bar of decidedly ill repute called La Cucaracha (can't imagine WHY a bar of such a suave name would get a bad reputation).  

Save Charles, the retired-at-age-forty-four gay man  from San Francisco, we were the ONLY white, non-Hispanic people in the entire establishment.  Henry introduced us to some friends --  Armando, Charles and a woman whose name has since escaped me.  

Chit. Chat.  

Someone decides that we start (or should I say 'continue' with tequila).  I refuse to shoot it, and I sip alongside Henry.  Choc shoots.  Then Geraldo (henceforth "Jerry") and his friend, the extremely drunk Chilango, set about chatting us up, assuring us that they have many American friends.  

 Good times. 

Then I reiterate to Choc that his role is to protect me, the one white American girl in the place, from the vast majority of Mexican men.  In doing so, I give him express permission to claim me, kiss me, hold my hand -- whatever it takes to keep me from being "taken" by the natives.  Well, Jerry starts kissing my hand and commenting about the beauty of my eyes.  Then he put his hand on my a**.  So I turn to Choc, with pleading eyes and advise him, "grabbing my a**!  grabbing my a**!" So Choc, misunderstanding my not-so-secret code, GRABS MY A**!  Surprised and a little inspired, I said, "No! Jerry is grabbing my a**!" So, having not perfected our code, Choc and I drift closer to Armando, Charles and (I shall call her) Carmela.  

In a corner, where, in an effort to put as many friendly male bodies between me and Jerry the Beso-saurus, I lean against the wall. Unfortunately, in doing so, I turn out all the lights in the bar.  So I quickly and not-so-nonchalantly flip them back on.  So then we start watching Choc continue to sidle up to the drunk Mexicans.  The Chilango is getting more and more drunk and, por supuesto, more and more animated.  Especially with his tongue, which he is somehow able to maintain outside of his mouth at least 50 percent of the time. I glance and catch him (Chilango) staring at me, salivating and licking his lips in my general direction.  

Fabuloso.  

So, averting my gaze, I shift Henry a little more to the left and put in place a strong and living, breathing boundary between me and the Lip-Licker.  Jerry wants to kiss my hand again.  There's no avoiding it.  Then some young kid in a canary yellow golf visor walks in, and Charles salutes him, noting, "There's mi hijo, El Diablo".  El Diablo is a Los Angeles native and ex-Marine named Andrew, who has just left one of two local strip bars.  Henry, the ex-patriate local periodista, is incredulous, apparently having known nothing of such establishments in tranquil San Miguel. 

Charles, the retired-at-age-forty-four gay man from San Francisco who could very likely care not-a-bit-less about anything, spoke from experience to say that yes, in fact there are "a few places here where you can go watch cottage cheese slide down a pole".  And he has been there.  

(Universe shifting). 

Well, after a few more of the same exchanges and avoidances of kissing in various degrees and stages of repulsiveness, Henry asked if we would like to move to sit on one of the small couches in the corner.  So we sit down, Charles, Henry and I, and shortly, Choc pulls up a stool. So, we visit for a while, and before long, Henry has enough and checks out for the evening (morning).  

Oh no, empty chair.  Beside me.

Eyes fixed on the painfully obviously-empty chair just sitting there, bound to be filled by Los Borrachos, it is in this precious moment that Charles points out that I am the ONLY female of any race in the entire establishment. Yes, the only one. So I am sitting on, of all things, a love seat, alone.  Empathetically understanding my plight, Charles transplants himself to occupy the vacancy.  Thankfully he takes up the space closest to me, but he leaves the chair to my left empty.  

Enter Jerry. 

The next thing I see is Choc signaling something to the Chilango -- and then the Chilango starts unbuttoning his shirt. (Meanwhile, I am denying my most natural inclination to dance because the only one asking is Jerry) and the Chilango shucks his entire shirt right in the middle of the bar.  Presumably to show Choc the tattoo on his back that bears his last name.  The three of us, Choc, Charles and I quickly confirm, for reasons unknown, that none of us has ever had a tattoo. Jerry persists.  Dance?  Kiss? Charles, in an epic moment of enlightenment, puts his arm around me and starts stroking my hair.  As if scripted, the more insistent and piercing Jerry's stares, the more involved I become in Charles' embrace.  He completely surrounds me and assures Jerry -- who, in a more lucid state might have remembered my hours-previous claim that I belonged "only to Choc" -- that I was "completely faithful to him and only him," that we are leaving together.  

Fortunately, we had Victoria (a brand name of beer here) on our side, and she had done a smashing job of erasing any and all memories from Jerry's mind that were more than ten, fifteen seconds old.  

Thanks be to the Virgin Mary.  

Al fin y al cabo, we were able to outlast the locals and make a safe and obvious escape from the San Migueleño equivalent of Sue's Number Two in Waco, Texas. 

I can't wait to go back.