- chocolate
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
Helicopter Season
Jadyn and Luke climb up the ladder and bounce up and down on the trampoline. Jadyn shouts, "I didn't know it was already helicopter season!" "Helicopters!" they join. Luke's big eyes brighten with each bounce.
I hardly know what they are talking about as I try to extricate my ankle from the tiny jaws of the most annoying puggle the good Lord ever allowed man to create. The rat-thing has an uncouth fascination with anything below the knee. His sharp puppy teeth razor through most types of denim, dignity, and shoelaces.
Having distracted the varmint with something slimy and throwable, I finally make it to the trampoline. "Helicopter" seeds cover the jumping mat, freshly fallen from the trees. Helicopter season. We gather them up and throw them in the air and try to catch them with our hands, though our hair does a better job.
This is the first time I have babysat in five years. My favorite part is reading on the big couch with Jadyn and Luke, the youngest of the four children. We make it through The Ugly Duckling, and Why the Sun Was Late. Apparently, it is impossible to sink into the couch the whole way to China. Although, tigers may feed on pineapples, grass, zebras, Jadyns, and hippos.
I hardly know what they are talking about as I try to extricate my ankle from the tiny jaws of the most annoying puggle the good Lord ever allowed man to create. The rat-thing has an uncouth fascination with anything below the knee. His sharp puppy teeth razor through most types of denim, dignity, and shoelaces.
Having distracted the varmint with something slimy and throwable, I finally make it to the trampoline. "Helicopter" seeds cover the jumping mat, freshly fallen from the trees. Helicopter season. We gather them up and throw them in the air and try to catch them with our hands, though our hair does a better job.
This is the first time I have babysat in five years. My favorite part is reading on the big couch with Jadyn and Luke, the youngest of the four children. We make it through The Ugly Duckling, and Why the Sun Was Late. Apparently, it is impossible to sink into the couch the whole way to China. Although, tigers may feed on pineapples, grass, zebras, Jadyns, and hippos.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Settle Down
I may have been a bit hasty about my family size. Twelve does sound excessive, even if God doesn't see a person as excess. At work tonight, my boss made an interesting comment: a couple can have as many children as they like, provided they have a big enough family already to help raise the children. He was talking about extended family, and how we need each other. It surprised me, because he often gets comments about how four children is an abnormally large number. I'm glad to hear he disagrees.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
12
Jodi, Joella, and I were talking about families. It made me miss mine. And it made me think about my future family. Oh, the possibilities of the future! It makes me smile!
I want 12 kids. Running all around. All the time.
I want 12 kids. Running all around. All the time.
Monday, September 7, 2009
You Got No Room To Talk!
Answers in song titles. All answers/titles belong to one band, though several albums. Don't think too much about these answers; I sure didn't.
Your Artist: The Elms
Are you male or female: She's Cold!
Describe yourself: I am the World
How do you feel about yourself: I Left my Body and Never Came Back
Describe where you currently live: The Towers and the Trains
The first thing you think of when you wake up: Nothin' To Do With Love
If you could go anywhere, where would you go: Go Toward the Glow
Your favorite form of transportation: Lifeboat
Your best friend is: The Downtown King
Your favorite color is: Black Peach
What's the weather like: I've Been Wrong
If your life were a TV show, what would it be called: Hey Hey
What is life to you: All the While Having Fun!
What is the best advice you have to give: Let Love In
If you could change your name, what would it be: The Big Surprise
Your favorite food is: Bring Me Your Tea
How I would like to die: Through the Night
My soul's present condition: You Saved Me
The faults I can bear: Speaking in Tongues
How would you describe your love life: Here's My Hand
What are you going to post this as: You Got No Room to Talk!
Your Artist: The Elms
Are you male or female: She's Cold!
Describe yourself: I am the World
How do you feel about yourself: I Left my Body and Never Came Back
Describe where you currently live: The Towers and the Trains
The first thing you think of when you wake up: Nothin' To Do With Love
If you could go anywhere, where would you go: Go Toward the Glow
Your favorite form of transportation: Lifeboat
Your best friend is: The Downtown King
Your favorite color is: Black Peach
What's the weather like: I've Been Wrong
If your life were a TV show, what would it be called: Hey Hey
What is life to you: All the While Having Fun!
What is the best advice you have to give: Let Love In
If you could change your name, what would it be: The Big Surprise
Your favorite food is: Bring Me Your Tea
How I would like to die: Through the Night
My soul's present condition: You Saved Me
The faults I can bear: Speaking in Tongues
How would you describe your love life: Here's My Hand
What are you going to post this as: You Got No Room to Talk!
Saturday, September 5, 2009
"Driving"
Abbreviated adaptations from my journal:
This fourth day in Mexico, I spent at the Soto homestead. I wasn't feeling well, and I wasn't sure where I was supposed to go, not having followed with the children to their aunt's house the previous night. In the morning a man dropped off five two-month-old pigs. Apparently the family raises and sells pigs. Just a few at a time, enough to fill comfortably two small corrals. We fed them and watered them, and I handed water to Doña Delfina to clean the corral. (I am never, ever donating blood.)
In the afternoon, Chepina, one of Doña Delfina's younger daughters, came to visit. We took a trip into town to inquire after the pig feed, and returned Doña Delfina home. But Chepina asked if I would like to go with her to darle una vuelta. I was ready to get out. So the two of us headed away in the '94 Golf belonging to Rogelio, just for a spin. She texted him for permission and as I understand it, she received permission to go as far as Atotonilco, but not as far as Pachuca, which is where we were unmistakably headed. When I questioned her, she did not bother lying: "I'm going to introduce you to my boyfriend."
I thought I must have heard her wrong when we had first met. I had been sure that she had filed herself under single just days earlier. And so it was. She had been lying to her family about her boyfriend in Pachuca. She was trusting me with this secret which she had held since January. When we arrived, he certainly appeared to be much older than her. He also has two kids, making Chepina even more shy of the commitment. We went together to ice cream and had a fine conversation.
On our way out of the parking lot, he took the driver's seat. But the car refused to go into reverse. We just kept inching toward the pole directly in front of us. Even the savvy Chepina could not make it budge backward. So Francisco, the novio escondido, had to push us out of the space. We had no more reverse trouble once we were going again. But after leaving Francisco behind, we began to climb a hill. While merging with some heavy traffic to the left, directly around an accident of some sort to which police were attending, the car sputtered a bit, and refused to move upward. She applied the e-brake, and a police officer was with us shortly. Then he left and was replaced by another. Many people who drive in Mexico do not have their licenses because it costs a good deal to obtain one. What's more, if pulled over, it may be cheaper to simply pay off the officer. Chepina was in this category of unlicensed. She was anxious as they questioned her about the situation. And I'm sure poor Chepina told the story three times until together they decided to push the car over the hill using the police car. Ever so gently, the police car behind us nudged us up the hill where the clutch finally seemed to grab the gears. It was a smooth ride from then out.
This fourth day in Mexico, I spent at the Soto homestead. I wasn't feeling well, and I wasn't sure where I was supposed to go, not having followed with the children to their aunt's house the previous night. In the morning a man dropped off five two-month-old pigs. Apparently the family raises and sells pigs. Just a few at a time, enough to fill comfortably two small corrals. We fed them and watered them, and I handed water to Doña Delfina to clean the corral. (I am never, ever donating blood.)
In the afternoon, Chepina, one of Doña Delfina's younger daughters, came to visit. We took a trip into town to inquire after the pig feed, and returned Doña Delfina home. But Chepina asked if I would like to go with her to darle una vuelta. I was ready to get out. So the two of us headed away in the '94 Golf belonging to Rogelio, just for a spin. She texted him for permission and as I understand it, she received permission to go as far as Atotonilco, but not as far as Pachuca, which is where we were unmistakably headed. When I questioned her, she did not bother lying: "I'm going to introduce you to my boyfriend."
I thought I must have heard her wrong when we had first met. I had been sure that she had filed herself under single just days earlier. And so it was. She had been lying to her family about her boyfriend in Pachuca. She was trusting me with this secret which she had held since January. When we arrived, he certainly appeared to be much older than her. He also has two kids, making Chepina even more shy of the commitment. We went together to ice cream and had a fine conversation.
On our way out of the parking lot, he took the driver's seat. But the car refused to go into reverse. We just kept inching toward the pole directly in front of us. Even the savvy Chepina could not make it budge backward. So Francisco, the novio escondido, had to push us out of the space. We had no more reverse trouble once we were going again. But after leaving Francisco behind, we began to climb a hill. While merging with some heavy traffic to the left, directly around an accident of some sort to which police were attending, the car sputtered a bit, and refused to move upward. She applied the e-brake, and a police officer was with us shortly. Then he left and was replaced by another. Many people who drive in Mexico do not have their licenses because it costs a good deal to obtain one. What's more, if pulled over, it may be cheaper to simply pay off the officer. Chepina was in this category of unlicensed. She was anxious as they questioned her about the situation. And I'm sure poor Chepina told the story three times until together they decided to push the car over the hill using the police car. Ever so gently, the police car behind us nudged us up the hill where the clutch finally seemed to grab the gears. It was a smooth ride from then out.
Friday, September 4, 2009
A song I like
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
"Tamales"
Abbreviated adaptations from my journal.
Day three: I still don't feel sick.
Today Doña Delfina, Graciela and two of her kids and I went to the plaza to buy tamale ingredients. We ended up with bags so full that I had to rest them on my legs and sort of waddle between the stalls of the market. While there, I continuously heard the name "güera." I thought they were telling me "fuera," get out. But Graciela explained that it was a term of affection, meaning something like "blondie." No surprise, really. Everyone and everything in Mexico has a nickname. I never once heard gringa.
I made my way to the combi (the taxi-van) to wait for Doña Delfina while she got the masa for the tamales. She came back 15 minutes later with a bucket filled with a sandy white substance made from corn, the foundation of the tamales.
She showed me how to soak the dried corn husks and sift the masa before adding the anise, the lard, the oil, and other ingredients that make the bulk of the tamal. Simultaneously, she was making salsa verde and cooking chicken to be used to fill the tamales. Then she showed me how to wrap them all together in the corn husks! We ended up with a small army of tamales, waiting to be boiled for an hour. In the meantime, family members were arriving. Tamales are an occasion. Although, for the Soto family, they hardly need an excuse to come together. The eight children return frequently to the ranch, just to sit on the kitchen benches and platicar, pass chisme.
Felipe, one of the Soto brothers, was excited to practice his English with me. But Rogelio took special offense at his forwardness, reminding everyone that I knew Spanish. He also felt it was rude for his family to address me as güera instead of Carolina. I told them I didn't mind güera. But I didn't tell them that I will always prefer Carolina.
The tamales were a success. We had enough for dinner that night, breakfast the next morning, and lunch in the afternoon.
Day three: I still don't feel sick.
Today Doña Delfina, Graciela and two of her kids and I went to the plaza to buy tamale ingredients. We ended up with bags so full that I had to rest them on my legs and sort of waddle between the stalls of the market. While there, I continuously heard the name "güera." I thought they were telling me "fuera," get out. But Graciela explained that it was a term of affection, meaning something like "blondie." No surprise, really. Everyone and everything in Mexico has a nickname. I never once heard gringa.
I made my way to the combi (the taxi-van) to wait for Doña Delfina while she got the masa for the tamales. She came back 15 minutes later with a bucket filled with a sandy white substance made from corn, the foundation of the tamales.
She showed me how to soak the dried corn husks and sift the masa before adding the anise, the lard, the oil, and other ingredients that make the bulk of the tamal. Simultaneously, she was making salsa verde and cooking chicken to be used to fill the tamales. Then she showed me how to wrap them all together in the corn husks! We ended up with a small army of tamales, waiting to be boiled for an hour. In the meantime, family members were arriving. Tamales are an occasion. Although, for the Soto family, they hardly need an excuse to come together. The eight children return frequently to the ranch, just to sit on the kitchen benches and platicar, pass chisme.
Felipe, one of the Soto brothers, was excited to practice his English with me. But Rogelio took special offense at his forwardness, reminding everyone that I knew Spanish. He also felt it was rude for his family to address me as güera instead of Carolina. I told them I didn't mind güera. But I didn't tell them that I will always prefer Carolina.
The tamales were a success. We had enough for dinner that night, breakfast the next morning, and lunch in the afternoon.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
"No Idea"
Abbreviated adaptations from my journal. As promised:
bañarse: bathe
nadar: swim
Spanish 101; there's a difference between these two terms, except in the following situation: Los Bañarios de Pachuca. They're thermal springs. Okay. But I didn't know that. So I packed for swimming, and for a bath, because it sounded public. It certainly was. Los Bañarios are a public swimming facility, and we stayed outside all day. One thing I forgot to bring to Mexico: sunscreen. I burnt myself rather nicely. But even so, I am sure that God protected my body from worse. Plus, as I passed by a family applying sunscreen, I asked to use some. They were confused. Everyone is confused when I speak. I am confused when they speak. It is a different vocabulary here than any I have studied. But I don't claim to have studied hard.
bañarse: bathe
nadar: swim
Spanish 101; there's a difference between these two terms, except in the following situation: Los Bañarios de Pachuca. They're thermal springs. Okay. But I didn't know that. So I packed for swimming, and for a bath, because it sounded public. It certainly was. Los Bañarios are a public swimming facility, and we stayed outside all day. One thing I forgot to bring to Mexico: sunscreen. I burnt myself rather nicely. But even so, I am sure that God protected my body from worse. Plus, as I passed by a family applying sunscreen, I asked to use some. They were confused. Everyone is confused when I speak. I am confused when they speak. It is a different vocabulary here than any I have studied. But I don't claim to have studied hard.
"Arrival"
Abbreviated adaptations from my journal. As promised:
The first flight: fine.
The second flight: late. By the time we were off the ground, the kids had worn themselves out. They had asked every question imaginable. Seriously. They expressed interest in every single aspect of their adventure: how does a plane fly? what are those green things? when will we eat? what does your bracelet say?
The bracelet says, "Cristo Vive," and the story of Jesus' death and resurrection took their attention for a longer time than most adults, to the endless fascination of a kind-looking woman sitting nearby.
I began to get nervous as the second flight departed and then my million ridiculous questions started, just as the kids fell asleep: what if they don't meet us? where do we go in the airport to meet them? who will carry our bags? what will immigration say about our travel situation? why did I wear stupid flip-flops, after all? will they like me?
When they did find us, we were on the move. I turned around when I heard, "Carolina!" and found a matronly, sociable Mexican woman. We embraced as if I were her lost grandchild, so great was my relief! I couldn't stop smiling for the rest of the day. I even gladly ate a meal at McDonald's, (noting the irony of the spotlessness of the place). It may have been better for me had I not eaten at McDonald's, though. Because as soon as we arrived at the house, Dona Delfina gave us more food. I should mention that Dona Delfina came to meet us accompanied by Mauricio, a cousin and the driver; Rogelio, her son and now my boyfriend; and Francisco, a cousin. Somehow it was possible to fit us all and our six bags into an Eddie Bauer edition Ford Explorer.
The first flight: fine.
The second flight: late. By the time we were off the ground, the kids had worn themselves out. They had asked every question imaginable. Seriously. They expressed interest in every single aspect of their adventure: how does a plane fly? what are those green things? when will we eat? what does your bracelet say?
The bracelet says, "Cristo Vive," and the story of Jesus' death and resurrection took their attention for a longer time than most adults, to the endless fascination of a kind-looking woman sitting nearby.
I began to get nervous as the second flight departed and then my million ridiculous questions started, just as the kids fell asleep: what if they don't meet us? where do we go in the airport to meet them? who will carry our bags? what will immigration say about our travel situation? why did I wear stupid flip-flops, after all? will they like me?
When they did find us, we were on the move. I turned around when I heard, "Carolina!" and found a matronly, sociable Mexican woman. We embraced as if I were her lost grandchild, so great was my relief! I couldn't stop smiling for the rest of the day. I even gladly ate a meal at McDonald's, (noting the irony of the spotlessness of the place). It may have been better for me had I not eaten at McDonald's, though. Because as soon as we arrived at the house, Dona Delfina gave us more food. I should mention that Dona Delfina came to meet us accompanied by Mauricio, a cousin and the driver; Rogelio, her son and now my boyfriend; and Francisco, a cousin. Somehow it was possible to fit us all and our six bags into an Eddie Bauer edition Ford Explorer.
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