Saturday, April 30, 2011


This day had form before I even opened my eyes. Never mind how late I stayed up last night,
or that I filled my mason jar too far and my friends catered to my gluttony by feeding me foods I can't afford, and we soaked up the cool air while we talked once again about adventures and I dare not get any hopes up, but I do because I'm a sucker.

I opened one eye slowly, and remembered there is a cake to make. I sit for what seems like an hour at the end of the bed before I lug myself to Chris who has coffee for me. I zombie-stroll through the neighborhood grocery where Mr. Jones, the manager,  hollers loudly for this time of morning:

     "Hey, there! How you doing?"
     "Just fine." I say squinting. "Thank you sir."

I am trying not to forget my purpose.

My kid is nineteen today.  We'll all go watch him play ball for the Buddy League, then we'll meet at another park to play ball.  The sky looms with darkness, but I do not worry. I have so much practice now, not worrying.

I hope people are not scared away by the threatening clouds. Hope they show up for my boy who just wants to play ball and get presents and feel like the center of the universe for a couple of hours.

The sun comes just in time to boost their confidence. We play ball in a swampy field. Eat hot dogs and cake and soda. Sing an off-key Happy Birthday to Chaz. And linger, talking and breaking cascarones on each other's heads and picking up our mess.

I look at my kids and their friends so grown and I know I don't have much more of this. Only so many more birthdays for me to plan before friends or their spouses takes over.  Only so much time before my satellites find new suns.

Chaz graduates next week. My other two children will most likely go to a half day private school. I will go back to work. We will find a house, Chris says, when we get back from our trip. Our trip that has no return date. Things change. As they do, I hold on to my purpose. To do good, to give Him glory, to love and love and love.

It begins to rain as we put the last of our things in the car. I feel like the overcast skies sent us only a cool breeze, holding the weight of water until our bare dirty feet slid into the floorboards of our cars and we headed home.

Monday, April 25, 2011

Monday's Much Needed Song of the Day: Moon River by Innocence Mission

I sang this song in my first high school play,  in a loud and comical way, though.
I like this version.
It's sweet. So sweet.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Payasos de Miercoles: Payasos.Clown

Or Sabado when these clowns (I say clown with much respect) will be at The Latino Cultural Center at 12:00 with a free all ages show.

Payasos.Clown : Opening Act from Fabián Aguirre on Vimeo.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Monday at the Circle K

I am hanging on a tree
trying to stretch my limbs.
Young Miss says you can,
but down inside I know
I am destined to be a stubby
Mexican in a sea of lithe hillbillies.
I get a dollar from Grandpa who just got home
in his white painting clothes
that remind me a lot
of what he wore in the pen, where he learned to knit.
Think I lost that scarf in the last move, or the one before.
It was warm. Itchy, but warm.
We all get our dollars from him
 and head to
the Circle K where we place our quarters
on the Pac-Man, Dig-Dug, Centipede or really
whatever happens to be working
after we bought some apple HubbaBubba
and a coke to share.
The hairs on my neck are extra curly
with sweat and I am glad for the wobbly ceiling fan.
I slide in my quarter, push two player and let my cousin go first.

Rumbling City Streets by Chloe Curiel

The way you move to the beat,
 the way you tap your feet, 
and the honk-honk-honking of the cars,
The way you tilt your hat,
the way you shoo-bi-doo scat,
and the shine-shine-shining of the stars.
The way you tap-tap-pop,
the way you groove and never stop,
the slap-ety-slap, tap-ety-tap, shoo-bi-doo-waa.
The way you sway your hips
to the song on your lips,
the shodily-dod-ily, shodi-fa-faa.
The way you snap your fingers 
like no other singers,
and the hus-bus-bustle of the world.
The way you stomp-stomp-boom,
the way your smile lights the room,
and the way we kissed the ground where you twirled.

Saturday, April 2, 2011

St. Paddy's Booty in Your Face Race

I ran my first 3K last month at the Dash Down Greenville to raise money for the North Texas Food Bank. My goals were to finish in under an hour, to NOT come in last place  and to RUN the WHOLE time!
And I did it!
*I finished in 37 minutes in keeping with my stellar 12 minute, junk in tha trunk, big booty Judy, mile.
*I finished with plenty of people behind me, and plenty of people before.
*And I ran the WHOLE TIME!

I was pretty stoked even though I felt like I was going to puke because I had never ran a whole three miles at one time without stopping. I think I was motivated by mob mentality.

We had not planned on running. Our friends, Clark and Sarah, invited us to the parade and the Toadie's concert after, but we decided the day before to DO IT!

Clark said the race should be called the St. Paddy's Booty in Your Face Race because there were so many girls in short, shorts.

The other thing I noticed, besides the abundance of short, shorts, is the abundance of cellulite on otherwise fit girls: girls younger, in better shape, and more well groomed than I can afford to be.

And it made me wonder . . . What is that crap and how do we eradicate it?

I know it's not an ethical, or virtuous cause. No small children or cute animals are being hurt by massive amounts of cellulite. It's not finding it's way in elementary schools and causing brain damage or destroying the environment.

It's just annoying.

But then, as we sat there in the crowd watching the people who were watching the parade, I became less annoyed. At least for the time being, nobody cared. If mob mentality can influence me to finish a race without stopping, then maybe it could influence me to not care about the spacklin' on the back of my thighs. Like Maya Angelou says in her poem, We Alone:

"This could be our revolution: to love what is plentiful as much as what is scarce."

Or, we could just wear embellished sweat pants like my fellow runner here:)

Here is a little clip where you can see Clark and Chris answer the magic question. 

Friday, April 1, 2011

Lala Land by Chloe Curiel

Love reaches
farther than the
extent of the clouds.
to a place where
shame is not
a factor of every-day 
Where little girls
don’t just pretend to 
be, they
are who they fantasize
about, the ones who intrude 
softly into their
nightmares to transform 
them into dreams.
Life doesn’t ramble on
it  twirls and 
parades across the
streets of a 
never- ending rainbow 
an intersection of 
the past  and
the present, on a
one-way street to 
the future.
Where lies never 
entered a mans mind
and soullessness never took  
away a child’s destiny.
A vacation to nowhere unless you believe.