“Uh-huh, Uh-huh, Yo, Yo…”

Archive for April, 2010

photo of the day

photo by la


love list lunes #16

Sí, hoy es lunes.

I love big, chubby babies. Look at my sister’s own fat one.

What’s on YOUR love list today?


For the love of words #4

photo by el jefe

“Some people feel the rain. Others just get wet.”

~Bob Dylan

Did you feel the rain today? I did, but only for so long until I got too wet.


love list lunes #15

ok, hoy es martes.  whateves.

I love my great, huge, monstrous, stinking ginormous familia.

I love my siblings: the ones with friendly eyes, or the ones with mischievous grins, or the ones with quick wit, or the ones with contagious laughs, or the ones with pleasant conversation, or the ones with kind hearts, or the ones with logical brains, or the ones that are plain goofy, or the ones with beautiful smiles, and I could go on.

I love their husbands and wives: their straight talk, their laughter, their kindness, their wisdom, their subtle humor, their big hearts, their hard work, their chattiness, their jokes…again, I could go on.

And, I love their children.

Oh, how I love my nieces and nephews! They are all awesome. All forty-two of them (forty-two?! I hope that’s right). Sometimes I wish I could have been born in their generation so I could be surrounded by so many cool cousins.   But lucky are my kids who get them as cousins.  So lucky.

photo by el jefe

This summer I hope to sit around one of these with my family again.

photo by el jefe

In the mean time I suggest they gather round their computers and warm themselves by this blog post.

What’s on your love list today?


Writing prompt #1: “Where are you from?”

Where I’m From

(an exercise in imagery)


I am from rough cedar walls
that gave me a sliver if I rubbed them the wrong way.
I am from pomegranates as big as my head,
nibbling and savoring tiny seeds, dripping its red juice
in the grass and shadows of Autumn afternoons.
I am from jars and jars,
shelves upon shelves
of canned peaches and apricots-
their orange flesh pressed against the bumpy glass signature of “Ball” or “Mason” .
I’m from rolling down grassy hills, avoiding metal sprinklers at all costs,
and landing at the bottom wrapped in laughter and itchy grass.
I’m from an oasis, standing in the middle of the desert,
but you’ll find, instead of palm trees, they’re mostly fruit,
and instead of a freshwater pond, a pool surrounded with hot cement and brown tile,
and two automatic pool sweepers named “Bill” and “Ted”.

I am from dancing in the family room
to Captain and Tennille records
following the lead of my tall, lanky sister teaching me to find my first “moves.”
I am from Barbie afternoons and Fisher Price mornings,
from architectural masterpieces made from books and blocks
from forts of purple blankets,
(or, big brother traps for innocent baby sisters),
I am from a playroom, long and skinny, filled with toys, books, and magic.

I am from whole wheat and honey, peanut butter, and orange juice.
I am from sizzling onions crackling in my ears and wafting past my nose in the anticipation of dinner.
I am from kneeling with arms folded and then a tumultuous race to the table,
from licking my plate to call my “spot”
but still ending up with my small frame shoved to the middle,
sandwiched between at least two bodies on each side
on that long sturdy wood bench,
no way out.
I am from defending my food from older brothers.
I am from eating my vegetables in order to get dessert and crossing my fingers
in hopes that it didn’t have nuts or raisins.

I am from splashing and kicking,
from Marco and Polo,
from sharks and sardines,
from living a second life as a fish.
I am from loud, playful days and hushed cricket nights
with Mom’s final warnings of bedtime, checking each child down the row.
I am from the number ten.
I am from a place holding both love and chaos,
a wooden sculpture forever imprinted on my mind.
There, sitting at 3440 East Harmon, I am from trees and grass and water:
a large house of brick and cedar wood that sometimes
sneaks into my dreams,
blowing the familiar wooded scent through my mind,
flooding it with a thousand memories.

by Laura Archibald

Where are you from?


photo of the day

photo by la


For the love of words #3

“Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in, forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day, you shall begin it well and serenely.”

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Goodnight April 14th, 2010, I will let go of all my blunders,   including the time that I lost my temper.  I will remember the good things, like the exact moment, from my kitchen table, I noticed that my six year old can reach the kitchen sink to turn it on (when did that happen?)  and how my 4 year old wrote a “book” about seeds that grew into flowers because “flowers are the best and rule the world.”  I will remember that it was a sunny beautiful day and even though my back patio needs some major attention my children still had fun riding their bikes.  Goodbye Today, thank you for your time.

What do your tomorrows hold?


love list lunes #14

Sí, hoy es lunes.

Like a broken record (er, a damaged mp3 file for the younger generation) this song has been playing in my head. This is on my love list today (thanks, Amy, for introducing me).

And then this song reminded me of a late night, when I was the last one to bed and I sat watching SNL, cracking up out loud. So this is also on my love list today (thanks, Justin Timberlake, for being so stinking hilarious).
Oh, wait, youtube won’t let me share this one, so click here if you’re interested.

What’s on your love list today?


photos of the day

When El Jefe and I were first married, we lived in a cozy two bedroom apartment and we loved visitors. We loved them so much we would take their picture with a Polaroid camera and then have them write a message on it to us. I should find those somewhere…

Now, it’s 2010 and Polaroids are a thing of the past. So sad…unless you happen to be my husband.

El Jefe found an old Polaroid camera at Goodwill, Savers or Charleston Outlet (not sure which one but when he finds old cameras it’s usually at one of those thrift stores). I know there is something extremely cool about this Polaroid and that it’s not your typical old Polaroid camera. For one, it is bigger than the ones you are familiar with. For two? I’ll have to ask him when he’s home from work. But it’s special and boy was he excited to find it.

He bought this camera because he knew that his foto friend happened to own some film specifically for this camera. This is a wonder of all wonders because Polaroid no longer makes that film. That’s right, the pictures aren’t just any picture, they are a vintage treasure.

So, one day after church, El Jefe pulled us each outside the Blue Bungalow for a snapshot.

This one is my favorite because he looks like he just got home from “a long day at the office.”

photo by el jefe

photo by el jefe

photo by chunk #1

photo by el jefe

A comeback from the “m” word (first written on 3/24/10)

photo by el jefe

Hmmmm, it would appear that I have not fully made a comeback because I have a hard time writing it….miscarriage….. Perhaps I should call this post “A comeback from ‘that which shall not be named'”. Or,  I should just call it “Voldemort”. Yes. How I recovered from my “Voldemort”.

Perhaps it is the weight that this word carries.  Its own definition says things like “expulsion” “non-viable” and “embryo”.  These descriptions are cold  and harsh (and kinda gross).  Use them in reference to me and my body and, ya, I recoil, preferring to call the whole experience “that which shall not be named”.

But that is only part of its weight.  There is some heftiness in this word that is not found in a dictionary.  In fact, there are no words, I believe, but these lack of words seemed to linger, heavy inside me.

Nature has taken its course.  And my brain must do a paradigm shift…again.

I think my main problem with the “m” word is that I want to move on and start fresh, RIGHT NOW.  I don’t want to dwell on it anymore…but my body isn’t letting me do that.  It keeps yelling at me like a sore muscle after a serious workout.  I did not realize how long it takes to recuperate from a “mis” (part the word is ok).

There are ways to recuperate.  Let me give you exhibit A on how NOT to recover:

  • After a check-up, go to the mall to find a hair flower to cheer you up.  Even if you think it’s not that far to walk, think again.  Then, think again, again, because you will experience some serious cramping after your long walk.
  • Spend most of the next day standing, while helping with an Easter Egg Hunt and then think it’s no big deal to weed the garden.  Apparently it is a big deal…that night, your body will let you know.
  • After said bad night, go to church anyway even though you committed in your head to stay home a relax.
  • The next day, go to work and think it’s OK even if you are feeling light headed.
  • My sister said it best: “You’re not treating this like it’s a big deal….and it IS a big deal!”  She knows when to speak and how to do it.  So, I followed her advice.

Now, Exhibit B on one way to recover correctly:

  • Watch Jane Austin movies, both modern version or BBC versions.  As many as you want.
  • Eat chocolate ice cream, straight out of the container.  It’s more comforting that way.  But don’t eat as much as you really want because you gain back the weight you lost in the “mis.”
  • Read a good book- “Shakespeare’s Secret”  (Apparently both Victorian and Elizabethan England are very comforting), and also start the Percy Jackson series…. Then dream of the days when you were an English teacher how fun it would be to use the first book in your mythology unit….then be reminded by your friend “Scott” that you’d never get to use it because you would have no way to pay for all those books for your students…..and then ponder the circumstances of our education and think about homeschooling…but I digress and you probably wouldn’t want to go on this tangent like I did.
  • Update your blog.
  • Play Sorry with the Chunks
  • Get out that old instructional book and find the hidden secrets of Photoshop.
  • Sleep
  • Play Memory with the Chunks
  • Take good herbs.
  • Sleep some more and more and more.

I always thought that if I had to be put on some kind of bed rest that I would just lap it up.  Ya, bring on the books, bring on the movies, bring on the lazing about.  I thought that was my personality.  Turns out I can only handle about a day and a half of that and then the crazy switch goes off.

OK, I don’t know how to end this post.  So, instead…………..Tell me about your comebacks.




Love List Lunes #13

Sí, hoy es lunes.

Today, as I drove on the freeway it started to rain on me while the sun was shining.  Not a single cloud was above me, though there were plenty blowing around the valley. “The Devil’s beating his wife.” My mom told me this while I sat on her lap on a trip through Yellowstone and it rained on us as the sun was shining.

So, I said it to my daughter: “Hey [Chunk #2], look, the Devil’s beating his wife.”

“What mommy?  The DEVIL!!??”

Then I wondered where the crap that came from and then why on earth would a parent tell their child such a thing. Oh well.

Anywho, I love, love, love a good rain storm.  I love puddles that reflect the lights of this desert city and clouds that turn the sky purple.

I love it.  Pero, no me gusta el viento. No, ¡no me gusta!


What’s on your love list today?


la mamacheetah instruction manual

It would be good if we all had our own instruction manual. We could throw in topics like, “How to thoroughly charm me,” or “This is my ‘love language’ and why,” or “What to do in case of mood swings.”

Here is a section on “Things that annoy me:”

#1 -Please don’t touch me with your feet. I don’t like anyone putting their feet on me with out permission. If you want to touch me with your feet, you must ask  first. And since most people don’t ask to do such things why don’t you just not put your feet on me, ok? Thank you.

#2 If I tell you I hate cats and I have a long history of reasons to hate cats, please don’t insist on acting like one around me. That’s right, don’t meow at me and refuse to speak English. Please especially don’t do this while rubbing your feet on me.

#3 When I’m on the computer ….please…. just don’t touch me. This sounds a little “OCD,” I know, but it used to be that I just didn’t want to be mauled. Then I didn’t want to have anyone on my lap. Then I didn’t want anyone rubbing their nose on me. Then I didn’t want anyone leaning on me. Now, I just don’t even want to be touched. If you must touch me, please wait until I’m done stressing out over whatever it is I’m working on at the computer.  Thanks.  Also, if you need my attention while I’m at the computer, do not impatiently repeat my name over and over if you expect a civil response from me.

Perhaps these are things I should work on. Perhaps. But for now, this is part of my instruction manual (Especially right now…while I’m working at the computer…. with my “attention starved” “cat children” around me).

What’s in your instruction manual? I won’t judge your quirks, I promise.

Happy Easter.