Donde pongo el ojo pongo la bala.
Random header image... Refresh for more!

Category — family

The girl with the pearl hoop earring[s]… who cried over Disney movies — hardcore.

I’m trying to work on a translation (which I’m discovering is nearly impossible on “family vacation”, so I’m a little panicked at this point – anyway!), George is setting up lights in the barn, and we’re watching Up. Do you know the part of the movie where they play you Carl and Ellie’s life in little snippets of the important things they lived through? The second that part started, I lost it. Completely. Like huge, shuddering sobs. I am the biggest sissy I have ever met.

There are so many things in that sequence that kill me. First of all, the fact that Carl is a grumpy old man, and then you finally understand why he’s such a grumpy old man. Their life, how much they loved each other, the fact that they were best friends before and above everything else. That what originally brought them together was their sense of adventure and everything they wanted to do in life. The fact that every time they saved, some unavoidable life event came up, and there went their Paradise Falls savings. The fact that they couldn’t have children.

I guess it hits a chord with me because I’m afraid of so many of those things. I see “real life” events coming up all the time and making us continuously postpone the adventurous things we have planned. (Side note: I have always hated the joke, “Wanna make God laugh? Make plans.” Ugh.) Trivial things like our fridge breaking, my flat tires, &c. I don’t want to ever feel like my marriage has caused either of us to let go of or give up on any of the dreams we had prior to or since getting married. I don’t want to be a grumpy old fart-ess one day, who can’t even be kind to children…

Children. I guess that’s the part that hits me the most. It is premature to really worry about this, since we haven’t decided to have kids yet, but I stress about whether we’ll be able to have them and what if we can’t, what then, do we adopt, do we not, do we foster, and so many so-forths you don’t even know.

Worrying doesn’t really solve anything, though, does it? It’s not going to make life magically solve itself, it’s not going to put money in our bank accounts, or fertilized eggs in my fallopian tubes (when the time is right, of course). So I guess I’ll just keep stumbling through my translation and crying over tender scenes in CHILDREN’S movies, like the total mature, stoic, worldly adult that I am. heh

P.S. George? I totally get to die first.

December 26, 2010   2 Comments

I’m dreaming of a White… what holiday is it again?

This year, we took it upon ourselves to drive up to Tennessee to spend Christmas with George’s parents. The drive, in and of itself, was an adventure… Since lists make everything better, I will bullet-point the highlights of the trip for you:

  • It’s a 12 hour drive without counting stops. We agreed to set out at 8 or 9am so we’d be here by 11pm, latest.

  • We actually WOKE UP at 11am.
  • We decided it would be a good idea to rotate the tires before the trip.
  • This took four hours.
  • We finally finished cleaning the house, prepping the cars, packing, packing the cats (yes, all three), picking up snacks for the drive, and setting out at FIVE PM.
  • Five minutes after we got on the highway, Leo Tolstoi pooped all over himself, forcing us to either pull over, or smell cat poop for the next four hours.
  • Obviously, we pulled over.
  • I felt pretty proud of myself for lining their carriers with puppy pads, as this made the cleanup quick and easy.
  • Four hours later, George gets sleepy…
  • George is a brave man, because he decides it’s a good idea to let me drive his GTi… two days after I managed to get not one but TWO flat tires in the ghetto in Cocoa.
  • Clearly, he does not love his car very much. Or he loves and trusts ME a WHOLE bunch. I’m thinking it’s the former.
  • I drink two Red Bulls and feel immortal, invincible, and ready to drive.
  • I drive five-odd hours, and start feeling like I’m going to murder someone. Red Bull does funny things to my brain.
  • George takes over driving duties while I try to sleep.
  • Spartacus (yes, we have rather grandiose names for our cats) decides he’s had enough of being locked up in his carrier in the car and decides to have a meltdown, scratching and howling the rest of the way to Franklin.
  • Leo pees all over himself. Again, thank goodness for puppy pads. Princess, who is usually the basket-case in our house, has not complained or pooped/peed ONCE this whole time, by the way.
  • We arrive at nearly 6am.
  • I am in a Red Bull haze and can’t sleep.
  • I kind of hate life at this point.

The next day we were complete zombies, but it was nice to be here, especially since Caroline (George’s sister) and her husband were spending Christmas with her in-laws and Liz (his other sister) and her husband and kids can’t make it here until Monday night.

We fell asleep last night and woke up to this:

George’s dad said it’s the first time it’s been a White Christmas in about 29 years.

All in all, although I don’t really celebrate Christmas, I’m grateful to get to spend the holiday with our family members who do. I’m grateful I got to speak to my family on the phone last night, I’m grateful I am married to the kindest, most patient, and gentle-spirited person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. I am grateful for every person, friend, family member, that I have encountered on my path through life, whether they’re still part of my life or not, whether they’re still on this Earth with us or have already passed…

I’m not really sure how this became a Thanksgiving post, though. :)

December 25, 2010   No Comments

Snookpwn3d!

Megan, one of my BFFs from high school, recently posted this picture as her Facebook profile picture:

Megan is on the left, with Snooki from Jersey Shore on the right. She met her when she line managed for her meet and greet at NACA. I thought this was so awful and awesome and amazing all at the same time, that I had to share the image with George, a friend, and my sister-in-law, Caroline. The following ensued…

Caroline: I’m so confused.

Caroline: Who is that?

Caroline: Besides looking like you.

Lorenia: I think I am going to go cry in a dark corner now.

My sister-in-law is awesome. hahaha Lesson learned, folks. Mock not the d-list celebrities… especially if, in some creepy way, they may resemble you. Especially if you’re a dark-skinned short-stack.

April 28, 2010   1 Comment

From the mouths of babes…

George and I are in Cancun for a mini vacation (and by mini, I mean ten days). I have a series of conferences this week, so we just decided to make the trip into a vacay, too. Not too shabby when your flights are covered!

Yesterday, my mom “hired” Samantha, my very much 14 and a half year old sister, to work with us and hand out the receivers and basically just help out. During one of the breaks, she and I were talking about boys…

“You know, mom’s going to freak out when I introduce her to the boy I want to date.”

“Why? Is he covered in tattoos? Body piercings?”

“No… but I mean… he’s not very pretty…”

“Oh, Sam,” I teased. “Not very pretty? Ew.”

“I KNOW!!! But he’s so, so, so nice…”

“Why don’t you hold out for one you find pretty AND nice?”

“Pffft. Those don’t exist.”

I raise a brow, turn to look at George, editing photos on his laptop. “Oh?”

“OK, sure, but LOOK HOW LONG THAT TOOK YOU!!!

Touché, little sister. Touché.

January 17, 2010   6 Comments

Remembering Tonight

Tonight, driving home through the dark suburban streets, brightened with the colorful Christmas lights and decorations. Windows down, cool, damp Florida night wind weaving through my hair. George holding my hand. My chest feeling so very full of contentment, a feeling akin to a deep breath after a long workout. Satisfaction. Peace. Silent companionship.

These are the moments I want to commit to memory. Not the monumental events, necessarily. Not those few days that you tire everyone with by recounting them over and over in your old age. Just these every-day days that life is peppered with.

“He drove us home, and we held hands. It smelled clean and fresh and slightly swampy.You could hear crickets and alligators on the sides of the road, even over the music.”

Those are the things that make my heart burst.

December 13, 2009   3 Comments

Attempted closure

Technology, the bane of my existence. Gathering up all your courage to make a phone call and attempt closure on a subject in your life is a little complicated when voicemail is the party who picks up on the other line. It is quite hard to sound peaceful and calm and chipper when your voice is wobbling at the unexpected horror of having to leave a short, upbeat, “I know you’re never going to call me back, but hey, here’s my number!” blurb.

Maturity fail. Resolution fail.

November 23, 2009   1 Comment

Eulogy of the “adopted” nephew

Four generations of Rincon del Angel

Left to right: Mamina (my great grandma), abuelo Sergio, me on his lap, my mom

A couple of days ago, my grandpa died, my abuelo Sergio. I have been thinking what I could possibly say or write about him. Abuelo Sergio was the most stable male presence in my life. Seeing him and his wife always made me think that marriage can work, that you can be sickeningly in love with someone after 20-odd and 30-odd years. He represented everything that was good, manly, and loving in my eyes. He always smelled of shaving cream and tobacco, he always had a poem to make you laugh, a word to heal a wound. He is and always will be one of my favorite people in this world, closer to my heart than I could possibly express.

I wasn’t able to attend his funeral or be there with my family. I wish I could have been there – but I was through their many texts and emails and calls. And since I wasn’t able to be there, my mom shared something with me that brought tears to my eyes, to the eyes of those who were there and of those who have since read it as well. They are the words of someone who was a friend and became family. This is my translation.

It would be inappropriate to say “good afternoon” on this occasion, so I will simply say hello to you all on this, the afternoon on which we accompany Sergio and his family. I have the pleasure of already knowing most of you; however, out of respect for those of you I have not met, my name is Jemil. I am a friend, co-worker and adopted nephew of Silvina and Sergio. I would like to share with you my personal experience with this great man, as I’m sure that many of us have had feelings and impressions similar to those I am about to describe to you.

I met Sergio almost ten years ago, and I must admit that we both began with a left foot. Somehow, we both clashed during our first impression and our initial relationship was more diplomatic than sincere. It wasn’t until a little over three years ago when we had the chance to spend time together and get to know each other better. This time, the relationship was so positive that he adopted me as a nephew and I adopted him as my uncle. Today I have the good fortune and the sorrow of saying goodbye to him. Sorrow is what my selfish side feels- I wish he could be with us much longer; however, my human side feels lucky, as it understands that this great person was prisoner in a body that was sick and weary and needed to be free.

A man of more than a thousand words, wise counselor and friend, passionate about his tastes and pleasures, he was an encyclopedia of poetry and an atlas of our Mexico. It was a pleasure to sit next to him and hear his describe the destinations and roads he traveled for so many years. He painted an image with such vivid details that I could swear I visited some of those places. There was never a conversation that didn’t make its way, however briefly, to the subject of gastronomy; I have never eaten a panucho, but [thanks to him] I know what one tastes like! And, as always, after food, a good conversation about politics was never too far away. He had a special humorous view and precision on the subject; many times I thought he should have been a political analyst. But his heart… his heart was in bullfighting, an authentic connoisseur of the world of tauromachy. We he spoke of bulls and bullfighters, plazas and Spanish-style bullfighting, of those he once witnessed, he would express a passion that I have not often seen.

The most admirable thing about my uncle Sergio was how he lived his life, because there is no one who shows more love for life than he who uses it and takes full advantage of it to love, learn and share. With this exemplary will he fought against his cancer for over eight years. Beyond the pain and discomfort, he would ferociously go to work and it was impossible to dissuade him.

On this day, after so much time, his body gave up, tired after such a long voyage, and decided that it was time to turn the light off and go to sleep in order to be able to retake that path that we all will one day follow. But it is only his body that we will no longer see among us, because a person like him leaves a mark on everyone of us lucky enough to cross his path. His memory and the many things we learned from him will live forever in our minds and hearts.

Sergio, rest in peace. Here you lived a great life, and where you are going, an even better one is waiting.”

Te quiero, pinche puto pendejo. A huevooooooooooooooooooooo!!!

August 26, 2009   7 Comments

Posted as I play the world’s smallest violin.

Tristes grandes olhos

Happy Father’s Day, Dad.

June 21, 2009   7 Comments