Sad to belong to someone else ( dan england and john ford Coley )

Such a sad song.  In some way, I think this has happened to me, which is why I could never really completely give myself to any one man.  It makes me feel relief though, that I am completely free to let the "right one" in now.  I just hope he doesn't belong to someone else...

Never Say Never

     If I haven't learned one thing about life, I have this one gem in my pocket:  Things are NEVER as final as them seem.

     Lately, I've been busy "nesting" both at home and in my classroom.  I never thought I'd be preparing my classroom for up to 33 five year-olds and no aide.  And I never thought I'd be preparing my body & home for a baby at the age of 44.  But alas!  That seems to be the mission I find myself on.

     Naturally, I am both excited and scared on both counts.  Teaching to our state's rigor with little to no support in the classroom is a huge responsibility.  And so is bringing a child into the world minus a father.  Am I being selfish on the latter count?

     No.  I have way too much love to give another soul.  I need to try by any and every means possible to make my little family (party of 2) a reality.  Now that I have a doctor that believes in me and more importantly believes in his ability to make me a mommy, I can't turn the opportunity down.

     I have taken the first step.  Actually, getting healthy was my first step.  Now that my doctors have deemed me fit, I can concentrate on phase 2.  Most teachers get new clothes for the school year, but my doc is giving me a new uterus (actually, a D & C) which should make my ovulation regular enough to get prego.  And once that happens, time is my only enemy.  Well, that and the hunt for a baby daddy.

     Stay tuned for Phase 3!  The search for a qualified donor...

   

Potential Bliss...

     So it's been awhile since my last post.  These are the most stressful times at work in 15 years of teaching.  I'm up to my eyeballs in family birthdays and parties and events, but I wouldn't have it any other way.  Except, of course if I had someone to share it with...
     Now, I know that my most recent posts boast about the fun I'm having being single, and that is the honest truth!  I LOVE this freedom!  But I can't help but crave the companionship that comes with having a significant other.  I have not had a "normal" relationship yet, where my boyfriend and I do things together (shop, travel, dine, attend parties & events together...)  I suppose I'd like to try that out, and see how it fits.  What do I know?  I just might like being someone's girlfriend.  I mean, I've been someone's girlfriend before, but there has always been a distance between us.  It would be nice to hang out with someone on a regular basis, be their "plus one", even live with someone for a time.
     What is the cause for this sudden need?  Well, I guess that would stem from a recent phone call from my 'white boy stalker' friend--actually, I'm over that title, let's just call him "Michael"... mostly because that is his name :).  He is planning a trip out here in a few weeks to visit his parents and would like to take me on a date.  Now, of course I intend to go out with him, he's a really nice guy.  But, as always, I'm cautious because he openly adores me.  In his eyes, I am PERFECT.  I mean this guy REALLY likes ME--ALOT.  He also asked me to accompany him to Las Vegas for a weekend in July.
     Immediately, I must question his motives.  Does he really want to spend time with ME, or is he just wanting to piss off his bigoted parents?  Does the fact that I am Latina and speak spanish excite him or is it my charm and inner beauty he craves?  These are questions that can only be answered in time, but I did my best in this phone conversation to 'dissuade' his further involvement with me... but to no avail.
     When he asked me to spend a weekend with him in Vegas, I asked him what his girlfriend would think about that.  He said that she was getting ready to leave him anyway.  "Why would she leave you?", I asked.
    "Because she wants kids and I don't want any more under ANY circumstances."  Bingo!  I thought!  
    "Well, I guess you and I would never work out, cause that is the one thing I want most in this world." was my quick response, sure he'd rethink getting more involved with me.
     "No, you don't.  Trust me!"
     "Yes.  I do.  And, I would do anything to have one!"  I spat.
     He spat back with, "You can have me!  You can have one of mine!  We can adopt a 12 year old girl!"
     "I want a legacy; I want someone to know I was here; I don't want to be alone in my old age!"  and then I proceeded to school him on my Mexican heritage and why family was so important to me.
     By the end of that conversation, he actually said, "Let's do this then.  Let's try it once, and if its meant to be, it will happen."
     Ha!  I actually got him to WANT to have a child with me...  By now, I'm thinking this guy is either insane, or he genuinely really likes me.  And of course a little bit deeper in the conversation, he blurts out, "Marry me.  I would make you so happy, if you just let me.  Marry me."  WHAT???  Of course, I reminded him that I don't want to get married.  Not right now anyway.  He accepted that and asked if we could "pretend" to be married in Vegas.  I had to chuckle at the thought that conjured up.
     "Yes, I will be your Vegas wife for the weekend we're there."
     "We're gonna have so much fun.  I'm gonna take care of you.  You won't have to lift a finger.  I'm gonna do all the work.  I'll book a really nice suite, 'is it presumptuous of me to book a king sized bed? or would you prefer two doubles?'"
     I said, "Let's see how things go on our date later this month.  Although, I do love a King-sized bed!"
     "Then that's what I'll book.  But you don't have to sleep with me if you don't want.  I can chill on the couch if you aren't comfortable with me in the bed too, cause I'm gonna tell you right now, 'I really wanna make love to you.  And sleeping in the same bed and not having sex would really be difficult for me." he said matter-of-factly.  And being the confident man he is, he added, "If you do let me have sex with you, you will be well taken care of.  I will have you writhing with joy.  You're gonna want to put a pillow over your face cause the things I'm gonna do to you are gonna make you blush, and a whole lot more..."
    Uhhh, how can I say no to the possibility of a life with this man?  Do I love him?  No.  Could I learn to love him?  I could.  And really, that's the point--I could.  In the end, after concocting every excuse known to try and get this guy to see that he really wouldn't be happy with me, he (in the course of this one telephone conversation) asked me on a date, offered to father a child with me, asked me to marry him, invited me on a weekend getaway, said he's ready to move back to California just to be near me, AND wants to do things to me sexually that will make me blush.  I think I'd be a fool not to give myself a taste of what a real relationship with a man would be like.  A relationship with a man that adores me and wants to be with me (and only me).  The downside is that he is admittedly very possessive, but it kinda turns me on a bit to know that he hates the thought of me being with other men.  I know he would love me (ONLY ME) and I think I could do the same if he's as good in bed as he claims.  He just might be the distraction I need to get my mind off of the 'boys that got away'.  This one might just be a 'keeper'.
   

Vacation Woes

     Now normally these days, this gal is one happy camper.  And with this being a 'vacation' week off of school, --Heaven.  BUT, this week has done nothing more than remind me that  I may turn out to be the lonely spinster after all.
     With finances so rocky now (with a 10 day pay cut from our salaries, added to my mortgage, utilities, and rising gas prices), it seems the freedom that I so love and crave and need, is also a bit rocky.  Don't get me wrong, I love the independence of being on my own and not having to answer to anyone but myself, but it seems that the rest of the world has either forgotten about me or just assumed that, like always, I am off enjoying my much deserved vacation.
     If finances were not a concern, I'd be joining my single friends on "Taco Tuesdays", or yoga, or trivia night.  I could take the peaceful drive out to visit my mom or even my grandparents.  I could even take a solo drive on some day trip as seen in one of my Sunset magazine articles.  I could begin painting my guest room or ripping out the raggedy carpet in my living space and laying down some flooring.  But, sadly, the funding for such luxuries is non existent... at least for now.  My trainer has even canceled on me all week!  (probably because I can't afford to pay him, but he knows I'm good for it...)
     I feel stuck in neutral and the fact that I don't even have someone to go on a walk with, cook a meal with (or even eat a meal with for that matter) is beginning to weigh heavy on me.  I am a strong, spiritual, and patient woman, but even I need human interaction, conversation, and physical affection.
     I swore I'd never do it, but I am at the point that I think I've got to consider getting a room mate.  Of course I will have to spend a few bucks painting the guest room fixing some things around the house, but at least I'd have some social interaction with another human being.  The thought of allowing a stranger into my home is a bit scary, but it also sounds intriguing.  Something to seriously consider...
   

V Day Hype

     Ahhhh, St. Valentine...  The irony that this man was martyred is not lost on me!  For the better part of my adult years, I have been someone's girlfriend.  In all those years, NEVER once (well, okay, maybe once) did I ever have a romantic evening with the man I loved.
     That fact is mainly because I didn't make a big deal of it.  I don't really like how marketing has taken the holiday hostage and, why do we need 1 day to devote to a loved one?  It should be a given that every day with that person is special.  Anyway, I've always kinda put myself in my ex's shoes, and gently let them know that just hanging out with them was special enough--and it always was.  BUT...
     There is ALWAYS a place in a gal's heart that yearns to feel special.  A place that secretly hopes that this time he'll surprise me and confess his true feelings for me...  a gal can dream, right?  And that I did.  Each and every year it came and went like any other day.  The closest I got to feelin' the love on Valentine's Day was my first love buying a plush white teddy bear for me at Vons when he went in to buy us a bottle of Strawberry Hill to guzzle down before our Valentine love-making session.  An afterthought at the checkout stand, but I kept that bear for like 15 years, 'cause it was a relic of my only Valentine's Day gift--EVER.
     A close second was when my longest-running boyfriend sent me a gift to the school where I worked that actually got there 2 weeks late and it was a box of candles--a practical gift he thought I'd prefer to flowers or candy.  I later found out that he only sent them because I mentioned that our custodian left me a box of See's candies for Valentine's Day (and I was the only teacher he gave them to).  Apparently, he wanted to assert his domination or mark his territory by sending me a box of candles to rival the box of chocolates--whatever!
     My most sincere Valentine flowers/candy actually came from my employer who's children I was a nanny for.  For the 8 years I was employed by him, his wife and I regularly received flowers on Valentine's Day and Mother's Day, and sometimes just because.  Because she was the mother of his children and because I cared for his children.  Sighhhh...
     Ironically, now that I am single, I was awoken on this St. Valentine's morn (yesterday) to a "Happy Valentine's Day!" text from that candle-sending ex.  First acknowledgement (unsolicited) ever from him.  That text was the first of several acknowledgements throughout the day...  about an hour later, my first love texted a simple, "Will u b mine?" A sweet gesture.  Throughout the day I text flirted with my trainer (another ex) and received a surprise Valentine phone call from my DJ friend... late at night... that lasted a couple of hours.  Harmless school (he teaches night classes at a community college--I teach kindergarten) talk, political  (he's conservative--I'm not) debates, and questions about my BFF (who he's had a crush on for some years).
     The one person that I expected to hear from--the 'white guy' in my life did not make a peep.  I suspect that he realizes he has no business wishing me a Happy Valentine's Day, as he has a girlfriend, AND he's taking her to St. Thomas next week.  He's been keeping his distance since he told me he was leaving to St. Thomas (which was right after he told me he didn't want me having sex with anyone).  And I'm pretty sure he was only half kidding about the not having sex with anyone statement.
     I must say, I can always count on my class to lift me up with their Valentines of love and appreciation.  And at the end of the day, that is what really counts.  That, and the delightful, playful texting and words of adoration between myself and my trainer.  If not for him helping me in so many ways and on so many levels, I wouldn't fully be able to appreciate being a single WOman.  And honestly, loving myself has allowed me to continue to love every other person in my life to the nth degree.  Valentine may have been martyred, but I refuse to lay down for love (in a figurative way at least!!!).

Just Another Sleepless Night

     So many thoughts going on in my head right now about how my life has changed so dramatically in the past coupe of years.  Two years ago, I was ready to take any and all measures to ensure that I have a child. I was contemplating a lap band procedure, and taking several medications and supplements.  I was renting a loft space in my brother's house and spending hour upon hour in my classroom.  I was going on 5 years of being sexually inactive.
     I'm pleased with my evolution, as I am now able to accept that I may never have a child; I am eating healthier, off all of the medications and supplements I was taking, and I have a trainer that motivates me the way no one ever could; I am a homeowner; I spend way fewer hours tied up in my classroom; And I am 'back in the saddle' when it comes to men.  Although I don't sleep with all of the men in my life, I have very healthy, adult relationships with a few great guys.
     I just spent the last 2 hours on the phone with my 'stalker' friend--that just makes me smile now.  I must say that aside from his 'whiteness', he seems like a perfect partner for me.  The fact that he is independently wealthy, has liberal views, is sensitive, feels the need to fight social injustices, despises racism of any kind, is athletic, AND has a sense of humor is vanilla frosting on the cake.  Tonight, he asked me what I was wearing.  I told him the truth--'a night shirt'.  Then he asked what I was wearing under the night shirt and, again, I told him the truth--'nothing constricting'.  He stopped me and said, "I'm a guy.  Don't use words like constricting."  Then we laughed... a lot.
     He proceeded to tell me that he would LOVE to lay naked next to me.  Not have sex or anything, just lay with his arms hugging me, hands on my breasts, while kissing the back of my neck.  He said he would LOVE to just look at me--laying naked in bed.  Said he could just do that for hours.  He would LOVE to sit and watch a movie with me--any movie, and hold hands the whole time.  He'd LOVE to massage my neck and shoulders after a long day's work.  And even though he doesn't smoke weed, he said he'd make sure I had a little bit every night when I got home from work to help with the day's stress.  Then we laughed...  a lot.
     Then his tone changed.  He said, "God, who are you?" as if no other woman had my endearing qualities, and he proceeded to tell me how smart, and funny, and gorgeous, and caring I was.  I honestly almost cried.  I realized that his phone calls and texts to me have been little bits of affection and respect for ME.  He is asking for nothing from me, but willing to give of himself because he SEES me.  He sees the person I have ALWAYS been.  It is something that no other man has been able to see in me--or maybe they have, but for whatever reason, couldn't tell me.  My first love, has come closest, but even he was not as bold as this man.
     Although I haven't seen him since high school (and even then, I didn't really know him), and even though he lives almost 2,000 miles away, I feel a bond of sorts with him.  I feel like he gets me--SEES ME.

European Memories

~While cleaning out her garage, my mother came across several of my college texts and a few of my personal journals from back in the day.  One in particular caught her attention.  It was a travel journal that I wrote while my mom and I took our first overseas trip together.  It was my second to Europe and her first.  She first raved about how well written it was and how it evoked memories that she had long since forgotten.  "THIS is why I wish I could write like you!" she said.  "I had completely forgotten about half of the things we did, and your words brought the memories to life, Mija!"  Then she followed with, "Take it home and read it, then bring it back to me so I can take it with me to China next month.  I'd like to attempt writing my own entries to preserve the trip in my memory."  Then she handed it over to me.  I read it over the weekend, and aside from a few misspelled words here and there, I must say that even I, the author discovered some memories that I had long forgotten as well!  And so for my own memories' sake and any future ancestor's curiosities, here is the edited e-version of that wonderful trip of trips:

10-4-98     (Day 1)     En route to France
     The excitement of venturing to foreign lands is overwhelming!  So, with style, we headed to LAX in 2 stretch limousines (one just for our luggage!).  The champaign we had en rout got to our heads, but it only built up our excitement.  It is especially exciting for Mom, who has never touched foreign soil.  (unless you count Mexico, but that really isn't foreign to my family)
     I had a similar excitement when visiting Portugal almost 15 years ago, however, this is a bit more exciting, since I'll have more freedom.

10-5-98     (Day 2)  Paris, France
     So far, the city has exceeded my expectations.  In just the few hours since arriving, I've absorbed a lot of the historical and cultural richness...  Our hotel, "Hotel Regina", is a century old.  At the cafe across the street, I got my first taste of French fromage and soup 'a l'olgnon.  Across our side street (in all it's splendor) is the Musee de Louvre and the Jardin de Tuileries.  Our evening walk took us through the Tuileries to the bank of the Seine.  There, I had my first glimpse of the Tour Eiffel and the Arc de Triomphe Etoile.
     The French Quarters of New Orleans is the closest comparison to the streets of Paris that I have seen in the U.S., but even the Big Easy pales in comparison to the sights, sounds, and smells of the real French quarters of Paris.

10-6-98     (Day 3)     Paris
     Today we conquered the city's Metro system.  We passed with ease through the Paris underground, arriving safely at our destination:  the Galleries Lafayette.  We each had things to shop for; my priority was French cosmetics--I found what was needed, and was content with that.
     Also, today we took a tram to Montmartre and visited the Sacre-Coeur or Sacred-Heart Cathedral.  We lit candles for Dad, Grandma, and Aunt Esther.
     For the most part, our meals (breakfast and dinner) were had at the Hotel Regina.  Both meals exceeded our expectations.  I've never had a better croissant or mousse au chocolat.

10-7-98     (Day 4)     Paris
     Today was spent at the Musse du Louvre.  Of course, there was no way to see all of the art pieces in just one day, but I saw those that were most important to me:  the Mona Lisa, the statue of Venis de Milo and the Winged Victory.  The Egyptian, Roman, and Greek art was very intriguing as well.  I would have loved to see the 18th and 19th century paintings, but time did not permit.
     We changed hotels to Novatel, right near Les Halles.  We took a very short walk to the Church of St. Eustache, which is the 2nd oldest cathedral in Paris.  Again, I lit a candle for Dad, Grandma and Aunt Esther.
     Later our tour group joined with us for dinner and an illumination tour of the city.

10-8-98     (Day 5)     Paris
     Our day began with a Tour of Notre-Dame Cathedral.  Candles were lit for Dad, Grandma & Aunt Esther at the alter of St. Joan of Arc, and for grandpa at Our Lady of Guadalupe in the cathedral.  This is on City Island in Paris.
     It began to rain, but not enough for us to see the Gargoyles spit out water.  Later, it was a tour of the Eiffel Tower.  I would have liked to climb higher, but weather and time only permitted us to the first level. The afternoon took us to the famed home of Louie XIV--Versailles.  The gardens alone had me in awe!  (On the way back to the Hotel Novatel, we drove through the tunnel where Lady Di was killed last year...)
     After feeling ill all day, I got by on a bowl of 'a l'oignon and water.  Even this was a filling meal!

10-9-98     (Day 6)     Paris
     Our last day in Paris.  The others went off to view the wine country.  I would have liked to as well, if my stomach agreed with me.  Also, I had not had my thyroid medication in 5 days, which took most of my energy away.  I should be well-rested and ready for Lucerne, Switzerland tomorrow, and Venice, Florence, and Rome, Italy in the days to come.
     On this day alone, I've thought about venturing out (I would have liked to visit the Musse de Orsay), but after being approached by a Frenchman at the Galleries Les Halles, I thought better of it.  Instead, I had McDonald's in the hotel room, wrote post cards, this journal entry, and read from my book.  Perhaps I'll have the courage to go out tonight.
     For now, just watching the city life pass by will do.  Hearing horns beeping and sirens blaring... bells tolling...

10-10-98     (Day 7)     en route to Lucerne, Switzerland
     Today we made our way through Paris' underground freeways and Burgundy country roads.  The landscape was phenomenal, especially once we crossed the Rhine River into Switzerland via Basle.  The scene was straight out of "Heidi"!  Rolling green hills, the Black Forest that was the fairy-tale home of Hansel and Grettle, and the Swiss Alpine mountains were breathtaking.
     Lucerne was very still and quiet as we rode into town about dinner time.  The lake and mountains were very peaceful.  Here, at the Royal Hotel, we were blessed with a lake-view room and balcony.  Mom and I stood on the balcony in awe of this beautiful country scene.  Tomorrow we will conquer Mt. Pilatus by cogwheel train and ride the gondolas back down the other side.

10-11-98     (Day 8)     Lucerne
     The Lyon Monument, carved in stone was our morning highlight.  Mark Twain was right when he said, "It is the most moving piece of stone I have ever seen."  It was something inspiring, that stirred emotions.  It was carved by a man called Thorwaldsen, in honor of Swiss guards who died protecting King Louis the XVI of France.  The covered wooden bridge was just as beautiful.  It linked both sides of the river.
     Today's highlight was climbing Mt. Pilatus on the world's steepest cogwheel train.  It took a while to climb this Alpine mountain, and just as long to descend on the other side in gondolas.  The views up and down were spectacular, but the summit (where we had lunch) was covered in clouds--and extremely cold!  After our return, we shopped for souvenirs and ate a wonderful gourmet dinner just down from our hotel.

10-12-98     (Day 9)     Venizia, Italia
     The morning was gorgeous as we left Lucern on our voyage through the narrow, winding road over the Alps.  Again, the views were unmatched.  Snow covered the summit, where we stopped for Swiss Cocoa and pictures.  We left one side of the Alps, where German was used, and crossed to the Italian side.  Gotthard Pass was the summit and transition from German Switzerland to Italian Switzerland.  (Very different--the men were much better looking on the Italian side!)
     Country highways brought us through northern Italy, past Verona (home to Juliet Capulet) and then past Montegue (famed home of Romeo).  Our Venitian hotel is still 20 miles from Venice and the Adriatic Sea, but it is a very nice one.  Our dinner was wonderful (lasagna, perch & potatoes) and tomorrow we will ride the gondolas through the canals of Venice!

10-13-98     (Day 10)     Venice
    The only way to describe Venizia (Venice), Italy, is unbelievable!  We took a private boat to the main island (of 140 islets), where we toured an 11th century palace, St. Mark's Cathedral, and the Murano Glass Company.  St. Mark's Square was enormous!  We crossed over the Bridge of Sighs from the Doge's palace to a 12th century prison.  For lunch, we dined on a sidewalk patio (which incidentally, you have to pay extra for!)
     Our most memorable conquest of the day was our ride on the gondola, through the canals of Venice.  It was as romantic as it was expected to be.  The gondolier was handsome, and pointed out the home of Wolfgang Amadeas Motzart's mistress.  We were also serenaded by passing gondoliers.
     At night, we returned to the island for a wonderful dinner and were again serenaded.  Afterwards, we walked through St. Mark's Square, listening to live music, and enjoying the starry, cool evening.  Our most memorable evening yet...

10-14-98     (Day 11)     Firenze, Italia (Florence)
     Michaelangelo's David was first on our agenda for the day.  we visited the famed statue at the Art Academy in Florence.  We ventured into St. John's Basilica, and religious square, as well as the political square where "David" once stood.  We also lit candles in Santa Crocha Cathederal where Michaelangelo, Galileo, and other famed Italians are laid to rest.  We shopped in an Italian leather shop for a bit.
     Our night before was spent traveling, so our day was short in order to rest for Pisa tomorrow.
     Last night's trip was uneventful, except for climbing over the Appenine Mountain range (famous for it's marble).

10-15-98     (Day 12)     Florence
     Today we wound our way to the city of Pisa.  We beheld the famed Leaning Tower of Pisa (the most photographed monument in the world) in amazement.  At the Square of Miracles, we bought J.J. a Pinocchio doll.
     At last night's dinner, our young waiter, Alex flirted with me a bit, so I asked him to send me a Hard Rock Cafe Florence shirt.  He agreed to do so, as long as I sent him one from L.A.--to which I agreed.
     On the way back from Pisa, I jotted down my address for him with a post script complementing his "cute" smile and good sense of humor.  We shall see what happens...
     The rest of the day will be on the road traveling to "the Eternal City" of Rome.

10-16-98     (Day 13)     Roma, Italia
     Here we are in this ancient city, which dates back thousands of years before Christ, even.  We crossed Tuscany country and over the Tiber River to behold our home for the next 3 days.  We got a nice view of the Olympic town that Mussolini built in the late 1920's & early 1930's--awesome!
     Our hotel is wonderful.  Its right across from the city's largest city park.
     At night, we had dinner at a restaurant in town.  The food was excellent--5 courses.  There was musical entertainment, and there was Umberto (our waiter).  He singled out a few women (myself included) and gave us a rose, a kiss and a pinch on the behind.  At a point in the entertainment, the room goes dark (lights go off) and the waiter makes his way to his 'victim' (me).  Then, when the lights go on, he plants a kiss (on the lips) of the unsuspecting bella (me) and hand's them a rose before pinching their behind.  Fortunately, Umberto was cute & charming!  After dinner, we visited the Trevi Fountain and tossed our 2 coins in.  The first for our safe return to Roma, and the second for a wish.

10-17-98     (Day 14)     Rome
     Today we would have started out at St. Peter's Basilica and St. Peter's Square in the Vatican, but the Pope had other plans and we weren't even allowed to enter the square.  Thousands of Poles were visiting the Pope to celebrate his 20th year in the Vatican.
     Instead, we toured the Vatican Museum, Sistine Chapel, St. Paul's Cathedral, St. Paul's gift shop (all in Vatican City); and then the Coliseum (took our Globus group picture there), Circus Maximus, the Roman Baths, the Catacombs, ancient city streets, and Castel Gandalfo the Pope's summer home on Lake Albano--just outside of Rome.  Our dinner was in the quaint southern town of Lazio.
     Our day was packed with fun and laughter.  I spent all my time at the Sistine Chapel, just looking at Michaelangelo's very last panel--"The Judgement".  I was absolutely awestruck...  Tomorrow we journey to Pompeii.

10-18-98     (Day 15)     Naples, Italy
     On this day (our final day of the tour), we traveled down to Naples.  We spent the day touring Pompeii.  It was an unbelievable sight to behold.  The preservation of the city--including some of it's occupants was amazing.  These people were very ingenious for their time.
     We got back into Rome in time for our farewell dinner.  The food was great and the entertainment matched.  Mom was serenaded, and the daughter of one of the musicians sang "Ave Maria".  The most beautiful Soprano that I have ever heard, was this young lady's.  After dinner, we stopped to take pictures in front of St. Peter's Basilica at night.  It was a gorgeous evening, and it was our last bit of Roma, before starting for home tomorrow...

10-19-98    (Day 16)    Rome--L.A.
     I don't want to go!  I need another week!  Our plane leaves this evening, so we're heading out this afternoon from our hotel.  Hopefully, there'll be more shopping at the airport!
     I look forward to Margaret's food and, well, Mexican food in general.  But I wouldn't say I'm sick of Italian food.  And I already look forward to my happy return!
     At least I've got tomorrow off, so that I can catch up on the sleep I'll miss over this 11 & 1/2 hour flight!

A Final Breath...

Just finished watching the latest episode of "Grey's Anatomy" on my DVR.  One of the story lines particularly struck a chord with me.  A young girl, barely 18 had to decide whether or not to take her father off of life support.  It reminded me that my brother & I had to make a similar decision regarding my dad.  A decision that is so difficult to reflect on.  But one that needs to be brought to light.  Funny thing is, for as much as I use writing as therapy, I don't think I have ever written about that night...

Just 24 hours prior to his passing, our family was elated and celebrating the fact that Dad was going to get his lung.  It happened!  The little black pager that had been so closely and carefully guarded (batteries frequently checked) finally sounded--and it was not a drill!  This was just days after Dad made the decision to come home to die.  Almost a year had gone by and no donors in sight.  That beautiful buzzing sound was such music to our deprived ears.  We couldn't help but dance a happy dance to it!  Immediately, we contacted the surgical transplant team and my dad was transported to the hospital he had just checked out of, but this time it was for a helicopter ride to UCLA.

Immediately, the phone & prayer tree began.  I called cousins Tim & Amy, who had earlier volunteered to inform the family.  Now when I speak of family, I'm talking a HUGE percentage of the tiny towns we grew up in.  And let's not forget the ones in various states across the country.  Aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins, third cousins--all who knew and loved my Dad in some capacity.  We drove the seemingly endless rout discussing all of the wonderful things we were going to do with Dad, once the surgery was done and he had time to recover.  We recalled how in recent months, some of his close friends would joke with him about taking out vagrants on the street in hopes that they would be suitable donors.  And how when cousin Amy's sister and niece were killed in a car accident, the family had the grace to request that they be considered as possible donors for my dad.  They, sadly, were not compatible donors for him, but were able to help other families.

Once we got to UCLA, we were given VIP treatment.  We had our very own waiting room and my mom was whisked away to see my dad as he was prepped for the surgery.  After waiting for some time, a nurse came to get the family members there (me, my brothers & sisters & grandparents) one at a time to say goodbye and wish him luck before the surgery.  I was called in first.  But when I walked in, I immediately noticed a heaviness in the air and a sense of dread.  Instead of seeing my mom's smiling face, I saw her in tears.  She somehow found the courage to tell me that the 'donor's lung' wasn't accepted and that there would be no surgery.  It still echos in my head...  '... there will be no surgery'.

Nothing could be more sobering than to realize in that moment, that Dad was not going to make it.  Doctor's had already told him that he was lucky to have made it this far.  I reluctantly returned to the waiting room, where I assumed the staff had informed the family about the situation.  When it was apparent they had not been informed, I asked my cousin (also one of my dad's closest friends) if she would please help me tell my family (she was a registered nurse and had a way with soothing people).  Suddenly our happy tears turned into distraught sobs.  Another family in the room (also waiting to see a loved one) quietly left the room to give our family privacy to grieve.  The ride home that night was a tearful reflection of our years spent with our father.

Mom stayed the night with my dad and rode home with him the next morning.  I learned later from her, that she and my dad had a long discussion and reflection and barely slept.  They professed their love for each other.  My dad expressed that he was sorry that he rarely spent time at family gatherings.  He reflected on the surprise 50th birthday fundraiser party we gave him and how much fun he'd had.  He told her that he wished he'd been present more often because our family had so many happy times at those parties.  "When I'm gone, I want you guys to have a party for me every year.  Like the one for my 50th.  I'll be with you there." He also told my mom that the person's face that he wanted to see most when he got to heaven, was her mom.  She was such a wonderful, loving, saintly woman.

My sisters and I tried to make his room as comfy for him as we could.  The medical suppliers left oxygen for my dad, but we could tell it wasn't going to be nearly enough.  They had left 3 and he was accustomed to 6, so we had to straiten that up by calling the local fire department to transport more in.  (they knew my dad's situation with the oxygen and had an emergency plan just for accommodating him in the event of a natural disaster)  Once he arrived home, he began to panic.  There wasn't enough oxygen, there weren't enough meds, there wasn't enough time...

He decided he didn't want my grandmother present when he died, only my mom and us kids (and his best friend Paul and his wife (my dad's close cousin--the RN).  It was a long, long night.  After calling the local pharmacist at home (around midnight) to please fill my dad's prescription to calm his nerves, we met him at the pharmacy and expressed our gratitude for helping to ease my dad's final hours.

We all gathered around Dad to say our goodbyes and more importantly, tell him that it was O.K. to leave us.  He first asked to see J.J. (my sister's son, who was his namesake), then J.J. was handed over to Carol & Paul after they said their goodbyes.  Then it was just my mom and the 5 of us.  He kept saying, "I need more air, I can't breathe."  My brother and I looked at each other in an understanding, as all 6 of his oxygen tanks were turned up to maximum output.  We said, "O.K. Dad, we'll turn it up a couple of notches."  Then we proceeded to carefully shut down his tanks, one by one...  "How's that Dad?  Better?"  "Yes." he replied, "better..."  We all touched him, held his hands, said our "I love you's".

"I love all of you." he gasped...  before he began speaking about his 'crossing' we can only assume.  With glassy eyes, he looked in the area of his window, and asked, "How do I look?"  Then, he said, "Which way do I face" and then finally, "O.k., I'm ready."  And that was it.  My brother and I shut down the last of the tanks, and Dad left us for a better place...

"... And suddenly, the life we knew before, was over.  Forever."

That morning, my mom, and sister and I drove the 10 miles to deliver the news to my grandparents.  On the ride over, (about 3:30 am) we saw the brightest, most beautiful shooting star cross our night path.  It was as if Dad was saying, "Hello!  I'm home!"  And now and forever more, we will think of him when a shooting star crosses our path.

I used to be afraid of death.  Now; not so much.  I am completely content and prepared if I should die tonight, or tomorrow, or next week.  Because I know that he will be there to help cross me over, as I'm sure my grandmother was there for him.  I feel blessed that I was present to help his crossing from this plane, as he breathed his final breath and crossed into the next...

Baby, Baby

Within the last couple of weeks, I have had the opportunity privilege of holding infants, which stirred up so many happy emotions.  The two precious souls were my nephew's baby brother (1 mo. old) and my first baby niece (3 mos. old).  On both occasions, their mothers acknowledged that I had a special way with them.

Frank Jr.'s mom said that aside from her and her neighbor, I was the only other person that could calm him when he got restless.  She had come over to exchange gifts and visit with my nephew.  (she is his dad's widow)  She has a 1 year old and a 1 mo. old, plus a 16 year old daughter with a 4 mo. old!  She told me that if her daughter got pregnant again, that she would hand her next grandchild over to me in a heartbeat.  That left me a bit speechless...

The second person to acknowledge my "baby whisperer" ways, was my sis-in-law as I held her daughter.  She told me that I looked so comfortable with a baby in my arms and that I really should pursue motherhood.  She knows my situation and has offered before to be a surrogate womb for me.  She said if one of my sisters donates one of their eggs and I found the right donor for me, she would very happily carry my child.

All I know is that if I could bottle the feeling that I get when I hold a baby, I'd be a gazillionaire!  I think it is something I need to consider.  But how does one go about choosing a father?  Do I go for 'Daddy' material or 'Donor' material?  It is a question I will no doubt be pondering in the rash of sleepless nights that I seem to now be accustomed to...

Keyshia Cole - I Remember

"For the rest of my life, I promise myself I will love me first genuinely..."

I can't think of a more fitting lyrical sentence to end the "Year of Me" with.

This is a 'dedication' to my past loves, and a reminder for me that from this moment on, the love of a man will come secondary only to the love I've got going on for ME!


Feliz Año Nuevo!

Mystery Man

Looks like yet another sleepless night.  I am so freaking happy and content right now, you'd think I'd be able to sleep!  One of the reasons I think I'm soooooo unbelievably happy, is because I have decided to forgive myself and my past loves for the indiscretions and hurt that has pained me for so long.  It is one giant weight off my shoulders and I feel so light and airy now.  It is a beautiful, wonderful feeling...

BUT...

Aye, but there is always a BUT!!!  I learned today that I have a FB "stalker" that has his heart set on me.  He actually referred to himself as a "stalker"--not my words, but he did so in a playful, humorous way.  I do not feel creeped out in any way, whatsoever.  However, he did lay all of his cards on the table.

The man claims to be 'in love' with everything about me.  Claims to have had these feelings since the first time he saw me (he was in 6th grade and I was in 5th) and he wants only for a chance to "knock me off my feet" (a reference to one of my FB post from a couple of weeks ago).  He has 3 children, a successful (very rich) girlfriend and lives a thousand miles away, yet he claims he would drop everything to be with me; leave his girlfriend, uproot his family to move out here--just to be with me.  He thinks I'm beautiful, sexy, kind, passionate, brainy, witty, and he doesn't care if I'm skinny or fat, or tall or short--he wants me just the way I am.  He wants to take care of me, shower me with love, cook for me, be my protector, whisk me away to travel on a whim, save the world with me one child at a time.  He has a passion for helping the underprivileged (especially children and senior citizens).  My mom was his teacher in school and a HUGE influence on his life.  He claims that she is responsible for his success because she 'believed' in him...  way back in 6th grade.  I almost want to pinch myself, because I've never had a man open up to me like this--ever.  I mean this is the kind of stuff that romantic comedies are made of, right?  Yet, while I am 100% flattered that he feels this way, I still have my qualms.

My only hang up with him--is that he is white...  (there, I said it; and I know it sounds silly and a little bit prejudiced, but it's true...).  I have NEVER dated a white man.  I'm pretty sure it's because my rapist was white, but nonetheless, I have never found myself viewing a white man as boyfriend material, let alone for a life partner.  I know I have to get over it, and he may just be the one to do it.

After he spilled his heart and soul to me, I had to give him hope.  I told him, I would like very much to be wooed.  But that I also would hate to let him down if the connection wasn't there--after all, he has been the one "stalking" me.  I just found out about his adoration of me, so naturally, he can't expect me to feel the same intense love that he apparently feels for me.  He agreed and is happy for the chance to woo me.  I also told him honestly that I had never been courted by a white man and never even considered it.  Immediately, he knew... and responded with, "did a white guy hurt you?  Just tell me who it was and I will 'fuck him up'!" Did I mention that he can also make me laugh?

Who knows if he will win my heart... (apparently, he thinks he can and who am I to squash his dreams?)  I only know that for once in my life, it will be nice to be on the receiving end of the love and affection that I have doled out for so long...

Oh Honey Delegation (Lyrics to a classic)

A great song that has so much meaning for me and the lucky fool that catches me...
It sums up my "ideal" relationship. A brand new start with endless possibilities. I get warm & fuzzy just thinking about a future like this with a man that loves me as much as I do him. Ahhh... (*smiles galore)

The End of the Beginning

I have been thinking a lot about the last year, as I prepare to take on the next.  Like in Dicken's book, A Tale of Two Cities, this year for me was the best of times, and it was the worst of times...

It was the BEST year, because I rediscovered ME.  For so many years, I was a zombie, just moving through life and not really taking the time to focus on my happiness as I had done in my youth.  But this year, I found the place in my heart that allowed me to love myself.  I am thrilled that I no longer fit in my clothes--I don't even care that I can't afford new ones!  I am feeling healthy and sensual as a woman and I am not embarrassed to flirt or spark up a conversation with a man!  I am NOT holding any of my feelings (negative or positive) in.  That in itself has allowed me the freedom to lay all my cards on the table and let the world know that I am not one to be walked on or used or taken for granted.

It was the WORST of times, because I also rediscovered that no matter what, I am still gonna hurt--whether it is intentionally inflicted on me or not.  I don't have to be loved by every man that I love--It isn't a requirement for great sex--only for a committed relationship.  And just because I like sex and am single, does NOT make me a slut.  Especially, since I know that when the 'right' man comes along, he will have ALL of my attention.  I also learned that life is too damned short, not to take risks and chances with all possibilities--all is fair in love and the pursuit thereof.

I lost a family member, and a friend who was way too young to die.  His tragic life story of life and love lost and found only to be torn apart by death is what docudrama's are made of.  In fact that has been my life for so many years--a docudrama.

But this year was still a turning point in my life.  I choose to live the next part of my life, not as a docudrama, but rather, a romantic comedy about a girl who is single and in love with herself.  One where around any corner, on any given day in her life she may or may not run into a handsome co-star that will give her a run for her money.  One that will know what he wants in life... ME, of course!  And in both small and intoxicating doses.  One that will laugh with me, one that can be whisked away on a whim for whatever adventure or romantic tryst may present itself.  And if it's a month, a year, 10 years or 20, I will be just fine experimenting with the vast variety that swim freely in this beautiful ocean of life...

The Final 4

Well, here it is...  the end of November and I am bearing down on b-day #44.  So, naturally, I find myself asking that age-old question, "why the hell am I still single?!"

Over my week-long Thanksgiving break, I began to look deep within myself for the answer to that question.  I went over all of my life-changing events, searching for clues that might lead me to the answer.  I can best sum up my 'research' as follows:

I have always been a spiritual being.  And it is my belief that we are sent here to this human plane to learn the lessons of the universe, and our 'hell', or purgatory if you will, is constantly returning until we learn all of life's lessons.  I have always assumed that my life's goals this time around was to be a mother.  Then recently,  I realized, I have already mastered that lesson--perhaps in my last life.  That's why in this life, I was able to mother so many:  3 children (one with Down Syndrome) as a nanny; my nephew as his godmother and one of his primary caregivers for so many years; not to mention the years of babysitting younger cousins before becoming a kindergarten teacher to over 300 children to date (including children with autism, asperger's syndrome, depression, orphaned, abused, ADHD, etc.) Therefor, I concluded that this round of 'purgatory' is aimed at humility, service and fulfilling the needs of others (mainly men, err rather--boys)!

To back this research up, I drew on the session several years back with a psychic.  She 'saw' me living on or near the water (pacific ocean, no doubt) and she saw 4 boys around me.  Now for a good part of my child-bearing years, I thought it meant that I would have 4 children--all boys.  Then, as years unfurled and I realized that without a relationship, the only boys I had were my nephews (4)--that must be what the psychic meant.  But now, I think I see the light.  Those 4 boys are my exes!

It makes perfect sense now.  By nature, and according to numerology, astrology, (both conventional and ancient aztec & mayan) and the asian zodiac, I am the epitome of my signs.  "Nurturing, caring, loyal, optimistic, sensitive, fun-loving, etc. and I am a natural teacher, artist, counselor, spiritual leader, peacemaker", blah, blah, blah... "I see the good in all people; I'm the master of compromise; I never demand praise or recognition; I expect a great deal of myself; I prefer amiable to competitive; I'm not one to dominate a group or situation", blah, blah, blah...

There it is!  I am single today because I gave and gave and gave to each of my exes, NEVER expecting anything in return.
My first love was protective of my naivety (still is); he got along with my family perfectly (still does); when he left to serve the country overseas, he promised to return to me.  When he did not, I wished him well in his business endeavor and told him I'd always be there for him.  Today he owns a prosperous business and he is the most open and honest of my 4 exes.  Even though we have not been sexually involved in almost 25 years, he gives me strength to continue to have faith in men by consoling me and giving me perspective on the male psyche.  I love him.  He is the 'realest' of the 4.

My second love lasted the longest.  We were good friends.  We had fun whether we were watching a ball game, playing a board game, having sex, listening to music, having dinner.  My mom and grandmother loved him, his parents and sister loved me.  I took him to visit my grandparents in the Easten Sierras (my favorite playground), he and his dad took me fishing on Lake Eerie.  I took him to a Mexican food joint in Pacoima, he took me to a dive bar in a Cleveland ghetto.  We took each other out of our comfort zones.  I love him.  He is the most down-to-earth of the 4.

My third love is really my 4th, I'll explain when I get to my 4th.  For the purposes of this post, he's my 3rd.  He and I had the same desires.  We were romantics and wanted true love, complete with children and a white picket fence (so to speak).  He made me feel safe, and special when I was with him.  He admired my mother and how close my family was.  We wanted to share that closeness with our own family one day.  Eventually, he left back home.  I visited a couple of times, but both of us had issues.  I was needy and sensitive since my dad's death, he was controlling and a bit condescending at times.  We went our separate ways, but still kept in touch.  We both pursued higher education (very important to both of us).  Once we both 'made it' in our chosen professions and did some serious maturing, we began to realize that neither of us were getting any younger.  We were both doing well, but were missing that dream of having a family.  So we made a pact to become parents together when we were ready.  I love him.  He is the hopeless romantic of the 4.

My final love was in my life before I met my third.  We began  seeing each other again 1 year ago.  It was the most intense, relationship of the four.  I think it was made more intense due to the fact that we share the same astrological sign.  Both of us passionate, fun-loving, and intensely sexual.  We hit the ground running.  We had so many things in common it was eerie.  I felt like a teenager having him in my life again.  I love him.  He's the most sensual of the 4.

All of these boys needed me in one way or another.  Number 1 needed assurance that someone back home was missing him, thinking of him, writing to him, while he was uncertain if he would survive his tour of duty.  Then, when he returned, he decided to live out his dreams without me.  Number 2 had his best friend in me.  When an unexpected pregnancy threatened his future, he assumed I could handle an abortion to save his football career.  Number 3 saw that I would be wonderful mom material.  But what he really needs is a babymama that is complacent and dutiful.  And Number 4 needed the companionship and zest for life that I was finally ready to give but in the end, he dumped me for a grandmother (still trying to build my self esteem up from that one).

Humility:  being torn down by the men you love and still loving them.  These 4 boys have sucked the life out of me.  I think its why I'm leery of 'new' relationships.  There's not much left to take!  I'll stick with my 4 for now, and trust that the universe has something special waiting for all the pain I've gone through.  I even sound like their mother!!

Daydreamer - Adele

I know you are out there still searching for me. I can feel it deep within my soul. When we find each other, we will both know without doubt that we are Home.

Random Memories

This post will continuously be updated as the memories materialize in my head

There are so many...  I'd never want to lose them.
Imprints in my mind...  flashbacks forever logged.

My earliest memories:
hiking behind grandma's house with my brother & dad; visiting the ranger station; fishing with grandpa off the dam; swimming lessons; homemade tortillas; shucking corn; Tonka trucks and mud pies; cleaning grandma's house; the Monkees; Grandma praying her rosary; Grandma washing my hair with rainwater; my brother pooping in the tub--with me in it; hiking the Minarets with Mom, Dad & my brother; catching fire flies in a bottle; soda in a bottle; walks to the market; Mikey the "junk man"; the smell of Dad's pipe; peeing in a Foldger's coffee can in the back of the Ram Charger, so grandpa wouldn't have to stop on our trips to El Paso & Amarillo; thunderstorms in Indiana; Amish country; Deer Forest in Michigan; the crick; Nana's house burning down; grandma rubbing my feet and playing "this little piggie" (in Spanish, of course) on my toes; chocolate & toast; fall 'tunas' (cactus apples); collecting pine nuts as a family (aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, etc.); swimming in the river;  parties at the scout house; Dad as Smokey Bear;  the awful smell, shocking sounds, and paralyzing fright of being in a real haunted house; playing with the Oija board; matchbox cars in the dirt; Dynomite club; eating in the train at the McDonald's in Saugus;  Magic Mountain; flying in an airplane for the first time; Aunt Esther dying; fishing off the docks in Ventura; weekends at the beach; day hikes with dad; traveling in the 5th wheel; drives along PCH; blinding rains in Oregon; Olympia, Washington; ghost towns; roller skating everywhere; babysitting for Dr. Nelson; clam digging in Pismo; Santa's Village; learning to snow ski; ice skating for the first time; picking lupins; building a fort; hunting for leprechauns; watching snow fall for the first time; grunion hunting; snipe hunting; playing in tide pools; Virginia Lakes campground; Silver Lake; grandpa catching a seagull while casting; my bro casting his hook into my hair; my other bro falling off a log into the river; that same bro falling through a window--twice; grandpa's cured olives and tunas; Gaviota; getting caught on the train trestle and running for dear life as the Amtrak just missed our asses; Dad returning home from work smelling of sage; pulling his boots off at the end of the day; playing in his truck; memorizing the scanner codes and beeps; California BB gun team; being the only girl on the team; being called Annie Okley;  National championships in Joplin, Mo; staying in the dorms at Mo. Southern State U.; the Ozarks; Markku from Finland; Boy Scout Jubilee at Disneyland; the meteor shower at the beaver ponds; Bishop's Mule Days; Tahoe; June Lake; riding the gondola at Mammoth; the mansion; my first kiss; star gazing with dad

School Memories:
gram crackers and milk; finger painting with jello; "I See Sam"; walking from Grandma's to school; smoking grandma's cigarettes in the orchard next to Piru school; bloody mary; the log at Piru school;  snowball dances; being 5th grade snow princess;  cheering for the Piru Indians; being a Raider's cheerleader; practice kissing with and on my girlfriends; Summer School; Catechism; Fr. Ravlic; being confirmed by then Arch Bishop Roger Mahoney; Youth Day & Congress; walking from Saticoy to Piru (20 miles) in one day; 6th grade Hobby Show; 6th grade graduation; Summer Academic Institute at UCSB; breakdancing contests at lunch time; yearbook staff; making out with my H.S. sweetheart in the photo lab; prom; being paid and getting out of class to be an extra in the filming of "Iron Eagle"; watching the filming of "The Dukes of Hazard" after school; Flashes in the rain at S.P.; scorekeeping for the softball and girls basketball team; writing my own sick notes; the smoking area at school; the Backwards Dance; the cheer queers; typing class; career day; Magic Mountain annual passes every year; weekends at Magic Mountain; Magic Mountain concerts; cruising Saviors, Main Street, & San Fernando Blvd.; working at Margaret's Cocina; float building; pep rallies; SADD; blood alley; Grad Nite Live; the Radiotron; Chemical Reaction; Electronic Wizards; Prince; L.L. Cool J; Hip Hop; neon socks; parachute pants; mini skirts; Santa Grams; donut runs for Mr. A; the pool hall; suicide sodas; Homecoming parades; 10th grade pilgrimage to Fatima, Portugal paid for by tamale sales; dining in a Portuguese castle; St. Therese of the Flowers novena; losing air conditioning over the Atlantic on the flight to Portugal and the entire airplane praying the rosary as we stripped down to our slips, boxers & underwear while surviving on rationed out ice chips; decorating the 'Malaysian' float for the Rose Parade; New Year's Eves at Disneyland; participating in "Hands Across America"

Travel & Adventure Memories:
Fitting 6 women with shopping bags into a cab in Tiajuana, Mexico;  the awe of viewing the Grand Canyon for the first time; watching campers scramble as a baby bear ran through our Yosemite campground; feeling the misty spray of Niagra Falls on my skin; crossing the bridge from Detroit into Canada; whale watching off the Channel Islands; snorkeling in a volcano; traveling solo across the country on an Amtrak train; watching the "Showtime" Era Lakers play; watching the Boston Celtics play; watching the Dodgers beat the Cards from a 'Luxury Suite' @ Dodger Stadium; attending a post season Laker game; driving through a California Redwood tree; flying over the Atlantic; flying over the Pacific; flying over the North Pole; spending a day alone in Paris; navigating the Paris Metro by myself; the views from the Eiffel Tower; the Arch de Triumph; touring the Louvre; shopping in Florence, Italy; Versailles Castle; the Leaning Tower of Pisa; gondola ride through the canals of Venice; water taxi ride on the Grand Canal; the pigeons at St. Marks Square; being kissed (and pinched) by a handsome waiter in Rome; tossing a coin into the Trevi Fountain; visiting the Pope's summer home; the bus ride through the Swiss Alps; the taste of real swiss chocolate; Lake Lucerne; kissing the Blarney Stone; having lunch in a 300 plus year old Irish pub (c. 1640); the BEST turkey and dressing sandwich in Ireland; driving in Ireland; driving on the right side of the car and the left side of the road in rain and sleet conditions in Ireland; the Cliffs of Moher; picking up a hitch-hiker in Ireland; Christmas shopping in Ireland; dining in a Portuguese castle; listening to Sister Lucia sing in a portuguese convent; Fatima; heavily armed security guards at Lisbon airport; weekend cruise to Catalina and Baja; Mexican Riviera cruise; Millenium New Year's in Vegas;  watching the implosion of the Hacienda Hotel live; being in Vegas when Tyson bit Holyfield's ear; being in Vegas when 2Pac was shot; being in Vegas for the De La Hoya/Vargas fight; being treated like royalty for the opening of Belagio Hotel in Vegas (pres. suite; champaign delivered); staying at the Ritz Carlton, San Francisco (same 5 Star treatment); Alcatraz Island; navigating the streets of San Francisco; crossing the Golden Gate Bridge; Cirque du Soleil's Mystere & Oh; winning Vegas jackpots; winning a trip to Hawaii; Mardi Gras in New Orleans; getting a Zulu coconut from the Zulu parade @ Mardi Gras; the captain of the steam boat at Disneyland inviting me to 'pilot' the boat; New Year's at Disneyland; horseback riding at Virginia Lakes; Zodiac tour along the Na Pali Coast; riding in a boat through an aqua cavern (Na Pali Coast); swimming with sea turtles; spinner dolphins playing alongside our catamaran as we sailed to Lanai; lounging in a hammock between 2 palm trees with a mai tai in hand on a beach in Lanai; driving the road to Hana--all the way around; slack key concert in Hanalei, Kauai; staying in a mansion with a secluded beach in Kauai; watching the sunrise at Mt. Haleakala; New Year's in Kauai

A History Lesson~Abridged

I have just learned that a California historian wishes to interview my family, based on some light, though matter-of-fact conversations with one of my cousins.  I find this extremely fascinating, because I have always thought that one could make a mini movie series or docudrama about my families' histories.  On both sides of my family, we have a treasure trove of incredibly interesting accomplishments.

For instance, my great-great grandfather on my dad's side planted the eucalyptus trees that once lined both sides of HWY 126 between Piru & Castaic.  This was when my grandmother was very young and they lived where Six Flags over Magic Mountain is now.  That same grandmother has given very vivid accounts of the San Francisquito Dam disaster in 1928.  Ones where their family was awaken by rumbling and water crashing through their small community.  Her father and other townsmen plucked bodies (some alive but most dead) from trees and we still have family members whose bodies were never recovered.  They remember the WWI blackouts in LA, and as a mason, my grandfather assisted with the building of Dodger Stadium.

Both my parents' families are actual founding families of Piru, Ca.  It is the 1/2 way point between the San Fernando and the Buenaventura Missions on el Camino Real.  My mother's father actually worked on the Historical Camulos Ranch there.  And he and my grandmother were Cristero Revolutionary survivors.

As a forest ranger, my dad was once in charge of guarding the California Condor Sanctuary in the Los Padres National Forest.  This was before they had breeding grounds and while they were on the endangered species list.  He carried a shotgun and it was purely for protecting the condors from game or humans.  My father is also a fallen firefighter.  He is forever immortalized on the California Fallen Firefighter's Memorial in Sacramento and also in Ventura County.  He will soon be added to the National memorial as well.

My mother and her brother were the ones to begin enactment of Title 9 in our community.  They brought girls softball to our town, coaching without pay and no uniforms against big schools like Buena and Ventura--and winning teams no less.

As National Hispanic Heritage month winds down, I am eager to find out more about my ancestry and history.  Perhaps this stranger's interest in my family is the stepping stone I needed to research and validate their roots... my roots.

Spiders & Solitude

Several nights ago, I was awaken by a sort of tickle on my face.  I thought to myself, "mmm, that's sweet... he's playing with my hair..."  Then another tickle near my hairline before I realized that I hadn't brought anyone home that night.  It hit me like lightening, and I reacted just as quickly with a slap to my face--SPIDER!!!  I bolted out of bed and ran to the bathroom to wash the horrid creature from my hand and proceeded to scrub my face with a loofa.  But that was not enough, cause in my mind, there must be a whole family living in my bed.  At 2:30 am, I stripped my bed and washed all the bedding.  Then I jumped into the shower and scrubbed my scalp and all of my body's cavity entrances, as I sleep in the buff--I was NOT taking any chances!  I was not back in bed until about 4 am that night.

My entire life, I have had a paralyzing fear of spiders.  I read somewhere that many of our fears are suppressed from past life experiences--or something like that.  If that is the case, I was probably bit by a brown recluse or a black widow.  Snakes, rodents and bugs are fine, but something about an arachnid is terrifying for me.  

It is funny though, cause I always thought that spiders were my only true fear.  I'm not afraid of heights, water, planes, bees, ufos, ghosts or even death.  But these last few months have given me perspective on a new fear.  That fear is loneliness.  

As the oldest child of five, I have always been independent.  I have lived away from my family as a nanny, so I always had the company of children and family.  When I turned 40, I began to seriously think about getting my own place, so that I could finally enjoy some solitude and relaxing peace.  But my brother and sister-in-law (who I was renting a room from) really needed my financial assistance with their mortgage.  So I was a good sister and waited.

Last year, my brother & his wife refinanced their house and that was just what I needed to begin looking for my own place.  An old friend from high school said it was a perfect time for me to buy and he would be happy to help me through the process.  This was it! I was 42 and beyond ready!  But I had a lot going on with my job, I searched housing adds and visited model homes, but I didn't really have that drive that I needed to actually get out there and seriously seek out a place of my own.  That is until I reunited with an old flame.  The realization that I didn't have a place to invite him over to spend a night or a weekend was a little embarrassing.  So I jumped on the fast track to find a place.  I chose to look for a place that would be a sort of half way between my job & family, and my reunited lover.  I even invited him along on one of my house hunting outings, and I fantasized that one day he might even move in with his children, so naturally, I needed 2 bedrooms and someplace that had lots going on for a family to enjoy.

Extremely long story short, I found a great home in a great location about the same time I realized that the guy of my dreams did not feel the same way about me.  I was devastated, but still craved that true independence that came with homeownership.  So I dusted off my pride and dignity, and went ahead and purchased my place.  The price was so good that within weeks, the value rose.  I wasn't alone for long before my BFF came to town and stayed with me for a couple of months over the summer. 

It was great having her around.  We stayed up late talking, danced, conjured up meals on a budget, enjoyed nightlife, conversed, hit yard sales, etc.  Then, just as quickly as she was here, she left home to the East Coast.  I was sure I'd be fine, after all, I was about to start another school year.  I could begin weekend projects around my home.  It has been 2 months since she left, and I am beginning to feel the shades of loneliness...  

Coming form a large family, with Thursday night poker games, Saturday & Sunday afternoon sporting events, birthdays and BBQ's, family dinners, etc., this alone time really can mess with the mind!  One minute I'm excited because I created a healthy meal that I'm sure tastes great, but the next minute I realize that there's no one to verify that it tastes great.  My mom does not like to drive in traffic, so she will only come on light traffic days or if someone drives her here...  The pool and tennis courts would completely intoxicate my nephews for hours, but now that school has started and the weather has gotten cooler, that won't likely happen 'til next summer.  I listen to music, read, and watch a few select shows on the tube, but what I really crave is conversation.  Sometimes I think out loud so that I can hear my voice--it somehow makes me feel less alone.  

And that brings me to the whole point of my post... spiders are not the only things that frighten me.  I have come to the realization that silent moments are wonderful, but only in small doses.  Solitude cleanses the soul, but it also messes with the mind.  Family can be stressful, but sooooo soothing at the same time.  Loneliness has become a full fledged contender for my number one fear...

Living My Dreams

I could have chosen to become an architect, interior designer, an anthropologist, a travel agent, or a photojournalist--all were once my dream.  Instead, I chose the one profession that my mom, a 36 year veteran of the profession told me NOT to become--a teacher.  "It's a thankless job.  You won't get paid your worth.  Weekends and summers off are a myth because you will always be working on improving the education and lives of your clientele."  All of these arguments swayed me only momentarily.  And each one very true.

As a child, I used to fantasize about building my own home.  I would sketch actual floor plans and layouts on graph paper.  I included all the details that anyone would want their home to have, right down to the landscaping.  Had I stuck with my original choice, I may be enjoying my 'dream home' right now.  Or designing beautiful high end green homes with enough saved funds to adopt and raise a slew of kids.

Another hobby I enjoyed was interior design.  When my baby sis went to UNLV and rented an apartment, I jumped at the chance to decorate for her (on a college student budget no less).  I gave her digs a high end look for an affordable amount.  Then when she moved to a home in Vegas, she sought me to decorate that place.  It led to my redesigning my mom's bedroom, living room, and her back yard & patio.  And that led to my involvement in renovating my BFF's home.  Had I chosen to be an interior designer, I might be living in some posh community with my own little business and up scale clientele.

As a Sagittarian, wanderlust is a huge element in my life.  I remember fantasizing about traveling to distant lands.  As a 6th grader, I was enchanted with Japanese culture after doing a report on the country.  And after studying the ancient Egyptians, Greeks, Romans, Maya, Inca and Aztecs (also in 6th grade), I wanted to experience all of those cultures.  In Jr. High, I was fascinated with National Geographic and hoped one day to be an anthropologist or at the very least a photographer for the magazine.  I joined the H.S. yearbook staff as a photographer.  And in the 10th grade, I had the opportunity of a lifetime--to travel to a holy village in Portugal with a few other people from my church.  Being exposed to another culture had me wanting more.  So much so, that I took a travel agent course at an adult school.

In the end, I chose to listen to my gut.  Against my mom's advise, I enrolled in Child Development courses at Cal State Northridge.  I know where the need to pursue Child Development came from.  It was growing up in an extended family with lots and lots of cousins and brothers & sisters.  I had a beautiful, adventurous childhood and I wanted to be the BEST parent ever--like my own parents and grandparents were.  I had been a nanny for our county superintendent of schools (who's wife was a professor of education at Cal Lutheran).  I cared for their two children (the youngest having Down Syndrome) for 8 years.  I was certain I was preparing myself for mothering a soccer team (or a basketball team at the very least).  When my 16 year old sis became pregnant, I practiced the whole parenthood thing with my nephew.  Since my sis was still in school, I had him during the day and went to school at night.  I had my nephew so much that people thought he belonged to me.

And so here I am.  A teacher with no kids of my own, but a classroom filled with the future.  I have decorated some, traveled some, written and photographed some, and I have even mothered some.  I am BLESSED.  And at my age, I am still in the running for even more adventures in the greatest classroom of all--Life...

Sanctified Strength

16 de septiembre (Mexican Independence Day) is an ideal time for me to reflect on just one story of many in my family's rich Mexican historia.  My grandparents on my mother's side lived (survived) the infamous Cristero Revolution in Mexico.  During a time when Catholic priests were being martyred, my grandparents risked their lives to have the holy sacrament of marriage bestowed on them by a Catholic priest.  That priest in turn risked his life to perform the blessed ritual.

I remember hearing the story of my grandparents having been married in a cave in Mexico because the government had outlawed Catholic ceremonies and gatherings of any kind.  Many priests were killed for ignoring the law and performing the rites anyway.  My grandparents' anniversary was June 24, 1928.  It was the day we always celebrated.  But not until they were both deceased, did we learn that their true 'official' date of matrimony (officially recognized by the courts) was about 3 weeks later in mid July.

It amazes me that they risked death in order to be bound by God in His holy Catholic church.  What amazes me even more is that my grandmother was only 14 when my grandfather (24) married her and brought her to the U.S.  Makes me wonder if she even had a choice or say in the matter.  How utterly terrifying and yet brave she must have been.  God bless you Grandma.  For I know that I inherited your strength and fortitude.