My Big Fat Cuban Family: A Cuban-American Blog

dan•ger•ous (adj) - able to inflict injury or harm.

Okay, so now I know just enough to be dangerous.

I've been taking some online classes. Specifically, I'm learning how to scrapbook digitally using Photoshop Elements 6. I'm still just doing the assignments from class, but I'm all proud of myself and I wanted to share....

The journaling is from a blog post I did about a year ago. (journaling my thoughts for later scrapbooking was the reason I started blogging in the first place, but that's not important right now.)

How cool is this?
I'm all stoked and happy now that I know how to create layers so I can pull color out of a picture and I'm going a little loony stamping with those swirly brushes. Seriously, I'm having a blast.

Heck, I'm getting so good at this....
I could Photoshop the bearded dictator into some fun and humiliating poses!

Or...not.

My life and my time are way too valuable.  ;-)

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens.

If you were our neighbors.....

You might start recognizing the Cuban music and the open door to mean that the Darbys were going to be having another party. You would most likely be able to smell that amazing aroma coming over the fence and straight into your nose.
"What do they put into the chicken and rice to make it smell that way?"
You wonder this.
All the time.

There must be a party. Look at all the cars. Maybe it's just dinner and it will be a mellow night.

No such luck.
The music seems to be getting louder (if that's possible) during their dinner.

It looks like they're setting up something in the backyard.
Oh! It's that movie thing.....

But it sounds like tonight they're.... singing.
Singing? Yes, they're singing along to.... The Sound of Music??

{NOTE: Yes, indeed. The Darbys were celebrating Amy's birthday and the beginning of summer with the first outdoor movie showing - The Sound of Music Sing-Along! The sing-along part was my idea. =D}

Is that.....? 
Could they be.....?
Are they...... YODELING??? 
Really? (Lay ee odl lay ee odl lay hee hoo.....)

Oh, come on. Stop judging and just sing along....
You know you want to. =D

Maria:
High on a hill was a lonely goatherd
Lay ee odl lay ee odl lay hee hoo
Loud was the voice of the lonely goatherd
Lay ee odl lay ee odl-oo

Folks in a town that was quite remote heard
Lay ee odl lay ee odl lay hee hoo
Lusty and clear from the goatherd's throat heard
Lay ee odl lay ee odl-oo

the Children:
O ho lay dee odl lee o, o ho lay dee odl ay
O ho lay dee odl lee o, lay dee odl lee o lay

Maria:
A prince on the bridge of a castle moat heard
Lay ee odl lay ee odl lay hee hoo
Kurt:
Men on a road with a load to tote heard
Lay ee odl lay ee odl-oo

the Children:
Men in the midst of a table d'hote heard
Lay ee odl lay ee odl lay hee hoo
Maria:
Men drinking beer with the foam afloat heard
Lay ee odl lay ee odl-oo

One little girl in a pale pink coat heard
Lay ee odl lay ee odl lay hee hoo
Brigitta:
She yodeled back to the lonely goatherd
Lay ee odl lay ee odl-oo

Maria:
Soon her Mama with a gleaming gloat heard
Lay ee odl lay ee odl lay hee hoo
What a duet for a girl and goatherd
Maria and the Children:
Lay ee odl lay ee odl-oo

Maria and the Children:
Ummm (ummm) . . .
Odl lay ee (odl lay ee)
Odl lay hee hee (odl lay hee hee)
Odl lay ee . . .
. . . yodeling . . .

Child:
One little girl in a pale pink coat heard
Maria:
Lay ee odl lay ee odl lay hoo hoo
Child:
She yodeled back to the lonely goatherd
Maria:
Lay ee odl lay ee odl-oo

Maria:
Soon her Mama with a gleaming gloat heard
Lay ee odl lay ee odl lay hmm hmm
What a duet for a girl and goatherd
Lay ee odl lay ee odl-oo

Maria and the Children:
Happy are they lay dee olay dee lee o . . .
. . . yodeling . . .
Soon the duet will become a trio
Maria:
Lay ee odl lay ee odl-oo

Maria and the Children:
Odl lay ee, old lay ee
Odl lay hee hee, odl lay ee
Odl lay odl lay, odl lay odl lee, odl lay odl lee
Odl lay odl lay odl lay

the Children:
HOO! 

Admit it.
That was totally fun.

And aren't you just wishing you had cool people like the Darbys for neighbors?

C'mon. Admit it.
You yodeled.
And you liked it. ;-)

(Okay. Amy's birthday celebration was just a good old-fashioned BLAST. The sing-along is definitely one of My Favorite Things and I predict that we will be having many, many more sing-alongs. Any suggestions??)

YOU SUNK MY BATTLESHIP!

Since my parents went on vacation, my Dad needed to borrow my laptop.  Seeing as how I need a computer and internet to work (and so does he), it made sense for me to stay at their house while they're gone.  This way I can work and feed the cats and water and make sure Adam doesn't get into too much trouble. ;-)

(yes, it's me, Kikita)

Anyway, day one was going pretty smoothly.  I had fed the cats and was throwing myself into the long work day I had ahead of me.  Dad and I will instant message each other about work related stuff because it's faster than making a phone call.  In this day and age, I'm sure you understand.

So I'm quietly plugging away when POP! 

An instant message from Dad: Amy, I need a favor . . .

No problem, he needed some notes off of his desk (which is where I happened to be working).

A little while later . . . POP!

(I think the little pop sound the computer makes to let me know I have an IM is kind of fun)

Amy, I need another quick favor . . .

No problem, he needed an email address for a new contact of his.

Back to work I went because I had a lot that needed to get done.

POP!

HOLA! MAMI HERE!

She just wanted to chat . . . which was fine.  I can chat and work at the same time.  Besides, Dad is really cool and has two monitors (which makes chatting while working much easier).

POP! POP! POP!

(That pop sound is kind of stupid, who thought of it anyway?)

Now they are both going.

Dad is asking work related things, Mami is sharing about the Thermometer.

Dad is having me check something while Mami wants me to check the blog for the Thermometer picture.

POP! POP! POP!

And I'm starting to go kind of crazy and am suddenly curious as to how they are both capable of IM-ing me at the same time . . .

POP! POP! BUZZ!

WHAT NOW?!?!

My phone phone is vibrating because Mom is texting me (on top of instant messaging) . . . so I thought. 

It was Lucy, sending me a picture.

Apparently, my parents were playing Battleship . . .

 

and I just happened to get caught in the cross-fire.  =D

Because I (Kikita) am obedient.

After a long day of working at the Babalu Booth and making sure people were signing the petition to free the political prisoners in Cuba, I asked Mami where we were going to have "dinner." (is it really dinner if it's after 11:30pm?)

 “We’re going to Versailles Amy, are you ready?”

And because I’m just so obedient, “Ok, Mami, I’m ready to have my dinner at Versailles now!"

As we were getting ready to leave, someone said they expected to see pictures of us at Versailles, and I’m just so obedient that I made sure we took pictures.

 

Ok, I’ve been to Versailles enough times to know that I shouldn’t be surprised to find a line out the door late at night, but I still couldn’t believe it! There were huge groups of people showing up. Some of them I recognized from Cuba Nostalgia, but then there were little girls in Rumbera Costumes, and young couples dressed in evening wear, and older couples dressed in evening wear, and people eating alone and . . . and I was so tired and so silly that I couldn’t stop staring and I couldn’t stop laughing.

 

We ordered at pile of . . . I’m not really sure what we ordered, it was so loud that we couldn’t hear the waiter, so when it sounded like he was asking a question, we just nodded “Si.” Adam was daring enough to take the first bite of the fried something . . . “Oh, they’re just really thick French fries!”

Um, Adam . . . that’s not potato, that’s yuca. (My hermano is still kind of a “gringo”)

 

Despite Adam’s lack of Spanish, he was still able to order café and flan (I think it’s a Federal Mandate that if you’re visiting Versailles you have to order a cafecito y flan).

 

But he only ordered one flan . . . so the three of us had to share . . . and then there was only one big bite left . . . Adam and I went for it at the same time, so I was going to be nice and give it to him, and then we were going to fight over who should have the last bite. That’s when Mami swooped in, cut the bite in half, and (since she was still feeling nostalgic) literally spoon-fed me.

 

Being the obedient daughter that I am, I gave in to the choo-choo noises and really enjoyed that last, tasty bite of custardy perfection.  =D

Sometimes, it's good to be obedient.

 

Because I think I'd look pretty sweet in a cape and tights...

On a typical day, she's just a mild-mannered, multi-tasking, minivan-driving, Cuban-American mom, like any other (except for the Cuban part, but that's not important right now) you'd find here in the O.C.

But every other Thursday, when she blogs over at Babalú blog and then blogs again here at MBFCF, she becomes....

SUPER BLOGGER!

(insert catchy superhero music here......)

well, at least in her own mind...  =D

And if you're extra good. . . you can have some Sopa de Platano (Plantain Soup) today. ;-)

My name is (insert name here), but everyone calls me . . .

Another fabulous post brought to you by: Amy (who would like people to start calling her by her new Cuban nickname: Kikita)

During one of my many adventures with Tio Timbiriche and Luza (my abuela), one of them was commenting on the clutter in my room (I think it's artistic - but that's not important right now) and they called this clutter a "timbiriche."  I've heard them use the word in a few other contexts that did not involve my Tio, so I had to wonder . . .

• What does "Timbiriche" mean?
• Why do we call him "Tio Timbiriche?"

According to my Spanish Dictionary, a "timbiriche" is a noun for a "small store."  Not to be confused with a "bodega" which is more of a grocery store.

At this point, I have no idea how ANY of the translations or explanations I've heard could be used to describe my Tio.  I was forced to ask for a further explanation on the name.

It seems, it all started with a guy named Pancho Acuña.  Timbiriche's GRANDMOTHER took Acuña into her home and raised him as a son. (No, I didn't ask why)  He grew up as a brother to Tio's father.  So Acuña was like a Tio to my Tio.  (are you following all this?)

Anyway, when each of the 5 children were born, Acuña gave each of them a nickname and Timbiriche was the one that fell to my Tio and it stuck.  (Luza's nickname was Muluchote, but it didn't stick and she now uses it for my brother Adam)

There's more . . . it seems Timbiriche was not the only nickname my Tio had.  For a long, long time people called him "El Chino."  I'm sure that has something to do with his eyes, but I spent a long time thinking Tio Timbiriche's real name was Chino (it's really Gerardo - I swear it's as bad as a hip-hop star like Puff Daddy, I mean P. Diddy, I mean . . . AY CARAMBA).

This is not the first time I've run into this phenomenon. 

"My name is Jose, but they call me Pepe."

"My name is Fulano, but they call me Hachi."

"My name is Maria, but they call me Cachita."

Luza says that Cubans pick their baby's nickname before they pick the real name . . .

In blatant defiance of this Cuban law, Mami chose a name she thought was impossible to turn into a nickname and she did well.  Many have tried to give me a nickname, but usually all they come up with is "Aim."  Which is . . . let's be honest . . . Lame.  :-)

So, as I continue to get in touch with my Cuban self, I have decided I need a "hard-core" Cuban sounding nickname . . .

You know the galletas "Kika"?  Well, I thought that "Kika" was cute . . . and the first person I told my idea to said "Kikita" sounded better. 

And now . . . I've taken to introducing myself Cuban-style:

"Me llamo Amy, pero me dicen Kikita."

("My name is Amy, but they call me Kikita.")

Fast forward to this afternoon:  Mami overheard me saying, " . . . and they don't call me Kikita for nothing!"

and then she muttered (loud enough for me to hear) "They DON'T call you Kikita . . . for Nothing!"

A Day Without My Cafecito . . .

The following post is brought to you by:  Amy, La Hija de Marta.

Since Tio Timbiriche has been here I've gone all over Southern California and have learned SO MUCH.

The day of the Gran Cucufate was no different.  I woke up late, so the first thing I had to do was call and tell Timbiriche and Abuela that I was going to be late.  Fabulous, I'm already in trouble and I haven't even had my cafecito yet.  After hurrying everyone out the door because today is the day they are taking the train to San Diego.   Yes, we (Mami & I) had the brilliant idea of sending everyone to San Diego on the train, everyone except me that is . . . My job was to drop off at the Orange County Station and pick-up at the San Diego station.

Since everyone was running late, there was no time for a cafecito . . . do you see where this day is going?

20 minutes before the train is scheduled to depart, I drop off Timbiriche, Luza (abuela), Mami, & Adam.  (Jonathan kindly offered to join me in my driving adventure.)

Just as I'm jumping on the freeway, my phone rings . . . "Come and get us, they have no I.D. so NO TRAIN."
Just as I'm exiting the freeway, my phone rings again . . ."Okay, instead, go back to their house and get their passports."

And so it begins . . . (and I STILL have not had a cafecito)

Once Jonathan and I get the I.D.s, we haul back to the train station.  As we pull up, Timbiriche, Luza, Mami, & Adam all pile in.  They've decided to to take the train on the way back instead . . .

After a LONG drive to San Diego (where we were busy pointing out the train tracks so that Timbiriche didn't feel like he'd missed too much) we finally make it to beautiful La Jolla.  We disembark and set-up our delicious picnic lunch.  It was a lovely day.  All of us were wearing our summer clothes and left our sweaters at home because the day before had been blistering hot.  Halfway through our picnic, the weather gave us a spectacular show . . . We got to watch the fog roll in . . . and feel the cold it brought.  Suddenly our beautiful day had become overcast and chilly.

Adam was sitting next to me and we were both freezing so we huddled closer together.  Timbiriche was sitting next to Luza and they were both freezing too, so they huddled closer together.  At that moment, I had a flash forward.  I leaned even closer to Adam and said, "Adam, that's going to be us one day . . ."

"Yeah, but I have every intention of going deaf in one ear and making sure you're always on that side."

This had us both cracking up, so Mami asked, "What's so funny?"

"Mom, that's going to be us."

Mom started looking around the park frantically, as if we were talking about some random person walking by.  This only made us laugh harder . . . (I'm sure it was delirium from the lack of cafe).

At that point, we were just too cold and had to be moving on.  Deeper into San Diego we went.  Finally . . . around 2:30pm . . . I got my cafecito.  All was right with the world again . . . for a bit.

Now I had to figure out how to get these people to the Downtown San Diego Train Station and then get myself home all before Rush Hour traffic.

I did well, I got them to the Train Station and got myself home . . . I only got lost once and I DID NOT end up in Mexico this time!  (yeah, I've accidentally taken myself to Mexico more than once)

In order to make the train ride more of an adventure, Mami let Timbiriche and Luza sit by themselves:

(As it turns out, he's deaf in his left ear . . .)

La Misma Lengua

Que bolá?
It's Amy, AGAIN.  But my new Cuban nickname is Kikita.  (more on that another day)

Anyway, my uncle is in town.  Ok, he's actually my mom's uncle which makes him my tio abuelo, but we call him Tio Timbiriche. (like I said, more on nicknames another day)

So his first night in town, Luza (my abuela) has made congri as part of the welcome feast for Tio Timbiriche and my aunt made empanadas. Everything was delicious. Obviously, my first question to this tio abuelo that I haven’t seen in years is, “Quien es San Apapusio?” ;-)

And so it begins. I thought I spoke Spanish well and could hold my own with Cubans. I thought wrong.

Day 1 and I’m already lost and asking for all kinds of explanations.

My abuela starts talking about how she cooks “con ojo de buen cubero.”

I won’t even tell you what I thought I heard her say . . .

But I will tell you that I’d never heard her say it before. So I ask what it means. And they explain it to me.

The conversation turns from cooking to baldness. (no, I have no idea how it happened) We start discussing who in the family is more prone to baldness. Random, I know. My cousin starts talking about genetics (in English because it’s easier for her). As it turns out, baldness is genetic.

While she and I are deeply involved in genetics, the Spanish-speakers have moved on and someone says something about “la familia de Roque Pilon y Perendenge.”

Excuse me? Who are these people? Are we related?

These questions get peals of laughter from the older crowd. And they tell me to give up asking questions. I try to explain to them that I don’t even care where it came from anymore . . . I just need to know when would be a good time to use it. I’d hate to go and try to my practice my new Cuban phrases on my two Cuban friends and mess up something as fun to say as “la familia de Roque, Pilon, y Perendenge.”

Yes, I admit it. I thought it was three people, not one guy with three names.

I’m finally starting to understand all the new things I’ve learned today when my cousin (who missed most of the Spanish conversation) sticks out her tongue and says, “You know what else is genetic?”

 

So it starts. The tongue twisting.

And finally we have a "lengua" we all understand. ;-)

Excuse me, Mr. Google?

Hello, mi gente!  It's Amy again.

I'm having issues.  I need help.

The other day, I was talking with my Mom and I was messing with her a bit when out-of-the-blue and for the first time in my life she exclaimed, "San Apapusio, baja!"

Umm . . . what?? who??

Obviously, she was frustrated and asking for a particular Saint to come down . . . I understand that part, but most Saints are famous for something and that's why you call on them.

So, what is San Apapusio famous for?

Before admitting to her that I didn't know what she was talking about, I did what any modern-day Cubana would do.  I asked Mr. Google and guess what?  HE DOESN'T KNOW!!!!

El Señor Google left me hanging.  So I went to the next best source, Abuela.  But, you won't believe this, she said, "It's just something we say when someone is being difficult and we're frustrated.  I don't know why.  Ask Mr. Google."
Great.  This Mr. Google guy has only been here a couple days and already he's letting me down.

Not ready to admit defeat, I called my one Cuban friend who has only been here a couple years.  He started laughing at me and said he had no idea who it was.

Ay, caramba!

WHO IS THIS SAN APAPUSIO?!?!?

ANYONE? ANYONE?

(you get extra points if you can link him to Kevin Bacon)

Señor Google is in da house!

Hello everyone!  It's Amy.

I've been living with my Abuela for almost 3 years now and she has never had internet.  Because, really, what would a 90-something Cuban grandmother need the internet for?

(Yes, it's been hard on me, but - when I can no longer live without it - I just go to Mom's house.)

Anyway, my Abuela is slowly learning about the "in-ter-neh."  She'd heard it mentioned, but didn't really try to understand it until the whole "Depende" thing started happening to her in Miami.

What "Depende" thing?

Every time someone says the word, "depende," everyone else in the room interrupts with a loud, "DEPENDE DE QUE?"

After a year of people doing this to her, she asked me why everyone always said it the same way.  How do you explain talking eggs and bongos?  Ugh.  I promised her that, one day, I would show it to her and we left it at that.

But then, someone (not sure who) attempted to explain the concept of Google to her.  It didn't quite work.  So she started saying, "Pregunta al Señor Google."
("Go ask Mr. Google")

Yes, MISTER GOOGLE.  She thinks there is a little man sitting at a computer who is just waiting to answer people's questions and help with with their searches.  Obviously, "El Señor Google" is a very busy man.  And a good friend of "Señor Internet."

Well, now that I'm working for my Dad and most of our work is web-based, it only made sense for me to have internet at home instead of commuting the whole 10 minutes to Mom's house everyday.  ;-)

So I told my Abuela that "El Señor Internet" is coming to our house this week.  Monday morning, the Cox Cable guy arrives with a modem and gets me all set-up.  I'm sitting at the table in the kitchen letting him work when Abuela turns to me and says, "Oye, pero el Señor Internet es muy guapo!"
Great, my Abuela (who is more aware of my Single-status than I am) is thinking I should make a pass at the cable guy (who she thinks is Mr. Internet).  Mrs. Amy Internet?  I don't think so.

After the cable guy left, I told my Abuela there was someone I wanted her to meet.  I took her to Google and then typed in "huevos cubanos" as my search and we watched the following cartoon:

Her favorite is the one with the broken bongo.

Meanwhile, I'm on Yahoo Messenger IM-ing with Mom, but I have so many windows open that you can't see the whole word "Yahoo."  So Abuela asks me, "Porque dice 'Ya?'  Eso significa que ya se acabo algo?"  (For our English Only readers, "ya" in Spanish means something along the lines of "done, no more, finished."  Abuela wanted to know if my computer was telling me that Internet time was over.)

She also wanted to know why I was touching all the little buttons so much.  (She was talking about the keyboard.)  When she understood that I was talking to Mom, she told me to ask if Mom had received the pictures from some cousin.  Mom said she would forward the pictures to my email.

Once the pictures arrived 30 seconds later, my Abuela decided she wanted the laptop on top of her lap, because "that's where it's supposed to go, right?"

After she finished looking at the pictures and Mom's blog and everything else, she called everyone she knows to tell them that "El Señor Google esta en mi casa."

That's right, Mr. Google is in da house.

Haikus R Us

My niece Natalie
      has so much going for her.
             Ah! To be eighteen!

She was so little;
      I thought she'd be taller now.
            Happy Birthday, Nat!

Aunt Marti's so weird.
      Her haikus are not clever.
           I wish she would stop.

My sweet Nat grew up.
    Where did all the time go to?
         A beautiful girl.

She's at it again.
     Get a life, please, Aunt Marti.
        And stop the haikus!

=D

El gato y la computadora

The computer printer is on my desk and it networks to the rest of the pc's in the house. It will sometimes crank up (seemingly) out of the blue and start printing history pages or marketing files or math printouts (depending on who's doing what around here).

I'm kind of used to it now as it starts to make the familiar wind-up noise and I casually lean over to see who's printing what. (It's one of the ways I know the kids are on track with schoolwork, but that's not important right now.)

So I'm sitting at my desk when the printer starts whirring and clunking and printing what appears to be a really long document.  I take a peek, like usual, and I see that someone is printing: My Blog. Huh?

Why would the kids be printing my blog? Research? Umm... nope.
Certainly it's not Eric.
Intrigued, I go to investigate and this is what I find:

Nefret Darby finds a warm spot.

Hello? Animal Planet?  (sheesh!)

Time warp

I know this clock says it's about 11:18, but I can't help thinking it's really 10:18. Or at least it was three days ago. Before Daylight Saving Time.  Now when I look at the clock I have to do the mental gymnastics it takes for me to adjust to today's time. SIGH. This whole time change thing makes me crazy. Seriously. Certifiably.

Do you know that Benjamin Franklin was the one who first suggested the idea? Who knew? So I work this fun fact into my American History lesson plan, but still, I can't help but get the feeling it's a conspiracy to mess with our collective minds.  Or, maybe it's just me?  I seriously can't help playing the "It's Really Only _____ O'clock" game.

In fact it takes me weeks to begin to trust the clock again. Because it's lying. Or it feels to me like it's lying. Because I can tell the real time by the light outside. And it's way earlier than 11:18. Much more like 10:18.

Then I get all rebellious. Because "springing forward" is really code for "losing an hour" and I just have a hard time with the loss.  So when 5:30 rolls around and I should be making dinner, I argue, "well, it's really only 4:30 and it's too early to make dinner."

So I end up procrastinating.

I think we ate around 8:00 o'clock last night (but you see, it was technically only 7:00, so it wasn't too late, but that's not important right now).

And then I don't want to go to bed.  Because if I go to bed according to the new time, I will probably just lay there for about an hour and then decide to get up because I can't sleep and so I read way too late into the night and finally when I do go to bed I'm so exhausted that I end up sleeping in, but then I think, "hey, it's not really 8:30, it's 7:30, so I'm golden."

See?

Certifiable.

Nobody else does this?

Nobody?

Hello?

Anybody there?

Echo. . .

SIGH.

Can you hum a few bars?

This was taken at The Huntington Library and Botanical Gardens. Don't we look pretty in pink? ;-)

This is in the Japanese garden and I was seriously floored by how amazingly beautiful these cherry blossoms were.  I just couldn't understand why they would plant such a tranquil garden near such noisy power lines. 

But wait . . . I quickly noticed . . . there were NO power lines anywhere near here. 

Hmmm . . .

Yikes! The cherry blossoms were buzzing

. . . with BEES!!!

Really busy, noisy bees. An entire bee army.  A whole stinkin' WALL OF BEES.

Let's get the heck out of here!! 
Well, as soon as we finish taking the Darbys with the Pink Cherry Blossoms picture.

I might be completely freaked out, but my priorities remain intact. =D

Brujeria? or How much power does my abuelita actually wield?

Amy here.

I have a burning question that I thought maybe some of mom's Cuban blog readers could answer.

Here's the story:

My Cuban Abuela curses and blesses me.

The blessings go something like this: 
"Algun dia tu nieta hara lo mismo por ti." ("One day your own granddaughter will do the same for you.") 

That sounds like a blessing. . . right?  She's in effect saying that I will one day have grandchildren of my own.  It makes me happy.

In the next breath (just after I beat her at cards the other night):  And I'll just paraphrase here . . .
"I didn't want you to win because you know what they say about 'lucky in cards, unlucky in love' and I'd hate to see you end up an old maid. How old are you again? Maybe you should just start buying your cats now." 
That sounds a little curse-like to me.

My question:
How much power do these Cuban-abuelita-curses/blessings have?

Just wondering if I have to go to church and light some candles or something. . .

Must be his evil twin. . .

I hear Eric speaking in a seriously harsh tone:

"Things are going to have to change around here. Do you hear me?  I'm not going to let you get away with this stuff anymore. Got that? I'm sick of you and your attitude. You're not the center of the universe so quit acting like it!"

It's so foreign to listen to this. 

He never talks to any of our kids this way.

Never.

I have to go investigate.

I might have to intervene.

I definitely need to find out what has gotten into him.

I've obviously got to comfort the poor victim of this random tirade.

Or maybe not . . . 

;-)

El gato makes me look "estupida"

I can't say that I'm actually used to earthquakes, but having lived most of my life in Southern California I think I am pretty good at recognizing when the earth is quaking.  Sometimes it's so subtle, that all you notice is a hanging lamp or a curtain that is slightly swinging and then you wait for the swift shake that's sure to follow. 

I've lived through some big ones, so I would call myself Earthquake Experienced.

So I notice the ornaments on our Christmas tree swinging and immediately I yell, "earthquake!"
(I know these things, remember?)

Just as quickly, Eric corrects me: "Not an earthquake . . . it's a cat!"

Me (tilting my head in a kind of confused puppy way): "huh?"

"El gato esta en el arbolito."

I understood what he said in English. . .
I just couldn't wrap my brain around it in either language because I know a quaking tree can only mean one thing and that is that we're having an earthquake!

Don't panic!
Save yourselves!
Run for your lives!!

Oops. . .

I'm just going to go lay down before I hurt myself. (sigh)

I've been busy.

You're probably wondering where I've been the past few days.

I've . . .

Traveled from Balboa Island to The Fun Zone on a ferry with my cousins.

Left footprints in the sand of beautiful Laguna Beach.

Visited the World's Largest Thermometer in Baker, CA. (Gateway to Death Valley - what a great touristic selling point!)

Posed for a picture in the middle of the Mojave Desert a mere 517 miles from Salt Lake City, UT.

Been appropriately impressed with the magnificence of the Hoover Dam.

Walked all the way from Nevada to Arizona to meet my cousin there. ;-)

Met a Golden Lion.

Tried to make friends with Captain Jack Sparrow.

Given Eric pointers for putting with Tiger Woods and Arnold Palmer.

Taken a bow with Tony Bennett.

Practiced some talking points with the President.

Needless to say. . .
I've been BUSY.

But these two have been sitting in exactly the same spot for the past two days. 
Right where we left them.

And it appears they've been just as busy.  =D

Why we just can't get along

See that sweetly innocent look?
Meet The Cat Bastet.

Sometimes known as "the black one."

She hates me.

No. Really.

Hates me with the heat of a thousand suns. (or maybe I'm just projecting because I'm the one who hates her? Hmm. . .  food for thought.)

Anyway, she's really high-strung.  And a drama queen.  And she hisses at me. Often.  Hisses!!  Who does that anymore?

And then when the rest of the family is around she acts as if she didn't do anything.

But I'm on to her.

She likes to sleep at Eric's feet.  On his side of the bed.  We have an invisible line drawn and she doesn't dare to cross it.  Because she knows I'm on to her.  She knows.  I know she knows.

In the morning she is the one who wakes Eric up.  (Notice I didn't say "us" because she knows I'd probably drop-kick her right across the room if she tried to wake me, but that's not important right now.)

What follows is a re-enactment in a hilarious (if you're a cat owner) minute and twenty-six seconds.

The Cat Bastet waking my husband up every single morning:

She's not fooling me one bit.

Besides, I'm no fun.  I just roll over and go right back to sleep.  ;-)

20 - Gato Fino

Of course I'm superstitious.  It's part of my Cuban DNA. 

I come by it honestly.  As a Cuban baby I had the mandatory black azabaché (to ward off the Evil Eye, Envy, Illness, Bad Luck and Violence) pinned to my clothing before I was even able to open my eyes to the world.

I still look at my watch and wince a little when we're at the beach and my kids want to go right back in the water after they've eaten.  The no-bathing-for-three-hours rule is so ingrained into my being that I immediately have visions of them having a patatú - a seizure-like fit. (Or it can also be a quite tasty drink made with Amaretto, Gold Rum, Curacao, orange juice and grenadine, but that's not important right now. =D)

I've told you before about Cuban math and the Charada China. 

Yes.  Superstitions, old wives tales, erroneous and bizarre beliefs, taboos, omens.  It's like a Cuban national pastime. ;-)

And then because Halloween is coming up I kind of started thinking that "Hey! We have a black cat and she crosses my path like a dozen times a day. . .  hmm . . . how is this affecting my life??" 

(I'm just saying. . .)

"Thanks for being a pal and taking that stupid laptop out of this ever-so-comfy hide-a-bed."
~ The Cat Bastet