A shout out

Heard of an inner-city pastor who started the now-flourishing "Graffiti Church". He so named it after various attempts at repainting their church building was only met with yet more graffitti.

Mr. Pastor, you need to come start a church in my neighborhood.

I'm just sayin'.

Just takin' a walk...

Noah and I usually take an early evening walk around the blocks close to home. The other day, I started looking at what we were walking by with, "I don't think I saw these things on walks with my mommy" eyes.

Such things as:

• A nativity scene. Complete with the devil standing by. Painted completely red, with a skull between his feet and a beer bottle in his right hand. Sure seems to take the "serene" out of the scene.


• A box tossed by the side of the road with a blanket in it. Closer examination reveal little puppy feet. 3 dead puppies.


• An empty condom wrapper under the park bench


• About 4 pounds of cooked beans, heaped in the grass next to the side walk.

Sometimes I think about this whole "normal" thing. For Noah, it is normal to listen to people talking and say, "Si, si, si" or to hit the bad floor that made him bonk his head and say "Ma-o, ma-o" (Malo="bad"). It's normal he lives in a 3rd floor apartment that looks out to the mountains surrounding our city. It's Noah's life that there is no candy sweeter to him than a corn tortilla hot off the presses. It is normal for him that he lives at over 7,000 feet of altitude and that here there are more people on bikes or motorcycles than cars.

I feel like I am bringing him "normal" when I serve him up his beloved mac & cheese (Kraft, to be sure) or when I present him with a box of Crayolas. Or sing him nursery rhymes. Or turn on Blue's Clues (which he absolutely loves).

I wonder, as I look at him--straddling these two "normals". He doesn't even know he's doing it. I wonder if he will later. I hope to find and accentuate the good in both these normals, and to not project that what is not my normal is in some way inferior.

When wrong is right

It was the sweetest thing. Last night, Rey asked me if I had plans for today. Nope. He said, "What about if we go to the capital... eat at an Italian restaurant? I already got your Aunt to take care of Noah for the day..." What? How cool of a plan is that!

I was stoked. We looked up "italian restaurants Zacatecas" online. Found about 5 options. The first one we went to had been closed. The next one... well, it wasn't as advertized. Let's just say that. The place smelled like the dusty, mismatched tablecloths on the tables. Instead of the little white lights I was imagining-- big, guady silver star balloons hung from the ceiling. While I'd hoped for some Frank Sinatra music over the speakers, a TV blared mariachi music interrupted only by the occasional beer commercial. Rather than an extensive menu of pastas and delicious soups, the menu's most Italian fare was pizza. The table we sat at had one short leg, so it "danced" (Rey's wording). But, we were hungry. Really hungry. And the traffic in the city made it so we didn't really want to go look more. And Rey really wanted me to have my Italian restaurant. So, we stayed.

There was that 5 minutes of time that decided how this day would go. Would I let all my unfulfilled expectations cause me to turn into a blubbering pile of mush? Would Rey feel super awful about something neither of us can control--namely: it appears my "American definition" of an Italian restaurant is muuuch different from the Mexican definition. Rey ordered steak tacos and I a ham sandwich. I frankly was afraid to try one of their 3 pasta dishes.

We switched tables so as not to have to deal with the "dancing" the whole meal. It was to a quieter corner of the restaurant. And then. We decided. We chose to thoroughly enjoy the moment. It was so ironic how completely wrong this place was.

We decided the host of "Hell's Kitchen" would have a fit here, so we had a good time figuring out what his critique would be. We laughed as we heard the microwave being used during the preperation of our food (Was my sandwich really last week's sandwich being nuked??). We marvelled at the complete lack of coordination in decor (How many owners has this place had?). We wondered just how old the plastic rose on each table could have been. (See picture above). You get the idea.

(I love how those shelves in the background are loaded with

stuff that somehow equals Italy. Ah, yesss.)

In the end, the food wasn't that bad. We had a lot of fun. Maybe the bathrooms had no light bulbs, but--hey: there was a bar of soap on the sink. Maybe mariachi doesn't make me smile as much as some mellow jazz, but... ok. I did miss the music. ;)

But, in our family--we like stories to have happy endings. And this one did. Oh, yes it did.








And... we even topped that!! Rey is awesome enough to have found some cocker spaniel pups--which I've been hoping to find. We went and picked one out of the litter with Noah this evening. So cute!



Meet... hmm. Not sure on the name yet. But, he's around 2 weeks old. He's gonna stay with momma until he's bigger.






It was the perfect day.

Lookin' good...

Real-life conversation that took place between myself and my prince charming yesterday evening.

(prince): "Aren't you going to get a shower today?"
(me): "I did."
(snorting disdainfully): "You did? Nooooo. No you didn't."
(rather offended): "Yes, I did."
(still disdainful): "When?"
(more offended): "This morning at like 10."
(another snort): "No you didn't."
(near tears): "Yes, I did. I took a shower. I changed clothes. I blew dry my hair. I put make-up on. And THIS is what I get?"
(realizing he may be on thin ice): "Hmmm..."

How much trouble do you think he was in?
Ah, and match that with the comment he made a while ago about not being attracted to me for my "physical qualities"!! Yeah, he's sleeping on the patio these days.