As it turns out.

I had a great time at my 22.5 year reunion. I gave those who deserved it just enough grief and otherwise enjoyed chatting up everyone. I was told that I was beautiful by the hippest girl in the class (who grew up gorgeous) and upon ackward silence, when I wasn't sure how to respond, was told that it was because I looked so happy now...and that I didn't seem happy in school. You think?

I agreed to produce and perform in a cabaret act with the most popular boy from the class, told the class jock I always had a crush on him, and had the boy who left in 4th grade tell everyone how amazing I was in high school (although I had kinda forgotten that he was there). It was actually fun, and actually they weren't awful people. So nice that people grow up.

Nick and Serge talked me through the car ride on the way down, Serge being incredulous that I was going at all, and Nick hoping it would end up like the episode of 30 Rock when Liz Lemon goes to her reunion and finds out that actually she was the mean one. Hats off to them for getting me there in one piece, and to Fieron for being my back up plan. I love my boys.

Just another manic Monday?

I had my very first root canal today. It was perfectly fine, and the idea of being done with the horrific pain of the past 11 days was enough to make it something to look forward to. The dentist was new to me, but was so very nice, making sure I was comfortable...the biggest problem was that I kept almost falling asleep on the table, and he needed me to keep my mouth open really wide. This is what I get for staying out after Paula and Brian's wedding last night...but oh it was so fun.

I finished the procedure, paid, and left the office with my face feeling pretty numb. It wasn't until I got into the car that I realized that when I smiled, only half of my face moved. I mean, really, not my eye, not my cheek, not my mouth. So I basically looked like a stroke victim...or like Sloth from the Goonies. Now, I am not someone who thinks that I depend on my looks. I just don't. But seeing my deformed face in the mirror, and being unable to do anything about it, affected me in a way that I didn't expect at all. I was kind of amused, but also a tiny bit worried that it wouldn't go away. I did what I always do when I am in mental turmoil, and called Michael. I told him about my face and said that before I went out to do my errands and pick up the kids, I needed to drive by the office. I said (and this is where I blush a bit at my own self induced pyschological trauma) that I needed him to see it, so that he could see what I look like when I have a stroke, and therefore decide if he was really prepared to stay with me like this, because if not, he may as well leave me now. (This is the point at which every person reading this collectively thanks their lucky stars that I am not their partner) I went to the office, showed him...he was amused, but decided to stay with me anyway, and I went on my way to run my errands. Basically 3 days left before we leave for camp with the most campers we have ever taken in winter, and a snowstorm approaching...I've got things to do, face or no face.

Which leads to my evening plans.

A while back, I joined an alumni group on facebook for my elementary school. Yes, the elementary school where I was teased, beaten, cajoled, mistreated in almost every way a child can mistreat another child, and just generally hated. Why did I join? Well, I am a different person than I was and I am trying to evolve. And, plus, I have that people pleasing thing. And also, they invited me. And it was a private group, so I thought only in joining would I see what people were saying. Turns out, it wasn't anything terribly interesting, but they did end up planning a bar night for everyone in town for the holidays, and that is tonight. I promised my one friend-since-then that I would come, plus I convinced another person I had found on myspace and become friendly with to change his holiday plans and drive up from San Diego early to attend...so I kinda have to go now. And in the wake of the root canal (my face has returned, btw) I could certainly come up with an excuse not to go. I have no shortage of things to do, tomorrow night I have to convince parents I know what I am doing enough to trust me with their kids for a week, and I haven't packed, shopped (for camp), or wrapped presents yet. Guess we aren't celebrating Hanukkah this year.

Call me a glutton for punishment, but I am going. The review as to which sucked more, the reunion or the root canal, will follow.

Speechless

So the problem with not talking is that I then think too much.

I have had laryngitis since Sunday. Mainly due to the rocking turnout and comraderie at the boutique (pictures to follow) when I had a slight cold. The problem is, the performance for my Musical Theater class is Thursday. So basically, I have stopped talking, and am doing all the things singers are supposed to do to fix their voice. It is Wednesday now...and I can speak again, but I still can't sing. So I remain as silent as possible until tomorrow.

The issue? I am waaaaaay to far inside my own head. I am not a friend to myself. Self doubt, paranoia, basic insanity...it all just frolicks around my headspace until it spurts out. And when it spurts out, it isn't pretty.

I helped a friend last night (online, no talking) with a problem I have to some degree suffered from and still suffer from...but have no solution to. That is super frustrating. I am a helper. I am a fixer. But this situation is unfixable. I hate that. And because I am stuck inside my head right now, without my usual arsenal of folks to bounce things off of, I am taking everything personally. Everything.

Breaking it down, I am worried about not being able to sing right tomorrow, I am coming down off a post boutique high and headed into the high pressure Winter Camp prep (never mind the holidays), I am trying to be supportive as Michael busts his cute little booty even more than usual (yes, that is possible) to finish up deadlines so we can bill people before the year ends, and with all of this, I cannot speak. Fabulous.

Thanks to those who were so helpful when I was melting down. Your comments and suggestions were very appreciated, although in the end, moot. No grace was said. There was enough chaos where it was never really missed, and although I had my typed out plan in my bra (pocket of choice), I didn't use it. After dinner, I did go over to my dad and brother and told them of what had been transpiring in my head all week and shared with them what I had written. My dad said he had contemplated asking me to speak, but decided that maybe it would be too hard. It was a nice holiday and my grandma was a trooper. We had so many extra folks, they served as a good distraction. For the record, here is what I planned on saying:

Firstly, thanks to everyone who has come to join our family on this holiday of thanksgiving. We all have so many things to be thankful for, but I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge what we lost this year. An artist, a life force, a family member, a friend is gone, and she left us with a lesson to be thankful. To be thankful for every single moment we have together, not just on each holiday, but on every single day. So in addition to being thankful to have every thing we have, let’s all be thankful that we have each other too.

Crap.

I am so worried about Thanksgiving. How are we all going to do what we normally do? Just pretend like Mimma is away? We never talk about it. My grandma is always in tears, but scolds any one of us if we look as though we've been crying. My mom likes to pretend Mimma is on vacation, and went so far as to think she was bringing the potatoes. Death is so weird. The way that someone can be gone, but you just forget. I did it in Target a few days ago, when confronted with the foot spa stuff I undoubtedly would have bought her as a gift for xmas...and when I realized that she was gone, and there was one less person to buy for, I burst out into tears.

My dad always asks me to say grace/thanks at these sorts of things. He says it is because I am a good speaker. This has always been the case, he even let me speak the year AFTER I had been well immersed into my liberal arts education, and declared that what we were doing was a giant lie- and it was just celebrating a victory of genocide over the Pequot Indians. Oh yes, even then, I was in charge of saying something the next holiday that rolled around. But what do I say tomorrow? The task is even more monumental because there will be non family guests, poor things. They all know, and I think they all knew her, so it isn't some big secret. I am not known for my subtlety, and really, I will not pretend like she isn't missing. But what do I say that honors her without turning me into a blubbering mess?

These are my ideas:

Hey, yeah, so we should be thankful that at least we're all alive. (um, no)
Wow, 2008 really sucked...but at least it is almost over! (?)
Let's all give thanks to Jesus....um, nvm.

How about:
I want to thank you all for coming to join our family on this day, our first holiday since we lost our beautiful, vibrant, talented Mimma. We all miss her and don't understand why she was taken from us. They say time heals everything, and we can all be hopeful that this is the case...and while there are plenty of things we can all be thankful for, it is worthwhile to note that we are not grateful for what has been taken. Let's take a moment to take joy in the memories she left for us, and raise our glasses in love and appreciation of what we do have.
Blah blah blah.

If I thought I could get even the first 5 words out of that without turning into a mess, I would. But even as I sit here writing, waiting for the dough for the sticky buns that I make for the Thanksgiving Breakfast at my mother in laws to rise, I am crying.

It's funny, I don't want to idealize anything. The fights my aunt and I had, most especially on holidays, were somewhat legendary. She and I could push each other's buttons like no one's business. Fiery, Latina women who loved each other unconditionally and had very very very different opinions about things can do that. We can scream and yell and fight (and oh, we did) and then pose for a picture with our noses red and eyes swollen as soon as it is over (which she had framed so that we'd "always remember"). And now, there will be no fights. But it won't be better. It won't ever be better.

I am thankful for a lot. I am.

Popular

I was not a popular kid in elementary school. I was pseudo friends with one of the popular kids for a few years, but it turned out she was using me to do her bidding, and things ended badly. I started the elite, rich, white Catholic school in 3rd grade, when my mom went in and begged the principal to not make me be subjected to the dreaded busing happening in the public school system...and there I was. #61 in the 3rd grade, where the classrooms were only set up for 30 per. I was extra. And my first day of school was maybe their 3rd day, they had all been together since kindergarten, and I had no uniform, no religious training, and I was half jewish, and I was poor, chubby, melodramatic, hispanic, and the child of parents who were divorcing. Needless to say, I didn't really start off on the right foot.

There are horrific stories I could tell, but I can save that for another day. Suffice to say that I was physically and emotionally abused by everyone from the children right up to the principal for the entire time I was there, and it was awful. Six years of awful.

Cut to 6 years later, and I was graduating 8th grade with a bright future...my parents had promised public school. We had moved to a better neighborhood, and I was going to be allowed to attend the local school. I did well there, making friends I still have to this day, and I am not just talking about on facebook. I had the lead in the school play (despite being physically wrong for the part. Even after a summer at weight watcher's camp, I was unconvincing as a young girl being hidden away in an attic during WW2...but I was the better actor, so I got it), and was even voted "most loveable" in a non-sham "most polls" contest for the 9th graders at the end of the school year. High school was great too...lots of fun, lots of friends, and I enjoyed my Drama geek status which had me not in the "cool kids" group, but with plenty of friends (and, technically, my own kingdom) regardless. Being involved in the Y and Rocky Horror kept me social and busy and I didn't look back to the days of being the kid who would sit down at a table at lunch and have the whole table get up and move.

But that doesn't mean that the scars of that time aren't there...they manifest themselves in different ways. I am a people pleaser. I like people to like me. I don't like it when people are displeased with me. I have never had the "fuck it, who cares what people think" mentality, which I totally blame on the years I spent surviving at St. Pauls. I have gotten a little better over the years, but not by much.

So I have come across a situation where someone is displeased with me. And it is for something I did, kind of. And I suppose I could say fuck it, cause honestly the outcome would have not one bit of effect on my life, but I just suck at that, plus it is something I don't want to do. So I am feeling blue and annoyed and just totally unsure as to how to proceed. And this is the first time I have blogged about something like this in a public blog, so I feel very vulnerable...but I felt the need to write it down.

Honestly? Nothing.

It has been a crazy week. I had such a nice weekend, and we came home to terrible news...Magnolia and Max's principal died on Saturday. He had been ill, but had been in recovery, and we kept hearing that he was coming back soon. I worked with him a lot over the last year, we had many long conversations, and he was so thankful to have a new breed of parents on the PTA. He was only 59 and left behind his wife, his 13 year old daughter, and his 14 year old son. It is overwhelming to consider how suddenly everything can be taken away. My experience with my aunt in the beginning of the year helped to prepare me for the alarming reality death is. I don't know whether it is easier or harder, but I feel prepared, in a way. I actually think I may have been expecting it...even though all prognoses were good. The Salinas Sixth Sense? Well, I never thought I had it, but maybe I do...

I have been so angry this week for a variety of reasons, there has been so much deceit, hypocrisy, and badmouthing...and I am not just talking about the election. I feel quite helpless when it comes to this kind of behaviour...it makes me curl up in a ball (metaphorically) and become that little kid who got beat up on all the time by the stupid rich white catholic kids at her stupid, rich, white, Catholic school. Except that I am not. Through the adversity I was shown and what I had to overcome, I am scarred, but strong. And I am lucky. For all that has befallen me in my life, I have so much to be thankful for. So if I could just manage to get myself out of bed for more than a couple of hours, and off of the computer for enough time to feel actual productivity again, that would be fantastic. But for now, I need to accept it. Accept that in this world there is deceit, hypocrisy, and badmouthing...and even things that are worse. And in this world, there are significantly more things to be concerned about than what the president of the PTA thinks of me cause I called her out on her inability to understand a basic conversation. But all that may have to wait until after coffee.

Vegas, Grandma, Vegas!

Ok, it should be Abuelita, it should be noted...but eh.

My grandma's favorite place in the world is Las Vegas. She loves to gamble, loves loves loves the quarter slots. Doesn't even care when they take all her money away, as long as she can hold on to it long enough to get through the weekend. I had to drag her back into the room at 3 am on Friday night, and 2 on Saturday. She would have kept going too...

And here's the thing. She lost her daughter this year, her daughter/best friend/only friend/confidant/basically spouse. She cries more than she smiles now. But we just spent about 48 hours together where she laughed more than cried. Where we laughed together, each time that the machine graced us with 5 extra quarters, even if we had just put in 6...laughed at my mom and cousin when they drank too much, laughed at the girls with their fancy shoes off by midnight, laughed at the casino for creating such a maze we couldn't even find the bathroom...just laughed. And wow, was it so worth it.

Even with the time away from Michael and the kids after he just returned from a week in Hong Kong...even with coming home to a pile of laundry to fold that has completely swallowed my couch...even with the memories of my aunt which haunted me all of last week as we arrived at the 7 month anniversary of her death. Worth every single part. And not just because some of those memories were of how I held her hand as she wondered about whether or not she was going to die, with me not having the heart to tell her what I knew to be true (and then eventually finding that strength)...and how I promised her I would take care of Lita when she went...but it while it may have been a sense of duty that got me to take advantage of the free-ish weekend, that wasn't what brought on the laughter. And I am so so so thankful for the laughter.

Beachy Goodness

Today was a wonderful day.

We went to the beach, as per usual...but today my BFF, Nicole and her husband, Michael came...in addition to my brother like cousin. Also, our usual beach partners Maria and Alfredo were there and they brought family too, so we had a nice big group. The waves were big, the sky was blue, lots of boogie boarding, eating, laughing, and SUN. I'm a little burnt. There is no feeling as wonderful to me as swimming in the ocean, and it looks like Magnolia is taking after me, cause she is a little fish with her boogieboard.

Then home, homemade pizza (I made the dough this morning) and now some good ol' computer time.

Applesauce

I thought the first post should be introductory, explain why I decided to start this blog, why I decided I wanted to have a new blogspace away from myspace, different than the other blogger account I haven't used in 3 years, one that could be business, personal, crazy, silly, informative, whatever. But I always do that, I always spend so much time doing what I feel like I should do instead of what I want to do.

Instead, I am going to talk about applesauce. Our neighbors' apple trees are super productive this year, so we collected and made applesauce tonight. It is SO tasty! But a giant pot of apples only made 3 quart jars plus one 8 oz jar of applesauce. Granted, a quart of applesauce really is a lot, I maybe should have considered not using such big jars. Regardless, we didn't have to add any sugar at all and it is incredibly delicious. Really.