Meditating Toward The Me I Want To Be

I've posted here and there about the Law of Attraction.  I have quite a few cool stories of things that have happened as a result of a combination of meditation, positive thinking, and positive living.  It's true that what you put out there will attract more of the same.

Well, lately I've felt a bit down in the dumps about money again.  I am so tired of feeling like my dreams and goals are so far off into the future.  I'm tired of feeling trapped by my circumstances and by the feelings and thoughts that others have about me or toward me.

So, this afternoon I took about 90 minutes and closed my eyes to meditate.  I ended up doing something really fun in my meditation.  I hung out with the future me.

The future me is the me who is living in my dream home and doing what she loves while living in abundance.  Her husband and son are happy and thriving, also living out their own dreams.  The future version of us is content and confident.

The future me is a healer.  She loved me today in my meditation, and she healed me from the effects of toxic thoughts and toxic cells that were weighing me down.

I asked her what I should do to make the present me be the future me sooner.  I told her I was ready to be fulfilled.  I will not share the answer she gave to me, because it is highly personal, and I actually am still trying to figure out what was meant by what she said.

But after spending time with the future me I felt so peaceful and glad.  I felt a sense of hope and calm.

I'll be hanging out with her more often.

Feliz Navidad en Tejas

Every year for the past 4 years we have tried to make plans to spend Christmas in Mexico, and every year our plans get spoiled.  It's usually due to lack of money. This year was no different.  Once again my husband and I have quarreled over money and pouted together over another Christmas not spent the way we'd hoped.

It's going to be alright.  It always is.  What is going to make it better is that my mother-in-law is going to come to us.  I'm already imagining all of the places we can take her and food we can prepare together.  It will be the first time that my son spends Christmas with his abuela.

But I really am tired of struggling financially.  We no longer want to work for other people. We desperately want to go it alone and make our money by doing things that we love.  That is why I have been picking up my writing once again.

But my husband is still stuck doing something he hates.  I want him to be happy now, and be able to make a living by using his talents and intelligence.  He has so very much to offer the world, and I feel like he is being stuffed into a box and not able to be seen or to breathe.

If you are reading this, please pray for us.  We've been taking steps in the right direction to free ourselves from the slave mentality so prevalent in our culture.

But, clearly, we have more to overcome.  I feel that the answers lie within, but we have not found them yet.

Wine and Clarity

It's late and I probably should not post when I've had a couple of glasses of wine, but.....what the heck! Maybe I'll make a tradition out of it.

No wait, that could turn me into an alcoholic.

So, silliness aside, what I really wanted to write about here, ironically, is the clarity that I have been experiencing regarding my writing.

I've decided to really go for this thing.

I'm not sure about the hows or whens, but I'm tired of giving power to the what ifs, ya know?

I'm just gonna write.  I'm gonna write here, write in Bubblews, and write the novel that I just conceived 3 days ago.

The really coo-coo (or maybe not....I'm actually just saying that because I know that at least 50% of you will say it's coo-coo) thing about this is that the clarity came to me when I attempted to do a Tarot reading on myself about a week ago.  I'm serious.

I bought these Tarot cards about a year ago and I started teaching myself how to do simple readings.  I've been learning a lot with them.  Trust me, it's more about intuition than any sort of voodoo stuff.

Anyway, now that my wine induced clarity has led me to Tarot readings, I am going to sign off.  :)

Things just keep getting curiouser and curiouser.......I hope you'll join me for my next entry.

Maybe I'm a Buddhist Christian

I got two books from the library yesterday.  One is called "The Lost Books of the Bible" and the other is about the life of Buddha.  For all of you, not knowing who I am, it would appear as though I am searching for answers.  You are right.

But I'm not searching for answers for lack of being given a foundation.  On the contrary.  I was raised in a Christian family and was very active in church as a youth.  I attended a Christian college and worked in a Christian camp. I have a relationship with Jesus that runs deep.

But I am still searching for the truth.  Not the truth, as in, "how can I know God."  No, I already had the pleasure of understanding and feeling the immense LOVE that IS God.

What I am wondering about are the questions surrounding religion and the hows and whys of what was included in the Bible and how much is based on previous stories that were passed down through other religions much older than Christianity.

I am wondering about the people who made the decisions as to what all of the rules and doctrine of Christianity would be.

I feel that most of what I want to know in life can be quickly learned if I ask the question, "Why?"  Funny how that is the main question from a child of 2 to 5 years old.

As for the book about Buddha, well, technically Buddhism is not a religion.  It's a philosophy.  It's a philosophy which I've become more and more drawn to over the past few years, so I want to learn more.

My husband has always doubted Christianity because of the way the Church seemed to manipulate and control the masses.  He is also interested in learning about Buddhism, so we're on the same page here.

So, there you have it.

Just another part of our journey.

Morning. What a Hoot.

******This was a post originally written on my other blog back in March 2014*******

******Hang in there, I will post something new soon.  I am working on combining my blogs******

It's quiet.  I'm getting my much-needed "alone time" that I demand each day.  If my husband were reading this he would assume (incorrectly) that I am writing this late at night.  I'm a night owl, and something in me has always bristled at being told when to sleep and not to sleep.  So I enjoy late nights while my family snores in their beds, and I growl at those who try to pry me from "el vientre" before I am ready.

"El vientre?" It's Spanish for "the womb".  Years ago, when partying with some of my Mexican friends, we'd all crash late at night.  It would only take one person to start moving around and clanking breakfast dishes to break the magical spell of that wonderful sleep that finally happens after one has slept off the alcohol.  Inevitably that one person would be the one who drank the least the night prior.  Shame on them!  Soon my other friends would begin to stir, and groggily yet cheerfully they'd throw off their blankets, until one by one they would all succumb to the morning bird peer pressure.  Not me.  After quite a few times of being teased about being "flojita" (lazy) in the morning, I told them that I am too comfy to get out of bed, that I felt like I was being torn from "el vientre."

In earlier years, I would be the last one to fall asleep at a slumber party, and the last to arise in the morning.  My friends would be giggling and chomping on cinnamon rolls, and I'd be groaning and crabbing at them for making too much noise.  On school days I would only eat breakfast if I had the kitchen to myself so as not to have to talk to anyone.  One summer during college years I worked at my dad's office and commuted with him each morning.  My one rule was "Don't talk to me until I've had at least one cup of coffee."

Two words that have always made me curl my upper lip into a snarl are "morning" and "breakfast".  To me they are just too cheerful-sounding for my overly sensitive, dawn-hating ears.

Morning Person: "Good morning!  What would you like for breakfast?"

Me: "How about a nice big cup of 'Shut the hell up and let me go back to bed?' "

I've always been a bear in the morning.  I've been known to throw out some pretty cutting remarks at innocent morning people.  I'm not proud of the following occurrences, but in order to fully illustrate my craziness I will take one for the art of blogging and risk having you dislike me.

1. I was about 18 years old and was on a trip with the youth group from church.  A few of us girls shared a hotel room.  I could set the story up to lay out my defense and tell you how cozy I was on the comfy hotel mattress with the thermostat set at just the right temperature and the curtains drawn to create a perfect, pitch black sleeping environment, but that would be a ploy to gain your support.  One of the sweetest friends I ever had was a very light sleeper, and she was almost always the first one to get up in the morning.  This trip was no exception.  To my sleepy brain and ears, the noise she made in getting out of bed, taking a shower, and turning on her blow dryer may as well have been explosives going off next to my bed.  I said (brace yourself, it's mean), "I feel sorry for whoever you end up marrying!"  She gave me the silent treatment for most of the morning, as I recall.  I can't say I blame her.

2. About 7 years after the previous incident, I was in Mexico, staying with my then boyfriend's' (now husband's) family for a few months.  You probably know that most families who live in Mexico have a maid, whether part-time or live-in.  Anyway, my in-laws were sort of "between maids" and were trying some out during the course of my stay.  At one point they had a young woman come from a neighboring ranchito (a very rural place) and she was accustomed to rising hours before the rooster to get started on daily chores.  I had been sleeping in the room next to the kitchen, and at 3:30 in the morning she was clanging pots and pans and utensils around like nobody's business.  Not only that, but her shoes had hard soles, and I could hear her coming down the wooden stairs on the way to the kitchen, and every step she would take while mopping the floor (how dirty could it possibly be, if it was just mopped and swept late afternoon the day before?!) was like a mockery to my senses.  On the 2nd or 3rd night of this, I couldn't control myself.  Let's just say that the bear emerged from her den, and she was not happy.  I confronted the poor, surprised little wisp of a girl and accusingly asked her in Spanish what in God's name she was doing awake at this hour making such a racket in the room next to where I am sleeping.  I told her to go back to bed.  In the morning I confessed my transgressions to my mother-in-law, who had a good laugh over the matter and smoothed things over with the maid, telling her to not get up so early, because she wouldn't want to wake the Incredible Hulk.

Okay, so I'm a little dramatic at times.  So is my son.  He doesn't like going to bed early either.  The problem is, he tends to get up fairly early.  Okay, well... "fairly early" by my standards.  He is also very persistent about having other people awake along with him.  In fact, he doesn't seem to want to allow anyone to sleep if he is awake.  He has been this way since birth.  Homeschooling is perfect for him and me, because we start our day whenever we feel like it.  But he always gets up before me and taps on my head every 15 minutes until I drag my butt out of bed.

The other night I made a decision.  I decided to try to go to bed when he does, and get up before he does.  That way I could have my "me time" in the morning and de-crabbify myself with coffee and writing before he gets up.  It's made for a couple of productive days of morning blogging.  Two days down, and so far, so good.

We'll see how long I last.  All I know is that if anyone tries to demand that I wake up or go to sleep at these times, I'll go back to my night owl ways.  I am nothing if not stubborn.

To School, or Not to School? Our Wonderful Trip to Crazy Town

******This post was originally written in November of 2013 on my other blog*****

It's 3:07 p.m.  I have one nerve left, and it's ready to go on strike. Is it too early for a glass of wine? Sometimes homeschooling feels like a path to Crazy Town.

My son is such a great kid.  The thing is, he gives me a run for my money.  One may think it's because he asks me really tough questions.  Actually, that's not it.  I'm fine with saying "I don't know, let's look it up."  What's sometimes tiring is that he never stops talking, and, well, you know those books about highly sensitive kids?  He's one of those.  A wonderful, sweet, caring, smart, analytical, worried, obsessive one of those.  Also, he could easily be classified as ADHD, if we were to go that route.

Last year I attended numerous bitch sessions (otherwise known as IEP meetings) at my son's school, which fueled the decision to home school him this year.  Yes, we were aware that he did not want to sit "Criss-Cross Applesauce" or do 37 math worksheets each day, nor would he finish the unfinished worksheets around the kitchen table later on, unless we wanted to experience 2 hours of tears and scolding and stress each evening. Finally, no, we were not going to slap an ADHD label on him and drug him up so that he would be easier for everyone to manage.

Other fuel for the fire consisted of my two years of experience as a public school elementary teacher, where I discovered that most teachers feel like they are not given the trust to teach.  They pretty much have their hands tied as far as being able to teach creatively and effectively, and the kid/teacher ratio combined with student's unique personalities was a recipe for educational hell for any child with a strong will to learn at their own pace.

We were going to move anyway, so we decided that upon moving from MN to TX in the fall, there would be no more school hell for our son.  We would home school, and we would keep our eyes open for an alternative school that may be a good fit for our son.

I am still trying to figure out how I should approach homeschooling my son.  I have not purchased any curriculum, because I have a pretty solid grasp on what to do in order to teach the standards to a second grader.  I also don't want to be too "teachery" with him, because he closes up and reverts to rebellious behavior.  Why force information into his brain, when he isn't ready to put it there?  It likely won't stick. I'm caught between worrying about grade level learning and natural learning.

What I mean is:

Why is it that a kid turns 5 and suddenly we want to place all of these expectations on his or her shoulders and trade fun, natural, curiosity-fueled learning for rigid, programmed, pigeonholed learning?  What if he wants to read Curious George books and watch Stephen Hawking videos, and learn math when the subject comes up?  If he decides to be a rocket scientist, won't that desire be strong enough to take it upon himself to learn physics and calculus?

On the other hand........

We sometimes feel a little panicky.  We live in a society that seems to be enslaved to this force-feeding style of teaching.  What if our situation changes and requires us to put our son back into public school, and he is "behind" in math and still doesn't want to write a book recommendation?  Also, though I am ashamed to admit it, I hate the thought of friends and family quizzing him on whatever subject matter they think a 7-year-old should know about, and him answering, "Um.....".

For Now:

I am happy that my son is not crying everyday.  I am relieved that no longer asks, "So, we have to sit in school for years and years and then go to a job that we hate?  That's life??"  I am overjoyed that we can  go the library or museum or theatre or zoo as many times as we want to, and that we can talk about why leaves turn color and why seasons have distinct smells, and watch National Geographic documentaries at 10:00 a.m.  I love that he can go to the bathroom or drink water when he needs to.

I love that I get to be with my son, and that we can learn together.  For now, that's more than good enough.  :)

¡Que te Mueve!

*******Another post originally written back in October of 2013********

Twelve hours have now passed since I did my second Zumba workout within as many consecutive days, and there is not enough Aspercreme in all of Texas to relieve the pain in my calves and thighs.

On the bright side, I slept the whole night through last night and woke up feeling rested for the first time in quite a few months.  Also, I feel cheerier.  Almost sprightly!  Okay, not sprightly.  Not yet, anyway.  But chipper.  Yes, chipper is a good word to describe my mood both today and yesterday, after having dripped about two gallons of sweat and negative energy from my bad ass self.

It's all part of the master plan.  The release of the slim, sexy lady.  She's hiding within me and she has been dying to get out.  She WILL come out, and soon.  And Zumba is going to play a huge role in executing this plan.

I wonder if yesterday's instructor used to be heavy, and released her inner sexy lady after getting healthy with Zumba?  My, my.  That woman was gyrating, shaking and twerking all over that studio's stage.  For a moment I thought I'd gone into the pole dancing class by mistake!  I expected Miley to come prancing in to join the class at any moment.  All joking aside, she was very energetic and a great instructor.  I liked her class because I could follow most of what she was doing and she didn't change things up every 5 seconds.

I was proud of myself yesterday, after having earned a thumbs up from the instructor for my salsa moves.  I credit this success to living room Zumba workouts, where Beto and the gang taught me the basics without any pressure or glances of disapproval if I slacked at times, or collapsed on the couch.  Yes, after yesterday's class I was feelin' pretty proud of myself.

Then today happened.

Different teacher.  She played awesome Latin music and displayed a wonderful, laid back attitude.  But every two steps was something different!  There were like 47 new steps in each 5-minute song, for pete's sake!  I imagined myself to be performing like Ethel and Lucy might in a ballet recital. Sometime around the 40 minute mark I began to feel a little pissed.  Where was that confidence from yesterday?!

But then I looked around at the dear ones in the studio, and was put at ease.  They weren't perfect, yet they were smiling, having a great time, and giving it their all.  A few of them sent some of those smiles my way.

I'll be going back tomorrow.

La Cucaracha

******This post is from October 2013, taken from my other blog "Melo Out With Me" and pasted here******

Turns out there are cockroaches the size of my head in here in Texas.  Okay, maybe not that big, but a couple of hours ago I'd have sworn otherwise.  Does anyone remember those Presidents Tests for gym class back in the 80's?  If there was a test for high jumping I'd have passed it and set a record, for the way I reacted tonight when confronted with the biggest friggin' cockroach this Minnesota native has ever seen.  In the bathroom of our master bedroom, no less.

I lose out on the Mom of the Year Award tonight for having made my son cry with my screams.  Hopefully the therapy won't cost him too much when that memory catches up with him 15 years from now.

It's karma.  Last night I was feeling really cocky (no wordgamey-punny thing intended) when we got home from our homeschooling meet up, where we met at a park and learned about spiders and scorpions, and then went and actually sought them out on an evening (dark) hike in the park.  It turns out there's this neat little trick where you can use a flashlight to see the gazillion pairs of spider eyes looking back at you as you stroll through the peaceful park under the moonlit sky.  Someone found a scorpion with their black light and I boldly got within 2 feet of the creature as it crawled around on the expert's (aka crazily brave bug guy's) hand.  I went home feeling like I could do this thing.  Texas bugs weren't gonna get the best of me!

Twenty-four hours later I was a quivering, blubbering, freaked out mess.  In front of my 7-year-old son.

Dropping my husband off earlier at the truck yard for another OTR trip did not help my anxiety.  Nor the fact that today was the first day that I felt truly homesick.  But we've been planning this move for years, and we've finally made the dream a reality.

We can check off the biggest box; we've snuck out of MN just before the cold winter hits and we've made it to balmy Texas.  Eventually we'll buy that piece of land in that "just right" spot and start building our adobe eco-efficient home, grow our own vegetables, and live in harmony with the earth - bugs, snakes, and all.

In the meantime, I'm going to be honest and say that I can't help but calm my nerves with wine, google the deadliest, most chemically laden poisons to rid this house of cockroaches, and sleep on the couch tonight.  Maybe I should try hypnosis.  I have seen quite a few metaphysical places here in San Antonio that have been beckoning to me to stop in.

Envisioning my Vision Board

A few years back, when The Secret was all the craze, I made a vision board.  I really enjoyed making it, because it really did get me to focus on my goals and desires.  I would use it quite frequently.  I always felt happy after focusing on those goals during a meditation or even just daydreaming.

I had a lot of stuff on that vision board.  One was a van, and that one came to fruition.  I was pretty pumped about it.

My son was a lot smaller at the time and I was working a full-time job on top of being a mom.  We were going through some really tough times with losing our home.  You can read all about that in my earlier posts.

Anyway, I kept up with studying about the Law of Attraction and I have had some really sweet things come into my life because of it. I'll have to post about that soon.  You'd be amazed at some of my stories.

But I sort of lost track of my vision board.  It got put into some boxes and now, 3 moves later, I'm not even sure if I have it anymore.

I may just make a new one, rather than search like mad for the other one.

After all, goals and dreams do change sometimes.

It's a cool, rainy Sunday today.  Perfect day to work on a vision board.

Maybe you could do one too?

Living in Almost Mexico

I started this blog a few years ago, and there have been times when I have felt like I should delete it because our lives have taken such a different turn than what we'd planned back when I started recording our journey.

I've changed my mind.  Hey, that's my prerogative, right?

If there is anything that has stood out to me in the past few years as a lesson to be learned, it is that life is a journey, and it is as much an adventure as you are willing to make it be.

So, although we are not living in Mexico, we have still been brave.

1. We have stepped out of our comfort zone, gotten rid of more than half our possessions, and moved across the country, to Texas.

2. We are homeschooling our son, which has had its ups and downs, but has been a great decision all in all.

3. We are studying up on permaculture and sustainable living, so that when we finally purchase our land we can build our adobe home and live as much in harmony with our environment as possible.

4. I am beginning to focus more on my writing, which means you will begin to see more and more entries here.

5. We are spiritually open to living full and meaningful lives, no matter how much money is in our pockets.

We are open to other adventures.

We are learning that the possibilities are endless.

I hope you will continue to join me here.

Hello?! Is anybody in there?

Forgive me readers, for I have slacked (BIG TIME).  It has been 2 years and almost 3 months since my last confession, er....I mean, blog entry.

There was a crisis, of the mid-life variety, to be had.  Since I started this blog until now, there have been arguments, tears, revelations, months of excessive wine consumption, the trying on of several career hats, the purging of excess material items and the moving of what was left, the loss of a private yard and the gain of an apartment courtyard, drama with family, and drama with schools (both my son's and mine - by the way, I was an elementary teacher for two years between the last post and this one).

I am awake now.  WE, as a family, are awake now.  We're wasting no more time.  We're setting out on an amazing new adventure.

We've learned so much along this journey during the past few years. Writing about all of our growing pains in one blog post would be ridiculous.  I mean, yes, I'm a Leo, but I learned long ago that my problems don't need to become everyone else's, and in that spirit I want to refrain from treating this blog as a place to bitch and wine (or whine), lest I bore you to tears and beyond.

Therefore, I've created a list, and a "blog plan."

The LIST consists of things we've learned and decisions we've made, and I've numbered it, so as to appeal to other list maker types and to give myself the appearance of being an organized person.

1.  We want to do all we can to avoid having a mortgage, ever again.  Therefore, we will build our own eco-friendly, adobe home,  with our very own, 40-something-year-old bare hands.  We may enlist in the help of friends and do-gooders when the time comes.

2.  We are no longer moving to Mexico, for a few reasons that I don't care to expand on at this time.

3.  We are moving to Almost Mexico.  In ONE WEEK we will be driving a trailer to San Antonio, TX, where we will be housesitting for a short time (1-3 months).

4.  I am homeschooling our son.  I could write volumes about the reasons for this, but I'll skip the fury fed typing for now.

5.  We are ready to be the people that we are meant to be.  We are ready to actually live our lives the way that we want to live them and not care about American Dreams and peoples' judgements and scrutiny.  We hope we can help others to wake up and pay more attention to what's going on inside their hearts and heads and less to what's happening in Hollywood and Washington DC.

BLOG PLAN:  I'm going to change it up to include a wide spectrum of topics.  I'll give more news on this and will provide a link when the ducks are quacking in a row.  :)

What a ride this life is turning out to be!

From Here to There and THEN to There

Aaaaand, exhale.  

The last 6 weeks have been a whirlwind with a new job, a new daycare for our son, and now..............the ax is coming down.  After almost a year of waiting and wondering when the final countdown would begin, we got the letter in the mail.

Our mortgage company has restarted  the foreclosure process, according to the letter from the lawyers. 

Last fall after filing for bankruptcy I flailed my arms for a bit, in a vain but valiant attempt to regain the bank's trust and redeem our mortgage.  After awhile I lost my steam and we began to look at this whole experience as a learning one, and one that would give us the push we need to finally leave this tundra we know as Minnesota. 

We are tired of living half a year, every year.  What I mean is, we feel dead every year when the snow is here and the temp is low and we're enclosed in our house like animals in a zoo.  We are not winter people.  I used to be, as a child.  Now? Um....not so much.

We haven't made our final decision on location, but it looks like sometime next spring or early summer we will be headed toward warmer climates, most likely in the Southwest. 

Mexico is not out of the picture by any means.  It is still what we consider to be our ultimate goal.  But we have decided that we don't want to land there with empty pockets.  So, for now, we will go to "Almost Mexico."

Maybe I should change the name of this blog.  Or maybe "From Here to There" is just going to have an extra detour along the way. 

We're excited.  Never thought a foreclosure letter would make me smile, or give us such inspiration. 

It's all in the way you look at it.

Lo Que Pasa........

Disculpenme, mis amigos!  Please excuse my absence, my friends.  There is a reason for my silence.

You see, a few weeks ago I received a phone call from an employment agency.  When I glanced at the caller ID I thought, "Ho hum.  Another call from this agency, probably to offer me an ill-fitting job which I'll have to politely decline."  Nope.  This was a job offer alright, but it was from them, directly.  An in-house position.

I am now a staffing consultant at an employment agency.  A very exhausted and overwhelmed staffing consultant.  I arranged for daycare for my son at a Spanish immersion daycare only 1 minute from my office, and every morning and evening this week we made the commute together.  This is to be our routine until kindergarten starts, when we will make only a short commute together, since school is closer to home than my work.

What does this mean for our Mexico plans?  Nothing, yet.  We are taking it one step at a time.

We are grateful for this new opportunity, since we desperately need to save money, no matter where we choose to live.  It fell onto our laps, and we're goin' with the flow, waiting to see where it takes us.

Apart from my new job, we have also had a few very delicate conversations with my mom and dad about our Mexico plans.  There is still a slight possibility that we could end up moving to what I am starting to think of as "Almost Mexico", which would include Texas, New Mexico, or Nevada.

No matter what, we WILL be leaving Minnesota within the next 18 months or so.

As for now, I am trying to keep a career woman mindset, so that I can help bring in the dough for our family.  Who knows, maybe I'll love it, make lots of moolah (there's a lot of potential for commission), and we'll end up in our dream adobe home in the Southwest, just one short nonstop flight from my in-laws............

Winds of Change

Tonight, while sitting at a food court in a Twin Cities mall, while bags of merchandise bounced hurriedly by, possessively toted by the American Dreamer after a hard day's work, I caught a glimpse into a simpler life.

One of my Spanish tutees was using his laptop to show me photos of his trip to Paraguay.  His 30-year-old nephew lives there, in a tiny room which used to be used for storage.  He is a street musician and a friend to many.  He has no kitchen, so each day he heads out to the local market and buys fresh food to eat.  Whenever he has leftovers he gives them to other people or to a dog who lives in the neighborhood.  He lives day-to-day, has lots of artist friends and acquaintances who seem to be passionate about environmentalism, and at the moment he has no plans to move on to what some may consider to be "greener pastures."

What do you make of this?

In some ways, it sounds like heaven to me.  Yet there is another part of me who knows I'd miss computers and TVs, couches and a refrigerator and pantry........... the list could go on.  But I'd still love to spend a year in his shoes.

It would be a bit impractical to choose this sort of life with a family in tow.  So instead I dream of an existence which is sort of half-way there, with an energy efficient adobe style home and buying locally-grown food as well as having a year-round garden of my own.  An income that comes from our own business, which either doesn't feel like work or it takes up only 25 hours a week, or both.  Days well spent, with time for meditation, exercise, laughter, conversation, and good food.

A simpler life.  That seems to be a strong theme these days, what with economic crises, wars, global warming, and pursuits of more fulfillment from life.  What do you think?  I think there's a change brewing in the air.

Ah, But the Food..........

Flashback to 15 years ago:  I'm sitting at a plastic table with a Corona napkin holder in the middle and some empty plates with limones and napkins scattered about.  We are in an outdoor, tent-covered dining area of the Inmaculada, where food is cooked outdoors and sold most every night to raise money for the Catholic church and it's surrounding community.  My then-boyfriend, now-husband is sitting beside me, and our friend Wicho, across from me.  They are discussing a subject so sacred to Mexican culture that an interruption would be considered a grotesque misdemeanor on my part.  They are discussing the passion-inducing topic of food.  I have long since passed the point of feigning interest.  They are oohing and ahhing over an endless amount of dishes and the subtle nuances brought to each masterpiece by different relatives and neighbors throughout their lives.

I am simultaneously bored to tears and on the brink of despair.

You see, at this time, I am 23 years old, I'm new to the Mexican culture, and I barely know how to make spaghetti, out of a box and a jar.  I am witnessing my boyfriend showing extraordinary interest in something which I know absolutely nothing about.  Cooking.  And not just "cooking", but cooking Mexican food.  What the heck am I going to do?  He's obviously extremely entranced with the complexities of Mexican cuisine.  I know nothing of this art.  Never in my life have I heard a man discuss at such great detail the taste and technique of such a variety of culinary offerings.   How will he ever want to be with a Gringa as clueless as I?  He and Wicho have been going on about this topic for well over an hour and a half.  I'm teetering between being pissed and bursting out in tears.

On our walk home I am quiet.  After a time my then-boyfriend dares to inquire about the elephant who had hitched a ride on our date.  He asks the obvious question.  What is wrong?  The tears come.  Readily.  I blubber that I would never be able to compete with Tia or Abuelita in creating whatever dish he had been worshipping with such reverence and revelry.  I don't know a chile de arbol from a bowl of chilli. 

That evening he said all the right things.  Years later, convinced that my lack of cooking skills were not going to deter him from smiling at our wedding, I accepted his hand in marriage and we've spent the last 8 years in the peaks and valleys of sazon and the lack thereof.

FAST FORWARD to about 6 years ago.  Our friend Wicho, is visiting us here in Minnesota.  We are in our apartment sitting at our kitchen table late at night with Halloween party makeup still applied, and with an unprecedented amount of food set before us.  My husband has prepared a multitude of delicacies, anticipating the healthy palette and appreciative Mexican appetite that our friend would bring with him.

In semi-drunken conversation, I declare, "One day I am going to make a really, really great Mole."

I will never, ever, be able to convey to you the amount of laughter that spewed forth from my husband in the moments and HOURS that followed.  Tears, rolling around on the floor, side aches, begging for mercy, hilarity to the point of a near breakdown; it all came gushing forth from Mr. Husband.  I laughed along with him, for awhile.  Then Wicho and I each took turns getting ready for bed, and actually had turned the lights off in effort to gather some restful shuteye, all the while Mr. Husband rolled around and pleaded for someone to relieve him from the painfully funny thought of his wife actually making a delicious Mole.

Hmmf.  I'd show him.

Nope.  Still haven't shown him.  Turns out that a really, genuinely wonderful Mole takes over 24 hours to prepare, and a real knowledge of chiles as well as great sazon.  I will need to do my homework, and then some.

Tonight we watched a show from a series called "No Reservations" where a talented  chef and lover of world cultures tours around and enjoys food from different countries.  As we watched the episode about Mexico, I reminded Mr. Husband of the time we hashed out the importance of cooking that night after eating at the Inmaculada.  "After all these years, I get it now,"  I told him, "and I wouldn't be nearly as bored or upset with the conversation if it took place today.  But I'm still going to make that Mole someday."  He begged me to not continue, lest a laugh attack overcome him once more.

For now, I have learned to tell the difference between about 4 or 5 chiles.  I can make a mean refried beans and few great sopas, rivaling those of my talented chef of a husband.  I'm almost to the point of making a good and flavorful arroz.  When my mother-in-law was here for 2 months, I cooked 9/10 of the time and drew little to no embarrassment from the experience.  I'll get there.

I'll have the last laugh, even if it takes me another 15 years.

In the meantime, I am grateful for Mr. Husband's willingness to keep a sense of humor.

Talkin' Bout the Weather

I grew up in a town with a population of 571 in rural Minnesota.  As you can imagine, everyone knew everyone.  Going to "the" grocery store, "the" bank, or "the" post office (one of each existed in my little town) was not merely a task to check off the to-do list.  It was a social call.  My eyes would glaze over as conversations of crops and church events and new babies and so-and-so's new pickup seemed to drone on and on in my childhood ears.  If the adults did not consider one another to be more than distant acquaintances they could always agree to chat about one thing:  The Weather.

This is a universal conversational meeting place.  I have traveled to numerous countries, lived in various cities, worked at an international airport, and there is no doubt in my mind that The Weather can always save us when in a conversational quandary.  You can use it as an opener, a filler, or a closer.  Thank you, Weather.

I can't wait to live in a place where The Weather does not include the words and phrases "snow, blizzard, freezing rain, tornado season, below-freezing temps, and wind chill" on a regular basis. Notice the little BlogFrog picture up in the right-hand corner.  That is a picture of my back yard, taken about one month ago.  It looked like that for 5 months.  I went outside to shovel, go to and from the car, and a few obligatory sledding outings with my son, who clearly is not being raised to be a lover of winter. 

Today is April 15th.  Pictures of Easter bunnies sitting in green grass don the windows of local stores.  Summer clothing and bathing suits seem to proclaim hope and mercy from winter blues just by hanging on the sale racks. 

Current Temp in Minneapolis is 39 degrees Fahrenheit.  The forecast for tonight includes rain and snow.  Tomorrow?  Snow. 

Good riddance, Minnesota.  May God open our path to a warm destination and speed up our journey.........

I Pledge Allegiance.......

So, it looks as though we may have finally saved enough money to apply for Mr. Husband's US citizenship.  It has caused me to reflect upon my own patriotism.

What is patriotism?   The words love, loyalty, honor, respect, obligation, reverence all come to mind.  Do I feel all of these for my country?  Yes.  Do I feel them for my government?  Ummm....sometimes.  How will I feel about my country once I've lived in Mexico for awhile?  Good question, if I do say so myself.

I suppose that for the first few months or more it will only be natural for me to often compare the two countries.  When I am frustrated with the way things are going I will most likely long for "The American Way" and will find myself placing the US on a pedestal in that moment.

I would like to note here that the word "American" takes on great meaning for me.  I generally avoid using it because I have friends in Mexico who helped me to understand that the word should not necessarily be reserved for people living in the United States.  I use it here, however, because most people are familiar with the expression "American Way" as something referring to nationals of the United States.  I could go further and talk about how even the words "United States" are not exclusive to my country, but that's not the point of this post.

As I was saying, before interrupting myself....

After living in Mexico for awhile will I begin to feel allegiance to Mexico and lose my sense of allegiance to the United States?  A better place to start for me is to ask if I feel allegiance to the United States right now.  The answer is yes.  I am extremely frustrated with the way our country has gone in the past 10 years or so, but all in all I love my country because of the ideals for which it stands.  I get the feeling that my country has messed things up for itself, however.  We'll see how things pan out.

But you know what?  More than feeling a strong sense of patriotism, I feel a stronger sense of humanitarianism.  That is, I identify more with the idea of being a citizen of the planet Earth than belonging to a specific country.  I feel that the bottom line in my life is to show love, loyalty, honor, respect, obligation, and reverence to my fellow human beings.  I am an idealist.

Coming back to a more practical or worldly standpoint, I must say that reading the endless expatriate blogs has shown me a huge variety of views on the subject of patriotism.  It all comes down to why you left in the first place, what's kept you away, and how you reconcile your nationality with your day-to-day living.  It's a highly personal thing, actually; a rather touchy subject.

Anyway, my husband will be pursuing his citizenship here so that we are less likely to have complications later, when we decide to travel to the US or if we decide to move back.  We figure it would be easier than dealing with all of the rules that go along with being a resident alien.

Resident alien, illegal alien..... more phrases I take issue with......

Sweet Dreams are Made of These

Aaah, sweet slumber, and the dreams that float in and out of our minds, dazzling and captivating us with delightful scenarios, enticing us to remain still and give ourselves over to a gloriously refreshing night's sleep.

If only all dreams were this way.

Dreams are a big part of life.  We talk about goals and desires in the conscious state of mind and refer to them as dreams.  But the dreams we have while sleeping seem to be out of our control.  Whether we enjoy them or not, many times they serve to assist us to process hardships we are experiencing in our lives.  Sometimes they can be so complicated that it is difficult for us to pinpoint what they mean.

It took me awhile to figure out why one of my recurring dreams over the past few years has been about returning to college at my alma mater.  In the dream I am back in Chicago, signing up for courses at the liberal arts college I attended some 18 years ago.  Amusingly enough, it doesn't feel at all ridiculous that I am 38 years old and going to live in the dorms.  It's exciting again.  Sometimes there is a sense of determination and I know without a doubt that I am going to get the music degree that I had dreamed of getting all those years ago (but became too discouraged by the competitive nature of the music world to pursue it at the time).  Other times I am extremely confused and everything has changed so much that I don't know how to sign up for the right classes, I go to the wrong dormitory, buildings look different, etc.  Underneath it all there is always a feeling that I am starting anew and I am happy to be there.  Eventually I realized that this dream was my mind's way of helping me cope with these mid-life feelings of forgotten or abandoned goals, or questions of "what if" and the notion that sometimes I just plain want a do-over.

Another recurring dream is about tornadoes.  This one always holds factors of wonderment, anticipation, fear, and a search for security.  It's always really vivid, and only a couple of times has the tornado actually struck the dwelling where I am seeking shelter.  I always end up being okay, as do my loved ones.  Many times my brain uses these dreams to process frustration with certain loved ones.  The week that my father left my mother after 42 years of marriage and it felt as though a bomb had dropped on our family, I had a tornado dream where me and my parents and siblings were in a jeep driving in a rural area, and my father was driving us straight into the tornado.  Other tornado dreams have consisted of someone running outside to save someone else,  or someone not seeming to care about the tornado, etc.  The stories always run parallel to thoughts and emotions I'm dealing with  regarding these people in my daily life.

Other times I've had wonderfully vivid dreams of loved ones who have passed to the Other Side.  I absolutely adore those dreams and appreciate the opportunity to visit with those people once more.

When I was a little girl I suffered from night terrors which, at times, caused me to break out in hives.  I'm not even sure how to go about trying to interpret those types of dreams.  They are in a league of their own.

Recently I picked up a book written by Jose Silva, famous for his teachings on developing ESP and using our sixth sense to better our own lives and the lives of others.  I have only read a small portion thus far, but it seems as though there IS a method to guide your mind toward dreaming of certain things.  How interesting, right?

Wherever your sleeping dreams take you, I hope you pay attention to them.  I think our bodies and minds have amazing ways to help ourselves process and heal from certain problems and situations, and I truly believe that dreams are one of the gifts we are given in this life.  I will continue to pay close attention to my dreams, especially as we are going through many changes in the near future.

Thanks for allowing me to share my dreams with you.  Feel free to share yours, too!

Political for a Moment

I promise that I will not rant and rave about the election for the next year and a half.  But I just gotta say this and get it off my chest. 

What is the United States coming to, considering Donald Trump as a candidate for the Republican party??  He is definitely no idiot, that is for sure.  I mean, he didn't get where he is today by being a moron.  I'm not saying he doesn't have any good ideas to fix this mess we're in (which cannot be blamed entirely on any one person). 

It's just....well.....REALLY??? 

The thought crossed my mind that if we move to Mexico I may pay less attention to politics and have a calmer spirit as a result.  Then I remembered that their news media seems to cover the US almost as much as their own country.  What's a free-spirited, bleeding heart, worry wart like me to do?

Take up yoga, perhaps.

That's the ticket.  I'll "Om" my way to a peaceful mind and a regular heartbeat.  The Donald will NOT get me riled up, like he did when he got in those childish spats with Rosey O'Donnell and Martha Stewart.  Naughty, naughty, Big Ego Guy who is seriously at number two on the list of preferred Republican candidates as of yesterday.  Seriously.

Oh well.  That's all for today.  In with the good, out with the bad.  Namaste, my friends.

From Cats to Dogs and Everything Between

The other night Mr. Husband and I saw a TV report about the dog that was rescued last week about a mile off the coast of Japan.  He had been floating atop some debris for weeks, and the reunion between him and his owner was so sweet to watch.  I'm not a dog person, but it really touched my heart.  "Dogs really ARE sweet, aren't they?"  I said to Mr. Husband.  He gave me a knowing look, a bit of warning flickering in his eyes, and said, "Well, you realize that when we're in Mexico we will have to get a dog, right?"  We are destined to become "dog on the roof" owners.

For those of you who have never visited Mexico,  the water tank is usually on top of the house, and there is access to the roof.  Many people have dogs who live on the roof and are a sort of alarm system for the family when strangers approach the home.

I am a cat person.  From what I have seen, cats are not revered in Mexico, generally speaking.  Mr. Husband's asthma acted up quite a bit with the last cat I had (a mane coon)  and I had to give him away.  I've always missed him.  Part of the reason why he triggered asthmatic symptoms is because his fur would get in the carpet, and the dander was difficult to remove. 

Well, guess what?  Another thing about Mexico is that most people have hard tile flooring versus carpeting.  I love carpet because I enjoy walking around in my stocking feet.  But a perk to the hard floor is that a cat's dander will not get stuck in it!  Besides, it really IS easier to keep clean.

Also, we will be able to let fresh air into the house all year round, which is good for the body and the mind.  YAY!  No more spending 8 months out of the year feeling like a shut-in.

As we have been discussing our move, I have started to realize that I do not know how to be an adult in Mexico.  I don't know how the bills work and where to go stand in line to pay them, I don't know how to make sure the garbage gets picked up, and I am wondering if we are going to have to use a laundry service or will we have a washer and dryer?  I remember a few times when I lived there before I washed my clothes on a washer board during the weeks when there was not a maid available to do it.  My triceps ached for 2 days afterward.  What if I washed clothes for the whole family that way!  Nah, I'll take it to a laundry service until we get a washer and dryer.

Also, how do you know who is ringing your doorbell when?   Again, for those of you unfamiliar with day-to-day Mexican life, people's doorbells ring at least 2 or 3 times per day.  It could be the Señora who sells tortillas, the Señor who pushes a cart full of garbanzos, or just a niño selling candy to raise money for a school event.  Door-to-door sales are alive and well in Mexico.  And you know what?  I LOVE IT.

I love the culture, the smells, the quirks, the mystery, the language, and a million other things about Mexico.  The differences between here and there are many, and there is good and bad in both places.  But I'm ready to embrace those differences once again.  Just writing this, I can almost smell the neighbor's frijoles wafting through our open window and hear the morning bells and whistles that signify whatever services or products are being offered in the neighborhood on this bright, sunny, Mexican morning.  Oh, and the dogs barking from the rooftops!