The Mixed Tape

This is one of the songs that was on a mixed tape Mechanic Hubby made me so long ago. Yes, it says "Leather and Lace," it's a cover of the popular song originally sung by Don Henley and Stevie Nicks or Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers.

So I met my Mechanic Hubby in high school. He was a sophomore in my chemistry class. I first noticed him when he was fighting over pennies with the weird kid who was his lab partner. It was a lab about copper vs magnesium. Apparently it took Mechanic Hubby a very long time to find 6 copper pennies and he wasn't about to give them away. All the while I was thinking, "Dude (yes I say dude, a lot.) it's just pennies. Jeez that kid's got some wild hair." Mechanic Hubby liked the messy look back in the day.

A few months later, while waiting for the bus after school, one of Mechanic Hubby's friends (who is a very good friend of mine now too), Mr. Awesome (the name he came up with himself along with an elaborate story as to why it's perfect for him), came up to me. He says, "Hey, we live on the same street right?" We got to talking and apparently none of his friends showed up for school that day. I was introduced to Mechanic Hubby and I would sometimes hang out with him and his friends after school. We'd go grab a slice, go to the local record store, comic book store and walk the streets of central Phoenix. It was pretty weird being the only girl in this group but they were easy to talk to and pretty funny.

It was the last day of school and by then Mechanic Hubby and I would talk about stupid stuff all the time. I gave him my phone number and told him to keep in touch over the summer break. He called me soon after to see if the number I gave him was real. We sent each other letters, talked on the phone but we never hung out. My mother was really strict and there was no reason for me to be out with some boy. On my birthday I got a mixed tape in the mail. It was full of ska/punk bands, most of which I've never heard of. The Drags, The Magoos, Smoking Popes, Plinko, Voodoo Glow Skulls, the Specials, Madness, Horace Pinker and even a recording of Mechanic Hubby playing a short version of Swan Lake on the piano. As I listened to the tape, my sister said, "That boy likes you." I thought she was crazy. I guess a lot of the songs had a similar message of boy likes girl but I found it pretty darn impossible.

I started dating an older guy, well 2 years older; during the summer. It wasn't working out and Mechanic Hubby knew all about it. I would call him and tell him what a jerk this guy was and Mechanic Hubby said I deserved better and that I should break it off which of course was all apart of his plan. Looking back though, I always liked Mechanic Hubby. We would "bump" into each other a lot when we got back to school. He would also always play songs over the phone, or his "concerts for one." I was racking my brain. I broke it off with the other guy because I knew who I was supposed to be with. He makes me laugh, sings my praises and I knew that when he looked at me nothing else mattered. My plans for New Years Eve fell through and he invited me to his sister's house. His whole family was going to be there so I didn't think it was a date, plus I had to be home by 1 am. I had a great time and the family was really nice. When he dropped me off at my doorstep, I hugged him. He hugged back, like he didn't want to let me go.

I had to tell him.

When we got back from winter break, I wrote him a note pretty much saying, "Hey, I like you. Like, like you, like you." I handed it to him before our first class of the day. I "bumped" into him before third period and he gave me a regular "What's up?" I was certain he was playing it cool and trying to be very subtle about not having the same feelings. He was so hard to read! I kind of stuttered and ran to class. He thought I was acting really weird so he decided to read the note I gave him, maybe it had a clue for my behavior.

Bombshell.

Hurt and wishing I could go home, I tried to make myself scarce during lunch. Of course he would notice that I wasn't at my usual hang out but I didn't want to see him. He REALLY wanted to see me and he found me alright. He gave me his own "Guess Who Likes You" note. A week later, he gave me another note. It was a love letter complete with postage that was never sent. I opened it up and it was dated a month prior to my "I like you" note to him.

It's been 11 years 7 months and 3 days since we decided that it would be pretty cool to be together. Sorry about how dark this picture is, it's old.

The Hate In Art

I wouldn't call myself an artist. I would call myself a kid who likes to paint and stuff. I'm not a master of anything, I always know enough when talking to the real deals out there but I don't front like I'm one of them.

When I write, paint, play guitar or cook I stand back and think there is always room for improvement. I'm usually never happy with what I do and long for artistic super powers. I write like a teenager, paint like a child, I NEVER want to learn bar chords, and constantly think my cooked food could have been made better and faster.

Hands have been on the brain lately. The saying, "The greatest tools God gave us," is swirling in my mind. When I look at them, they're slightly chubby, long fingers, non-manicured with hang nails, tiny cuts and light brown spots from oil splatter burns. I have two birthmarks on the left and one on the right. I was told once by an Indian guy who was in my line at the Japanese take out place where I worked; that birthmarks on the hands suggest that I must love to write, or paint or some other art form. As if I was born with the ink flowing from my hands. I was dumbfounded. I think I said, "Uh yeah. I like to write." Satisfied with his observation, he smiled, took his teriyaki bowl and wished me a good day.

I started painting a skeleton hand yesterday against a black background. My idea was to convey a Hispanic's struggle; having died for an unattainable dream. I painted the words "faith," "help," "gospel," in Spanish into various bones but then I hated it. I stared at it for a long time. Who was I to try and paint such events when I myself haven't experienced them? My grandmother has, so had my mother but I couldn't even begin to channel that into this painting. Mechanic hubby said, "Who cares, it looks cool." But I couldn't bring myself to finish it.

This is how I'm feeling today.

Refried Beans Fake-Out (Fresh beans from "de la olla" or from the pot are best but if you don't have time....)

1 can of refried beans

1/2 cup of shredded cheese

1/4 cup of milk

1/4 cup homemade salsa

Heat the beans in a skillet. Add milk and stir. Add cheese and salsa, stir to combine. Serve hot.

Papas Con Chile Verde Y Queso....lots of Queso

I've had this dinner on my menu list for weeks. I don't know why I didn't make it until tonight. It's a dish I learned from my mother in law, Maestra (teacher in Spanish). It only takes fifteen minutes and it's very delicious. As I was making it, I started to think about the times I've eaten this meal. This simple, almost too simple meal. Maybe I didn't make it because of the simplicity of it. I like meals that take time and tons of energy and work. Sometimes I gage how much I'll enjoy the meal by the time it took to make it. What's my least appetizing meal? Cereal and sandwiches.

But this was different. The smell of perfectly cooked potatoes, the slightly spicy smell of the green chiles and the melting cheese was just what I needed today, wrapped in a burrito. It reminded me of Maestra's kitchen with the big table and the mismatched chairs. Everyone sitting around it with a paper plate of green chile potatoes, scooping with pieces of flour tortillas, laughing about something random, drinking their third glass of soda; these images filled my mind. We'd always eat too much, laugh too much and talk too much. We love each other so much, our tortillas are community property and just sit, eat, rip a piece of tortilla and be happy. I don't make this meal because it means too much to me.

When I make this meal in my house now, a thousand miles away from everybody, a pain starts. No, it's not heartburn, not that kind anyway. We each got our plate. A burrito for Mechanic hubby, one for me and a small serving for Baby Sagittarius. We sit around our table and eat; quietly. As I chew and swallow this delicious reminder of home and set my burrito down, I see a little hand take my burrito, move it next to her little mouth and take a tiny bite.

Green Chile Potatoes

4 large potatoes peeled and chopped

2 cans of green chiles

Lots of shredded cheese

Flour tortillas

Heat a skillet over medium heat, add vegetable or canola oil, enough to coat the pan. Add your chopped potatoes. Season with salt and pepper, stir. Add two handfuls of water and cover. Let this cook for about 9 minutes. Remove the lid and stir. Pierce a piece of potato to see if it's soft. If not, cover with the lid and let it continue to cook for an additional 2 minutes. If it is soft, lower the heat to medium low and add the green chiles, stir to combine. After about 3 minutes, remove the skillet from the heat and add the cheese. Stir to melt the cheese. Heat tortillas on warm burner or comal. Serve hot, use tortillas as utensil or add potatoes and make burritos. I've added cooked bacon to this, ham cubes, even leftover shredded KFC chicken but it's best without all the extras.

Happy eating.

It Was Just A Nightmare

I knew I must of had this nightmare in my waking hours because of the detail and all of the ability of my dream self. I wasn't floating above the action like all the other dreams; I was a clear image and I was fully aware of what was taking place and it was horrifying.

It's a Saturday afternoon at my tiny house. Baby Sagittarius is napping and I look outside the window. There is a man walking towards our house from across the street. He's dripping with sweat and he sees me looking at him through our window. Mechanic hubby turns his head and sees what I'm seeing. "I wonder what he wants," Mechanic hubby says. As this man who is tall, about 6'3", slightly overweight, wearing old jeans and a bright red shirt with a backpack on, unshaven, with longer curly hair and piercing red eyes comes to our door and knocks, my heart sinks. Mechanic hubby walks to the door and opens it.

"Could I trouble you for some water?" He politely asks.

"Uh, sure. "

"Do you mind if I come in, it's pretty hot out," he says with a smile.

Mechanic hubby glances my way and I shake my head "no." But Mechanic hubby, believing fervently that all people are good, let's him in. This man follows my husband to the kitchen. I hear the cupboard open, the lid from the gallon jug of water pops off and as I walk to the kitchen, I see this monster of a man, with his arm held high above him, gripping a large barbecue brush, the kind that have that sharp metal scraper on one end, strike my husband in the back of the head while his back is turned to him. He falls instantly to the ground and a short steady stream starts to grow. This man bolts past me and runs outside the door. I'm scared and can't scream because I don't want to wake the baby. As I'm grabbing anything to apply pressure to the wound, I see the man come up to my kitchen window, take out a funsaver camera, waits for the flash light to go on and take a picture of the mess.

I wake up to find my husband out of bed. He's getting ready for work in the bathroom and I grab his pillow for what seemed like a really, really long time. Sometimes I don't mind being an insomniac.

But We're Not Perfect Ma....

I get a message today from my sister ASU Grad this morning at 8:30. Which means she's up at 6:30 which causes alarm for me because not only is she the "World's Best Sleeper," but she's also the "Best Working Under Pressure" (I love this song!) and can get a day's worth of work done in 4 hours allowing her to not have to go into work until 10 or 11 am. So with all this knowledge I was so glad to read her text:

"Woke up at 4 (am). Realized I entered some stuff wrong at work. Must be tired because I was so upset I almost* cried. Just know u guys understand how prideful we are."

*My sister NEVER cries about anything, okay she does but she's no crybaby like my other sister Radio Momma and I. We cry over everything....let me get a tissue.

I would not trade my childhood. Yeah, we were nomadic and I was always the new kid in school but it just made me outgoing as an adult. Oh, and the divorce really sucked but that's another time. As long as I could remember, my mother, from her own example, would instill in us that when we were taught how to do something, we would get it right the first time. We don't need to be shown a second time. We memorize the actions, steps and burn it into our memory. This kind of caused us as adults to never ask for help, clean up our own messes and shudder at the thought of making the same mistake twice. My sisters and I now ask for ideas from each other, but outsiders? Not so much. When I was working, I was sent to a seminar which tried to tell me it was okay to ask questions. What do they know? They were trying to reprogram me but I'm sorry I have years of "no thanks, I don't need help."

It's a shame though because when I really did need help in my life I had a nervous breakdown. I mentally beat myself up because there was no other way to progress and remove myself from the situation I was in unless I said, "Can you help me?" Just typing it out makes me so upset. My sisters and I are all willing to help someone else no problem. Service is not an issue, but receiving assistance? No effing way. We were kind of like automatons. We know what to do, when to do it efficiently and perfectly every time...but sometimes our ticks don't tock and we make a mistake and have night terrors about it. Oh well, I guess I won't make that same mistake twice with Baby Sagittarius.

The Premature Bucket List

• Show an original art piece in a gallery (doesn't even have to be a fancy-schmancy gallery either).
• Get published. (short story, critique, narrative, instructions..anything!)
• Learn how to drive (maybe I'll put that at the bottom).
  
• Teach a cooking class to more than 5 people all at once.
• Lose 20 pounds (I need to lose more but I'm being realistic....better make it 10).
• Lose 10 pounds. See above.
• See Japan (not on television).
• Open 5 biscuit cans in a row without flinching.
• Spend less time on the internet.
• Write more hand written letters like they used to.
• Make stationary.
• Perfect penmanship.
• Buy stamps.
• Daydream more. Just kidding.
• Learn how to create, not just cook.
• Smile more often.
• Learn stupid bar chords.
• Keep being happy where I am and not depend on happiness based on a future I created in my head...again daydream less.
• Learn to drive.
• Remain confident in the abilities I was given and be willing to share the knowledge...if I gained any.

It's Official: 29 Is Here

So after reading depressing stories and other uplifting articles, I had to give myself a metaphorical kick in the butt. Just because I was gaining another year did not mean my life was over. It was a beautiful day outside, the kids weren't terrorizing the house (except for the impromptu war of peas) and there were many a phone call on my phone that I had to charge it twice today. Mechanic hubby got up early to decorate the house and played a sweet song made just for me. He also gave me a very well-thought out gift, new knives for my cooking pleasure.

While I spent the last four days with anxiety and sorrow, there were so many worse things going on outside my tiny insignificant world. It's not everyday that I get into a mood, and I'm

mad at myself for wasting so much time being upset with myself. I will "continue with patience" and take what happens with a big grin and pig tails. I got some pretty sweet gifts that truly came from the hearts of my friends and family. My day is sweet and it was sprinkled with hope that I can make this year the best.

I needed to spice up my life this week so I thought salsa would be just the thing to do it.

Easy Homemade Salsa

2 medium tomatoes

1 large jalapeño

garlic powder

cumin

onion powder

salt

a handful of cilantro

In a pot filled halfway with water, add your tomatoes and jalapeño. Set your stove to medium high heat and bring it to boil. It's done once you can smell the jalapeño or once it's tender, use a fork to test this.

Add the veggies and the rest of the ingredients into a blender and blend until smooth. I don't know exact amounts for the seasonings, just taste and adjust. Eat with chips or if you're like me, with every meal you have.