Thanksgiving Weekend

While sitting at work I received a text message from Juana.  It said, ""Dad heard there was a gringo at his house 4 thanksgiving... where is the blog?""   I was tired.  Give me a break. 

I'll give you the short version as my brain isn't back from break yet.  Oh.  For the record, My Honey prefers to be referred to as a guerro.  Get it right.   

Yes, I took a white man to my parents house.   He drove all but two hours roundtrip...and that's roughly 16 hours of driving.  I warned him that my family is crazy.  I think meeting Mama first was the best way to gently ease him into the craziness. 

For Thanksgiving we had way too much really tasty, fattening food.  Tia Maria, Hector and Abigail came by for lunch.  Good times.  Tio Fernando came by with his wife for dinner.  I slept through dinner.  I took about a six hour nap.  Chris said he tried to wake me up three times and I answered him each time.  I remember telling him once to leave me alone, but not the other two times. When I woke up, Alex and Eric were both alive.  Good enough for me. 

Friday Alex got his rice patties and tortillas.  In the afternoon Chris took me and the kids to the dollar show to see Rush Hour 3.  It's about as good as you think.  Chris and the boys played a lot of Mom's plug-n-play Wheel of Fortune game.  I think I was humming the theme in my head today at work. 

Saturday Mom, Tia, Alex, Eric, Chris and I piled into the Freestyle and went to Tia Jesusa's house.  Vicky and her new husband were there and having a cookout.  We ate a lot more tasty food and talked for hours.  Tia is way too skinny.  She did eat while we were there, but she didn't seem herself.   The Spanish, English, Spanglish thing was happening at full speed with several conversations going on at once.  I caught the part where Tia told me Chris seemed like a really good guy and it's about time I found one.  (she ain't kidding)  However, I missed the part where she told Mom that I should hurry up and marry him.  Mom told me about it Sunday morning. Chris told me on the ride home.  Did I mention he knows more Spanish than I do?  Speaking of marriage, did anyone call the old folks and wish them a happy 44th anniversary Saturday?

Sunday we had barbocoa and tortillas before packing up and heading out.  Mom told Alex to listen to Chris and be respectful because he's good to us.  He will.  He also told Chris to take care of me and Alex.  He does.  He really does.  He's the best.  Mama started crying.  She misses us and she's happy for us.  At least Chris knows why I'm such a crier.  Heredity is a kick in the butt sometimes.  We had group hugs & kisses and came home, arriving safely around 9:00 last night.

This is the short version?  To wrap it up... everyone liked the guerro and he liked everyone he met and everything he ate.  He'll be meeting the rest of the clan this summer.  Has anyone nailed down a date yet?  I've tried to warn him about my sisters and Dad... of course there's no preparing for the old man. 

I'll see you this summer at V's house.  Much love!

My Sandwich

I was feeling almost normal for almost 3 days.  *sigh*  Now I'm feeling crappy again and my usual meds are not cutting it this time.  I think maybe the start of it was Sunday.  I assumed it was the roller coasters, but I sat motionless in my office with my head and stomach feeling like they did at Six Flags, I realized that may have been the beginning of whatever new cooty I've contracted.  Plus the weather changes are retarded...80 degrees one day, 40 the next and tomorrow it'll be 70.  Bleah.  I'm so tired of this nonsense.  On top of all that, I'm swamped at work.  My dumb ass once again let on that I'm capable of doing stuff.  The company was getting ready to pay the printing broker guy to make minor changes to the catalog.  I volunteered to make those changes because I think the printing guy is a clueless jackass.  Once my boss realized I could do what I said, he found lots of other changes to be made.  So instead of changing a couple of words, I've spent two days on this. 

I didn't get all the stuff done I wanted to do today.  Not even close.  I had a list of four things to do by noon.  And honestly, those things could have been done if that was all I had to do.  I still have to do all the other stuff that comes with my multiple titles (none of which came with a pay raise).  I kept getting phone calls and called into his office for other stuff.  I was feverish and achey and I just wasn't feeling it.  Then at 1:00, I was ready to go to lunch and so was my boss.   He left. I couldn't.  As he walked out he was giving me something else to do before he got back. I did it all the while getting more and more upset.  I was sick, tired, hungry, hot, dizzy and feeling taken for granted.  I can't lie.  I was crying by the time I finished that one last stupid thing that could have been done back in October or next month.   

I think I'm in over my head.  When I was hired I was back-up customer service and part-time administrative assistant.  Then I was the customer service person and part-time admin.  Then I was an admin with no customer service.  Now I'm head of customer service, administrative assistant to the VP, I arrange all the crap for the trade shows (which was 90% one person's whole job) and somehow I became a graphic designer starting with the flyers and now the catalogs. 

Two months ago, I finally got the raise I was promised two years ago and I keep hearing my "role will continue to grow."  I don't want my role to grow anymore.  My role is suprsized as it is.  I'm tired of the role increasing while my paycheck stays the same. 

Everything was compartmentalized to create accountability.  Yeah right.  All it did was make it easier for folks to pass the buck, if they think one fraction of it might be my department.  Even if the person created the situation...  Not their problem now.  It's mine.  They don't know why they did it.  They just know it's a customer service issue.  They don't care that it was the wrong thing to do because they are in no way accountable for making it right.

I like most of the people I work with and I know it's hard to find that just anywhere.  It just seems, the longer I'm there, the harder it is to find joy in my work.  It's important that I be able to find joy in my work.  I spent three years at the lawfirm hating everyday of my job.  I want to feel like I've done something positive at the end of the day.  Lately, I feel like I can't do anything right.  I'm hoping this passes with the aforementioned cooties.

I took a pledge at my committee meeting for Cub Scouts, "We, the willing, have done so much for so long with so little, we are now qualified to do anything with nothing at all."   It's so true, I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

We're going to the 'ship!

We're going to the 'Ship.
We're going to the 'Ship
                                   Who are we!?!    Eagles!!!
                                   Who's the best!?! Eagles!!!
                     to the ship
                                          gonna win!?! Eagles!!!

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Now if you're ghetto, you can hear the rhythm of the chanting in your head.  You can probably visualize the boys bouncing as they jam.  For those of  you who are unfortunate enough to have been raised in white America, this is how 9 and 10 year old boys celebrate winning the semi-finals and brag about going to the City Championship.  (What ship?  The Champion Ship... championship...ship...  oooohhhhh! you get it now!)  They also do the Soldier Boy dance...even my baby knows it.  He only looks white.

Good times.  So if you find yourself in Irving this Saturday with nothing to do, stop by the City Championships and root for the Eagles.  Green and Black, baby!  We're up against the self-proclaimed Christian team whose players literally kick our players when they're down and shoves their hands through face masks to poke our boys in the eye.  Bring your signs, "Jesus loves the Eagles!"  "The Good Lord is an Eagles Fan!"  or even just "Go Eagles!"

I can't hang

I spent the day at Six Flags with My Honey.  We rode everything twice.  I stood in line for a max of fifteen minutes and that's cuz I wanted to be in the front for the Batman.  I had never ridden in the front of any coaster.  It was awesome!  I screamed like a girl.  a lot...  I had never heard of Mr. Freeze being a roller coaster, but I will never forget it.  I was terrified and then just when I stopped to take a breath, the damn thing went backwards at about 200 miles an hour.  I am worn out.  I feel chewed up, partially digested and spewed out.  My head hurts and my stomach still feels iffy. 

I had not been to an amusement park in about ten years.  It sucks every time I  discover a new way that I'm getting old.  I used to be able to ride coaster after coaster, eat deep-fried things, have an italian ice and get right back in line for coaster after coaster.  Those days are gone.  I had to sit down a couple of times, chew on Tums and still cut our day short. Bleah.  I'm hoping/thinking that it's like drinking and there's a tolerance I have to rebuild.  I'm banking on it cuz Chris got us season passes for next year.  One is Alex's Christmas present so keep it on the low. 

I wish I could take the day off tomorrow, but I have so much crap to do.  I was actually able to get quite a bit done last week, but not enough to justify a day off just cuz I'm tired from a good time.  Sometimes I wish my parents hadn't raised me as well as they did, but whatcha gonna do?

If ever thou didst love me...

align=center>GET ME BON JOVI TICKETS!

I don't ask for much in this world.  I want enough money to hit the clearance racks and go to the dollar movie, while still being able to afford insurance on my 11 year old ride.  I am so low maintenance that people used to mistake me for being homeless on Hohman Avenue.  That said.... 

I really, really, really, really, really, really want Bon Jovi tickets. 

Good ones and they are so ridiculously expensive, it's....um..ridiculous.  So if  you have a high speed internet connection,  have a hook up to the pre-sale, know a backstage technician, or your cousin used to date Jon's acupunturist, AND you can get me really good tickets, I will love forever.  If you know me, you know the shit I've done to go to the shows.  You still have no idea how badly I want this.  It hurts.  I swear it.  My heart physically aches with longing.  It's an addiction.  But it's a rare indulgence.  Indulge me.

Sick and tired

My throat hurts.  I've been sick for almost a week now.  I get worse and better, but I can't seem to get over it.  Man, it sucks.  Mostly I sleep and sweat and trust my body to rid itself of the offending cooties.  Mostly, it works.  Just not completely.  I woke up last night with a major coughing fit.  It was nasty.  And just as I was finally drifting off Chris asks me if there's anything he can do.  I know he meant well.  He's awesome, but when I'm sick all I want is to be left alone.  I'm an insufferable pain in the ass when I'm sick.  And I'm not too good about curbing it.  I'm sorry if I've bitten your head off recently.  If I spit it out with the seemingly endless gallons of mucus I'm producing, I'll be sure to wipe it off and give it back.

The Eagles won their first round of playoffs.  Next week they play the Gators and if they win, the City Championships are the week after.  I've never really cared for football before this year.   I'm still not a big fan of football, but I am an Eagles fan.  When Alex is too old to be an Eagle, I'll be a fan of whatever he joins afterwards.  I hope it's still Eagles now that I have my shirt. 

Sleepy time for me.  I gained an hour, but I'm losing my mind.  Keep in touch, people.  G'night.

Today

I read this in the Dallas Observer...

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Multiculti--Ask a Mexican

By Gustavo Arellano 

Published: November 1, 2007

Dear Mexican: How do I go to the Mexican grocery store and bakery to buy supplies for our Día de los Muertos party without looking like I'm doing the kitschy-goofy thing I'm doing? I walk up to the register and smile ingratiatingly, saying ""Gracias"" as usual—but a basketful of sugar skulls and other themed items hefted to the register in my Irish-mutt arms isn't subtle. I don't really mind looking stupid, but I don't want to offend anyone.

—Lost Me Lucky Charms

Dear Mickette: Chicano yaktivists will cry holy Aztlán because you're appropriating Mexico's holiday for revering the dead, but screw 'em. Go ahead and miss the point of Día de los Muertos, Lucky Charms: You know better than anyone else that America doesn't truly accept its immigrants until ethnic cultural feasts get warped into besotted celebrations attended by opportunistic politicos, and people forget the original meaning behind the occasion. Wasn't St. Patrick the guy who drove the Jews out of Amsterdam? Similarly, Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) is fast becoming corporatized, with do-it-yourself sugar-skull kits available at craft stores and hipsters building altares not to honor the souls who rest with God but because they read about it in Lonely Planet. Enter the Mexican grocery stores and bakeries with pride, Lucky Charms: You're multicultural! You're having a fiesta! You don't know que chigada you're doing! Really, the Mexican isn't too bitter about your cultural imperialism—you're just fulfilling the prophecy that is the ""Irish I were Mexican"" T-shirt.