Good-Bye 2011

I know its been a long while since I wrote, but I have to say: I can't WAIT for this year to be over. Perhaps I'm being overly optimistic, but next year HAS to be better than this year. This past year has been one of the hardest years I've had to go through. Yes, I know: no one died, no one got cancer, no major car accidents, but emotionally, its taken its toll on my and I'm done with it.

I've had injuries, accidents, a broken heart (a few times over). The fender bender equals: paying out $$$ I don't have that I had reserved for some health stuff I need to take care of. I guess that means no more mouth brace for me! Yay! (sarcasm). The only good thing that has come out of this year has been getting a new job that I don't hate which has lead to some new cool friends and a community of coworkers. I've learned new things and everyday, I at least know I've helped one person. That makes me feel pretty good. Sadly, the pay isn't very much and having lived by myself in NW Portland, taking care of myself, this feels pretty shitty. I constantly have to second guess my spending, have to ask the parents for help, or have to say no to a few things that a couple years ago would have been a no-brainer. Again, it could be worse. I'm trying not to complain...but I guess it does sound like it.

I do have my goals and it seems that every six months I'll need to re-assess what I'm doing, where I am, and where I want to go. The thing that I've realized this year (which I think is part of the emotional strain) is nothing is guaranteed, nothing stays the same....people change, feelings change, your mind changes, change of hearts. Change is a really hard thing for me to digest. I'm orderly, I check lists, I expect people to follow through on their word. I just want something I can hold on to...but perhaps that's the problem: there isn't really ANYTHING you can hold onto but yourself...and even that's not guaranteed. You know how many times we change hobbies? Yeah...

So I guess my big lessons for this year is don't get too attached to anything really. I don't mean that in a totally depressed way, I mean that in a way of survival. I have to learn to roll with it. I need to learn how to velco my emotions, rather than lock them on to something...or someone.

So for the next 20 days I am letting myself finish up being bitter, angry, resentful, pessimistic, suspicious, envious etc. Because once the clock strikes midnight on January 1st, 2012, I'm back to being the optimistic, positive, bubbly person I've always meant to be...with improvements of course...always improvements.

My 10 week challenge

I've decided enough is enough, andrea. I'm tired of listening to myself talk and complain about how I look knowing that if I made a few changes here or there, I could probably be where I want to be.

Now don't get me wrong. I don't want to lose 40 pounds, nor do I need to. Most would argue I don't need to lose any weight, but it's not about the "you" out there, it's about me. I'm not happy with how I look, but I'm also no hating how I look. I know that I feel better if I were lighter. I've been there before. Remember that 10 day Master Cleanse? Yeah, I lost 10 pounds and I was amazed by how good I felt I looked. I even got from my family that I looked "too" skinny. But honestly, I felt good, I felt that I looked good and that's what mattered. For a precious month (before I started to gain the weight back) I didn't think about my weight. It was almost a non-issue and it was SO nice to have that weight off my chest...I suppose the pun is appropriate.

I've been trying to get back to that weight and I was getting there slowly but surely. Then I hurt my foot. Man, I can do A LOT of damage in six weeks of NOT working out. I mean, I've not gained 10 pounds, heck probably just about 6, but that's 6 pounds I had struggled to lose. Pounds don't come off as easily on me as it might on others.

I realized after training for my 10k that I like challenges...and training. I challenged myself with the Master Cleanse, and last summer, I challenged myself with going vegan for 2 weeks. This will be however, a 10 WEEK challenge. It's nothing crazy, it's just working out regularly, eating better, and cooking more. I'm wanting this routine to turn into a habit the way running had turned into a habit.

So these are the parameters: Starting Monday, memorial day I will:
* Work out daily, perhaps even twice a day (I don't have a job.)
* I will allow myself 1 savory and 1 sweet treat a week.
* I will allow myself 1-2 alcoholic beverages a week.
* I will try to cook at least twice a week for dinner, if not more.
* Cut out dairy and sugar. (Does agave count?)

My goals:
* I'd like to lose 10-15 pounds, but ideally one pound a week.
* Get stronger for dancing and running
* I'd like to eat between 1200-1400 calories, depending.
* Drink lots of water!

Overall Goals:
* Run another 10k this summer
* Run a half marathon next summer
* Run a marathon eventually (???)
* Cycle around the Gorge or something equally cool!

So that's my goal starting this Monday. I want it to be flexible enough and close enough to my reality to just work its way in. These are things I've wanted to do for a long time (cook more) so I just want to make sure I'm cooking the right things.

So any tips, advice, suggestions and RECIPES are totally welcome. You have a great bean salad recipe, let me know! You know how to make the most delicious oven baked chicken breast, please tell me!

This is me just kicking ME in the pants. No one can change my life but myself, so here I go!

In three days...

I'll be in the "old world" or Europe.

Sorry it's been a while since I've written. Since I got laid off, I've been on mini adventures hiking and baking and working out and dancing. It's not really anything to write home about, just doing the daily grind. I no longer sit in front of the computer any more (I stand at it, which leaves me little patience to write a blog) but I thought I'd check in before I left on my "Great European Adventure".

In three days, I'll be in Holland.

You see, I'm not a traveler, I'm a homebody. The only places I'd been to were Mexico (and its entrails) and Vancouver B.C. with my brother to see a Radiohead concert, that is pretty much it.

Then one year, after much talk with the ex of traveling here and there and never going anywhere, I decided I'd go alone...to visit that is. If I do travel, it never is alone. I don't like it. I know some people enjoy the thrill of traveling solo and meet new people, new friends, even new lovers. Me? No, I need a reason to go. It must be something deep down inside: I need a "reason" to justify why I'm going. Plus, I just don't like to travel alone and having to meet a stranger is just *not* that applealing to me. So a few years ago, I reconnected with one my best friends from high school who was living in Boston (or technically Alliston) Massachussettes and she invited me to visit. I said "what the hell, sure!" So off to Boston, Mass. I went one August. I'd never been to the east coast and I knew that Boston was quite the historical hub. I loved it. I went to visit an old friend AND I got to explore the city a bit. It was a good mix of sight seeing tourist and of seeing her every day life. We even went to Rhode Island so I can say I've been there too!

After Boston, it was LA. Sure yeah LA isn't *that* appealing but one of my best friends from college now has lived there about 4 year so we make it a yearly thing and honestly, she's made LA quite appealing. I even thought of moving there.

And of course, there were the occasional trips to Seattle and Bainbridge Island that I'd do every few months to visit a friend that has now moved back to Portland.

Another place I went to was San Francisco as a gift to my mom for Mother's day. We went last year in September and I fell in love. I didn't realize how wonderful traveling could be, how seeing how others lived could open my eyes, but of course, it also makes me very grateful to live where I live now.

And yes of course the trip to Mexico to visit family. Last year, it was for Day of the Dead in Mexico city.

But Europe? This was in a whole different category all together, the category of "go before I die" but really, "I probably won't do it". So many things held me back from this, so many silly little things until I snapped out of it. This is the first trip I've planned for now reason other than: I want to and I deserve to. People ask my "why are you going to Ireland" versus say Italy or Spain. And the answer? I don't know. My chiropractor said "Well, you'll know when you get there." And I do believe her. My whole life, I'd had this fascination with Ireland, Scotland...London. London appeals to me as a city girl, but Ireland touches me and lives within me on an emotional level, and I don't know why. I've always wanted to go but at the time that this trip was being planned or mulled around, I had no one to go with. Then as luck or the universe would have it, I got back in touch with a close high school friend (via facebook of course) who was an exchange student from Holland. We emailed, we chatted on the phone and then came the magical invitation: you should come. And I said to her, "you know, I think I will." That was almost a year and a half ago. After that conversation, so many changes have taken place, not just physically around me, but also mentally and emotionally with in me. Instead of feeling guilt for the pending exodus, I'm excited because this trip is for me, to celebrate me, to give ME a gift and stop waiting around for my life to happen because I am MAKING it happen.

I have all the ingredients I want in it: money saved up, time off, awesome friend to go visit and the countries *I* want to see because something within my squishy pink heart tells me to. I've not planned ANYTHING, which is also unlike me. All I know is when I'm getting there, what countries we plan on visiting and when I leave. That's it. The rest will come as we go along and no matter what happens, where we go, what we miss, it won't matter because I was in EUROPE! Me, this Mexi-Merican will be IN EUROPE. I'll be in the place where it all started, La Nina, La Pinta, La Santa Maria, where most of my mestizo mixing ancestors are from, where yours are from, where it all started and continues. I will be there. I will be in Europe and I truly can't believe it.

But I can't wait.

On immigration

Oh no, she's getting political on us. Actually, not really. I hate politics and I hate discussing politics with anyone but my inner circle. I have this problem with seeing things both ways so it's hard for me to make a decision. I suppose I respect the other person and their opinions so much that other people might get pissed off at me for not being pissed off enough.

Immigration is a touchy, sensitive, divisive and personal issue for me so that's why I never comment on it.

I shall give a little background on my family, but keep in mind, this is all oral history.

My dad came to this country in the 1960s on worker visas. His dad came to work as a bracero in the 1940s. (Side note: my siblings and I are trying to find any documentation on this at ancestry.com and we might have, very exciting.) He did not stay here. He decided to move back to Mexico once his visa or arrangement had expired. My dad, however, had other plans. My dad only has a middle school education even though he loves to learn and one day dreamed of being an architect. But of course, his situations could not accommodate that. He lived in a room with my grandmother and 4 other siblings. There were no beds and barely any clothes. To this day, he'll never go camping because he grew up sleeping on the floor. His dad was absent most of his life. He decided that there is something more and better in life so he came to the US for his "American Dream". He got his paperwork in order and crossed the border....legally. Now this is where it all gets fuzzy. My dad is the type of guy that puts a sunny disposition on things. He doesn't like to talk about the darker parts in life, or the struggles unless there is a lesson to be learned. So my dad came here, year after year, with visas in hands to try to get legalized papers. He'd overstay his visa until he got kicked out, but would continue the process once he got a new visa. They were tough times. He showered in a bucket and had one meal a day. He lived in LA. He hated it, but he knew there was something more. Finally, the day came when my dad got his green card. By then, he'd moved up to Portland (I think). My pops LOVES to play the lottery, so he bet on the horse races and won. That was enough money to furnish the apartment and go marry my mom. So that he did. He headed back down to Mexico, married my mom, impregnated her on the honey moon and headed back to Portland. A year or so later, when my oldest brother was 8 months old, my dad came back with all necessary papers to bring my brother and my mom back... Legally.

Ok, so that's our story.

Now, this is what I don't understand about the debate. I honestly don't know how difficult it is to be a "legal resident alien" here in the United States. I know it took my dad YEARS, but still, he did it. Now, I'm not saying its not hard, but my dad didn't go into detail about HOW hard it was.

So now we have this debate going on (which is not new.) Illegal immigrants are invading. Unfortunately, they seem to want to put a color to those illegals. What about the Canadians, or the Europeans or even the white South Americans from Argentina, Chile...? I have not statistics, I'm not researching, this is all just my opinion and my questions. I'm not saying illegal immigration a long the border is NOT problem. I'm not, I sympathize. I can understand how scary it must be to feel like a stranger in your own town. But what gets me is the black and white view of either your illegal or a citizen. The reason I bring this up is becuase I read this article where US senate canditate Rand Paul says "... But I think what we should do is we shouldn't provide an easy route to citizenship." The "easy" route to citizenship is being birthed here. That's for another time though.

So my question is why is it either or? Either your illegal or your a citizen. Where is the "legal resident alien" status of people. In my opinion, the problem is how difficult, how many hoops it takes to come to this country LEGALLY.

Not everyone who comes here or visits wants to be a citizen of the United States. It's a big deal. It's like telling one parent you love them more. If you think about the lyrics of the pledge of allegiance, that's a big deal. You are pledging allegiance to a country you're suppose to love, honor and respect. I take that seriously. When I lived in Mexico for two years, I couldn't say their national anthem. I loved my country. I think that's how a lot of legal residents must feel during that limbo time. Do I really want to go ahead and turn my back on my country, one might ask? It took my parents 40 years to decide to become citizen, not because they couldn't, but because they still hoped to one day go home. But by being legal residents all these years, they still payed taxes, yet they couldn't vote. That was privilege that was not granted to them as non-citizens. After much thought though, they decided it was the right time and an historical time at that. It's small price to pay for the allegiance to another country.

I don't know. That's just how I feel. I have statistics, no studies, no research done. I just have a lot of heart, a history background and a lot of questions pertaining to why people can't try to step in other shoes and ask themselves, if I were in this situation...what would I do?

I guess its the historian with an Ethnic Studies emphasis (don't get me STARTED on that one) in me that makes me ask all these questions, because as you've all heard, history repeats itself and this topic is no exception.

Family

This past Sunday was Mother's Day and I made reservations at Springwater Grill in Sellwood for us at 10:30am. It was all of us except for Dimitri (he's was with his mother) and Kim (who sadly had to work.)

I know families have their ups and downs. I know families can be close or far apart, but what I took away from my family this past Sunday is this overwhelming love I have for them.

I think when I was younger, I worried that if I didn't have someone, a partner, I'd die a very sad and lonely death. I feared the day would never come when I'd get married and create my own family. I want what my parents have (a 40+ year marriage), I want what my oldest brother has (an almost 10 year marriage) and I want what my older brother has...his media naranja, a marriage. But I now I know, whether I am single or with a partner, my family will always have my back. Being loved and part of a family does not mean I have to find one person solely, I'm loved by many friends and family and I'm finally starting to see, feel and believe that. I am no longer scared of living my life not within a marriage or childless because I have my nephews to love and its such a relief to no longer be scared.

It's really hard for me to articulate exactly what this all means to be, but I guess what I'm trying to say is that I am happy. I am so lucky to have a family this awesome and this close knit. We are not without our faults or our bad days, but I'd rather hang out with them all day, than a whole week with out them.



What's even luckier is that not only are they my family, I like each and everyone that's married into it...even their siblings. Man, my bros did a good job!





Anyway, I'm an inarticulate mess expressing how much I love my family and how lucky I am to have each and everyone of them...even if ONE of them drives me bonkers ;)

*note* These pictures are from Thanksgiving of 09 courtesy of Morgan Matthews.

Karaoke, and past reflection

Since I was a little girl, I've always loved to sing and dance. I was never trained in either, but I loved it nonetheless. I think I have a natural ability for both, since my mom and dad were avid and natural dancers back in their barrio days in Mexico. Looking back at my childhood, I realized that even though I did what was expected of me, what was good, I really rebelled against a lot of what my parents loved. My dad LOVED to dance, so I decided I would NOT dance. He wanted me to learn how to change my oil...I refused to listen. "You need to learn how to cook so you can get a man" I heard early on from him. F that, I thought. I'm my own woman. And what still gets to me is that my dad says "Your mine." Ok, I don't mean to paint my dad in a bad light. He's actually quite an awesome dude. He's super outgoing, funny, not afraid to shake his "bote" to the music and always willing to give advice. All these things were early on in his life and he's become more loose in his old school beliefs as time goes on. He helps my mom around the house cleaning, he folds laundry...but the food he leaves to my mom, but he is by no means helpless. I guess, when I was younger, I just felt like if I had to conform to all these rules about being good, I will rebel in other things and that was just doing the opposite of what my parents like. Also, I went through a brief identity crisis in middle school, so to me being liking what my parents liked made me that much more Mexican...which I did NOT like. Thank GOD I'm over that! Hence why I think little Mexi-American kids need teachers that look like them, yada yada yada...

So anyway, I got really into singing in 6th grade and hadn't stopped until my Freshman year in college. I sang all through middle school, all through high school, took some cheap ass voice lessons from an old crabby drunk emotionally insensitive old lady who would fart all the time, and I was on my way. I competed for regionals and my senior year I made it to state. I didn't with, but at least I finally got there after competing for 4 years. Also, since I was a senior, I could sing a solo at our winter concert. They wanted me to go with the usual, English or Italian, but I rebelled and went with Spanish. My teacher was really upset but I fought and worked hard on my song! When I graduated, I didn't think I would be a singer, but I just enjoyed it far too much. I loved being in the musicals because it allowed to express a side of myself that I don't reveal every day: Performer Andrea. I don't feel comfortable carrying her around in my skin, but she's there and I like her. I think a lot of this has to due with my culture and of course my family.

As a Latino, the best trait you can have is being humble. Never inflate yourself, you'll be seen as a pompous ass. So I never did. Sure, my parents told me I was smart and pretty, but I never felt like I was allowed to say that about myself. I'm still working on that....
So I suppose my point is that I like to be the center of attention. It's a weird mix though. I LOVE to perform and have all eyes on me and I can't wait for the day I get married because that's MY day, which is why I LOVE my birthday. Its the one day I'm allowed to be selfish and want everything to be about me...But, in my daily life, I don't allow myself that luxury but at the same time, I wouldn't want that. I'm not the life of the party, nor do I want to be. I'm not a social butterfly. Hosting parties makes me a bit nervous...but if I were to perform...that's another thing. It's my job, it's what I'm doing, I have a gig.

I've only Karaoked a handful of times. One time in HS, once in college, a couple times post college. For some reason, I get this weird stage fright that makes me unable to sing in front of family and friends, but strangers, bring it on! But a couple years ago, I decided I needed to change that. Singing was something I was good and I want to share it and I want other so see this skill as well, cuz by golly, I'm pretty good!
After college I took three years of voice lessons with an awesome teacher, but I quit because I felt like I wasn't going anywhere with it. I had no recitals, no musicals, no band to perform with. It was all kind of pointless, but I do realize now, my voice is MUCH better thanks to those three years. So on my 29th birthday, I decided I would have a karaoke party with all of my friends and loved ones. I was SO scared! They were ALL THERE (ok, except for you Kristin!) and all I could think about was, what will they think of me. I've hyped this up so much, they're going to think I suck. I think that's the other thing...the pressure. They know I've been singing since 6th grade so they expect Christina Aguilera up there! Ay!

But whatever, I got up there and I did it and I did it again and again and again... I loved it! I told myself this is something I wanted to do, that I loved singing.
Fast forward almost a year and I'd not returned to a Karaoke bar since. Not because I don't want to but, I don't really have friends who do it and I got really involved with dance and I have friends that do do that. But a friend of a friend was having auditions for this dancing girl group and the auditions were at a karaoke bar.
So, I gathered my two songs, a ballad and an upbeat tempo song, and off I went with a friend. I was so nervous cuz not only was it kind of last minute, I was getting over a cold so my voice was about 95 percent. I had to choose songs that fit with my voice, not that I necessarily wanted to sing, but I went with it.

The first was a miss. I was so nervous and I had to sing after this guy that sang a heavy metal song. So here I come with my ballad by the Dixie Chicks, "I believe in love" to a room full of drunk hipsters. Ah! I had nothing witty to say, so I just started singing. I couldn't find my voice, I couldn't hear my notes, but as the song went on, I got better and loosened up. Thank GOD. The next song was my uptempo, but as the hours dragged one...one, then two, then THREE HOURS, I just wanted to get it over with, so once they called my name I was all "FINALLY!" and just got up there and went with it. Bonnie Tyler's "Holding out for a Hero" was a hit with the now 12 member audience. I know I faltered just a bit, but I even did a little choreographed arms mimicking the video. This is an audition anyway, right? It was so much fun. At times, I closed my eyes and that helped so much, but I just felt like a dork doing that, so I'd open them once in a while.

After it was all said and done, my friend said I did a great job, that he was blown away. A couple other people came up and complimented me. And since I'm new Andrea not old Andrea, all I said was thank you. I didn't down play or make excuses, just "Thank you".

So, I probably won't find out if I made the girl group until this weekend, but regardless of what happens, I'm going to start singing Karaoke. I know I'm a good singer, I have tons of fun and people enjoy my singing, I just need to gain the confidence to get up there and make it look effortless...

Good bye Ugly Betty

It's been 4 years since we first heard and began watching the weekly escapades of Betty, the "ugly" assistant to a high fashion magazine, played by America Ferrera.

It's hard for me to put into words what this show means to me. I kind of see America and Betty as synonymous. First, America starred in Real Woman Have Curves (a movie that spoke to me on multiple levels), then she continued on a road of independent and commercial success (The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, Under the Same Moon.) So it is hard to disassociate her from my love for Betty Suarez.

You see, growing up a Mexican-American girl a white suburb of Portland, Oregon wasn't necessarily hard but it also wasn't that great. I was the only Mexican/Latina girl around for years. Everywhere I turned, no one looked at me. To an extent, I didn't even look like my own mother, who's light skin and dark hair set her a apart from other dark skinned Mexicans. To further put the space between us, my brother told me I was picked up from the garbage, so that didn't really help my sense of feeling a part from everyone.

Now, I do know what its like to be in the majority, rather that the minority and that feels weird too. I lived in Mexico for 2 years when I was younger. Everyone around me looked like me...but I was American and it was almost like they could sniff it out. Something about the way I walked, talked, carried myself, was different from those Mexicans.

Finally back in the states, it was more of the same for me. There was no one on tv, at my school, in movies or even in history books, that I could identify with. No one looked like me, and I think people really underestimate the power that can have on a child. I think this is why I love history so much. It's a constant investigation on looking for myself.

When I went to college, I finally began to meet more Latinos who came from a variety of backgrounds. Those who were recent immigrants, first-generation, or sixth generation and in all honesty, the ones I could identify the most with was with the first generation: our parents spoke Spanish, we were bilingual, we tread the waters between our two cultures with a heavy heart. We don't want to make one feel less...

So years after middle school, high school and even college (a few years that is) comes Betty, this Mexican-American pretty, but dorky, fashion senseless, smart, confident and hard working gal on the television screen. I was blown away. I finally saw myself. I kept thinking "how can I look up to a gal that is 3 years younger than me?" but I did. I looked up to Betty as I look up to America.

The story had multiple layers to it: young woman making it her professional career, Latina woman, ugly duckling, immigration, etc.. but for me, what really struck me was that a family that finally looked like me, was made to seem normal. A family that had their oldest daughter still living at home, was normal. Sitting around the family table chatting and eating, normal. Being so close to your family, normal. All of this was always seen as a joke in other shows, something to be made fun of, but the truth is, this was very much how we grew up. My brother had to move back in and live with us after his divorce. Numerous time my other brother and I moved back in with my parents after college or lay offs...Normal, regular, fit in was all I ever wanted. I guess I just wanted to feel part of this country that I love so much. And that's a bit of what Ugly Betty did for me.

But now its time to move on. I've had her Bettyisms buzzing in my head for four years now. I've had examples of her confidence, and vulnerability taking her to places she wants and deserves to go. Now its my turn. Now its my turn to find my inner Ugly Betty and figure out what life has set out for me.

And for all of this: the "ugliness", the laughter, the vulnerability, the doubts, the love, the warmth-I thank you Ugly Betty, I thank you for making me feel like I belong.

The Greatest Generation By Tom Brokaw

What I've learned from reading a variety of non-fiction books is that journalists say it best and Tom Brokaw is no exception.


I've been reading "The Greatest Generation" by Tom Brokaw for a few months now. One might think its taken me this long because I'm either a slow reader or it's boring. Well, one out two is correct. Usually, I have a tendency to devour books. I over compensate my slow reading with skimming and end up missing most of the point, so I deliberately decided to take my time with this book and only read it while I'm at the gym. Plus, its a hard back so its easy to prop open.


A few months back, my mom had a stack of books my brother was giving away, kind of a purging of his collection. I saw the book and remember hearing good reviews, this however, was before I discovered my love for all things WWII. I picked it up and asked my mom "How can Renato be giving this away?!" she said his wife had a copy, so if I wanted this one, I could have it. So I snatched it up. It sat on my bookshelf, along with all my other anxious books (yeah, I totally just anthropomorphize my book, what?! They're excited to get read, I know it!) until I felt a pull toward it. In the meantime, I read a few books of fiction, a non-fiction book about past lives, some short stories, many self help and finally, I was back to WWII and I settled in for this epic story, as if I were sitting at the feet of my grandfather (note to readers: I've never met any of my grandfathers, and even if I did, they wouldn't have been in WWII, they were both Mexican. More on that later.)


I often wonder why I have this "draw" to WWII or history in general. I love all things history. If I narrow it down, I come up with US History as my main focus and if I look a little deeper, I have a swelling heart for Ethnic Studies, any US History related to people of color. Within US History, what draws me the most is WWII, the Civil Rights movement, the civil war and the contact, in no particular order. But yet, time after time, I'm drawn to WWII, the greatest generation. Perhaps (and seriously, I'm just throwing theories out there) it's because my family wasn't here yet. I find it odd that I'd be drawn to something I'm not a part of. I think its also looking for this sense of belonging, looking for faces like mine during "The Greatest Generation" just so I know, I belong too. As I've mentioned, my family wasn't here in the 40s. My family's US history begins in 1969, after my parents got married and my dad moved back to the US. In history class, we'd have projects where they said "go ask your grandparents about WWII or where were they when Kennedy got shot?" And I never could. For one, my grandfathers were both in Mexico at the time and had no involvement in WWII, not even as the Aztec Eagle (Mexican fighter pilots that helped the US during WWII). I suppose, I always felt out of place, like I didn't belong. I think legions of immigrants post 1950s might feel that way, not having a kind of connection to the toddlerness that was our country at the turn of the century. I constantly fight for a sense of belonging here, even though I often see myself as an other. And the thing is, I am an other, but that doesn't make me less of an American than any one else. And I don't say that because someone has outright said that, I think I say it because I too am trying to convince myself that I belong in this country, even if sometimes it doesn't feel that way. I've lived in Mexico, and although I blend in, I still feel different. I live here and even though I've slowly started to not stick out like a sore thumb, I do sometimes feel like an other. So again, that's why I look through our US history to try to find myself in it, why during WWII? Perhaps because it was one of the most important times in our country, one of the most complicated times in our country, a kind of schizophrenia was going on. We must save the Jews from Nazi persecution, but yet, we had segregated armed forces. African-American, Indian-American, Asian-American soldiers all fought one enemy over seas, but came back to find themselves fighting another one: prejudice, Jim Crow etc. I find all this fascinating in a disturbing kind of way, but still I search, I search for a face that looks like mine through all the historical rubble.


Another side to this coin is a sense of responsibility. I feel our generation has lost touch with what's important in life. We're all about instant gratification: twitter, Facebook, pop culture. I want, instead of I need, right now, instead of patience. Rash decision, instead of carefully thought out plans. I'm not sure I'm making much sense on this, but all I can say is that reading about what people had to go through to get to wear they are, especially woman, has given me more of a sense of responsibility to do my part as well as a sense gratitude for the crap they had to endure just so I could go to college and/or not have to avoid restaurants that had signs saying "No Mexicans or dogs allowed".


I guess what I'm getting to with this entry is that history is an important part in the global sense of connection and belonging. Through someones act somewhere, I am where I am, and I personally find comfort in that. My sense of belonging has been damaged for quite sometime now but slowly, I've been finding ways to chisel away at the those parts of myself.


I'm not yet done with this book. I probably have 100 more pages to go, but I highly recommend it, not just to a WWII lover, but a lover of personal stories, personal histories. We all have one, we are all important, we all belong.

It's been a while

Why hello there Portland, it's been a while, about 4 months to be exact. These last two have gone by so fast, I barely knew what happened.


I've not written much because well, I'm not reading, nor am I running. I've been reading Tom Brokav's "The Greatest Generation"for about 2 months now. (A post about that should be coming.) I've not finished it because its boring, it's just that its the book I read while I'm at the gym. It's a hard back (which I rarely own) so its easy to prop on the elliptical or stationary bike. The other part of this equation as to why I've not finished is because I've not gone to the gym as often as I'd like. The holidays came in like a tornado and spit me out 6 pounds heavier, then I'm moving from NW to SE and this is my last week at my apartment, so I've been packing and anxiety ridden because of it, which yes, exercise is supposed to help with all that, but I'm a stubborn little woman, so instead, I just go home and click on another episode of Law and Order: SVU. I'm waiting till I've moved to stop the madness, or until I suspect every man on the street wants to rape me...which ever comes first.


So yes, I'm moving. Again...ok, well after almost 3.5 in NW Portland, I'm moving across the river to the scary side of town. My mom always warned all us youn ins growing up that "downtown" was scary, which also encompassed anything that had eastin its name. So, not until I moved to Portland AFTER college, did I begin to explore the parts of the East side that were supposedly scary. Sure, there are sketch parts that I know now to avoid, but I've also fallen quite in love with the NE: Irvington, Alameda, Broadway, Freemont and I was really looking forward to exploring the newly established hip NoPo (or North Portland), but alas, the new roomie and I decided on the SE Sellwood area. Its quite a quaint little spot and I really look forward to exploring it. On one of our unpacking excursions, we drove around SE Tacoma, SE 13th and SE Milwauakie and much to my giddy surprise there were quaint little coffee shops and TONS of antique shops...this fits me quite well.


One of the main questions people have asked me is: Are you nervous to have a roommate after living alone for some many years? To be honest: I'm not. I'm really excited. That might be the me of "silver lining, glass half full, frown upside..." but I really am. Its one of those "one door closes, another opens" and I just gotta see it for what it is, an opportunity. I'm going to save money and have a live in buddy! The last 5 years I honestly thought I was done with the whole roommate thing. Not because I didn't want it (ok, a piece of me didn't want it) but because I was in a long-term committed relationship which we both expected to end in marriage. This would have been the year him and I moved in together, probably gotten married and two years from now planned on having children...but it was not to be, and as sad as letting go of that dream is, I'm excited to have another chance at exploring life with a new set of characters. I now get to discover and explore Portland as a single gal. I've not done that since HS. So yes, I'm excited. I feel like this is the perfect timing for something like this. Ok, perfect is not the right word, I'm hesitant to EVER use the word perfect, but the timing is just right. When I was starting to think about cutting my rent in half, I met a wonderful friend through dance who would later become my roommate. Honestly, I didn't know it was possible to be such good friends with someone after just a few months. These things have happened few and far between the years. When it was time to look for a place, there she was. And now, I feel restless at my old place, my lazy habits beating out the healthy ones, I'm moving which will force me to put back in play my healthy habits which I'm really looking forward to. I'll be working out in the morning, which gives me the evening to do cooking or meet a friend at happy hour. I'll have a buddy to laze around with on Sunday mornings or to spontaneously go grab a drink at the local watering hole (once we find it!) And, I'll also have to force myself to take time for myself in the forms of writing, reading and projects. I've always been the kind of person that is better with little time to do many things, than having ALL THE TIME in the world to do one, so I think this arrangement will suit me well...until its time for another change. It could be 6 months, it could be 2 years. I honestly have no idea what's going to happen, but I'm ready for it, my knees are slightly bent, my stance is strong: world, I'm ready for whatever you have to throw at me!

I want a damn banana!

Yes, this is day 9 and I want food. Mainly fruit, but food nonetheless. I've not craved much in these nine days except for a turkey sandwich from Ken's, dried apples and last night, a banana. My mind, instead of staying calm and waiting for the last day, is starting to think of the ways I can gorge myself when I'm off, which is NOT the idea I had for this cleanse. My idea was to come of this feeling clean and free of toxins to smoothly transition into a healthier state of vegan eating, and slowly introduce meat back into my lifestyle but excluding dairy for now.
Instead, I'm angry, frustrated and want to eat grilled cheese sandwiches, beef-ka-bobs and what not.
So, I've decided that today will be my last day. I pondered it last night while I sat on the couch lounging and heading to the bathrooms more times than I liked to admit. I was done with this. I'm not sure I feel anything different. Perhaps I did do it wrong, but I did it. Maybe not all 10 days, but I did 9. Nine is better than none. So I bought some extra lemons before I decided this and I will be giving those left overs to my co-worker. I will THROW AWAY the cayenne pepper packet that I have and I will leave the maple syrup here at work. I am also worried about being in 85 degree whether tomorrow with nothing but water for oh 7 hours.
What have I learned:
Mentally: this cleanse should have been 5-6 days. Around those days were my high. I was feeling gung ho and good about everything. I was ready to eat healthy and craved nothing.
Physically: I think I could go longer without eating much, which will probably be the plan now that I start eating. Physically, I noticed no difference. I lost a bit of weight, but not as much as I expected. I had eaten a lot of food and not worked out the week of my birthday and well, my body just likes to pile on the pounds. So that was kind of a bummer, but oh well. This is a good starting off point and I can continue.
Eating: I don't need as much food to fill myself up as I think. So this time around, I will be very deliberate about what I eat and consume. Oh, I will be no angel about this, I'll have a cupcake or pastry here and there, but I'll try very hard to keep all the portions small. I enjoy that my stomach gets full after two glasses of water, so that is what I will try to keep up: a small stomach.

Today after work, I'm going to buy a ton of fruit and some nuts. I'm not sure how my tummy will fair with this, but we'll see. I really am worried about being out in the heat with nothing else to eat, so I'm goign to stash said nuts and dried fruit in my underwear! (I kid!)

So that's it. The master cleanse is over, one day short. And again, remind me NEVER to do this particular one again. If it has the word "CAYENNE" in it, I'm running.

What a world

There are two things this Ah-Mexi-can thought she'd never do:

-Acupuncture.
&
-Watch Star Trek in any form.

Acupuncture:
For the longest time, I've always been scared of needles. When I got my blood drawn in Mexico when I was sick, I freaked out! I could feel the little needle going into my vein, sucking up my life juice . . . AAHHH. But, I also knew it needed to be done. See, that's kind of how I am. Even though there are things I do not like to do-get my blood drawn, eat veggies, get a PAPs (sorry, for the TMI, but it is SERIOUSLY something I hate doing more than anything,) but I do them because they are good for you, or keep you healthy or heck, help save lives. I'd donate blood in high school and college because I knew that somehow, I was making a difference. I eat veggies cuz I know they help fight cancer and give me vital minerals and vitamins I need to be healthy. I get PAP because I apparently like the torture . . . Nah, just want to make sure everything is running right. But acupuncture . . . willingly inserting teeny tiny needles into my body at random places that don't seem to make sense? Not so much. I've been going to a chiropractor because at ate 28, I feel it is time to take care of my physical body in ways that the gym and my diet cannot. She also happens to be an acupuncturist. Today was my second visit, but my first experience. And what's my conclusion? Hells no! My whole left side felt awkward and weird. I couldn't move my wrist, it ached. She had like 5 needs in just ONE EAR! I didn't like it. It was not relaxing. I lay there tense, cold and wondering saying over and over to myself "don't move your left wrist, don't move your left wrist!" So, am I going to do it again at my next visit? Yeah, you know it.

Star Trek the movie
As most of you know, I'm not a big sci-fi fan, especially not a Star Trek fan. I find the shows cheesy, badly done and did I mention cheesy? I can NOT take seriously when someone one yells out "launch the photon torpedoes" or some other gargon. Or that planets are called "Romulus", which I mistakenly called "Ramen" and Volcans come from the planet, well, Volcan. I can't handle it! Even writing this all down makes me smirk and want to run away laughing all the way home. I know that I also confuse people with with what kind of sci-fi I really like and they could argue till their blue in the face about how its the same thing. I've never liked Star Trek, if anything, I'd choose to watch Star Wars. I don't like Lord of the Rings, I prefer Harry Potter. I also like anything X-Filesy and science based as well as super heroes. Yes, yes, I see my contradiction here, but I seriously can't handle aliens that act like humans, etc. . . So why did I go see Star Trek? Well, I'm a fan of JJ Abrams and my favorite actor from Heroes is in it . . . honestly, I could care less about the rest of the movie. What I expected was action packed fun in space. And that I got . . . and more. Not only was it action packed, but the affects were amazing and the acting, superb. I have nothing really to compare these characters to so it was all new to me and I found myself really enjoying it. Even though I could see a bit of Syler in Zachary Quinto (kind of hard not too, he has intense eyes) he did a great job of obviously leaving that character in the shadows. I am however, impressed by the make-up artists: good job on covering up those eyebrows!

All in all, this is a year of trying new things, from acupuncture to Star Trek, and don't get too excited, but I did find the science-the physics, the warp speed-quite interesting.

*All Star Trek info provided by Kristin Hanes. Thanks!

Updatecito

Well, it's been a while. Why? Well, I've been injured and sick, sick and injured. For the past 4-5 weeks, I pulled, strained, hurt, cursed a muscle in my butt. It's still not completely healed. I can feel it now and again in certain positions (like when I sleep or get out of the car) but I *think* (hope) its getting better. It got so bad two weeks ago, that I was limping, so I decided to go to a sports medicine doctor. That appointment is tomorrow. My biggest fear is that he'll tell me to not work out and rest . . . but I did that! I did that for 4 weeks and gained 8 pounds! I cannot do that again. On top of the stupid muscle, I got a cold and was out of the gym for 2 of those 4 weeks. I started to feel sorry for myself and instead of curbing my eating, I decided donuts for breakfast was a great solution. Eight pounds later, I'm heavier, unhappy and pissed off! So last week, I was back to it. I was finally feeling better, the leg was feeling a bit better and the eating, well, I'm re-training myself day by day and did really great yesterday. I did yoga twice last week and I hope to do it twice this week but I've made a few plans after work, so if I get a good nights' sleep one of these nights, I'll attempt the 6am yoga. Am I insane? Um, yes, it's also the catholic guilt I feel for having had donuts for breakfast when I should know better.
So gym, yoga, and eating better are top priorities on my list right now. Healing my leg is second. I know I should be losing weight for health purposes, that's the pc thing to want, but honestly, I just felt better 8 pounds lighter. I felt good about myself, I felt like I looked better and my clothes felt better. Everyone I tell that I've gained weight, can't tell, but I can. So really, it's a matter of how *I* feel at what weight and I know, for mental stability, 8 pounds lighter would be great. So, that is my goal for the 3rd time. I'm also going to a chiropractor in hopes of fixing all the cracks and pops of my body. This is the year to fix myself: mentally, physically and emotionally and I think I'm taking the proper steps.

Next up: Argentine Tango!

The other opinion.

There are two things you don't want to talk to me about unless you want to see me fired up: Ethnic Studies and Portland history.

My two loves have collided in a not so pleasant way.

First off, I'm an Oregonian. I was born and raised here. I love Oregon, love Portland and unless there is a really good reason, I'm never moving.

Second: I'm an American. I may not look like your typical Anglo blue eyed, blonde haired, or brunnette with fair skin, or even African-American but I am America. I was born and raised in the United States and enjoy all the luxuries and am for the most part proud of my countries accomplishments.

And finally, I'm Mexican-American. I was raised my parents born in Mexico who recently became American citizens. I lived in Mexico for 2 years out of my life. When you're 9, that's you're whole life, but when I turn 90, it will have been a blink of an eye. There are many feelings of comfort that arise from being Mexican. The food is familiar, the language and to an extent, the people, cuz many have brown skin like myself.

But I'm an Oregonian first, so this whole "street re-naming" saga going on in Portland makes my blood boil. Not because I'm turning my back on "my people" but because of viciously ignorant MoFos who assume that Cesar Chavez, due to the color of his skin, was an immigrant, a Mexican, an "other." I'm not saying that being an immigrant is bad. My parents were, and historically, if you *really* think about it, all of us were, especially those of lighter skin decent. But the fact that people are so ignorantly looking at this issue racially, and not giving it is proper voice because "he's not even from here", pisses me off. Look at it historically. Seriously people, especially in the South West back in the day, Mexicans didn't immigrate to the US, the darn border moved! Read a history book! There are people that don't know who Cesar Chavez is and that's ok. You should because he's a very important historical figure for the civil rights movement as was King, but its ok that you don't. I did a report on him when I was in 5th grade and continued to study his movement in my Ethnic Studies classes. Not only was he not an immigrant, he was an educated American. But due to his surname, the color of his skin, and perhaps his second language (Spanish) one assumes and his legacy gets dismissed . . . And you know what they say about people who assume.

I doubt anyone really reads this, and I'm sure I've ruffled a few feathers but this is my opinion: Do not re-name ANY streets in Portland after anyone. I don't even like Naito Parkway for gosh sakes! It's FRONT STREET! We are expanding, we are growing and the make-up of our city is changing. Obviously there are going to be new streets, new suburbs, pick on of those. Mr. Chavez was not from Oregon, not from Portland. We cannot change our history in order to reflect such. Name a new street for him and help shape the future of what Portland will look like years from now. I think that would honor him better than giving him sloppy seconds.

Happy Birthday Oregon! I love you!

150 Years! Wow, that's quite the achievement.

I haven't lived many places, haven't really quite visited that many places either, but no matter where I've gone, where I've lived or how long I've stayed, Oregon is and will always be my home.

I remember, when I was younger, we'd drive back from the airport, either from picking up a relative or dropping someone off. I'd sit in the back seat of the car and be mesmerized by the city lights reflecting off the Willamette River and I always knew I was home. That familiar passage: I-84 from the airport, to I-5 over the Markum Bridge to SW Portland, always reminded me that this is the place I've always wanted to be and was always meant to be. This scene repeats itself whenever I come from a far away place: Boston, LA or Mexico City.

People often move here and find their place, whether it be within the hippies, the preps, the anarchist, the granolas, or the pearl, the suburban mom, the new ages, they find their home.

And I know I've found home.

I'm home.

I love you Oregon, there is no state quite like you.

Simple Bliss

I usually try to restrain myself from compulsive purchasing. While I had roommates, it was easy to make up the money cuz rent was so cheap, but now, it's all on me. If I go over budget, I'm pretty much screwed for a couple months and have to constantly put things on a credit card, which I hate doing.
Lately, I've been really careful about large purchases. I mull them around and wonder "do I *really* need them or do I just want them?". Isaiah says it's ok to be selfish once in a while if you really want it. You deserve it, he says. Yes, I do think he's right, but I have to justify to myself if I really deserve it and need it. Obviously I want it if I'm thinking about this. That's how it's been these last few months: should I get a new flat screen tv, should I get internet, should I get a new computer, should I get cable.
Two weekends in a row I went to a tv store with my dad. The first time, he bought his new tv and I was "this close" to buying mine. Instead, I got a nice antennae to see if the digital converter box would work with it. Nothing. I get no signal. So I will have to get cable if I want to watch tv. So the decision as to when was ticking, but should I get a new tv with that? I mean. I have a nice large tv, but it's large and bulky and I'd like the space. Instead, I decided to get internet. I can watch anything I want on that and I'll hold off on the tv for a while. Then came news of the digital change over not until June! Who hooo! I won't have to get cable (if I want) until this fall. So I'm no longer worried.
So as the days rolled along, I got Anthropologies weekly emails. We're having a sale, it says, check it out. And there they were. The cutest red, low healed shoes mary janes I'd ever seen. They were pretty much half off. I thought about, oh, five minutes and ordered them. I quickly regretted it but figured I can return them.
Fast forward to Thursday. I get them mailed to work, I try them on and it's like these shoes were meant for my feet. They are perfect! They are low heeled, have a heal strap, are red, the toe box is wide enough and they are cushiony. I'm in love! I've worn them three days in a row already! I can't get enough of them.

Good thing red is my clothing color of preference!

LA Fitness-The Pearl

Verdict: Not impressed.

I started going to the gym probably around middle school time. In retrospect, I think it was an insistence from my brother to my mother that I was getting a bit too chubs. That was the fattest time of my life. This brother never made me feel fat and never said mean things about my weight, instead he just tried to help. I started going to Gold's Gym with him in Beaverton (it's now Laser Tag). We'd do cardio, and weights. He'd help me and encourage me. I think we went about 3 times a week. I began high school and joined the volleyball team and quit the gym. I supposed that helped lean me out. I always hated working out: running, crunches, squats, etc. I hated it all, but I only did it for fall season, then it was back to my lazy self. I did play softball freshman year in the spring, but then softball turned into musicals and I gave the work out stuff up.
Then came UO. As a student, you get a membership all built in. It's a great *idea* but actually getting to it was another thing. I'm not sure how much I went, but it wasn't often. Perhaps the last year, I went a bit more religiously, but never as I do now. I wish I had, but heck, in University, there are much more important things to do like meet boys, socialize and do good in school. Who thinks about their weight.
Then came post-college. I lived with my parents. My nephew's mother (my oldest brother's ex wife) put me on her family plan for the SW Community Center they had just built on SW Vermont by Gabriel Park. At first I was a bit resistant since I'd felt they'd RUINED my beautiful park with their flashy pools, gyms and parking lot, but once I was there, I loved it. It was small and quaint and family oriented. I think by the time Kelly and Isaiah came up from Eugene to move in, I'd stopped going. We'd gotten an apartment behind Jackson Middle school so Kelly and I decided to get up at the butt crack of dawn to go jogging around the track. It actually worked quite well for the first year (I think). I had to be at work at 8am and since Kelly worked from home, she wanted to get an early start too. So up we were, at 6am. I'd get up, knock on her door to wake her up (or else she'd not get up) and off we were. Depending on the weather, we were either in t-shirts and shorts, or sweat shirts and hats. One time, it was so icy, couldn't make it down the hill to the track, but at least we tried, right? We were doing pretty well. Kelly had her jog and jazzersise, I had my work out dvds and body for life I followed. But after a while, jogging around a track got very monotonous for me and I couldn't do it. So I decided to get myself a membership to the SW Community Center again. I really enjoyed going there because of the reasons previously stated, but also because I could work out and watch tv. I'm a tv junkie. I like watching tv and if I can do two for one, I'm happy. There, they had about 5-6 tvs and each piece of equipment-bike, treadmill, elliptical, stairs-had a device that you hooked your headphones in and listened to the tv, or radio if you wanted. I loved it. I could jog and watch Law and Order, or use the elliptical and watch What not to Wear.
From living with Kelly, to living with parents and finally living in NW, I was looking for a gym that was equally as fantastic as the little SW Community Center. I went to 24 hour Fitness in the Pearl and that was a mistake. It was like the UO gym all over again. Pretty, teeny tiny little woman, and huge muscle men. Not my scene. I just wanted to go, work out and head out.
Then I found Gold's Gym at on NW Overton. It was small, had people that looked like they were interested in working out, not hooking up and had *almost* the same type of setting as SW. And since at the time I lived so close, I didn't have to use the showers, a bonus! There were three treadmills that had tvs attached so when I ran, I always tried to use those. Then it got bought out by LA Fitness. I asked about the tvs being hooked up to the equipment and they assured me that there would be new equipment at the new LA Fitness they were building in the pearl.
I stayed on at LA Fitness because of it's location and size. Since I moved once again, it was more of a walk, but it was familiar. I knew when to go when it wasn't too busy, what equipment to use, how the showers worked. The only thing I did notice was that they had two clocks in the whole place. No clock in the locker rooms. I attributed that to the fact that they were moving in mere months.
Now fast forward to today. It takes me about half an hour to walk to the gym. Ok, no big deal, whatever, walking is good for you. I walk in and its MAJESTIC. I mean, there are a few things here and there that need to be done, but it looks FANTASTIC. I can see the large pool and the top floor for weights. The welcome? Not so much. It gave me a feeling of sterility. There are no signs as to where things are (this place is three stories tall.) I had to ask for the locker room because no one offered it up. It's down a hall in the back. I'd never had found that. I walk in and all the lockers are cherry wood color, how impressive. I walk around a bit more. There is a sauna and a showers and bathrooms. Ok cool, looks good. I stuff all my things in a locker and to the cardio section. One of my observations was that the pool faces Lovejoy and I don't think the windows are tinted. Can you imagine, strangers can see you in your bathing suit! So off to cardio, I see a few locals and oo and aw about what I see. So many machines, so many tvs! I finally walk over to an area that DOESN'T have sports playing and try to figure out how to listen to tv. The television has a sign that says "tune to 80.7" NOT a good sign. I realize there are no plug ins for my head phones and I look around a realize, WTF, it's like the last one. I turn around and ask one of the locals about this and they say yes, you need a radio. Are you kidding me?! Who has a radio! So I'm am profoundly disappointed. Am I supposed to go out there and upgrade my ipod? Am I supposed to by an iPhone? WTF. Not only is this gym far away and sterile, now I can't even HEAR the tv, again.
So, after a disappointingly silent tv run (I listened to my ipod, again), I hit the showers. I grab my shampoo/conditioner and body wash, my rag and my towel and go through the door to the showers. I walk in and none of the shower have actual towel hooks, those are located *before* you enter the shower area. So I'm supposed to walk down naked to one of these showers? Niiice. I barely walk around naked with my boyfriend, let alone strangers! Luckily, it's early and no one is around. So I turn on the water of the shower closest to a towel and it's just cold. So walk down to the next shower, cold, my jiggly bits bouncing about, hoping no one walks in, and hop into that shower. Luckily it warms up and then I look and there is no where to put any of my shower stuff, no basket, no ledge, nothing. So we're supposed to shower, wash our hair with that musky smelling stuff we wash our hands with? I don't think so.
So I'm finally done with my shower and hobble over to my towel trying to wrap it around myself with one hand cuz the other is busy holding my shower stuff. I get to my spot and begin drying off and dressing. I reflect on my whole gym experience there at the pearl and I come to the conclusion that it's more frustrating than not. I make a mental note to start searching for a gym that is smaller and more quant and if I do decide to switch, make sure they have TVs that you can actually *hear* when you work out.
I'm sure there *is* a simple solution to all this, but I'm just not impressed by all their glitz. I just want to work out, watch tv while I do cardio, shower without feeling humiliated and for God's sake, would it kill you to have a clock in the locker room?!

UPDATE: After looking around for other smaller gyms that don't exist in my area, I've decided to stay here. I've compromised with myself that although it's far away, it's better than nothing, so now I have to drive (DRIVE!) to work 2-3 times a week to get to the gym in the mornings. But, on a good note, they finally put towel hooks next to each shower. Yay! And also, the sound system is working so there is actually music playing. But still NO CLOCK IN THE DRESSING ROOM!

Halloween Run

So let's keep the theme and the blogging going. This Sunday is the Run Like Hell! run at Pioneer Place. Last year, I invited my nephew to do the Kid's Dash, but much to my dismay, he is WAY too old to be running with 8-12 year olds. He is a teenager now, 13! Where has the time gone? Anyway, this year, him and I are going to race (for realsies) and who ever wins, treats the other to ice cream. It's going to be extra fun cuz not only will he be competing as an adult, I've decided to dress up. I think I will finally retire my german beer maid outfit and get it all sweating running a 5k. It was always my back up costume just in case. It's had a good run, but now it will have an even better one and I've got an even better costume for this year, stay tuned.
Also joining in on the fun this year is my friend Liz (I believe this is her 3rd run since she's started running about a year ago) and Laura, a seasoned runner who has a marathon (or two) under her belt and saved us from disaster during the Rockin' Relay. This year should be fun. So come Saturday, I'll be getting my teeny tiny apartment ready to have a 13 year old sleep over. I'll be picking him up and treating him to (hopefully) a fund day with his Tia Nena before I force us to turn in early (the race is at 8:45am). So I'm excited!
This was us last year. LAST YEAR! Keep an eye on the kid after this weekend, you'll see what a difference a year makes . . .