V and I drove for hours on a long highway in Durango, Mexico. The far away sun was a polaroid. We stopped in an empty shopping center and walked around looking for store to buy water. We saw a garden in the middle of the center, but instead of plants it had lots of heart shaped stones. There was a child playing with the stones. She was arranging them, this way and that way.
Look, the mountains have snow, we have to go.
(dream)
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Day Two (Four days without students): Spring Fashion Preview!
1. Our dryer, Big Rhoda is alive and well, thanks to the brilliant mind and hands of my darling, amazing, dazzling, too damn cute, and sexy husband. It is too bad he shaved his beard four days ago. I really like my husband shaggy and fuzzy.
2. I don't know what it means, but after five years of marriage, I realized that on weekends I dress like my husband. Our weekend uniform is jeans and a t-shirt. It's comfortable, fast, and easy dressing with what this society considers to be men clothing. Oh, by the way, fuck society.
3. But lately, my legs and thighs have been craving skirts. Floral skirts. Tight skirts. Peasant skirts. Is it my biology saying "hello?"
4. I also have a craving for cute granny sweaters in all pastels colors.What the hell is going on?!
5. I buy most of my clothes at thrift stores. My husband does not like thrift stores. Actually, he doesn't like to buy clothes. Clothes do not interest him. Some of our best figths have been about clothes.
Dirty Laundry Display #1A:
On our return from Mexico last November, my husband wore a t-shirt with some communist propaganda printed on the front. Obviously, TSA questioned my husband's t-shirt at the airport. Oh, crap! I imagined the worst: V. in Guantamo, waiting 20 years for a trial. I felt really scared. So, when we got home I told him not to ever wear that damn communist t-shirt ever again.
Ding! Ding! Ding! Clue number #1:
You never ever tell my husband what to wear and what not to wear! (I know, I know, I should know better).
Ding! Ding! Ding! Clue number #2:
You never ever buy clothes for my husband. Okay, so I'm a slow learner because the following week after our trip, I went shopping for the most pro United States, the most patriotic, the most conservative, the most Republican, the most "I want to kiss your ass, TSA" t-shirt I could find and bingo! I found it! It was only 99 cents!!! What a deal, man!
Gulp!
What followed at the sweet home of V and L was a marital quarrel worthy of an HBO special. Yes, V. refused to wear the t-shirt. V brought in politics, religion, history, Palestine and even Peje to his defense. I had nothing, except for a good dose of of "American Paranoia" and lots of fear of Homeland Security, TSA, and Guantanamo. He smashed me with his well-construtive defense. Argh! Now, the poor t-shirt sits lonely in the closet.
(if you are interested in this FREE t-shirt or just want to be "COOL" with TSA, email me. I'll send it to you).
2. I don't know what it means, but after five years of marriage, I realized that on weekends I dress like my husband. Our weekend uniform is jeans and a t-shirt. It's comfortable, fast, and easy dressing with what this society considers to be men clothing. Oh, by the way, fuck society.
3. But lately, my legs and thighs have been craving skirts. Floral skirts. Tight skirts. Peasant skirts. Is it my biology saying "hello?"
4. I also have a craving for cute granny sweaters in all pastels colors.What the hell is going on?!
5. I buy most of my clothes at thrift stores. My husband does not like thrift stores. Actually, he doesn't like to buy clothes. Clothes do not interest him. Some of our best figths have been about clothes.
Dirty Laundry Display #1A:
On our return from Mexico last November, my husband wore a t-shirt with some communist propaganda printed on the front. Obviously, TSA questioned my husband's t-shirt at the airport. Oh, crap! I imagined the worst: V. in Guantamo, waiting 20 years for a trial. I felt really scared. So, when we got home I told him not to ever wear that damn communist t-shirt ever again.
Ding! Ding! Ding! Clue number #1:
You never ever tell my husband what to wear and what not to wear! (I know, I know, I should know better).
Ding! Ding! Ding! Clue number #2:
You never ever buy clothes for my husband. Okay, so I'm a slow learner because the following week after our trip, I went shopping for the most pro United States, the most patriotic, the most conservative, the most Republican, the most "I want to kiss your ass, TSA" t-shirt I could find and bingo! I found it! It was only 99 cents!!! What a deal, man!
Gulp!
What followed at the sweet home of V and L was a marital quarrel worthy of an HBO special. Yes, V. refused to wear the t-shirt. V brought in politics, religion, history, Palestine and even Peje to his defense. I had nothing, except for a good dose of of "American Paranoia" and lots of fear of Homeland Security, TSA, and Guantanamo. He smashed me with his well-construtive defense. Argh! Now, the poor t-shirt sits lonely in the closet.
(if you are interested in this FREE t-shirt or just want to be "COOL" with TSA, email me. I'll send it to you).
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Four Days Without Students
Day One:
1. My dryer died Friday morning. Its name was LE8207W2, but it longed to be called Rhoda. Goodbye Rhoda, we will miss you.
2. I had breakfast by myself. My husband had to work. I multi-tasked while I ate breakfast (Sorry, my Bhuddist friends). I ate eggs with veggies, pancake with blueberries, a ton of coffee, and orange juice. I ate while watching a ton of "how to fix your dryer" videos made by guys named Jim, Joe, Eddy on youtube. I always trust chubby guys named Eddy, especially if they have a nice smile and a round chunky belly.
3. I somehow ended up watching a ton more videos about brilliant mathematicians. Happinness is learning about Kurt Godel's mathematics and not having to take a test. And who needs drugs when you have Cantor's mathematics? What a high!
4. Of course, these youtube videos let me to my old friend, Ted. Yes, Ted Kaczynski, the Unabomber. He's not really a friend, but Ted takes me back to the early 1990's when my little sisters and I competed for the unabomber look on Saturday mornings. I always won. Of course, it helped me to be a little weird and antisocial.
a) If I could time travel, I would want to spend one day with Van Gogh and another day with Ted Kaczynski. We wouldn't say much. I'm not a good talker. I want to be with them for the silence of their mouths. I think I would hear music in Van Gogh's every day objects, but not in Ted's. Ted's coffee was probably sad.
b) I keep a picture of Van Gogh's little bedroom next to our bed because all the solitude of one day fits in his room. I don't keep a picture of Kaczynski's little cabin. My husband would find it weird and I would too. It would actually remind me that he killed three human beings. Perhaps one day I'll buy a water color painting of Thoreau's cabin instead.
5. I went to a laundromat to dry all of our clothes by myself. My husband didn't go because he had been working all day and well, he deserved to rest. Laundromats are lonely places, especially, on a Friday night. There were four of us doing our laundry. The three other customers were mexican like me. They were are single young guys from Mexico, illegals, probably. All had this "What the fuck am I doing in this country?!" look on their faces. I felt sorry for them. I graded some papers because their sadness was contagious.
I like this song. It's a waiting song.
1. My dryer died Friday morning. Its name was LE8207W2, but it longed to be called Rhoda. Goodbye Rhoda, we will miss you.
2. I had breakfast by myself. My husband had to work. I multi-tasked while I ate breakfast (Sorry, my Bhuddist friends). I ate eggs with veggies, pancake with blueberries, a ton of coffee, and orange juice. I ate while watching a ton of "how to fix your dryer" videos made by guys named Jim, Joe, Eddy on youtube. I always trust chubby guys named Eddy, especially if they have a nice smile and a round chunky belly.
3. I somehow ended up watching a ton more videos about brilliant mathematicians. Happinness is learning about Kurt Godel's mathematics and not having to take a test. And who needs drugs when you have Cantor's mathematics? What a high!
4. Of course, these youtube videos let me to my old friend, Ted. Yes, Ted Kaczynski, the Unabomber. He's not really a friend, but Ted takes me back to the early 1990's when my little sisters and I competed for the unabomber look on Saturday mornings. I always won. Of course, it helped me to be a little weird and antisocial.
a) If I could time travel, I would want to spend one day with Van Gogh and another day with Ted Kaczynski. We wouldn't say much. I'm not a good talker. I want to be with them for the silence of their mouths. I think I would hear music in Van Gogh's every day objects, but not in Ted's. Ted's coffee was probably sad.
b) I keep a picture of Van Gogh's little bedroom next to our bed because all the solitude of one day fits in his room. I don't keep a picture of Kaczynski's little cabin. My husband would find it weird and I would too. It would actually remind me that he killed three human beings. Perhaps one day I'll buy a water color painting of Thoreau's cabin instead.
5. I went to a laundromat to dry all of our clothes by myself. My husband didn't go because he had been working all day and well, he deserved to rest. Laundromats are lonely places, especially, on a Friday night. There were four of us doing our laundry. The three other customers were mexican like me. They were are single young guys from Mexico, illegals, probably. All had this "What the fuck am I doing in this country?!" look on their faces. I felt sorry for them. I graded some papers because their sadness was contagious.
I like this song. It's a waiting song.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Spain visited us this afternoon
I was watering my thirsty honeysuckle plant when the doorbell rang. Our cats ran under the bed at the sound of the bell. V opened the door. From the balcony, I could hear him talking to a woman, a religion sales person, perhaps. Poor lady, I thought, V will have no mercy on her. V hates it when people try to sell him religion. A minute later he walked in with this huge packet. Gifts from Spain: Beatles’ Rubber Soul (LP!), a little bit of East Berlin, a little bit of punk, and vida.
Thank you, Noemi. I haven't been this high in such a long time. Thank you..
1977
When my older sister was not playing the hell out of her James Taylor records, she would let me listen to her stereo. It was on that stereo that I listened for the first time to Michelle on the radio. I didn’t know who the Beatles were. I imagined an old man wearing a black vest and a white shirt singing this song. Only an old man would repeatedly say I love you, I love you, I love you. I didn’t have many possessions back then, except for a book with more than 400 pages I had found in the trash, a blue bra that waited patiently to fit my breast, a scar on my leg that wouldn’t heal, a library card, and this old man’s song that said, I need to I need to, I need to…..
(Dammit, Noemi, I even love the smell of the record)
Thank you, Noemi. I haven't been this high in such a long time. Thank you..
1977
When my older sister was not playing the hell out of her James Taylor records, she would let me listen to her stereo. It was on that stereo that I listened for the first time to Michelle on the radio. I didn’t know who the Beatles were. I imagined an old man wearing a black vest and a white shirt singing this song. Only an old man would repeatedly say I love you, I love you, I love you. I didn’t have many possessions back then, except for a book with more than 400 pages I had found in the trash, a blue bra that waited patiently to fit my breast, a scar on my leg that wouldn’t heal, a library card, and this old man’s song that said, I need to I need to, I need to…..
(Dammit, Noemi, I even love the smell of the record)
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Today we dance
Portland: chica del acordeon
Originally uploaded by this ordinary life
1. We watched a great film, Carlos(!). Okay, not a romantic film, but it was made for us. Hasta la victoria!!!!
2. Italian dinner. Ravioli. Yummy.
3. Last night somebody tagged the wall across from our house. It said: WONT CARE. We wondered if it was political, social, or simply bad grammar.
4. I got a bad cold and my husband, like always, spoiled me.
5. So... we dance.
el y yo....5 años
No somos ellos...
pero..........
casi
casi
(perhaps in ten years we'll look like that)
(this photograph was taken by Omiso....thanks for sharing!)
pero..........
casi
casi
(perhaps in ten years we'll look like that)
(this photograph was taken by Omiso....thanks for sharing!)
and 5!
The first time I saw my husband's face was in 1989...in my head. I didn't meet him until 2001.
(not us in pic...but....this photo is from Aela Labbe...many thanks to Aela)
(not us in pic...but....this photo is from Aela Labbe...many thanks to Aela)
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Mothers, don't raise your daughters to be chicken shit
(Thanks to J.C. and Noemi for the video)
I'm a 45 year- old chicken shit next to this girl. I wish I had courage like her....chant like her....protest like her......here in my neighborhood there are many houses for sale as the housing crisis worsens, nonetheless, the streets are quiet....our silence against corporate greed is shameful.....
I'm a 45 year- old chicken shit next to this girl. I wish I had courage like her....chant like her....protest like her......here in my neighborhood there are many houses for sale as the housing crisis worsens, nonetheless, the streets are quiet....our silence against corporate greed is shameful.....
Saturday, February 5, 2011
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