Lookout! Here we come!
Plans were made, remade, and are now in the remaking, but Hanix and I are going to California and Oregon. Hot damn!
We changed our plan to spend the month of April in the US instead of March - giving us more time to make dates with all y'all. We're like a popular restaurant: walk-ins welcome, but you're really better off making a reservation.
That's pretty much where the comparison ends.
We'll fly into San Francisco on the 2nd. Try to hit up Mountain View, Santa Cruz, Oakland, before heading up to Eugene and Portland, where we'll probably spend most of the month.
I'm giddy.
I don't have everyone's contact information, so email me, message me, comment me.
Oh boy, ohboyohboyohboyohboyohboyohboyohboyohboyohboyohboyobboy!
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Mexican Communists
Apparently in Mexico if you own farmland but aren't growing any crops on it the communists can come take the land away from you so that the community can use it. This might not be true, but this is what my in-laws tell me. And "community land" can thereafter not be sold, though it can be "given away".
My husband's grandmother passed away in September. She left a very large parcel of land out on the highway past Jocotepec. An aunt informed us that a group of these so-called communists were out there making claims.
I am in no way familiar with Mexican law on this, but I doubt they'll lose the property. Interesting predicament, though.
My husband's grandmother passed away in September. She left a very large parcel of land out on the highway past Jocotepec. An aunt informed us that a group of these so-called communists were out there making claims.
I am in no way familiar with Mexican law on this, but I doubt they'll lose the property. Interesting predicament, though.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Extreme Hardship
Anyone ever try for the waiver of extreme hardship? Anyone ever hear of that working out for anyone? Anyone? Anyone?
Bueller? ... Bueller?
Bueller? ... Bueller?
Friday, February 19, 2010
Older By The Day
I continue to be old. Today I resorted to singing the Indiana Jones theme song to my teenage bro-in-law in an attempt to explain who Harrison Ford is. It didn't work. Add that to the growing list of songs I sing (and dance to) to try to bridge the cultural-generational gap.
When I started explaining Han Solo (because I'm nerdy as well as old, apparently), I realized I may as well be talking about going to the talkies or the nickelodeon for all he understood.
In other news, we can add arthritis to my list of oldities. We've been having unseasonal downpours (hey, leaking roof, how've you been?) and I suddenly become crippled. When the sun finally appears again I suddenly regain my ability to walk. Go fig.
We still have our hearts set on moving back to San Francisco (or nearby) next year. I wonder if we'll become young again once we get out of San Juan. We certainly got a lot older the day we arrived. Then again, we're all parenty now, so maybe we're doomed to old-age from the start.
And to make it perfectly clear, I haven't a problem with oldocity among the elderly. It's this rapid aging in our 20s that was a bit unsettling. But I'm ok with it. You know, I'm very much looking forward to learning to play bridge.
When I started explaining Han Solo (because I'm nerdy as well as old, apparently), I realized I may as well be talking about going to the talkies or the nickelodeon for all he understood.
In other news, we can add arthritis to my list of oldities. We've been having unseasonal downpours (hey, leaking roof, how've you been?) and I suddenly become crippled. When the sun finally appears again I suddenly regain my ability to walk. Go fig.
We still have our hearts set on moving back to San Francisco (or nearby) next year. I wonder if we'll become young again once we get out of San Juan. We certainly got a lot older the day we arrived. Then again, we're all parenty now, so maybe we're doomed to old-age from the start.
And to make it perfectly clear, I haven't a problem with oldocity among the elderly. It's this rapid aging in our 20s that was a bit unsettling. But I'm ok with it. You know, I'm very much looking forward to learning to play bridge.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
To Cure What Ails You
I went more than a year down here without any, er, digestive problems, the kind for which Mexico is famous. I thought maybe I'd become super-powered and immune, until I was twice struck down this winter. The following home remedies were suggested to me.
• Three raw eggs in a glass with LOTS of fresh lime juice. Add sugar to taste. Drink it down!
• Drink a small bottle of olive oil straight. Then drink a cup of mint tea. Apparently the kind of olive oil sold as a hair treatment is preferable to food-grade extra virgin.
• Corn starch mixed with lime juice and 7Up.
• Mix limestone, Coke and lard. Shake. Serve chilled. Mini drink umbrella optional.
• Eat a plate of guajes with the mid-day meal. (But you may have to sleep alone during the night. Gnarly gas will ensue.)
• Toss back a handful of coriander seeds and chase it with a beer.
• Pepto every three hours, and rub VicksVapo rub on your abdomen.
Now you're ready for Mexico!
On a related note, I recently saw a restaurant in Guadalajara by the name of "Restaurant Moctezuma". I wonder how many gringos they get in there.
• Three raw eggs in a glass with LOTS of fresh lime juice. Add sugar to taste. Drink it down!
• Drink a small bottle of olive oil straight. Then drink a cup of mint tea. Apparently the kind of olive oil sold as a hair treatment is preferable to food-grade extra virgin.
• Corn starch mixed with lime juice and 7Up.
• Mix limestone, Coke and lard. Shake. Serve chilled. Mini drink umbrella optional.
• Eat a plate of guajes with the mid-day meal. (But you may have to sleep alone during the night. Gnarly gas will ensue.)• Toss back a handful of coriander seeds and chase it with a beer.
• Pepto every three hours, and rub VicksVapo rub on your abdomen.
Now you're ready for Mexico!
On a related note, I recently saw a restaurant in Guadalajara by the name of "Restaurant Moctezuma". I wonder how many gringos they get in there.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Great Great Great
My husband's grandmother will be 97 this spring. I've posted about her before, here and here. Today I learned that not only is she a great-grandmother to my baby, but a great great great grandmother, too. That's extraordinarily great. Six (count them: one, two, three, four, five, six!) generations! Holy frijoles, but that's impressive.
Then again... I don't think there's much to do in San Juan except make babies. Uh, Exhibit A: yours truly.
My grandmother-in-law can't remember if my baby is a girl or boy. She regularly asks, "What is it, a boy or a girl?" Someone will shout "It's a boy, Mari." "Oh," she says, "Either works."
Then again... I don't think there's much to do in San Juan except make babies. Uh, Exhibit A: yours truly.
My grandmother-in-law can't remember if my baby is a girl or boy. She regularly asks, "What is it, a boy or a girl?" Someone will shout "It's a boy, Mari." "Oh," she says, "Either works."
Friday, February 12, 2010
Piggie-Glutton
I love food. Now that I'm rich (which you should understand to mean "no longer so poor that I can't afford flour") I decided to go out to dinner with my man candy last night. I'd been sick for two weeks and had finally won my stomach back from the Dark Side. Thus I had already eaten all the food in the house, and there was nothing left for dinner except a box of corn starch and some weird fruit drink that Hernan likes. I do not enjoy fruit drink, and the corn starch was a little dry, so when Hernan got home I told him we were going out.
We don't go out much, on account of the poverty, but having people bring me delicious food is one of my favorite things in this great world or ours.
We headed to Ajijic, where there are many restaurants, and tried a new place that had been recommended to us. We ordered drinks and a pizza and then devoured the complementary bowl of popcorn. When the pizza arrived, we exchanged looks because it clearly would not be enough. We had already waited a good while for it, so ordering another wasn't going to work.
"Let's stop for tacos on the way home." I said while stuffing a cracker-sized "slice" into my mouth.
"Yeah, we're going to the place on the highway."
"Good. That's what I had in mind."
Fifteen minutes later Hernan had a plate of tacos and I had two tortas. The pizza was a tasty appetizer.
Small-portion restaurants are such teases. They should really put a warning on the menu, or preferably at the entrance, "Caution: We serve teeny-tiny portions fit only for people who don't like food very much. One order wouldn't even satisfy your seven month-old giganto-baby. Be advised that if you are a piggie-glutton you will need to order three or four dishes. Five, if you're a nursing mom. Six, if you're nursing a giganto-baby. Thank you."
We don't go out much, on account of the poverty, but having people bring me delicious food is one of my favorite things in this great world or ours.
We headed to Ajijic, where there are many restaurants, and tried a new place that had been recommended to us. We ordered drinks and a pizza and then devoured the complementary bowl of popcorn. When the pizza arrived, we exchanged looks because it clearly would not be enough. We had already waited a good while for it, so ordering another wasn't going to work.
"Let's stop for tacos on the way home." I said while stuffing a cracker-sized "slice" into my mouth.
"Yeah, we're going to the place on the highway."
"Good. That's what I had in mind."
Fifteen minutes later Hernan had a plate of tacos and I had two tortas. The pizza was a tasty appetizer.
Small-portion restaurants are such teases. They should really put a warning on the menu, or preferably at the entrance, "Caution: We serve teeny-tiny portions fit only for people who don't like food very much. One order wouldn't even satisfy your seven month-old giganto-baby. Be advised that if you are a piggie-glutton you will need to order three or four dishes. Five, if you're a nursing mom. Six, if you're nursing a giganto-baby. Thank you."
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Ballin' (On A Budget)
Hells Fucking Yes.
The IRS FINALLY figured out where to send my 2008 tax return. It's not like they didn't have (1) my address, or (2) my phone number. It's not like they'd already sent me all kinds of mail about how they thought I was cheating them out of money. It's not like they hadn't called me at home multiple times. It's not like I hadn't responded promptly to every inquiry.
Sure enough, as soon as it became clear that I didn't owe them but that they owed me... somehow everything got a little hazy and they got confused and that check just couldn't seem to find its poor lost little way into my bank account.
Until now. We now have enough money to pay back my sister-in-law, who fronted us the money to legalize our truck last summer, AND probably enough left over to squander on a trip up to the good ol' Yu Es af Ei. "It's just a tax return" you say, but we're broke, so for us this is huge.
So I'll probably be up in March, at least to Eugene to visit my family (before my mother sneaks down here and steals my baby). I'm debating whether to hit up California, too. I really want to, but it sounds hard. I'll see what can be done.
In other news, now that the IRS finally ponied up, I guess I'll be filing for 2009 after all. (That should be easy, since I made a total of zero dollars last year.) Whatevs.
I'm rich, biatch!
The IRS FINALLY figured out where to send my 2008 tax return. It's not like they didn't have (1) my address, or (2) my phone number. It's not like they'd already sent me all kinds of mail about how they thought I was cheating them out of money. It's not like they hadn't called me at home multiple times. It's not like I hadn't responded promptly to every inquiry.
Sure enough, as soon as it became clear that I didn't owe them but that they owed me... somehow everything got a little hazy and they got confused and that check just couldn't seem to find its poor lost little way into my bank account.
Until now. We now have enough money to pay back my sister-in-law, who fronted us the money to legalize our truck last summer, AND probably enough left over to squander on a trip up to the good ol' Yu Es af Ei. "It's just a tax return" you say, but we're broke, so for us this is huge.
So I'll probably be up in March, at least to Eugene to visit my family (before my mother sneaks down here and steals my baby). I'm debating whether to hit up California, too. I really want to, but it sounds hard. I'll see what can be done.
In other news, now that the IRS finally ponied up, I guess I'll be filing for 2009 after all. (That should be easy, since I made a total of zero dollars last year.) Whatevs.
I'm rich, biatch!
School Ma'am
It happened. I'm now giving English classes for an hour every weekday evening to my brother-in-law and his teenage friends. Yeah, they actually started to show up regularly. And after I put the smack down about showing up on time (instead of 40 minutes late), they all now promptly arrive within the first ten minutes of the hour.
I don't charge my brother-in-law, but the rest have to pay me 20 pesos for the hour. Between two and five guys come each time, so I'm pretty much rolling in money now.
My sister-in-law also asked me to give lessons to her eight year old son three times a week, so we're doing that too.
I'd forgotten how much I enjoy teaching - coming up with the lessons, games, ways to acceptably dork out about language. (For those of you who read this blog but don't know me, I'm maybe a little bit dorky when it comes to languages and linguistics. Maybe we should say "a lot bit".)
I have to decide to do with my new found wealth. I might buy myself a luxury vehicle or a pet camel. What I'd really like, actually, is a pair of pants that fit me, since its now been a year and a half since I had a pair of pants in my size. I guess I'll save up for those. Maybe for my birthday.
I don't charge my brother-in-law, but the rest have to pay me 20 pesos for the hour. Between two and five guys come each time, so I'm pretty much rolling in money now.
My sister-in-law also asked me to give lessons to her eight year old son three times a week, so we're doing that too.
I'd forgotten how much I enjoy teaching - coming up with the lessons, games, ways to acceptably dork out about language. (For those of you who read this blog but don't know me, I'm maybe a little bit dorky when it comes to languages and linguistics. Maybe we should say "a lot bit".)
I have to decide to do with my new found wealth. I might buy myself a luxury vehicle or a pet camel. What I'd really like, actually, is a pair of pants that fit me, since its now been a year and a half since I had a pair of pants in my size. I guess I'll save up for those. Maybe for my birthday.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Mama says Moooooo
Apparently my face looks like one giant boob and my nose is the nipple. I say this because my baby keeps trying to suck milk out of my nose. I know he's after milk because he doesn't suck my nose the way he sucks on his toys (and "toys" here should be understood as anything he can manage to put in his mouth). No, he sucks on my nose while making his little desperate grunting/whimpering sound that he does whenever he wants to nurse.
Sometimes he changes his mind, though, and decides that since no milk comes out of my nose, it's probably my chin that's the nipple. I never thought my chin resembled a nipple, but I suppose we could say I never looked closely enough. Occasionally, my mouth gets targeted, too. Or the fatty part of my upper arm (the "marm", if you will). Or my stomach when he comes across it. Even my knee, it would seem, sufficiently resembles a milk source. He makes his little grunting/whimpering "gimme milk!" sounds and starts sucking on my knee. I try to tell him it's never going to happen. Milk will never come out of my knee. He doesn't listen.
It appears I'm a walking udder in the eyes of my son.
Sometimes he changes his mind, though, and decides that since no milk comes out of my nose, it's probably my chin that's the nipple. I never thought my chin resembled a nipple, but I suppose we could say I never looked closely enough. Occasionally, my mouth gets targeted, too. Or the fatty part of my upper arm (the "marm", if you will). Or my stomach when he comes across it. Even my knee, it would seem, sufficiently resembles a milk source. He makes his little grunting/whimpering "gimme milk!" sounds and starts sucking on my knee. I try to tell him it's never going to happen. Milk will never come out of my knee. He doesn't listen.
It appears I'm a walking udder in the eyes of my son.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Borderline Mushy Thank You Post
This is one big thank you shout out to our hook ups. In so many ways Hernan and I scored big time when we made friends with our friends. It turns out they're pretty much just wonderful people. Besides being kind, funny, intelligent, and all-round amazingly kick-ass people, they further impress us by (look a list!)
(1) not having forgotten who we are ("Baby-who?").
(2) Forgiving me for being a lazy correspondent. (I promise I'll write you soon.)
(3) Sending/bringing presents like baby clothes and toys and food and books and liquor. (And I'm not even drunk right now.)
(4) Even sometimes reading my boring-as-all-hell blog and then telling me about it so I don't feel like such an ass for blogging about dust. (Dust for crying out loud!)
Oh, and (5) tolerating unsolicited lectures about linguistics. (You're troopers.)
Obviously, it's the love and support that means the most to us. I really think I don't have to say that. But if I wrote about how much all these beautiful people mean to me then this'll really turn into a mush-fest, and that ain't pretty. So, I'll tell you instead about today.
It's been raining so hard here yesterday and today (uh... dry season?) that Hernan wasn't able to go work today. Something about pouring concrete in the rain not working... So he was super antsy pants and depresso. I call him my delicate tropical flower for a reason. He sure gets moody in the rain (and yet wants to move to Vancouver or Portland...?) So he was Mr. Depressy Head and a pain to be around. Mopey McMopey Pants. Until I turned his day around with Super Magic Food Powers (SMFP).
Ramen. Thanks to our friend who in all awesomeness provided us with ramen bounty. No, really, you win. Well, actually, it was us who won.
Ramen + The Devil Makes Three + pirated dvds (thanks to our music/dvd hookup) = ramen-filled Baby dancing around the house the whole rest of the day.
We changed Hanix's diaper (one of many, many gifts from my mom), popped him in clothes from a friend, he played with a toy that used to be my niece's, I wrapped him in a blanket from another friend and now he's alseep. Hernan is reading a book my dad gave me (Confessions of an Economic Hit Man) and in a minute we're busting out that sweet bottle of gin (thank you for that, too!)
Yeah, yeah, so stuff isn't everything. But it sure can be nice sometimes. It's not the only way our friends and family show us they haven't forgotten us. It's just a way that made today so nice.
And get this. In his ramen-induced euphoria, Hernan even exclaimed, "Baby, you're right up there with Halu."
Now, we all know this is not true, because we are talking instant ramen here. Sure, I threw in some fresh veggies, seaweeds, spices, and crack cocaine, but we all know the poor man has just been away too long. He's out of touch.
However, the ramen really did turn his day around. He even washed up after.
After his mom went back downstairs.
So thanks, y'all.
(1) not having forgotten who we are ("Baby-who?").
(2) Forgiving me for being a lazy correspondent. (I promise I'll write you soon.)
(3) Sending/bringing presents like baby clothes and toys and food and books and liquor. (And I'm not even drunk right now.)
(4) Even sometimes reading my boring-as-all-hell blog and then telling me about it so I don't feel like such an ass for blogging about dust. (Dust for crying out loud!)
Oh, and (5) tolerating unsolicited lectures about linguistics. (You're troopers.)
Obviously, it's the love and support that means the most to us. I really think I don't have to say that. But if I wrote about how much all these beautiful people mean to me then this'll really turn into a mush-fest, and that ain't pretty. So, I'll tell you instead about today.
It's been raining so hard here yesterday and today (uh... dry season?) that Hernan wasn't able to go work today. Something about pouring concrete in the rain not working... So he was super antsy pants and depresso. I call him my delicate tropical flower for a reason. He sure gets moody in the rain (and yet wants to move to Vancouver or Portland...?) So he was Mr. Depressy Head and a pain to be around. Mopey McMopey Pants. Until I turned his day around with Super Magic Food Powers (SMFP).
Ramen. Thanks to our friend who in all awesomeness provided us with ramen bounty. No, really, you win. Well, actually, it was us who won.
Ramen + The Devil Makes Three + pirated dvds (thanks to our music/dvd hookup) = ramen-filled Baby dancing around the house the whole rest of the day.
We changed Hanix's diaper (one of many, many gifts from my mom), popped him in clothes from a friend, he played with a toy that used to be my niece's, I wrapped him in a blanket from another friend and now he's alseep. Hernan is reading a book my dad gave me (Confessions of an Economic Hit Man) and in a minute we're busting out that sweet bottle of gin (thank you for that, too!)
Yeah, yeah, so stuff isn't everything. But it sure can be nice sometimes. It's not the only way our friends and family show us they haven't forgotten us. It's just a way that made today so nice.
And get this. In his ramen-induced euphoria, Hernan even exclaimed, "Baby, you're right up there with Halu."
Now, we all know this is not true, because we are talking instant ramen here. Sure, I threw in some fresh veggies, seaweeds, spices, and crack cocaine, but we all know the poor man has just been away too long. He's out of touch.
However, the ramen really did turn his day around. He even washed up after.
After his mom went back downstairs.
So thanks, y'all.
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