Things I Learned in Orlando

1. Room service is golden, especially for breakfast. Waking up to bacon might be the best thing in the world, second only to cracking the spine in a new book.
2. Mickey Mouse is everywhere. He's the friggin' Pope of Orlando.
3. Don't call Mickey Mouse the Pope. People in Orlando will frown at you (and I suspect that's the same everywhere).
4. If you have to fall sleep, you should try to avoid doing so during a standardized exam. Not only may it affect your scores, but your snoring will piss off the other test-takers.

Song of the Week

It's Been So Long...

In the year that I haven't posted here, this is what has happened:

In June, I had a kidney stone. It was extraordinarily painful and took eight days to pass. I know, I know, TMI...but damn, it hurt. But that was nothing compared to what happened next.

On July 17th 2011, I was in a major car accident. The other vehicle ran a red light and was speeding. It T-boned the car I was in on my side. The car had to be cut apart to get me out. I fractured my foot and sustained head injuries. I am still receiving treatment for these injuries...which sucks.
The car accident has affected my daily life in pretty negative ways. For the longest time after, I could't function the way used to. I would want to lower the volume of the television and instead turn off the lights, for instance, and then stand there for a moment not understanding why the volume wasn't lowered. I misspelled everything, my speech was slurred, my cognitive skills went to shit...it was horrible. A lot of that is much better now thanks to time, therapy, and more time. I'm confident I'll continue improving.

In August, my cousin was born three months early. He weighed one pound, two ounces; he is still in natal ICU at the hospital.

In September...well, September was insane. So insane, I think I'll skip over it.

Actually, I think I'm going to pull a new moon and leave most of the winter months blank. Shit was cray.

In January, Panic! the parakeet died.

In February, Nana the parakeet died. Then my dog Poco died, which left me absolutely devastated. He was my best friend and to not have him here...

I didn't have long to mourn; three days later, a transformer in the neighbourhood blew, wires popped off, the surge traveled to my house, and it fried my wiring, the panel, my electronics, and the house nearly caught fire. Thankfully the only thing that burned was the television in one of the bedrooms; it actually stayed on the whole time it was on fire which, in retrospect, is hilarious.

Two days later my cat had to be rushed to the vet ER for an infection.

And here we are now. March 19th, 2012. So far, March has been fine. I have some exciting things in the works, including some college applications (keep your fingers crossed, eh?). I'm also still writing Mary, Full of Grace. It took me a long (long) time to revisit that story and an even longer time to get my writing mojo back. But it doesn't matter how long the journey took...

I'm back. Bring out the hookers and blow.

Mofongo

SOTW: Home

BBQ Ribs and Cotija Mashed Potatoes

SOTW: Mountain Man

Presents From Unicorns, Elusive and Otherwise

All from my lovely EU, Regina aka MaleficentKnits

Handspun from Christy aka Criosa. Because I had a serious lack of orange yarn in my stash.

SOTW: Power

Power (live) by Kanye West

Holidays & Happenstance

First and foremost, the latest chapter of MFoG is in the hands of my betafishie right now. Just in case anyone was wondering.

~*~

Since I have bee abnormally quiet these past few months, here's a nice little holiday recap. Our tree is pretty much on its last leg. Although it's only five years old, numerous tumbles, snags, leans, and punches have secured its place in the great big faux fir heap in the sky...or local recycling center. I hear they look the same.

Here's our tree, sans lights. I wish I could say the latter was due to a choice on my part but only half of the lights turn on anymore. Like I said, faux fir heap, here it comes.

On Christmas Eve I cooked the usual fare, except for the Arroz con Gandules (rice with pigeon peas) which my grandmother is in charge of every year. There's a reason for that:

Yes, it was as tasty as it looks. Actually, the whole dinner was delicious. I made my famous pernil and I had to beat people away from the oven with a stick. This time I left it in the oven for damn near seven hours. The result was a melt in your mouth garlic mecca.

Go big or go home, I say. My only complaint about the meal is that I didn't make enough pasteles (and I neglected to take a photograph of the goodness). No matter how many I make, it never seems like enough. My deep, dark secret is that I have a pair hidden in the back of freezer just waiting for a day where I need a pick-me-up. Here's what my plate looked like:

Out of all the presents given and got, my favourite was the shawl I crocheted for my grandmother.

I also gave myself a skein of wollmeise. Perhaps it's unorthodox to give yourself a present but I know what I wanted, I knew no one would get it for me, so I bit the bullet. At about $35 a skein, this is not a indulgence I plan to realize often...but my oh my, isn't it pretty?

The next day we headed over to my aunt's house where her husband whipped up the largest pot of sancocho I have seen...and I took advantage. Carbaholics Anyonymous be damned!

If you've never had sancocho, it is a seven meat and vegetable soup. I don't think our version had seven meats in it but I counted at least four, which is more than I usually add into mine.

Overall, the holidays were okay. They were as difficult as I expected them to be; between all the food and presents and laughter, there was an underlying melancholy I couldn't shake. It didn't feel like the holidays without papi. In two weeks I will have my first birthday without him; I expect the sadness will keep in step with me even as I struggle to move on.

But as long as we keep moving, right?

Happy New Year.

♥ Jess

SOTW: Winter Winds

I am in love with Mumford & Sons

SOTW: Lift Me Up

SOTW: After Hours (live)

Say that you'll stay.

I'll See You In My Dreams

That's the title of the newest chapter of "Mary, Full of Grace". It's going to go up next week, if all goes to plan. In preparation, I thought I should share the song the title comes from. This is the Isham Jones version from 1924. It was a hit in early 1925.

My favourite version, however, comes from 1930. Doris Day did the song beautifully.



♥ Jess

Many things

Father's Day was very hard for me as was my grandmother's birthday. The fact they were in the same week was difficult. I just want to sleep and sleep and sleep.

Too bad I have homework. Classes are going well, I'm just tired. That said, I need to carve out time to finish MFoG. It's so weird to think of it as almost over. It's not, really, but because I have so many written future chapters, I won't toil this long once I reach I certain point. I just need to have the writing beta'd and posted. It's bittersweet.

And now, for the Song of the Week: Obsessions by Marina and the Diamonds.

SOTW: Flathead

Song of the Week: Flathead by The Fratellis

I'm the mood for something happy. :)

SOTW: Why You

If you don't know Joe Purdy, you should. I agonized over which song to choose as my song of the week and finally chose the one I've been curling up and listening to, like it was an old friend. This is the acoustic version and I highly suggest listening to the studio version as well.

Song of the Week: Why You by Joe Purdy (Acoustic version)

SOTW: All Over You (Acoustic)

Nick has one of the best voices...

Song of the Week: All Over You (Acoustic) by The Spill Canvas

SOTW: Lose Control

This song takes me back to my teenage years in da Bronx. I'm all about reminiscing lately.

Song of the Week: Lose Control by Missy Elliot

Of Greetings and Goodbyes

My grandfather passed away Friday, March 19th at 3:09 pm.

Despite my quick blurb about it last week, my grandfather's illness wasn't insignificant. When he had his heart attack two weeks ago, it was devastating. All I wanted was for him to come home but he had another heart attack and died days before he was going to come back.

I'm twenty-four years old and have never NOT lived with my grandfather. In all these years there have been a grand total of sixty days I did not speak to him, and many of those were days I spent at summer camp. He and grandma were the constant in my life, the one source of unconditional love that I wholeheartedly trusted, no matter what severity of teenage angst I was currently experiencing. Grandpa was in every way my father; I called him papi, the greatest endearment I gave anyone.

He walked me to school every single day from ages four through eleven. When I turned twelve and demanded some independence, he trailed a block behind, ever watchful of my steps while giving me space to bloom. He doled out allowances easily, a penny-pincher who didn't give a second thought to getting me ice cream after school or a Slice and a slice (a slice of cheese pizza with a can of Slice soda).

Grandpa and I were odd ones out; we were Mets fans in a household of Yanks. We leaned fiscally towards the right (though he didn't blink twice when my rainbow flag assured I'd always be socially left of center). When I showed off my head of blue hair, he waved off the family's shock and told me I looked fabulous...My grandfather made me feel fabulous every day of my life. He taught me to read and write in Spanish and marveled at my bilingual skills when I picked up English at school. He praised my penmanship when it looked like chicken scratch. He taught me to pick avocados and oranges, his favourite. He taught me to be creative, crazy, daring; When my grandfather discovered an orange tree in the public park he knew it was fair game. He spent half an hour in the backyard and when he came back in, he was wielding a weapon of epic harvesting proportions. Grandpa had taken a broom handle, a curtain rod, a wire hanger, and some duct tape and fashioned himself an orange whacker. He marched to the public park every day during the summer months and would return with bags upon bags of Florida oranges. Even now I still smell the faint whiff of citrus from the bedroom he shared with my grandma, his wife of sixty-four years.

Grandpa was also the best comforter in the world. He understood the disconnect between my head and my heart, the way I could rationalize sadness and go about my day with a smile and tears coexisting on my face. At those times he started all his sentences the same way: "So..."

When my dog died: "So you mourn, you feel better, you get another dog."
When I skinned my knee: "So you wipe it off, get up, and go back and play."
When my aunt died: "So you remember the good times, take a deep breath, and keep on living."

These were the good times.

I've taken my deep breath.

Here I go.