Now Read This

Due to a recent lack of spare time, La Rivera is going on the back burner. Possibly to return, but then again maybe not.

I was setting up 2011 to be my last year as a stay-at-home mom. My son is starting pre-k this year, and my daughter is only a year behind him. Going back to work full-time wasn't supposed to happen right now, but I got offered a really nice freelance job in September. Then the other day my boss offered me a contract extension for the next 12 months and I think it would be foolish not to accept. Until we move closer to the office, I'm commuting two hours each way (on a good traffic day) so I lose most of the time I'd be using for other things. This blog, for instance. Who knows? Maybe I left most of La Rivera in Peru anyway, because lately it sure seems like I've become the next version of myself. Fitter, happier, more productive.

Feel free to peek into my life any time on Twitter. There, you may find me under the name Tippy Boswell. It's kind of like living under the name Sanders, but with less honey, weirder photos, and possibly some four letter words. Until we meet again, happy living, everyone.

It's an honor just being invitated

I promise to contribute something to this week's blogathon. For now, I just want to say I'm thankful for The Ladies of My Right Margin. I wish Toni's stay in NJ were longer. I would have loved for us to laugh in person and drink beers together.

You can book your flight here, but I wouldn't recommend it

Recently I went to reserve a flight for Frank and hit a recurring snag. I like to use Priceline, but it's a no-bookie-bookie if your trip originates outside the US. I called my beloved to let him know I'd need a little time to search the airline sites directly, and he seemed a little aggravated. Because, you know, the Priceline thing is my fault. We exchanged "pleasantries" for a minute or two, then someone called someone an asshole, and then someone suggested checking flightsforassholes.com to see if anything was available. Cue the imaginary ticket site gigglefest. Here are the ones I can remember...

The aforementioned flightsforassholes.com
suckitandcrash.com
tryorderingyourowndamnticket.com
downinflames.com
icantdoanythingformyself.com
imaginingyouonfire.com
illbookthisflightandifyoudontlikeitcallyourlawyer.com
beagoodwifeanddoasisay.com
longwalkhomefromnewark.com
And Frank's clincher, enjoymyinsurancemoney.com.

I went directly through our usual airline and found a price I could live with, though I'll admit to being extremely tempted by that last one. Snort!

Art to Choke the Constant Reader's Heart*

Last night I stayed up late to finish reading Duma Key, and the end was better than I had hoped. If you're familiar with the work of Stephen King, you know he frequently and affectionately addresses the person holding the material as "Constant Reader", an act which I find excruciatingly endearing. My research on the man himself indicates that he's a great believer in giving it all away, which elevates him from 'respectable human being' to 'downright huggable' in my book.

Duma Key centers around a favorite topic of mine -- art. Sketching, drawing, painting... the kind of things you do a lot when you're a stay-at-home parent, whether or not you're an artiste. We generally do not permit the use of colored pencils as Olivia finds them to be particularly tasty, but occasionally one of the kids will turn up with one in hand. This morning Nico plucked a red pencil from somewhere (fellow Constant Readers, it was RED, ha-ha) and asked for a big piece of paper. We sat together at the table and I watched him make a self portrait.

"Look, Mommy, I'm drawing Nico. Here are Nico's eyes, and this is Nico's nose... and here is Nico's smile. Nico has arms and legs... and here is Nico's head, and look at his nice haaair. Look, Mommy, that's Nico."


Once again, there goes my chest. Caving inward.

Late note on the picture: when Nico draws faces, there are usually three eyes. First two vertical (open), then one horizontal (closed) to the left. When you look at this face as though the eyes are closed and the boy has long lashes, it's really a very accurate depiction of our Snuffy.

* Partial title theft from Henry Rollins Art to Choke Hearts, because you have to use that one when the opportunity presents itself.

Romantic comedy

Frank: Hey honey bunny, thanks for coming to Peru. Really, thanks. I know it wasn't exactly easy for you here, but I want you to know how much I appreciate it.

Me: No problem, Love. I know it meant a lot to you. I'm happy we did it.

Frank: I can't believe how tough you were. It sucks getting out of bed in the morning when it's only 50 degrees inside the house, and you have to wear a scarf all day and always have on a hoodie. You're a trooper.

Me: You know it!

Frank: Whoever said my wife doesn't have any balls, they don't know a fucking thing. You definitely have some balls, no doubt.

Me: Honey, if your wife had balls for real, I'm not sure that's the kind of thing you'd want to go around advertising.

Frank: Fuck it. You've got cojones!

Gracias, Mamá

While I was in Peru, my mother-in-law would often cook lunch for us in her kitchen. Then she would hop a taxi to our apartment and we'd sit around our dining table for a few hours, just talking and enjoying the delicious meal she'd prepared. Rosa would arrive with her canasta (Spanish for 'basket') and a bottle of Inca Kola, and though I wouldn't openly admit to it at the time, I was just as interested in the canasta as I was in the cloth-wrapped pots of food cradled within. It was pure awesomeness. Throw-back colors, hand-crafted, extremely sturdy, and put to obvious good use. I longed for one of my own.

A few months went by, and I decided I couldn't leave Lima without canastas. But the hunt for this particular variety proved more challenging than you can imagine. I scoured every small market in my district to no avail. I also searched larger markets - the kind that are the size of a football field and two or three stories tall, where you can buy a whole bloody chicken or the head of a hog and then march upstairs for a wristwatch and a three-piece suit. All that variety and still no luck. Sure, there were other, lesser canastas, but not like the one on which I'd set my heart.

On the day we were flying out from LIM, my mother-in-law said she would meet us at Ciudad de Dios (one of the markets in her district) to give canasta hunting one final go. We searched for an hour and found nothing, so we decided to bail and get some lunch. Shuffling down the crowded sidewalk, I saw Rosa talk to a passing stranger. Then she turned around and said we were going back inside. Why? It turns out this random lady had the right kind of canasta tucked under her arm, and had tipped Rosa off to a vendor on the lower level who had what we were looking for. We pushed our way back through the marketplace and there, hiding on a shelf 15 feet off the ground in the way-back of the downstairs of Ciudad de Dios, we came upon a secret stash of old school canastas. I bought every last one the woman had (five, yay!), and walked out of that place happier than anyone has ever been.



And this... this is the basket that sparked the obsession. A little gift from my mother-in-law, and it means more to me than anything else I've ever smuggled home from a foreign land. It's Rosa's canasta... the canasta... and now it's my canasta. I don't have a lot of prized possessions, but I can honestly say that if anything ever happened to this item, you'd find me in tears. Yesterday it did a dandy job as my beach bag, and it's far cooler than any of my previous farmers market stuff-holders. To me, this isn't just a basket. It's a memory, and I love it.

Sorry I'm late, Mr. Lipton...

Months ago, when my own writing tapered off, my sister put up James Lipton's famous Inside the Actors Studio list of questions for all the blogettes to answer. Liz is on vacation right now. To give her something to read while Drew is driving, here are my answers. Hold on to your muffins...

What is your favorite word? Love (funny side note: Liz's answer was 'Vacation')
What is your least favorite word? Blind
What turns you on? Courage
What turns you off? Snobbery
What sound or noise do you love? My kids having their own conversation
What sound or noise do you hate? Chewing, especially gum or crunchy things
What is your favorite curse word? Shitballs
What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? Race car driver
What profession would you not like to do? Politician
If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? Oh good, you made it. So my directions were okay, then?

Alrighty, I believe that officially catches me up. Have a great weekend, y'all.

My son, the reader. My daughter, the ripper.

Now that I'm constantly walking around with a book in front of my face, Nico is growing more and more curious about what's stealing all his attention. You know I'm reading Duma Key (still), and I also plucked The Purpose Driven Life from one of my mother's bookshelves (unexpectedly God-based, but interesting nonetheless). What you probably do not know is that my sister gave my mom a fun little bit o' reading material the other day... a copy of Relentless by Dean Koontz. I quickly picked it up to see what it's all about, and have been ignoring poor Stephen King ever since.

So. My son. He loves books. Not yet able to read for himself, he is constantly choosing books for us to curl up with, and that's just fine by me. Olivia, on the other hand, could not care less about reading and prefers to - whoops! hi Mommy! - accidentally fall into my lap and - oh, no! rip! - brazenly dismember her brother's beloved stories page by page right before his very eyes. Oh, we brawl, people. We brawl.

But back to Nico. Yesterday evening he said he wanted to sleep in my room while I read him a story. I tucked him under my covers and after we finished laughing about how Ernie annoys Bert, he pointed to Relentless which was sitting on my night table. I opened it and said, "Well... no pictures, and it's scary." He didn't care. I leaned back against my pillows and he put his head on my shoulder. I read aloud (omitting anything remotely scary) from my grown-up book and he was fast asleep five minutes later. I lay there for another half an hour, half reading to myself, half wondering how I wound up with such a remarkable little boy at my side.

Readin'. Runnin'. Beerin'.

That's what I've been doing for the past two or so months. I really needed a break from the writing. Please forgive. I have been lending my writing time to other excellent hobbies (see post title) and, while this poor page has suffered horribly, I am happy to report that I have got three books going at once and am thoroughly enjoying a pretty much constant runner's high.

Additionally, I am happily basking in the NJ heat. Not sunning, necessarily, but warming myself to the bone. It's fantastic.

Daddy is the cookie alpha dog, although his bark is worse than his bite

Tonight I gave the kids each four little cookies as a bedtime snack. After I brushed their teeth, I got four cookies for myself. Just to stack on the desk and eat later tonight. Olivia ever-so-sweetly asked me for one of my cookies. "Coo-kee? Mommy?" I said no and explained that these were (placing right hand on chest) Mommy's cookies. Mommy's cookies for later. She persisted, and when she started skipping in place and escalating her volume, I told her to wait because they were Daddy's cookies. Daddy's snack cookies for Daddy to eat later. She said, "Okay, Mommy." Then she breathed in and walked away.

Incommunicado, mostly

A few weeks ago, I left my cell phone in New Jersey. I´d forgotten it druing my final sweep through my mom´s house, and we were half way to Newark before I realized it was still charging on the kitchen counter. I haven´t had service on it lately, but it´s an iPhone and I use it almost every day anyway (for playing music and shows, as an alarm clock, camera, etc.). So, leaving it in Jersey was (and still is) a bummer. My computer died about a week and a half later. Then, yesterday, our living room television set fizzled out. Boo, boo, and boo.

My technology/communication situation is not quite as pathetic as it sounds, though. We still have what I like to call ¨tv on the computer¨ in the main office, and I can still check my email and whatever else. And I don´t know if it´s coincidence, but around the time my computer lost all signs of consciousness, I lost interest in the computer in general. There´s no real plan to fix my six-year-old laptop. We´ll take it to the repair people eventually, try to retrieve the data; right now I am just not in any hurry. If you don´t hear from me in the immediate future, rest assured that I still adore you all and I´m perfectly fine down here living in the moment.

Recent favorite photo

Here's a photo of a little boy who has outgrown afternoon naps. And he knows how to choose the most adorable footwear, which is important.

Humma humma humma

I'm thinking of a new name for the ol' blog here. When I come up with something decent, you'll be the first to know.

So yeah... just organizing to pack, and downing a couple of PBRs and some of this really tasty lamb-shaped chocolate cake my mom baked for Easter. I don't feel particularly stressed or overwhelmed. It'll be nice to sleep in the same bed as my husband for a change. We spend a lot of time together. Like, all day, every day. So when we're apart, it's really different for me. Going to work isn't like "OK, hon, see you in 10 hours", it's more like "OK, I'm going down the hall, see you in 10 minutes". We eat almost every meal together, take walks in the morning, watch soccer and make out in the living room while the kids are down the hall taking their afternoon naps... that kind of thing. It's nice.

Nothing much different to talk about. I've been trying to shake a headache for a couple of days. Maybe I'm thinking too hard about my laundry strategy -- how to time my loads perfectly so that I won't have to pack any unwashed garments or take anything to the cleaner's my first weekend back. Tapping my head over that one as we speak.

Saturday splendor

This morning and early afternoon were spent out and about with Mom and the kids. I am still whittling away at my take-back-to-Peru list, and I must say I had quite a successful time as far as that goes. Got the last of the kids' items and almost everything I need for myself, save a few books I have to order online.

This trip has been amazing. I spent the majority of my time at home with my mom and kids, but also got in a lot of quality friend time and even saw some relatives I haven't seen in years. In a way I feel... older. In a good sense. I have an uncle (my mom's brother, Uncle Pat) who has been living in Dallas, TX for a good 20 years and I keep thinking about him. If it's not too funny to draw this equation, I keep feeling like him. Hearing my mom making plans for her friends and cousins to come over for dinner because "Karen's visiting from Peru", or dropping what I'm doing to run out to lunch with a girlfriend, or taking the kids to places they might not see for another year... I understand something new about how it is to be away from everyone. That thing is love. It's hard to explain, but I realize I have so much more than I ever thought I did, many times over. I'm going back to the other side of the planet, but I feel more connected than ever to home.

We fly out on Thursday. Me and my babies. My good traveling, smart, funny babies. They are almost like twins, they're so similar. I'm excited to see my husband again. I'm excited for my kids that they will get to see their daddy. I'm going to miss being here, and I'm going to miss my family and friends again. It means more to me than I can describe with words that I got to see so many of your faces during this visit. Thank you. I can't wait to see you all again. Exclamation point! And my Mommy... oh my gosh, my Mommy... I love you.

We plant, and they grow

This morning we're doing a little digging in the dirt. I'm re-sorting yesterday's feelings (and lack thereof), thinking about the different funerals and burials I've attended in my lifetime. I also started thinking of tv and movie burials, and decided that my favorite fake burial happened in Six Feet Under when Nate took Lisa's body, buried it in the ground in the middle of nowhere, and gave her family someone else's ashes. D'oh!

What we're burying this morning is decidedly more innocent. Starters for some flowers and herbs. Livi was adorable, calling out "Boop!" as she poked each sunflower seed under the soil. We also did moonflowers and green beans. The lemon balm seeds went untouched, but I'll remedy that tomorrow. Must have the lemon balm. Doing simple things with my kids always makes me happy. It's so important to teach them that happiness doesn't come from the mall, but rather from family and friends and living a life that is real and kind and generous.

***

Breaking news, the phone just rang. It was a call from my sister. I couldn't pick up. Not just because I hate talking on the phone... I just know the news and don't want to hear it firsthand. She wouldn't be calling for no good or bad reason. It could be a glaring sign of immaturity on my part, or possibly an almost complete disconnection. My two sisters on my dad's side are actually amazing people, and they understand me quite well whether they realize it or not. And, really, I only use the word 'immaturity' because I just happen to be the youngest of all my siblings, and in my mind that's how they would categorize it.

***

Going back to semi-reality, I'm not ashamed to tell you my lunch today consisted of a slight amount of actual lunch, followed by two cocktails. Don't worry, I'm not home alone with the kids. And I'm not above dulling the pain. I'm in a weird spot. I wish I had my husband with me, and I am just one of those people who need their own space. If not physically, then mentally. In times of troubled thoughts, I take achievement where it can be found; I'm done contemplating and I need a complete zone-out. Clean the slate. Take out the trash. And so on, and so on, and such.

Some feelings. Nothing more, nothing less.

I just got off the phone with one of my sisters, and it turns out my one remaining grandparent is on her deathbed. Ask me if I can make sense of that.

Nope. Not really.

I haven't seen Sophie in 24 years. I remember her face, but I doubt she would recognize me. I'm sitting here thinking, and there isn't much about her that makes any sense. When I was a kid, she and my grandfather all but blamed my mom for the massive stroke that killed my dad. One encounter at one of my sisters' weddings, one birthday phone call, and a couple of decades later I'm here shaking my head. And my fist, a little. Not that I ever lacked family, what with three sisters, a brother, aunties, uncles, nieces, nephews, and a gazillion cousins. Obviously I've never had to spend Christmas alone. The thing that gets me now is the backward view. Looking through my memories and not finding any of Grandmom with my husband or my kids (not for lack of a brief effort on my part)... no pictures of her at my college graduation or my wedding.

There's no rule stating you have to love someone just because you are partly the same person. What I'm confused about now, though, is whether or not I feel anything at all. I don't hold it against her that she didn't seem to care much about what was happening with one of her six grandchildren. By the time I realized I should have been hurt, I was old enough to know that pinning your pain on someone else gets you nowhere. Am I a little jealous? Yeah, maybe. Am I a little sad? Yeah, but mostly because I don't like to hear about anyone dying. Did I cry when I heard she will probably not live another day? Almost... almost. I was shaking my head right there.

Sophie has lived 97 years, and is now dying of nothing more than old age. At this very moment, her body is missing that oxygen mask and asking itself what the fuck it should do next. Or maybe it already knows. Who can say for sure? Regardless, I wish Sophie a peaceful journey into the next life. I hope she comes back as something beautiful and free, and that she takes her final hours to realize how much she was once loved.

** late note **
It's about 30 minutes after I wrote all of that, and I just found myself in the kitchen mixing up a Salty Dog cocktail. So... hmm... I guess take that to mean whatever you think it means. I started to analyze, but it was just too massive either way and now I definitely need the alcohol. Partially kidding. And about that particular recipe, I like the little blurb about the drink but there seem to be a few variations. The common denominators appear to be grapefruit juice and gin or vodka. Oh, and P.S. don't put peach bitters in it like this guy suggests. Sub two of the ounces of grapefruit with bitter lemon soda. Sprite in a pinch. *ching*

Tag

Three names you go by:
1. Kar(e)
2. Love
3. Mommy

Three things you are wearing right now:
1. Light gray longsleeve tee, boatneck, six-button cuff
2. Wedding ring
3. Black fleece yoga pants

Three things you want very badly at the moment:
1. Cuddle with hubby
2. Service on the iPhones
3. World peace

Three people you are certain who will answer:
1. Toni took my answers
2. But also,
3. Definitely Liz

Three of your favorite foods:
1. Blue claw crabs & beer (count as one)
2. Satay tofu from Penang
3. My mom's homemade pasta sauce

Three people you last talked to on the phone:
1. Frank
2. Joei
3. Receptionist at pediatrician's office

Three things you are going to do tomorrow:
1. Put chocolate frosting on the heart shaped, two-layer yellow cake I baked for the kids
2. Go outside
3. Drink coffee

Three of your favorite beverages:
1. Ruby red grapefruit juice
2. Water
3. Guinness

I grabbed this off Toni's Tales and Travails. Could not resist.

Writing stuff down is totally important

There's something funny about moving around. One place feels different from the next. Like, Lima feels different than New Jersey. I don't know exactly what going back and forth from one hemisphere to the other does to my body. Whatever it is, I definitely feel it. Either it's like I live in two places at once, or I have so many steps to perform to get to the next breathing point that I lose track of days. I carry a note pad around all day long. Right now it's my best friend. Without it, even for simple stuff, I'm lost. Here's my list from yesterday:

post office
thomas - tracks - diesel?
food shopping
old navy - kids socks - nico pjs and tees
mortgage, two mos. condo dues
amazon - order books - coupon

And that was just what I did between 9 am and 1 pm. The exciting life of a stay-at-home mom, right? And it's not hard stuff. It's just that my mind is everywhere at once, and focus is nearly impossible to find when I'm here, but I'm also 3,000+ miles away. I still have to schedule a flight back, but I'm waiting to find out what Frank's plans are. Wouldn't want to show up at the apartment if nobody's going to be home. And plus, I'm not sure I brought my keys. That would suck, being locked out with two kids and luggage.

But anyway, back to New Jersey. Back to the moment. This has been a fantastic visit home, and the great news is there's more to come. I just want to keep soaking in all the goodness. I look forward to being back in Lima with Frank. I look even more forward to coming back to NJ. Freaking me out a little is the thought that my son will almost be ready for kindergarten when we officially "come home". I was putting his pajamas on him earlier tonight, and it struck me how he looks like a giant version of the baby he once was, or even what he was just a year ago. And Olivia? Forget about it. Amazing, all the changes and how much I love them. Seriously, sometimes my soul aches when I think about those babies. Soon enough, I'll be back with Frank, drinking a beer on the roof, talking about love and family and the meaning of life. Sweet days to come, my friends. Sweet, sweet days.

Heading back

Looks like the kiddos and I will be leaving on a jet plane in two weeks or so. We've got a husband and daddy waiting for us down there, but fear not. We'll be back for good soon enough.

Stuff I did today, not in chronological order

Ate half a theater-size box of Milk Duds.
Brushed my teeth, then washed and moisturized my face.
Packed a bag for me and the kids for tomorrow -- going to see my niece's school play.
Napped for approximately one hour.
Wore my winter hat indoors half the day, then switched to a pony tail.
Posted this video on FB for Frank.
Raked leaves out of the herb garden.
Got a workout pushing the babies around the back yard in a red kiddie car.
Made two phone calls; one to pay a bill, and one about re-enrolling for health insurance.
Chatted with Jen about Corey Haim while the kids watched cartoons.
Realized I like dressing the kids in coordinating outfits.
Had pot roast, potatoes with gravy, and honey glazed carrots for dinner.
Had Kix cereal with vanilla Silk for dinner number two.
Used a calculator five times.
Smelled fresh rosemary.
Got a little confused remembering winter here is ending, not beginning.
Tried to find a place for all the kids' cool new hand-me-down clothes, all the while being thankful for friends with good taste in toddler fashion.
Wondered if the show The Good Wife is on demand.
Searched high and low for the copy of Vicky Christina Barcelona we evidently still owe Netflix.
Read articles about sports, knitting, and typography, and also started up reading a second book.
Thought about life.