Today's Mam's Birthday!

It's been quite a while since I've posted, but I thought I should!

Life's been kind of hectic since graduation. I've been working more hours at the Mall. Not full time or anything but I find myself exhausted when I come home, or especially exhausted even before I have to leave for work. I usually only work 6 hours straight which might be the problem, no break, but then I feel like a baby who can't hack the work straight through. I had to work 9 hours straight a few weeks ago and I just couldn't hack it. It may be because I'm standing constantly and not really walking around a lot. I walk in a very small area a majority of the time.

But this week, I wanted to put that pain aside. I wanted to do something special for my mom for her birthday. Ever since I started playing sports in high school, I've pretty much been on the go. I've put my family second at times to do things while I was younger like go out with friends or boyfriends or work. I even forgot about plans mom had made a couple weekends ago and told one of my co-workers I'd take her shift. So to make it up to my mom I wasn't going to forget her birthday.

So for starters, I made reservations at this quaint Tea Restaurant complete with you choosing your own china cup and saucer, eating off mix matched china plates, enjoying your meal with real silverware and sipping fantastic loose-leaf tea strained through an adorable little strainer that catches the tea leaves while it's poured from china tea pots. A dear family friend came with us, too. It was a fun time.

But during the week I wanted to make a spiffy cake for mom.

I'm slightly hooked on, well more like addicted to, a show on TLC called "Cake Boss." On one episode, Buddy Valastro replicates the top tear of the wedding cake at he and his wife's wedding for their 8th anniversary. He made a checkerboard cake by cutting circles out of both chocolate and vanilla cakes and then mixing them in alternate patterns.

It may have been easier just to bake it the way the kit told me too, haha.

But it was pretty easy to alternate the different layers.

I'm not a pro, so I went through a bunch of frosting and it totally was not perfect...

But It came out really cute anyway. I made marshmellow fondant to put around the cake and to cover the rice crispy tea cup and saucer.

Which in turn gave me this:

The checkerboard look was completely unexpected and Mam and our family Friend were completely surprised!

I couldn't think of a more fun birthday for my mom. They'll be over tonight for some bbqing and cards :)

Reboot

Ok, so I know it's been quite a long time since I've written at the end of the semester. Now I've finally graduated and I'm learning to be a housewife, working woman and unemployed-in-the-real-world.

But just for the sake of updates, I'll just start rambling. As I noted in one of my older posts, I'd been in an accident and rear-ended someone. Since then our truck has been in the shop at Chapman Automotive Repair Center. They're certified through our insurance company. Since then it's been nothing but problems. During the first month they had it everything seemed fine despite the fact the guy calling me with updates didn't know anything specific that was happening to the truck; all he said was that repairs were on schedule. That's really reassuring right? Well we'd had problems.

We received the truck back a couple days before it was scheduled to be done. I noticed some problems with the paint job on on the passenger front fender and pointed it out to our technician, I guess you could call him. Looking at the fender with the glare from the setting sun, I could see dimples in the clear coat. They weren't huge and massively noticeable, but I remembered when my father had work done, after my first accident in his car, telling the man in the shop that he'd sent planes back for less while he was in the Navy.

When our tech explained it to me, he said that what happens is that sometimes nicks prior to repainting could have problems getting buffed out. I internally laughed and thought, "To do a paint job right, are you not supposed to strip, prime, sand, paint and finish the vehicle? I've watched enough episodes of Overhaulin' to know that." (not that I'm trying to say I know more than this guy did, I just felt like that was the best way to do a paint job right and if my insurance company is shelling out almost $10,000 I'd like it to be done right.)

As soon as we got the truck home, Louis discovered a clip in the wheel well that had not been secured down, causing the plastic to wear against the tire and creating a burning smell. The battery was bubbling over, and something was rattling in the driver's side door.

Two days later, I barely got the engine to turn over after a very, not-so-nice "rurrr....rurr....rurrr...rruuuuuuvrooooooom" of the engine. I took it to Checker to have it replaced, put the battery back in about an hour and a half after I'd gotten there, and then it happened. The key fob back at home since we weren't used to driving with it, I battled with the after-market alarm system to get the truck started. With nothing happening and the key not being read in the door, I had to consent defeat and walked two blocks to where my Sunfire was sitting at my husband's bus stop.

To make a longer story short, the tech told us we just needed to drive with the key fob (which sounds like a good idea, but there were problems with the alarm that we were having after the accident occurred), gave us the run-around after dealing with it and left us with a broken wind-shield-wiper-fluid spout from the hood of the truck.

Grrr on Chapman Automotive.

The end of the beginning

My husband and I both have our quirks. He teases me for freaking out when he makes fun of my O.C.D. measuring ingredients when baking and I drive him crazy when I space out and leave blinds open in the morning in our cave of a house.


This past weekend he helped me take some very moving pictures associated with my rape. I felt bad for having to include him since the final pictures we took left both of us a bit depressed. Before we went to sleep, he asked if I was ok. I told him honestly that I thought the previous day's activities left me a little dead inside. I wasn't looking forward to looking at and editing all the pictures we'd taken.


Some of the final shots were me in my underwear (totally not naked I promise) wrapped in a rebozo. My mom would probably kill me since it was a gift from a very rick member of the family in Mexico, but it made for perfect contrast. As soon as I got myself situated on this fallen log that had been burnt a little, I started crying. I didn't even try to start, it just came in a rush and I couldn't help myself.


Laying there next to him he said, "That was the hardest part for me. I had to disassociate myself real quick...Seeing you crying I had to think about you as the subject than my wife."


That struck a nerve with me. Sometimes I don't know if it was good for me to do this project or if I should have just kept it to myself. I can't thank him enough for how much he's been there for me.


While the semester is finally coming to a close, I look back and think about how my semester's been different being married.


My husband is an amazing man. Louis is my best friend and I feel like my life has really reflected that. Most students hang out with their best friends and roommates and I did just that, so I guess my experience hasn't been that much different besides the sparkly things on my left ring finger. I've busted my butt and had horrible days. And then I've had the best days and uplifting activities. My husband has been there through them all.


At the same time I can turn around and say I've been there for him. There were scares for him while his projects weren't going as planned and his section of the company were taking layoffs. At the end of the day, we're still growing and leaning on each other for support.


I will love him forever, until death do we part.

Capitalism=bullshit?!

Since this seems to be the topic of conversation on everyone's minds, I thought I'd put my two cents in, especially since it was thrown in my face this afternoon.

I was waiting for class to start earlier and I was sitting with a classmate discussing current events in class. She commented about my wedding rings and asked me to tell her the story about how Louis proposed, of course the conversation was light and fun. Then, the young man that was sitting just on the other side of a column got up and walked into the stairwell. My classmate stared at him and smiled and laughed. I thought she knew him.

"This guy...," she began. "I was on the phone with my sister and, I don't know about you but, I'm very liberal. We were talking about the new 1070 bill that got signed on Friday and he was just laughing and shaking his head...Are you for it or against it?"

I reluctantly said I'm for it, because I couldn't lie and I wanted to try my hand at logical argument that my husband is so fantastically good at, but I'm not very practiced. She started to state her point about how she used to think that everyone in this country was getting along and how there really wasn't that much racism, until she started taking a class and saw how "horrible our country really is."

I began to defend my position. My family came over to the states legally, and my family became naturalized citizens.

She returned with how classmates were in tears on Friday because their family got scared and members returned to Mexico. "How horrible it is to see families torn apart."

I shot back, "If they were here, legally, in the first place they wouldn't have a problem. It's just reiterating legislation that the federal government put in place at the beginning of the 20th century.

I began to talk about my husband's situation. I believe he's a great example of capitalism and the American Dream. He grew up in ghetto Tucson, avoided gang activity, worked hard to get his college degree. Now he owns a house, a truck, and makes a comfortable living all before the age of 28.

As we were walking to class and I finished my story, she says, "Well...he's an exception. The American Dream is bullshit."


If someone said that to you, point blank, what would you do? I was furious. How could she sit there and just say that my husband was one in a billion? Give me proof the American Dream is bullshit!

I'm not asking for a handout. I'm proud that I come from Mexican heritage. But I'm an American and I refuse to be a victim, as does my husband.

When I came home to continue my discussion with him, he told me he didn't see himself as the American Dream as much as he viewed his grandfather. Louis's grandfather came to the states, provided for a family of 5 children and he did without a handout. His grandfather didn't ask anyone to take care of him. He came here for a better life and did it the legal way. Worked hard, retired and now he's "marinating with my nana," as Louis likes to put it, . He's the sweetest man just taking it easy and waves at people from a big la-z-boy chair from his front porch at the base of 'A' Mountain.

I don't want a hand out. I want to work my ass off and be able to tell my children and grandchildren that we worked for everything we had and made a life for ourselves. I don't want to be a victim: "O woe is me who came to this country illegally and almost lost my life for nothing..." You, my friend, have human rights. But you do not have the legal rights as an American citizen, except now it seems backwards. I recall a conversation with some family friends about a year ago, who are also Americans of Mexican decent.

He was camped out one night with some friends on a hunting trip. They were sitting around the fire and some illegal immigrants came across them with semi-automatic weapons. If things turned ugly and our friends fired at the immigrants in self defense, our friends would have gone to jail and not the illegal immigrant. Now where's the justice in that?

I'm not against immigration. I'm against illegal immigration. And to see how people are up in arms because the state of Arizona is taking a stand against illegal activity is kind of hypocritical.

I commend people for wanting to immigrate to this country in search of a better life. And I agree that something needs to be done between both the United States government and Mexican government so that the process doesn't take almost 10 years. But to come over illegally, one's already a federal criminal. I know they're probably all fantastic people, besides the drug cartel. And please keep in mind, it's not just  Mexican illegal immigrants. It's Chinese illegal immigrants, Indian illegal immigrants, Canadian illegal immigrants and a number of other countries can be represented.

I just ask for people to understand that others may not think as he/she does and to think logically and see the other side of the coin. I understand that people are upset that families are being torn apart, but that's the consequences for doing something that's not right. It's like the fed catching a drug dealer. They have to do their time, I agree it's horrible and shouldn't have happened in the first place, but isn't that the fault of the individuals who are in this country illegally and not the people enforcing the law?

At this time, I apologize for my rambling. After my classmate made that comment to me without letting me say something in return, I just felt so sad. I wanted to ask her, "Why are you in college, then?"

Soundtrack of our lives

My mom and I have bonded many a couple days where we devoted 14 hours of amazingness to a Mexican telenovela called Alborada. One of the most beautiful men you've ever seen, Fernando Colunga, wins the heart of a woman, Lucero, in a story full of the epitome of telenovela stereotypes: amnesia, someone's pregnant with someone else's baby, someone else is having an affair, and evil mother who switched babies at birth, and a guy who's got so many issues it's ridiculous - but we love it!

Well, we did it again. My mom and I have been sharing our Mexican bond over the last few months since school started watching another telenovela called "Zorro: La Espada y La Rosa" or "Zorro: the Sword and the Rose." 

It, of course, has the same rubric for the typical Mexican soap opera: amnesia, a psycho power-hungry villian, two women are pregnant with someone other than their husband's baby, everyone thinks the female lead is dead except for the one guard who's helping her and the token little man with a hump, the male lead's father is in love and married to one woman, but he's also in love with his dead wife's twin sister, and the female lead's mother is the next heir to the Spanish throne, but she's been in prison and locked up with a mask because her husband, the governor of California, wants to marry the male lead's aunt who happens to be the mother superior of the local convent. Hahaha, and I haven't even begun to tip the iceberg!

Since this particular telenovela is on at noon I've discovered the beautiful piece of technology known as DVR. This weekend I was catching up on the 20 episodes I haven't been able to watch since school has been so busy. Luis has rediscovered his Play Station 2 and God of War II. One break, he came into the kitchen and started laughing. 

"This soundtrack is on replay, isn't it?" he commented, referring to how the end of each scene boasted pounding drums and sounds that tried to perpetuate the suspense of the scene. "That's hilarious! Babe, we're out of eggs. Dun dun dun dun-dun-dun, dun dun dun dun-dun-dun," he said as he smacked his stomach in a drumming manner. 

Last night his shenanigans lead to a pillow fight and then when we went walking this morning, both of us perpetuated the antics. 

I love that my husband can make me laugh so much, so I just had to share.

All Over Again Again

But this time there was a better outcome!!  In honor of Louis and I trying to lose weight, I've been looking through recipes in a South Beach Diet Cookbook that Louis borrowed from his mom's house a while ago.
I found one titled " Grilled Raspberry Chicken" but instantly felt uneasy about it.

If you've read the first blog of my cooking experience you understand that I can't pull stuff out of nowhere. Especially since my cooking involved a marinade of wine and garlic powder - more specifically lambrusco red wine and it's a sweet wine which in turn = some nasty, tough steak bites. (I shudder to force my taste buds to remember the flavor)

Even with my fear I moved on and decided I'd try again since this was an actual recipe and not me pretending to be a genius. So I pulled my hair back, since this meant business, and began working culinary magic (not really, but I feel that way when stuff actually turns out-be it off the grill or coming out of a box!).

The recipe asked for a wine vinegar, but since I didn't have any I used some apple cider vinegar I had and hadn't had a chance to use it yet. Then I put in a different red wine, Shyraz that my parents passed off to us from the left overs they had at their after-party the night of the wedding, some Worcestershire sauce, pepper, minced cloves of garlic, and some other ingredients. It smelled scrumptious so I hoped it tasted just as good. Luis started the grill and I oiled it with some extra virgin olive oil (looooooooove that stuff!) so the chicken wouldn't stick so bad.

Next up I loaded a pot with some brown rice and water and put it to boil.

After half an hour, my meal didn't look so bad! I had my parents on Skype just before the food was done and told them about what I was trying to make. Dad joked, "We'll be there in an hour."

At the end of the day, the chicken was AMAZING!! I was so proud of myself! I may be a culinary genius after all! Or just a really good follower of directions...I'm thinking that's probably it.

HEADLINE: Husband demands wife see sleep doctor

Well, he really didn't demand it, but I felt ashamed he had to say it.

Last night was another of the numerous occasions that I talked about in Paranormal Activity (well not really) where I thoroughly attacked my husband in my sleep...on a KING SIZED BED for goodness sakes. I woke up at least two times last night with Louis tapping my hand and I turned over, tapping my leg and I turned over, and maybe one more time with my hand.

To my credit, I blame it on not being exhausted. When I've been exhausted I go into a super deep sleep and Louis says that I don't attack him. On the other hand, I also blame it on him, haha. When we went to bed last night, I could cut the tension in the room with a knife.

He's had some problems at work lately and all eyes are on him today as far as a program he's been working on where hardware hasn't worked. That equals no bueno. Since this is his first mixup since he started working there in '06 he's on pins and needles about it.

Since I was so on edge because he was on edge, my dreams were out of control.

But then again I can blame no one but my own physical being not staying put. So yes, it is my fault.

However, I've never felt so helpless than this morning when we woke up for the first time to go walking together before work/school. These weren't his exact words, but here goes:

"I was so surly with you last night. You need to go see a sleep doctor."

I do want to add, I wasn't mad at him for anything. It was more upset at myself that I felt so helpless that I didn't know how to help the situation. I also add that we've both been under some stress lately, coupled with that blessing I get every month (Mom says, "I'm sorry." and I say "Don't be; it's not your fault...It's dad's fault") that causes my amazing mood swings. I don't know what's going on. Just another thing I have to adjust to, I guess.

Not an easy task

Here lately, I'm sorry and somewhat ashamed to say, I feel like I've been taking advantage of my husband. He's there and willing to do things for me even though he's been stressed out at work and most likely tired. The other day, I was outside sunning while reading an assignment from school. It was a definite homework assignment, don't get me wrong, but I kind of wanted to make it fun and enjoyed the perfect weather. Louis came out to start shoveling the decorative gravel and moved the lining bricks where he'd planned to plant some grass. He was working up a sweat, pulling out weeds, and I just sat there watching him feeling everything but useful.

"Can I help?"

"No babe, it's fine. I've got it. Plus you're doing homework."

Yes I'm doing homework, but I felt like a shmoe not helping out. It continued later in the day when I started doing laundry to offset my not helping earlier, even though homework wasn't done.

He took over because he knew the homework wasn't done. So instead, I started doing dishes. He got mad.

"Why don't you let me do anything around here?" he says more perturbed than the usual playful banter that usually crosses between us. "I live here, too."

"The truth is I feel bad asking you to do something. At the same time, you can see it there. We haven't done dishes since Easter and it's been sitting there, not done, for days," I answer. "I feel bad asking you because I know you've probably had just as hard a day as I have and I don't want to make you frustrated or something," I responded, remembering the day I came home from classes and he gave me an inadvertent tongue lashing when water splashed on his shirt from a pan I'd filled to let the melted-on insides soften to come out easier in the dishwasher (if anything in that sentence made sense).

So, I've left things alone, or I finish them completely.

Greener on the Other Side

I've been told that I am beautiful because of the way I carry myself. I have my head held high and somewhat proper posture (I flatter myself lol). When I look in the mirror I see a beautiful woman who is strong in who she is and enjoys her body. When that certain song come on my ipod, you know the one, I can't help but walk with a little bit of a runway strut (which probably looks like I've got something stuck up you know where to the people outside my mind).

However, I've always had problems. I've been a thicker girl since I can remember. I don't even remember when people told me that I looked great after my last swim season since I'd slimmed down so much my clothes didn't fit anymore. Because of that thickness I've always had a horrible self esteem behind that proud, self-valued image I portray. And just now, I saw an image of myself that just took the cake. I didn't realize what I've been doing to myself by not trying harder to lose weight.

With this first picture, I don't look bad at all in my mind. My arms have always been a problem spot but I've always thought I'd rather have big arms than a huge stomach. But I've been lying to myself. My proof is below.

This looks like a pot-belly stove around my middle! No wonder Louis's mother's been hoping I was with-child! Not that she thinks I'm fat, but that I'm probably teasing her by this weight around my middle that looks like it could be a baby girl with how high my stomach's resting.

This was a real eye-opener. I've been feeling horrible about myself anyway since I thought I looked good and Louis has been more and more frequently poking fun at himself for this belly. I think he's the most handsome man in the world, granted I have a bias, but why do we think so low of ourselves?

I'm determined now. I will make myself better, healthier and more socially acceptable. I'll do it for me. For my own truth instead of telling myself something that obviously isn't. 

Wish me luck!

Understanding the right of passage

This past Sunday I hosted Easter at our house. It was a perfect day and I couldn't have asked for anything more.

We found out that family friends from Indianapolis would be in town for their spring break. The Becketts have been friends of ours for the last roughly ten years. When my mom was talking about having Easter dinner, a light bulb went off in my head: Why not have Easter dinner at our house?

I remember time after time when we'd have company come over at any point in time, my mom would run around the house like a madwoman until she snapped getting overwhelmed with cleaning the house and cooking. To save her from having to work so hard instead of visiting, I thought it'd be a great idea for me to take over where my mom left off so she can take it easy and worry about catching up with the Becketts.

That Sunday, I felt like a wanna-be Martha Stewart. I was running around the house cleaning and making sure veggies were chopped up and chips and salsa was out and making sure that the towels were hanging properly and anything else you can think of in a whirlwind. I finally understood what my mother goes through every time someone comes over. I was stressed out of my mind and exhausted at the end of the night. I really don't know how she's kept up doing it the last 25+ years. I commend her and hope I can be just like her.

Oh, the wonders when women start living with their husbands

My mom knows me well. Yesterday I went home to pick up some things and hang out for a bit with my fru fru fitzy and my mom, and I had to tell my mom this mortifying story:

I woke up and did my usual routine of a shower and straightening my hair, ran around the house getting breakfast and laundry, and finally decided to get dressed. Since I had an interview for my Reporting Public Affairs class I threw on one of my million pairs of black slacks and a nice, satin blue print tank top. Franticly, I searched the house for my make-up bag and watched the clock. Since I couldn't find it I assumed I'd left in the car over the weekend and proceeded to clean up after myself.

On the kitchen breakfast table has sat my deep red nail polish for the past 2 months. I eyed it and thought, "I should probably put that away before my husband disowns me."In my haste, as I walked into the master bedroom my arm caught the corner of a chest of drawers. Slipping out of my hand and flying toward the tile of the bathroom floor, the vile of red liquid shattered and color splattered everywhere like coagulated blood.

I froze, in shock of the situation in front of me. The tile was streaked and some landed on the grout between the tiles. Worse, like the scene out of the twilight zone, I stared at the carpet that met the master bedroom with the bathroom. I poured nail polish remover everywhere trying to keep everything from drying. I took care of the tile, but still freaked over the carpet. I did as much as I could with the fleeting time I had and called my husband on my way out of the house.

"I just had to tell you that you're wife is crazy." I relayed the whole story to the voice mail machine and started to cry. "I'm going to pick up some nail polish remover to take care of the rest of the tile, but the carpet is probably ruined. I'll see you later, babe, and hope you're day is going better than mine!"

I went through the day, performing my journalistic duties and visiting my mother - relaying my embarrassment. After classes, I texted my husband that I would pick up the nail polish remover but he said he'd already purchased some. Apparently he started to clean up where I left off once he got home because, as I struggled to stay on the road while laughing, my husband texted me saying:

"Nail polish remover is AWESOME!!!"

Oh how times have changed...

When I graduated high school the first thing I did was go out and start buying dorm room stuffs and the item I was most proud of was, if you can believe it, a five-bulb lamp. I was so extremely excited and proud of it because it was actually furniture. Something that said it was my own, that I was branching out and needed my own things.

That's how I felt when Louis and I started receiving wedding gifts. The first time was when I opened a box and it contained these beautiful Christmas, regal red napkins and a tablecloth with leafy designs. I looked at them and couldn't help myself: turning to my mom I gushed, "I have my own TABLE CLOTH!"

As our wedding date came closer, my aunt told me that she had my great-grandmother's dining room table and chairs and a hutch. Louis has a lot of furniture already, but he agreed that the family value was a huge factor that we had to have it. We picked it up from my aunt's house on Friday and I can't wait to get it cleaned up for Easter.

But the biggest part for me is the nostalgic value. Underneath the table my grandfather wrote down dates. in 1933 the table was purchased in California by my mother's grandfather, Joaquin Tena. Then my grandfather wrote down in 1967 when he refinished the table and in 2003 he fixed it up again with my uncle.

And now I'll be able to start my own legacy with the table. We also took my great grandmother's couch table and it's so beautiful to think that I have both sides of my mother's family represented in our house. My dad's uncle also sent me two silver platters that my great grandmother would use. My grandmother sent me her china.

One could see it as people excited that they get to hand down a bunch of stuff that takes up space, but this is my history. It's almost incredible to think about!

Sally Homemaker

On Friday night I'd had enough.

I've been staring at a half done wall since we got married. Granted, we've been trying to paint the house since Luis and I met. Probably about a month after we met, I came over to help him and his sister paint the first room in the house as you walk in the door, the formal living room. We finally finished it about 7 months later. Then last summer we all got together again and extended into the family room, where I finished the red accent wall and we made it onto the opposite wall of the family room, but it never got finished.

So on Friday, I finished part of what was started of the pony wall and on Saturday we had a huge get together of my two cousins, Louis, Marcus and Eriel and little CJ.

We accomplished so much I am so excited! I finally got into the kitchen, which still needs some touch-ups, but I think the house looks warmer! Louis and Marcus finished off what my cousins started of the wall that never got finished and now we're making progress. Today, Louis finished the wall he and Marcus started yesterday and I couldn't be more excited about the progress. I hoped we'd be finished yesterday, but all is well.

So I thought I'd show off some pictures!

Broken home

So i've been sad, missing my foo foo puppy named Fitzwilliam. He's a Maltese rescue dog that I bought back in September in 2008. He's a loving dog with the cutest face. He was made to be loved and cuddled, no joke.

When ever I come home to my mom's house, he's already barking at the sound of my husband's truck even before I turn the corner. My mom eggs him on and says, "Momma's home!" He looks at her and stars wining at the door or the front window, looking for me to walk in at any moment. When I do he goes nuts!
Sometimes I'll barely be getting out of the truck, my mom will get him worked up and open the front door, and he'll bound down the sidewalk to see me. The token activity that I know he thinks I'm special, is that Fitz will almost collapse into a ball at my feet and turn onto his back so that I can rub his stomach. He doesn't do it with my mom or anyone else in the family, but me.

Mom and Dad came over for dinner last week and it was such a treat to have my little man come with his nana.

He was pretty rambunctious at first, running around and getting his bearings. And as we all started eating dinner he settled down a bit. Luis and I are going to want a dog after I finish school and will probably be home more often. My dad wanted me to take Fitz when we got married, but I can't take care of him being at school all day. The poor little guy needs attention. He really is like taking care of a little kid. 

He demands attention, I have to make sure he can get out if he goes to the bathroom, he's got thick fur so I wouldn't be able to leave him outside all day, he demands attention and love, I have to make sure he's brushed all the time since, again, he's got so much fur, I have to make sure he's fed, but most of all he demands attention (had I said that yet?) 

I love the little guy so much, but I'd hate to take him away from my mom. I'm thinking we'll still be able to work things out, but it's almost like Fitz is a divorce child just because I only see him every so often. Louis teases me about it, especially with the baby talk with which my mom and I shower Ftizy. 

Paranormal Activity (not really)

So it's spring break and while a few of my classmates are out enjoying time at the beach, I'm enjoying my house and waking up two hours late (which really is only about 7), walking around in a robe until about 8 and wondering what to do with my time.

Homework is a four-letter word I've been refusing to think about. And mostly I've been cleaning and running errands.

But one thing that has been eating at me is this:

Monday morning Luis told me I just about gave him a black eye in my sleep.

Granted, since we got married he's been teasing me about how I move around in my sleep, steal the covers, and introduce him to my elbow every night. I go to sleep on my side and usually wake up the same way so I had no clue that I travel the bed. When my mom teased me about it I'd just shrug it off and say she got me confused with my younger brother who definitely travels the bed. One Saturday morning in 2001 while our family was living in an apartment when our house was being built in Indianapolis, my brother and I shared a bed. He had turned himself upside down, feet toward the head board, and kicked me in the face at 5 in the morning. Not the best way to wake up, trust me.

So now that my husband's telling me this I feel horrible. I had not only kneed him in the back twice, nudged up against him leaving him no space on the king sized bed (On a king-sized bed, really? how can I do that?!) we share, and stolen the covers, but I had literally punched him. He said he'd just about gotten so mad at me that he was going to go sleep in another room. He knows I wasn't doing it on purpose, but he's a very light sleeper and I was mortified after he told me the story!

Doing my own research, I might have Periodic Limb Movement Disorder (PLMD) which is somewhat related to Restless Leg Syndrome. Haha, I'm gonna have to go on drugs. He started researching restless sleeping and he said it's caused by melatonin, I think. He said it's a chemical that your body produces when it's dark and if it's not regenerated enough it won't keep your body still and in a somewhat paralyzed state while you sleep.

I started thinking about that creepy movie Paranormal Activity where the girl stands over her boyfriend for hours and stuff...oye so creepy. What just adds to the creepiness is that his house creeks when the wood settles every night between the hot and cold of the night. And we'd just watched "The Exorcism of Emily Rose" the other night. hahaha, we might have to have an exorcism of the house.

Kiss me in the rain...

I love rainy days. In Indianapolis I enjoyed them very often. But now that I'm back in Tucson, I'm they're few and far between. I especially love the thunderstorms during the summers with the continuous, amazing electrical spectacles.

But even more, I love them for my husband.

Our relationship was still new, possibly almost a month of seeing each other and not even official yet. Louis had gotten out of work early - around the time I got out of class. It was a Thursday. We met up and parked our cars just off of University Avenue and Park behind Chase Bank. While we were talking on the sidewalk, he gave me a big hug. Because I didn't want to seem like I was enjoying being close to him too much, I started to pull away and he didn't let me go - I got chills. I asked him how his day was at work and he spoke about how he was stressed and tired with the long hours he'd been putting in lately.

"I can let you go if you want-," I started to protest.

"No, no, no. Not at all. I don't get to see you and do this very often," he answered. I melted and hugged him a little tighter. He likes me!

We then started asking what to do about dinner. I pointed out the number of places on University. He then pointed out that he preferred a burrito.

"I have the perfect place! My friends and I used to go there all the time after long nights out," I said. We hopped in his truck, a maroon-red Nissan Titan fondly referred to as Clifford, and took a trip down to The Taco Shop on Highland Avenue  and Broadway Boulevard. It wasn't as good as the Nico's brand, but we enjoyed it. And I was getting more and more infatuated with him with every moment I laughed and talked with him.

By the time the hour was over I was on cloud nine, but we discovered that it was raining as we walked out. So we decided to brave it and walked toward Clifford. We were walking hand-in-hand through the short parking lot and as I started walking toward the passenger side, he pulled my hand and brought me closer to him. He kissed me ever so sweetly and smiled.

I grinned ear to ear and started giggling.

"What?" he asked.

"Every girl thinks it'd be so romantic to be kissed in the rain and now I can say I have," I replied, shyly.

I looked down, embarrassed and he stopped me. He took my face in his hands and gave me a passionate kiss.

....I may have embellished the details, but this is how I remember it. It remains one of my fondest moments with him. And to this day, while I'm at school and he's at work and it would start raining, I still send him text messages saying,

"It's raining outside. Consider yourself kissed."

The Princess and the Pea

Since we've been married for about two months now, I've gotten used to the scary horror stories that Eriel used to tell me about Louis's snoring. I've gotten used to waking up earlier than he does and going into the guest bath to get ready for school so I don't wake him; he's a very light sleeper. I already feel bad enough when my alarm goes off at five in the morning and his doesn't until a quarter to 7. Not to mention he's laughed about my attacking him in my sleep. I definitely travel the bed. 

He laughs about how one night he was laying on his back and all of a sudden, my hand slides under his head and his pillow. It wasn't just my hand though, it was balled up in a fist. Another time I had stolen all the covers and wrapped a leg around them. He woke up and couldn't believe I'd done it, so to continue the teasing, he woke me up with a flash in my face so he could show me what I do. (Funniest thing I've ever seen, not gonna lie).

The one thing that I'm still trying to get used to is sleeping on our bed. It's a super firm king mattress with a Tempurpedic mattress pad. I usually sleep on my side and end up on my back during the night, but lately I've been feeling aches and soreness in my neck and shoulders. Louis has another bed in one of the guest rooms that he used to sleep on when he was going to ASU (still don't let him live that one down :) ). It's a queen bed with a fantastic pillow top. I had ostracized myself there when I was sick and then slept there again to try it out and see if it was a good idea to switch out the beds. I decided that if we had a queen bed in the room I'd probably push Louis off the other side.

Back to when I tried out the bed for myself, it took even longer for me to get to sleep. Then it hit me, I couldn't get to sleep without Louis next to me. I've even gotten used to sleeping next to him and I'd never thought it would feel weird sleeping alone.

And the sweetest thing happened the next morning when Louis continued the conversation about moving the queen bed into our bedroom. I told him not to worry about it. The pain's not so bad that I can't handle sleeping in our bed. But then he melted my heart when he said, “But I want you there with me.” The king is still in the bedroom but it's still the sweetest thing to hear him whisper, “Goodnight m'lady, I love you.”

HDADD: Home Decorating Attention Deficit Disorder

This past weekend, my husband, his sister Eriel, her 9-month-old son DJ, Louis and Eriel's younger brother Marcus, and I went up to Phoenix to participate in the Heart walk in Tempe. While we were up there, Louis was all excited to take me to Ikea, a furniture store just off of I-10 as you're coming into Phoenix. 

Let me tell you, I've always been a fan of decorating. I loved putting stuff like posters and twinkle lights all over my dorm rooms in college. They were girly and perfect! But now I'm worried about trying to decorate our house without it looking too girly or too bare or too mismatched. So far, all we've really done is to attempt at finishing to paint the walls of the house (which we started when we met about a year and a half ago). But even that's not getting done very quickly. One wall is partially painted and it almost looks like we meant to, but it doesn't. There's some touch-ups still that need to be made in the formal living room at the front of the house where we started and took us the first year to finish. (We lived too far apart, I just couldn't find the time, haha) And now, our house is my canvas! I've asked Louis his thoughts on how to decorate and I wonder if he gets flustered with me since I'm so excited and all over the place about things. I understand, though. When I'm excited about something I start to rattle off what I'm thinking, not even realizing that the other person is not in my head and probably isn't following along with what I'm talking about as far as colors that go with a certain picture I have at home or something of that nature.

Ikea was not lacking in examples and ideas for one's house or apartment. There's eclectic styles for everyone including the chic, modern looks of white and black and boxy. The longer I was there, though, the more I felt like it was a lot of girlyness. I'm trying to stay away from anything floral since it's not just me living there and I don't want it to look like I'm overbearing with my decorating. But then again it's so hard to find a comforter or bed dressings that aren't floral :( But then again, I want it to be simple but not so plain as just a flat color like red or blue. Louis keeps drifting toward a blue master bedroom since he was a bachelor and loves the color blue. I'm all for it, but just plain blue? There needs to be some variation in there, so we'll see what I can come up with. A majority of the examples at Ikea, though, seemed to me to be perfect for a freshman dorm or small apartment. But even though I wasn't really finding huge items that screamed, “You have to buy me!” we spent two solid hours in that store.

But I didn't come out empty handed! :) I couldn't resist getting three gorgeous glass candle sticks which would go anywhere: dining room, breakfast nook if I wanted to make an intimate evening, pony wall for decoration during a dinner party. We also picked up a towel rack for the master bath so that we could hang both our towels next to the shower instead of having to drape them over the shower door, and a coat rack that looked somewhat-rustic enough to hang next to the front door. My last find was a lamp for the guest bedroom that gave it a soft glow instead of the bright, in-your-face light from the fan.

Now, how should I attack the master bedroom...

Enough political madness...

Since I was a little depressed talking about politics, I got to thinking about the Steelers and how much I love this commercial...




Don't I wish that was true...I miss football already!

RPA is the devil, but my husband thinks it's funny...Part II

Let me give you a little backstory before getting back into meeting-coverage goodness.

My husband and I met on Catholicmatch.com in June 2008 and met face-to-face early August. By the end of August we were "official" and having a great time dating. I had just finished interning with Fox Sports in Phoenix and was extremely excited that the NFL season would be starting. 

The Thursday that NFL season opened up with the New York Giants playing the Pittsburgh Steelers, Louis took me out to a Chilli's so I could be sure to catch all the action (Isn't he great?!). I was starting my second senior year of college, as there have been a couple - another story for another time, and had just been making contacts with connections at ESPN in Bristol. This was a great advantage as well as a downer since I had just been getting to know Louis and I thought he was the greatest guy in the world (still do, but you know what I mean).

NY Giants 21, Pittsburgh 14

While I was sitting there mumbling about the refs and enjoying my Cajun Chicken Sandwich, Louis started  to stutter: "You know... not to be creepy or anything...I just want to put out there, I have no ties to Tucson if my future bride or wife or...again, not to get creepy and seem like I'm pushing things - just in general - I can move wherever she needs to move to follow her dream job or for her to get a job. There's engineering jobs everywhere."

I thought it was the cutest thing and was one of the reasons I started falling in love with him: he's genuine and supportive.

Now, to continue with the madness that is the oh-so-exciting meeting coverage of RPA...

On Tuesday, Feb. 23 the Tucson City Council heard a number of things including how the city is going to have $33 million in debt going into the 2011 fiscal year starting July 1, and that water prices will be going up. One of the last items I listened to was a woman from the Arizona Legislature (maybe Tucson's Lobbyist - this journalist gets a fail on this information) talking about some items that, again I'm not sure of, will be brought to the floor for legislators to vote on.

The first and most important, to me, was a bill that would allow anyone to attend school in Arizona no matter their legal documentation status. The first person to chomp at the bit (not to mention she only took 0.5 seconds to move that the City of Tucson back this bill) was Regina Romero. She said through all the economic turmoil, education is vital to coming out in the black.

I completely agree with her, education is huge to the economic survival of our future. I also believe that anyone in search of an education should be able to get one. But at the cost of taxpayers paying for someone to get an education who's not a legal resident of the country, I don't agree. I also don't want to believe that our city would support "illegal activity" so to speak. I know that the process can be lengthy, but wouldn't it be easier to enter the country and not have to worry that INS would be knocking down your door any day?

My family came to the country legally, well more forced. My great grandfather, Joaquin Felix Tena Murrieta, has a rich history as a politician in Mexico. He was a member of the Sonoran Legislature and was even asked to run for president. He declined due to many of his friends being assassinated if they even thought about running against Álvaro Obregón. I could be getting facts wrong, but I do know Tena was a well respected man in Mexico. He fought with Obregón against Pancho Villa and was considered a friend of Obregón. When a corrupt official thought of "getting rid" of him because my great grandfather wouldn't conform to an idea the official had, someone told the official "You do not 'get rid' of Joaquin Tena." Thus, he was sent to San Diego and worked with the fish and game office in the Mexican consulate. He even got to meet Robert Taylor and Gary Cooper when they wanted to go hunting in Mexico. Their tour guide ended up being a Nazi Spy, but I digress...Another story for another time.

(Tour guide/Nazi spy is the short man in the middle)

My grandmother's happiest day of her life was in 1985 when she became a naturalized citizen, my mother said. She wore red, white and blue and carried her little American Flag all day long. She bled and breathed this country. She even refused to teach my mom and her brother Spanish because we're in the United States. I think that part's depressing since I would love to be able to speak Spanish now, but I can understand her viewpoint. If you'd like to hear about that, just let me know.

Ana Maria Tena de Goyeneche

My husband's family history is similar although I don't know much of it. His father is now a naturalized citizen like his grandparents. Louis was born here in Tucson and has really lived the American Dream, as I see it. He grew up in Littletown, just south of Davis-Monthan, which is pretty much a rundown part of the city. I don't knock anyone living there at all, but it's not the best part of town. Louis tells me stories of his first encounter with "lizards" aka hookers and drugs and bullies.

Louis graduated from Desert View High School, avoided gangs and drugs as best he could, and knew he wanted to get out of Littletown. He started college at the University of Arizona and finished his computer engineering degree at Arizona State. When I met him he'd already been working at Raytheon and had his own house in Marana and his own truck. (funny story there for another time...) Needless to say, he's done well for himself. He's not rich, but he's comfortable.

After I relayed the story about documentation status and education and what Councilwoman Romero had said, Louis started laughing.

"When do we get to move after you graduate?"

RPA is the devil, but my husband thinks it's funny...Part I

(I'm not sure how I'm going to put this all together in context and make it coherent, so big warning - this post is under construction :) )

As a journalism major, one of our last classes is Reporting Public Affairs. To me, this class is the Journalism School's chinese water torture until that swift kick in the butt during graduation, when you realize you have absolutely no job prospects and your degree will really get you no where except right back in the classroom to probably teach or get a masters in something else.

(Copywright: kosmikkreeper 2003)

This class entails attending Tucson City Council meetings as well as the Pima County Board of Supervisors meetings which, granted, are extremely important to our well-being as concerned citizens, but it is extremely boring. As I've informed you, I'm more focused on the broadcast side of journalism, but more specifically the sports broadcasting part. All the legal jargon and the dry interviews make for horrible news writing. My professor even labeled one of my stories lame. 

The Pima County Board of Supervisors decided to give back the $50,000 they technically stole/took (that's just my editorialization, you can make your own judgement) away from the Southern Arizona Sports Foundation. The money was given to the county/SASF in lieu of the charity game that's annually played between the Chicago White Sox and the Arizona Diamondbacks. The charity game is the Foundation's main source of funding (which then in turn is granted to small non-profit organizations that provide life-lesson activities to Arizona's youth such as the Boys and Girls Club, Girl and Boy Scouts and many others). And since it's a joint effort between Pima County and the Diamondbacks, Pima County had to accept the money back in January. However, instead of it going to the SASF, Pima County at the time decided to put it in the Outside Agency Fund - which also provides for non-profits, just not for the youth.

It's a great story, but based off of the only quotes I had...it sounded SUPER lame. I couldn't have agreed more! My problem is that when I put it down in news format that I think people will read, it doesn't agree with how my professor wants it to read. It's meeting coverage so in the first couple paragraphs I need to have straight up, to the point, what the Board had decided. But I wanted to make it more featuresy since there was drama in the meeting between the president of SASF and some of the supervisors. If I were to write in broadcast format (my particular focus in my major) I could have totally rocked it. Instead, I'm caught between english creative non-fiction writing and showing how it all happened with broadcast writing, which then, in turn, equals LAME.

To continue with this torture, our class covered the press conference on Thursday, Feb. 18 where U.S. Secretary of Transportation Ray Lahood joined Congreswoman Gabrielle Giffords and Congressman Raúl Grijalva and many others to announce that Tucson would be receiving $63 million dollars to fund a modern streetcar project in hopes that it will revamp downtown Tucson and bring in a nice boost to its economy. Not only that, but the project will create thousands of jobs - according to Giffords - in Arizona and nation wide. For example, the streetcars will be constructed in Portland. (I think it's a great idea, but I feel like it'd be better if we'd had the money to spend after the fact, as if the city's transportation department had saved up for it. I'm trying to be optimistic.)

When I finally got a chance to interview Grijalva, I started to notice that he was a little short with his answers and when I started asking the harder questions like "What happens after the jobs are done?" and "What's going to happen to those people after they don't have a job to do when this one's finished?" he got even more snippy with me. I may slightly be exaggerating, but you can ask my husband: Grijalva's tone changed when I played back the interview tape.

I point this out because I wondered if Grijalva had a "short-man complex" since he wasn't nice with me. As a politician I would have thought he'd be a little more congenial. And my husband could not stop laughing about it. You see, I was wearing these four inch high boots and so I looked maybe a couple inches taller than him. If I'd just been standing we'd have been about the same height. So knowing how some men can be when women are taller than them, I wondered about and my husband just rolled around the kitchen floor. Louis informed me that he'd told the guys at work and they were equally entertained.

Louis is big into politics and we're both conservative thinkers. Personally, I hate politics, so hence the sports focus. It's all so depressing. This whole crisis with the state budget is just so overwhelming I can't even make heads or tails of it, so I'm hoping legislators are. 

First Married Valentine's Day

It's a well-known fact that Valentine's day is a very commercialized holiday. And I'm taken with every bit of it, contrary to my husband.

Last year, before we got engaged, I was slightly heartbroken when Louis walked in and handed me a card and a box of chocolates and, apologizing, said, "It's just another day."

But he's got a point. He didn't want just one day to give him an excuse to do things he should always want to do, that I should always want to do. And I do anyway. I like getting him cards every so often just for the heck of things. One time I got him one that said "Do these pants make my ass look fat" with two guys talking and a donkey in the background wearing pants because I thought it was cheesy funny and that's what I do. Another time, before we got married, he was having a hard time with work (we're talking starting at 6 a.m. and not getting to his truck until 10:45 in the evening) and I left him a card under his pillow. The next time I saw him, he hugged me and said thank you for the card - it was just what he needed to see him through the project.

For this Valentine's day, since I'm not working, I didn't want to spend too much. As noted above, I love giving him cards. So I saw this adorable "wife to husband" card from Papyrus (LOVE them!) and had to splurge the extravagant $6.38. Then I started thinking of what else I should do for him. Since my steak fiasco, I wanted to make something really good, but really chic. We got a fondue pot for our wedding and was very excited to bring it out, so I thought, "Perfect!" I'd even make spritz cookies (which you'll see pictures of on here soon)

Looking through the recipe book the Cuisinart appliance came with, I knew I definitely didn't want to get involved with the seafood aspect of things, so I picked the only one that wasn't. Chicken with star anise broth. It looked pretty good and didn't use oil to cook the food so I was excited! Then I turned the page and saw "Chocolate Mint fondue." Oh my goodness, I was ecstatic! Mint chocolate is his favorite. Louis goes out during Christmas and buys at least 3 bags at a time of the mint chocolate M&M's. So now I've got the last two courses down, but then I got to thinking about salad. How romantic would it be if I made salad from the restaurant where we had our first date? So I searched online for the ginger salad dressing from Benihana (absolutely fantastic if you've never tried it; it's an absolute must-try before you eat out again). So I'd planned the evening all out. We'd start fondue at about two and have the rest of the evening to eat and relax.

Hahaha, but I had a plan...that's what went wrong. My brother came back to town to spend Valentine's Day with his girlfriend and my mom and the rest of my family were going to get together relatively close to our house so we ended up doing an early dinner with them instead. Not that it's a bad thing, but I had kind of wanted to spend our first Valentine's together alone. But we love our families and couldn't resist the opportunity to see my brother since he's not around very often and his girlfriend is absolutely adorable! I don't think he could have picked out a cuter, more deserving girl. She's sweet, down to earth, and was so helpful during crunch time before Louis's and my wedding.

Even though he doesn't really believe in Valentine's day, Louis wanted to do something for me and felt bad that he hadn't gotten me anything. It really didn't matter to me, but he did surprise me with plans of a nice desk to put in one of the guest rooms so I can turn it into my scrapbooking heaven. I don't think he realized how sweet a gesture that was. It may not come to fruition anytime soon, but I know he loves me and was thinking of me as always. As I'm starting to realize how married life starts to make us more familiar, I can't help but notice how much I'm falling in love with him even more than before we got married (which i didn't think was possible).

Now I get to invent different ways to show him the little things: to surprise him with cards or notes here and there, because now we share bank accounts and that makes it even harder to surprise someone. :)

Turnovers make the game...

Well, I thought the storm was coming...

Yeah the storm was how the Colts flopped. I mean, I really have to hand it to the New Orleans Saints. If anyone deserved to win it was Drew Brees. He's a good guy and the Saints haven't won a Super Bowl since the franchise started about 42 years ago. I don't blame any one person for the loss, on the part of the Colts. Turn overs kill you in football, and Indianapolis had way too many.



After the game, Louis's phone started blowing up with text messages. Apparently everyone was afraid to talk to me! :)

As soon Peyton Manning threw his second interception with around one minute left in the fourth quarter, I knew it was over. Louis looked at me and said, "I'm sorry, babe." As much as I thought it'd be great if the Saints won, I didn't realize how much it'd hurt me.

That's kind of how I could describe my weekends now. Even before I got married, my weekends were filled with work and family activities or meeting up with Louis for the couple fleeting hours we had together every week. But now we're filled with things to do, like buy groceries or work on our taxes or run other errands. That's why I feel flustered when it comes to Sunday nights - I've got so much HOMEWORK!

I cannot wait to graduate. I've led myself to this point in my education (career) game. I started the first half off strong but then at the second half, I had to switch sides and move to Arizona from Indianapolis. That's where all the turn-overs are coming from.

When I transferred to the University of Arizona, I think the advisors thought my previous, private school was only a community college instead of the 4-year, accredited school which it was. Instead of having Senior status as a Junior with my credits, I came into the Journalism program as a sophomore; I had to start from scratch.

But right now it's late in the game, and during the last couple semesters I've had quite a few hick-ups in my offense. I lost interest in a couple of classes because I'd already taken them at my old school and ultimately failed them. Another I lost interest because it wasn't my career focus: Broadcasting versus Print Journalism. There goes another loss of five yards.

And now, hopefully graduating in May, I have to pull out a Hail Mary play to the end zone with less than 2 minutes left in regulation. There's no overtime.

My husband's been very supportive through this semester, even though we're just going into our fifth week tomorrow. Somehow, it feels like we've been here for much longer. And I guess I'm thinking about all this since I'd be working and enjoying video editing all day long if I had graduated already. If not, I'd have been on the field tonight interviewing Peyton Manning there in Miami after the game or telling Drew Brees congratulations as he hoisted the Lombardi Trophy.

Needless to say, turn-overs make the game. And I've got to come back from a multi-point/credit deficit.