Getting Ready for Easter

So I had an argument with Seth yesterday because the time has come for our annual Easter Dinner Gathering. This is something I've done since before we were married. Gathered friends and family to celebrate and feast!

This year there has been so much crazyness happening, so much loss and turmoil - what with our struggles with church and all. I had a vision of having this huge BBQ style party and gathering all our friends around me to eat ham and sip sangria. That is until reason ( in the name of Seth) spoke up to shatter my flimsy dream...
The conversation sorta sounds like this:

Seth -"We couldn't possibly fit 28 people in our house. Are you insane? "

Me- But honey, I was thinking we could buy a tent and set it up in the backyard...

Seth - "Do you mean that you want people to stand out there in all the mounded up dog crap and eat? What if it rains?"

Me- We could sit around inside Indian style at the coffee table and couches and stuff. Maybe set up the card tables?

Seth- " What happened to having a nice meal at our table with all those nice dishes you have? "

Me- I want it to be like a BBQ!

Seth, " People want a nice sit down meal for Easter Dinner and no one wants to sit around on the floor. We don't have room for 28 people in our house! We don't have money to rent out the VFW- why don't you just not invite so many people?"

Me- I was thinking casual.. but... Who do you suggest I cut from my list? We've already invited some people.

Seth- " I don't have time to talk about this right now......."

Me- pouting- But I have to get the invitations out! How do I know how many invitations to send?

Seth- "I am at work. Don't make me hang up on you. You're being unreasonable right now. Can't we talk about this when I get home? "

Me- uh sure.

Okay, I am insane... I must be nesting or it's the solar lunar whatever eclipse. I still want 28 people to come for Easter. I am evil.

Evolution

I like telling stories. I really do! I think that I like telling my story because it connects me all over again to the things/people/places that I cherish and maybe it connects people to me; allowing me to cherish them.

A place I cherish is Williamsburg, Michigan.
I sort of grew up in isolation there, but I also developed my imagination in all the wild places.
My secret wild places where the cherry/peach/plum/pear orchards, surrounding our house the train tracks behind the Christmas trees at the back of the orchards, the Indian markers at the Marsh by Smith Lake, the trails that wind around Baggs road and the patches of trillium, lady slipper and jack in the pulpit that Grandma Schlagel showed me to find behind their land.

Williamsburg is were I learned to dislike the taste of TAB and Bacon Horseradish chip dip. But I also learned to adore rhubarb-strawberry pie and greenbean casserole ( white people food-yeesh!) Here is were I learned about fairy princesses and soldiers and moss palaces. I discovered the magic of Quaking Poplar trees and the beauty of Golden Birch bark. I learned about Dutchman's Breeches ( a flower) and I learned to pick cabbages and vegetables and eat woodchuck and opossum.
On our road ( Elk Lake Road off of M-72) I watched as the barrels went up every year to collect the sap for maple syrup. At home, I collected bread bags for 'shrooming Morels in the spring. I learned that rabbits don't eat actual carrots, rather they eat carrot tops! My favorite times where when the Rheykopf's cows would get loose and the road would fill up with everyone trying to round them up and the crazy eyed cows mooing! The road would smell like cowcrap for a not couple days!

(I also learned about Polock jokes and MASH and Milwaukee Best beer and Pickup trucks and other things redneck. )

It was a wierd clash of cultures for me, but I liked learning stuff and I could slip away into the woods or to my room and imagine much more wierdo stuff. Like the flying lazyboy chairs and the Witch Wars of the Williamsburg forest. I also was convinced that our farm house was hunted by aliens and haunted by an old lady who died upstairs. Ahh Williamsburg!

Looking for Remains

Lately life has been a lot like excavating the old dirt for dinosaur bones. I've been dusting off little nuggets of bones and piecing them together to see what stories they tell me about the past. Maybe that's it. I have been trying to find those meaningful stories that help me identify my DNA. Strategizing what God's intentions where when he put me together and flung me out into the world.

Watching George Lopez and Freddie Prinze Jr last night made me laugh. I watch George and I picture my Dad or my Uncle Palomo. I see them yucking it up over beers and making fun of us kids. I see Freddie Prinze and I see myself trying to be all smooth, cavalier about how easy my life is compared to the Rancheros back in Tejas. Ashamed that I am soft and have lost the hard edges of poverty and earthiness of less edjumacated. I think about the scene where George's son sees Freddies house and is all impressed. George is like, " Hey what's wrong with our house? You want a view? I'll put your bed on the roof. Then you can have your view." I guffawed and snorted. I felt sad when Freddie's niece asked George's son if he read any good books. She lists off Of Mice & Men and a few other literary greats. I noted the look of her disgust when he stated, " You've read 2 books?!" He's a 14 year kid and she's a 14 year old girl from a different world. When both the shows are over I feel sour inside. I was that girl. I was a snot.

Looking on at my "bumpkin" family - They used to call me "the Nerd" and "ET" because I got glasses in 5th grade. I liked to read a lot and I enjoyed helping out with chores because I had this dumb fantasy that boys would see what a good wife I would make. Heh, like they think that crap at that age! I was delusional in my practicality. Tell Seth about that today and he will look at you cross-eyed, Janet liked doing chores? I don't do shiyat around the house unless I am moved by necessity. Poor Seth carries the load most of the time. Honest! I just do the cooking.

Seth doesn't quite understand my reactions to all this because he doesn't fully appreciate the marked differences of the world I left behind( or was I taken from it?) He sees it as funny, but it doesn't touch him the same way. I don't think he can imagine recycling the metal coffee canisters as a bed pan, so we didn't have to go bathroom in the cold and dark of night. ( Maybe that is why I don't drink coffee- latent memories! OMG!) Or why I hate the smell of ZEST soap. Reminds me of the migrant camp! Or why I get embarrassed when he asked me what a word means in Spanish and I don't know or can't remember.

I think about my OCD need to feed people, it is both a cultural thing and a tactical thing. Food makes you feel good, but I also recall the winters when money was tight and a Cup-a-Soup packet was all I was getting for lunch and dinner. * **Not that I was wasting away mind you! ***I think I packed on the weight to combat looking like the bony, bulging -bellied Ethiopean Kids they liked to show on TV in the 80s. I took sick pleasure in pretending I was Sally Struthers in all her huge glory. I would be safe from starvation one way or another!

Alas those are days past. I put the bones away and consider my life in the present. We have a huge house and full cupboards and no one is wasting away and there hasn't been a block of government cheese in my fridge for a very very long long time. I have the luxury of shopping at stores beyond Walmart, KMart and Family Dollar. I don't buy Zest -ever- and I am a veteran of the Malls. My family, the ones that I miss so much, they are scraping by. They don't have retirement funds or health insurance. Hell they probably don't even pay taxes! They don't have the security of a car that runs well. My aunt is afraid to go to the 'rich people's' mall and only goes to the flea market and to Walmart. Fancy dinners for her is going to the pizza buffet in McAllen and trying the Salad Bar. My cousins have kids and feel bad for me that I don't have any. They never went to college nor did they want to. They have never traveled outside of Texas. They don't read books, they don't read magazines either, but they go to bars and cock fights and have BBQs with the best of them. They think nothing of their husbands going to a Titty bar and getting blind drunk on a Saturday night. They can make quick money working Labor Ready and Manpower. They don't own a computer or know a damn thing about the internet. Like a Mexican episode of the Roseanne Barr Show. Remember her? Lest you think I have disgust, you need to know that I love my family. I just feel like an alien. I relish the simplicity of their lives, the survival instincts, the genius of how they keep everything together with so little- maybe that is what I miss. That is what I want to glean from my heritage.

I remember going to Mexico on a mission trip and being angry at the team. They looked around and saw poverty everywhere and were stricken. I looked around and saw home. The people didn't know they were poor. I remember the burning shame I felt at how much I had and how greedy I was with it. I was so entitled and priveledged- acting just like everybody else, hopping on a plane to help people who didn't really need me or my drama. They were perfectly happy to let me pretend I was being useful. Man O Man. How the wheels have turned.

Speaking the truth thru the eyes of Carlos Mencia

Heh, I like the comedian: Carlos Mencia. One thing about him is he is funny and he pretty much tells it like it is. Some people may find it offensive, but me? Nah. Mostly, I find him honest.

I was thinking about my roots the other day and felt confused about my ethnic authenticity. Yeah, that's a mouthful of tamales you can be sure. What I mean is that Carlos was talking about being mixed: Honduran & Mexican and mocking how we further segregate ourselves into classes of ethnicity. Oh you're Puerto Rican. but you're so light skinneded. ( yes, I wrote skinneded)

For me, I am Spanish and Mexican. I look more like Mexi-light that EuroSpanishican. I don't look like a classic Mexican. I don't have Indian black hair nor the big cow eyes. I am shorter, but not crazy short like a Guatamalteco. I am lightskinned, olive toned but more green than tan and not golden and definitely not brown. I am not in the beaner class of color nor am I in the Spanish class of tall almond eyed with the cleft chin of the Moros- Spaniard. I don't look regal at all. More like a serf than a peasant.

Why am I wasting time pondering this stuff? Well, because I realize that I am not fully Mexican or Spanish. I am American. My English passes for excellent, my Spanish passes for a 5th grader. I go to the supermercado and I feel like a tourist. I don't belong there. I go to Meijers and I think I can blend. I go to Marshall Field's and I feel like a shoplifter. I can identify with most white people and I can identify with a Texan. But it is a far stretch for me to identify with Mexicans beyond the world of the George Lopez show anymore. I was a chick that got separated from the hen house called home and put in someone else's henhouse. Sort of like how black people try so desperately to identify with their African roots, but really don't have a clue of what being African is all about. There is a void there. A blank space. A black hole. I am like that. It makes me both sad and relieved. My life is easy compared to your common wetback or beaner. I can pass for Anglo, but I am not. I am acutely aware that I am not Anglo/White/Gringo because of some of the crazy stuff white people do or how they think about the world. It is a distinct cultural shift.
Here is an example, White people send thank you cards. Why do you do that? It's a nice gesture and all, but for me ( tacobendergirl) I don't see the point. Of course I am thankful for your gift- I told you that in person and I tell you how much I appreciate you when I feed you or call you my friend and that is why I did that thing for you or got you a gift in the first place.
I know it seems like I make a big deal out of this- but do you understand what I am saying? I think of it like a redundance or ass kissing- cause I'm honest that way.

The other thing W-people do is separate their friends from their family or even your friends from your friends. Not saying that you all do it, maybe it's a West Michigan thing- because some of you do that- I know I noticed. See- in my world you mix everybody up. You blend in the frijoles with the carne. Like I said, not all peeps are like that- but I have noticed in certain circles that ya'll keep a close reign on family privacy. Sunday mornings it's " We have lunch plans with the parents or We didn't make it because the family is visiting, etc" Sharing your family with your friends lets you in on an whole new world. Who you really are; because your mom was there when you wet the bed- so you caint act all fancy around her. Just like friends who experience you in different ways too. When I was a kid in Texas, my folks had everybody around- even the neighbors- no one was in "private time" cause it was rude. I noticed that I have slipped into that mode lately. I want my "private time" at home, I want my peace & quiet. I don't want to be "bothered" by visitors. That's crap. My abuelita didn't raise me like that, but you know I have spent too much time amongst you natives. I have forgotten the kindness and joys of a full house and a shared meal and shared labors. That's one thing White people don't do very well either. You come to somebody's house and you eat and you leave the mess. You have to be told to help out, it's un-natural. Now if you aren't like that- you know I am not talking about you. But there's some of you reading this and you know who you are- you're red in the face cuz you are the skippers. (The Cucu has his eye on you, brother!) So I am done commenting on stuff. I guess I just needed to connect to the brownside of me and remember that I am my granma's girl- my papito's mimi- and I am mexi-me. No I am not brown nor indigenous nor eurospanish- I'm just the gurl born in the corn fields of Ohio, raised in Texas and Northern Michigan.

The Killers

Seth bought me this CD, The Killers, www.islandrecords.com/thekillers/ the other day.

It was a day when we were hashing out our marriage-junk over breakfast at the Sundance Grill Downtown. I would say that the food was so so southwest. I don't understand the need to paprika & green pepper everything to death , but it was ok. Our long ago disappeared friend ( KATIE! who moved back to Cadillac) used to say, "It'll make a turd." That was about the extent of it.
Then we went for a stroll in the freezing cold wind and discovered a new cafe /bookstore that seemed promising. Perusing the CDs I found The Killers and swooned. This band has all the drama of The Cure, the heady bass of The Strokes, and the exquisite lyrics of a group of musical master storytellers ( maybe Talking Heads ish or even New Order). I luvs them, they are so precious...

When I was growing up...

Heh, I found this and loved it! Although in my house, we couldn't afford the Jiffy Pop, we used popcorn in a bag and oil in grandma's cast-iron skillet. And we didn't have cable. We lived on a damn farm ( orchard) and they didn't run "cable" to where we lived. So we used rabbit ears. My cousins used to tell me that our TV had a ( reference to that movie) because it was always going snowy it was so old. We didn't have Atari either, I entertained my brain with books. Yeah, those things made with paper that you "read" , not "read" by listening (audio books my ass) which is not reading... If we were lucky enough to go to the mall -you were damn grateful there was a Sears or JC Penney there because that was it. I thought going to the grocery store was a dang adventure. Ok, so maybe we lived in the country and we were po' but you get the picture. Nowadays even t he damn po kids run around with expensive crap they can't afford. When I was a kid, Po' was PO. You couldn't and wouldn't get credit cards. Yeah yeash And so forth.. read on!

IF you are 30 or older you will think this is hilarious!!!!

IF you are under 30….it’s still pretty funny!!When I was a kid, adults used to bore me to tears with their tedious diatribes about how hard things were when they were growing up; what with walking twenty-five miles to school every morning ... uphill BOTH ways .. yadda, yadda, yadda

And I remember promising myself that when I grew up, there was no way in hell I was going to lay a bunch of crap like that on kids about how hard I had it and how easy they've got it!But now that...I'm over the ripe old age of thirty, I can't help but look around and notice the youth of today. You've got it so easy!I mean, compared to my childhood, you live in a damn Utopia!And I hate to say it but you kids today you don't know how good you've got it!

I mean, when I was a kid we didn't have The Internet. If we wanted to know something, we had to go to the damn library and look it up ourselves, in the card catalog!!There was no email! We had to actually write somebody a letter ... with a pen! Then you had to walk all the way across the street and put it in the mailbox and it would take like a week to get there!

There were no MP3's or Napsters! You wanted to steal music, you had to hitchhike to the damn record store and shoplift it yourself! Or you had to wait around all day to tape it off the radio and the DJ'd usually talk over the beginning and @#*% it all up!

And talk of about hardship? You couldn't just download porn! You had to steal it from your parents or bribe some homeless dude to buy you a copy of a dirty magazine at the 7-11! Those were your options!

We didn't have fancy crap like Call Waiting! If you were on the phone and somebody else called they got a busy signal, that's it! And we didn't have fancy Caller ID Boxes either! When the phone rang, you had no idea who it was! It could be your school, your mom, your boss, your bookie, your drug dealer, a collections agent, you just didn't know!!! You had to pick it up and take your chances, mister!

We didn't have any fancy Sony Playstation video games with high-resolution 3-D graphics! We had the Atari 2600! With games like "Space Invaders" and "Asteroids" and the graphics sucked ass! Your guy was a little square! You actually had to use your imagination! And there were no multiple levels or screens, it was just one screen forever! And you could never win. The game just kept getting harder and harder and faster and faster until you died! ... Just like LIFE!

When you went to the movie theater there no such thing as stadium seating! All the seats were the same height! If a tall guy or some old broad with a hat sat in front of you and you couldn't see, you were just screwed!

Sure, we had cable television, but back then that was only like 15 channels and there was no onscreen menu and no remote control! You had to use a little book called a TV Guide to find out what was on! You were screwed when it came to channel surfing! You had to get off your ass and walk over to the TV to change the channel and there was no Cartoon Network either! You could only get cartoons on Saturday Morning. Do you hear what I'm saying!?! We had to wait ALL WEEK for cartoons, you spoiled little rat-bastards!

And we didn't have microwaves, if we wanted to heat something up . we had to use the stove or go build a frigging fire ... imagine that! If we wanted popcorn, we had to use that stupid JiffyPop thing and shake it over the stove forever like an idiot. That's exactly what I'm talking about! You kids today have got it too easy. You're spoiled.You guys wouldn't have lasted five minutes back in 1980! Regards, -The 30 Something crowd!

It's WORK

I have been thinking about my single friends and young married friends. They get a lot of pressure to mimic being perfect. Singles better hurry up and get married. Young marrieds better hurry up and produce kids. Older marrieds? yikes. I don't know. I think I still fall under the young married. Does 5 years count as young? Nowadays it feels like we're lucky to last this long... the lifetime of a kindergartener. Anyway, in my many blog seekings I found this gen of a post. Long, but worthy of your attention!

Here is a great article from Maurice Broadus www.mauricebroaddus.com

Friday Night Date Place - A Realistic View of Marriage
Alright, this is a leftover bit from my rant from last week. The question you may want to ask yourself before “why date?” may be “why marry?” Let’s take a brief overview of what it means to get married, what you are really in for. Things begin when you exchange one gift (singleness) for another (marriage). Actually, I could spend some time talking about that because as is, singleness is typically viewed as a curse, something we have to endure until we reach the "promised land" known as marriage. Let me tell you, that was a rough transition for me because I really enjoyed being single. I had plenty of friends. I was able to go out (and more importantly, be alone) when I wanted. And I was busy. In other words, I led a full single life. I think having a lot of interests, a sense of belonging/community, and a lot to do (the free time to minister as I felt led, for example--which I don't have now, not because I don't have the desire, but because my wife and kids would like to see me on occasion and they are the prime demanders of my time). Belonging and busyness are probably the secrets to being fulfilled while single.I could be wrong though. Either way, I digress.

Marriage equals a loss of freedom. Suddenly, you are accountable to another person. Not just accountable, but expected. Expected. As in someone would like to be with you, invading your space all the time, and expects you to be there. Presence is a powerful thing to get used to. Don't let anyone fool you: none of us know what we're doing. As singles, we spent a lot of time and used up a lot of brainspace figuring out how things would be when we were married (the hardest dream to let die was the idea that marriage meant "sex all the time" - apparently the thing that married people do together most is watch tv together). Good, think about it, but just realize that the reality may not be what you thought it was. Heh. One of the stories that my wife still recounts (with just a hint of bitterness if you listen closely enough) is how long it took me to get used to the idea that I wasn't living life on my own anymore. Apparently, and who knows, she remembers these things better than I (with just a hint of bitterness if you listen closely enough), I used to randomly leave the house without telling her. She'd be talking to me one minute, I would remember I needed something at the grocery store and leave. Something I used to not think twice about. Until I got back home. I'm still thinking about it.With a hint of bitterness.If I listen closely enough.But I digress. And she's not going to think this nearly as amusing as I do. I’m not saying that this was one of the first, and often painfully learned, lessons of my marriage in the first few months. I’m just saying. Before I got married, no one asked me where I was going, who I was going with, or when I would be back. On the flip side, no one cared either.With marriage, your privacy is invaded on a scale that you haven’t seen since you were forced to share your room with your sibling. Your sin is fully exposed. Hey, I thought I was a pretty good guy until I got married, because there was no one around to see me all the time or tell me otherwise. I never realized what an ass I could be until I had another person around me all the time. (That’s not entirely true. I did have a pretty good idea, it’s just nothing you put on your dating resume.)

Marriage is a lifetime commitment. That’s forever for at least one of you. Marriage is a sacrifice of yourself for the sake of another. You surrender your personal rights as you strive to please another (I Cor. 7:32-34). Marriage is risk. There is no guarantee of happiness or fulfillment. You are always vulnerable to heartache or heartbrokenness. No one can hurt you the way, nor as deeply, a spouse can.

Marriage is work.
Marriage is work.
Marriage is work.

And you know what? Sadly, I have seen some wrong reasons folks have thought of as reasons to get married:
-tax breaks (though don’t get me wrong, that is why I decided to have kids)
-to make a home
-to have sex or children (as if that is the sole purpose of marriage - remember, there is always television)
-to end or prevent loneliness (marriage is no guarantee of that: there is nothing worse that being lonely in a marriage. At least when you are single, you can theoretically do something about it).

For the record, marriage:
-will not (necessarily) end your aloneness
-will not (necessarily) fulfill your needs
-will not solve your problems (note that I didn’t qualify that one)
-is not God’s plan for everyone (listen up church!)
-will not solve your lust issues (the one thing that NO ONE ever tells you when they throw the I Corithians "better to be married than burn" passage at you)

Basically, any reason outside of being with the person themselves is bad.Let me come back to our idea of singleness vs. marriage. When did marriage become a reward? Seriously, when did we start acting like God was punishing us with a time of singleness to make us appreciate marriage when we got it. It’s that mindset that leads people to say things like, “one day, you’re time will come.” Are you freaking kidding me? If I’m my wife’s reward for something, she needs to be doing some heavy repenting. There’s no point in pursuing dating as some sort of mission to fall in love if most folks don’t even have a realistic view of marriage. I maintain that the idea of romantic love was one of the worse things to happen to marriage. People (women, there, I said. I ain’t scared of you.) have unrealistic visions of what dating should be. You spot each other from across a room. There is an instant, if unadmitted, chemistry. There is an exchange of witty banter, followed by a chase/hunt that triumphs over misunderstandings and adversity. Most of us expect to enter into marriage via falling in love with someone who makes our toes dance, who makes us tingle. Too often “falling in love” amounts to setting up alters to ourselves: when we lose that tingle, we think that something’s wrong or it is time to move on because we are no longer fulfilled or having our needs met. Believe me, I wish that we as a culture respected marriage as an institution a lot more than we do. When we start tossing around phrases like “starter marriages” or when some countries have begun treating marriage like business contracts (people enter into marriage committed for X amount of years, with the option to renew), I can’t pretend that the unrealistic view of marriage is somehow limited to singles in the church.
You fall in love with an ideal, you divorce the reality. A person’s “charming quirks” become irritating traits that become the daily bane of your existence. That most wonderful of women becomes a nagging lump. That man you spent hours just thinking about, you now try to forget the stunt he pulled last night. Her wit becomes biting sarcasm. His suave dress doesn’t match the streaked underwear you have to pick up and wash.
In other words, you better not be a damsel because we certainly ain’t knights.