Tuesday, September 29, 2009


It is awfully Big Brotherish, I suppose, but I kind of like that search engines keep track of what you type and tailor your ads to you. Mostly I think it's interesting to see who they think you are. (Or rather, how off they are in their assumptions.) For example, the other day, I got a series of ads trying to sell me proper Islamic swimwear. It looked kind of exactly what you would picture: head covered, throat covered... basically everything covered but toes and fingertips. All the models lined up on the beach with their hands on their hips, the caption below saying that this was the new "form flattering" model available. I was thinking about this the other day when Matt asked me if my friend who wears a hijab "has her ears pierced under there." I was silent for a minute trying to remember her unveiled, and in the dark his voice suddenly added "Oh no, does that make me a pervert?" And we laughed and of course I told him I couldn't believe he could be so crass and inappropriate, wildly inappropriate. After sufficiently shaming him, I brought up a rather sensitive topic: our daughter's modesty, or lack thereof. Loli has a habit of lifting her dress. It's terrible, just terrible. She shows her bloomer any chance she can get. When we told her "Loli, you can't lift up your dress, you're a lady!" she merely responded "lady." (Seriously. Twice!) Which I suppose leaves us only one option: I am now in the market for a baby burqa*. Google, find me that.
*I am kidding, oh so kidding.

Saturday, September 26, 2009

The Distinguished Gentlemen

I wouldn't normally use a blurry picture, but then again, Matt's not normally sporting a mustache, so perhaps this is all for the best. What was meant as a short-lived joke has turned into quite an inspiration for Flaco, though, who touches his face and says he wants to grow whiskers of his own. He claims he would look more handsome if he were not sin bigote. (Kids these days and their ideas of fashion, I tell ya...)

I knew he was sick when

he fell asleep eating his peanut butter sandwich. He's not the kind of kid who does that, not the kind to fall over into a plate of mashed potatoes. He's our boy, after all, and us Goodfellas could never eat apathetically. The sickness next struck Matthew, who threw up all night. Next it came for me. And I ain't gonna lie, what Flaco did almost made it worth it. My boy went outside and picked me a bouquet of dandelions -- the white kind, puffed with seeds. He brought them to me and laid his head on my chest and said "It's okay, sugar. It's okay."
It take it back. It was worth it. Sometimes I love him so much my heart actually hurts.

Monday, September 14, 2009

Never again will we give him a 24 pack of Mountain Dew right before bed.

Last night we had a slumber party with the Flaco. We turned out the lights and he started talking talking talking talking como nunca. Actually, that's not quite true. There would be long silences during which time we'd assume he was asleep, and then suddenly from the dark we'd hear his tiny little voice. "Pillow fight the air! Feroz pillow fight!" Silence. "I'm marvelous, papa!" Silence. "I love you, birthday cake!" Silence. "No te vayas, papa. Quedate aqui, papa. Peligroso!" Long silence. ("I think he's asleep." "It's been two hours!" "He's gotta be by now.") "El chorizo huele riquisimo!*"
*It should be noted that there was no chorizo cooking. And that to Flaco, chorizo isn't even food (we call it salchicha.) As far as he knows, it's a guy dressed as a sausage wearing a sombrero running down the street. Which leads me to believe that said guy dressed as a chorizo must have been wearing a very good smelling cologne.

Wednesday, September 09, 2009

Gum would be perfection

Things I love love love:
Sitting on the couch with my kiddos, Loli smiling at me and Flaco climbing like a rabid little monkey. Discovering I have all the ingredients for curry. Not putting coconut milk in said curry. Watching The Office with Matthew. Talking smack about the show Mercy. Getting a year-long subscription to Time (plus a laser level!) for only fifteen bucks. Hearing Flaco say "Jesus loves me, people tell me so." (His version of the song.) Getting to cook dinner for six every day. (Although when my grandpa and grandma were here and there were eight of us, that was so good too.) Watching Hairo Torres dance/contort. Hearing Styxx on the radio. Catching glimpses of Cupcake. Hearing Joe teach at youth group and realizing how much I don't know and how much more I want to know. Watching cartoons in Arabic with Flaco.
And more, so much more. Much more.
You are one. I'm almost sure of it.