beauty

by

x is for xenophile

I am, and have been for as long as I can remember, a xenophile.

I. AM. ATTRACTED. TO. FOREIGN. PEOPLE.

rudy

Specifically.
To.
Rudy.

Mr. Honduras.

A foreigner.

Who was foreign to me.
When we locked eyes.

Long ago.

But not anymore.

He.

With his chocolate skin.
Makes me swoon.
His don’t mess with me dark features.
That can just as easily turn into a happy, feel-good expression.
And the silken accent that flows off his tongue.
Oh, how it weakens my knees!

Yep.
I am a xenophile.

Enamored with Rudy.

by

Bill, My Brother

Repost from August 3, 2011

bill and me

Bill died when he was 19 years old. He was in a car accident while traveling home from Desert Hot Springs, in California, with his best friend and a hitch-hiking passenger.

I was a sixteen year old sophomore. A young girl who seriously idolized her down-to-earth, friendly, always-had-time-for-me, artistically inclined, nice looking, wild-long-blond-haired brother.

I remember as a small child, Bill and I were one of the four youngest kids in our family that took day trips with our parents. Fun times, for sure. It wasn’t until I was in high school, though, that I really began to realize what an impact Bill had on me. Specifically with the way I saw myself and the potential of being someone special.

Insecurity ruled me during those teen years. I was so focused on worrying about how I was perceived by others that I forgot to just have fun. When I was a freshman, Bill was a senior. He warmed my heart, pushed my I’m an awesome person button, simply by acknowledging my presence as he was walking within my vicinity. He would literally stop, his group of friends in tow, approach me, smile, say hi, and hug me before he continued his journey. So simple. Yet, so rewarding. He pumped up my confidence.

When two police officers walked up the drive, onto our unpaved, pebble-filled porch I was lounging on an aging, wooden outdoor chaise. Interesting, I thought. “What did one of my brothers do now?” I asked, jokingly. “Do you know Bill Palmer?” one of them asked me. Or maybe he used his full name, William. I can’t remember. Anyway, my heart skipped a beat. “Yeah, he’s my brother,” I responded quietly. At this point I began wondering if maybe they should be talking to my parents, not me. I was a too-young girl that loved her brother more than he ever knew. “He was in a car accident. He was killed,” the officer stated, without much emotion.

Did I hear right? My heart was beating so fast. I stumbled out of the chair, fell into the house and tried with all my might to scream, to alert my mom and dad that I needed them. “What is it?” my mom asked, or maybe it was my dad standing next to me. I’ve lost that memory. “There are some cops out there, saying Bill died,” I choked out. Their eyes grew wide, yet they seemed confused. I re-opened the front door without a word and pushed them towards the officers.

Life was a blur for quite a while after that. School needed my attention but I couldn’t even stay in my music class, to learn the graduation song for the upcoming graduates. It made me cry. I left the room. My brother, Kit, just watched me leave. I could see in his eyes he was hurting, too. The music teacher didn’t object when I quietly left the classroom, tears gently rolling down my cheeks. I don’t even remember what I did after that. Maybe I just left, walked the mile home. People were very kind, but I was so wrapped up in trying to figure out Why? Why did Bill have to die? that I didn’t let them in to console me.

I lost a very important person, someone who helped form the way I think, the way I am today. Sadly, he never knew. All I can believe is that he watches me, sees I’m doing fine. He’s everywhere. Even in some of the behaviors of my kids, especially in Roberto. He’s in artwork I see framed around my world. He’s in friendships I observe, especially the friend who is extremely charismatic, and in stories I read about brothers caring about sisters, sisters caring for brothers.

Here I sit, thinking about Bill, my brother. I am fortunate to have had someone very special in my life, someone who travels in my thoughts, reminding me to make the most of everything, and to take nothing for granted. Daily, I take the time to slow down, live in the moment, to observe my world, and appreciate the good things.

by

The RED Bracelet

red braceletTasha was sitting on her bed twirling the red leather bracelet that was clasped around her left wrist. It was her lucky bracelet. The one she was given as a birthday gift from her grandmother a few years ago. She told Tasha that it was a good-luck charm; that it was magical, making only positive things happen.

Across from Tasha, sitting in her huge overstuffed chair, was Lily, her best friend.

Lily envied Tasha.

She wished she could, just once, borrow Tasha’s lucky bracelet. But, Tasha has admitted to Lily that she never let anyone wear it, for fear of it losing its magic, resulting in something going radically wrong.

Lily completely understood, and would probably feel the same way; yet, knew that somehow she was going to get that bracelet and wear it to her first acting audition, tomorrow afternoon.

Tasha got everything. No matter what she did, it always worked in her favor. When she wanted a certain guy to ask her out, he did. With no effort on her part. When she didn’t bother studying for her final exam in Chemistry, no problem. She wore her bracelet, and passed, top of the class. When she wanted a new car, her parents bought the Mini Cooper she’d been googling. And, therefore, Lily knew that Tasha was going to ace her college interview, in a few days, at Yale, and be offered early admission. No problem.

“Just once,” Lily whispered to herself.
“Hmm?” Tasha questioned.
“Oh. Nothing. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you later,” Lily stated.
“Alright. I’ve got to jump in the shower anyway. I’m having dinner with my grandparents tonight. See ya!” she chimed.

Lily closed the front door behind her, and immediately rounded the house, walking towards Tasha’s bedroom window. Just as she peeked in, she saw Tasha close the bathroom door. And, just as she knew Tasha would, the red bracelet had been taken off and now lay on the bedside table. Lily smiled slyly and walked back around to the front entrance and re-entered the house. She could hear the water running in the shower, and hear the hum of the bathroom’s fan. Quietly, and very quickly, Lily sprinted into Tasha’s room, grabbed the good-luck charm, then left, locking the front door behind her.

Later, as Tasha was dressing, her mom knocked on her bedroom door, asking Tasha if she was ready to leave. “Almost,” she answered as she reached down to pick up her red bracelet. She cocked her head to one side, narrowed her eyes, and pursed her lips as her hand stopped midway towards the table. She looked left, onto the floor, then right. Tasha got down on her knees and looked under her bed. But to no avail. Her good-luck charm, her magical bracelet was gone.

“Lily? Did you take my bracelet?” Tasha said into the phone, panicked.
“Your bracelet? No. Weren’t you wearing it when I left?”
“Well, yes. But I took it off when I got in the shower, and now I can’t find it. I just thought maybe…..” she trailed off, thinking, wondering where it could be.
“Oh, I’m sure it’s there. It must be,” Lily reasoned, knowing she’d slip it back into Tasha’s room the following afternoon, after her audition.

“Tasha?! We’ve got to go,” her mother hollered. “We don’t want to keep Grandma and Grandpa waiting.”
“Coming,” she nervously shouted back.

“I’ve got to go. But I feel kind of strange. Like I shouldn’t be going anywhere. That I need the bracelet. Especially tonight. Well, anyway, I will see you later, Lily.”

Lily smirked. She felt guilty; yet, she didn’t care. “See you.”

“Tasha can have one night of something not going her way. And anyway, she’s going to see her grandparents. What positive luck does she need for that?” Lily told herself. “For once, Tasha will envy me, after I get the starring role from tomorrow’s audition!”

Tasha sat in the back seat of her parents car, twisting her wrist where the bracelet should be, when suddenly they were hit head-on by a drunk driver.

The paramedics were trying frantically to maintan life in both Tasha’s parents while she lay dead on the paved road.

by

Roberto William – Happy B-Day

IMG_1062

A moment in time occurred twenty years ago. A moment never forgotten by Rudy. A memory instilled within his soul of days long ago when he used to drop Roberto off at kindergarten.

Their morning started off, as usual, with Rudy helping Roberto dress, and feeding him a hearty breakfast. Something like cold cereal or a PopTart.™

After sitting in the car, cruising along for a mile or so, listening to music and chatting about living the life of a five year old, Rudy would pull the red two-door Honda hatchback up to the curb, next to the chain link fence, and state Okay, Buddy, which was Roberto’s cue to climb out of the car and walk through the kindergarten gate about ten yards away.

Dad don’t leave yet, Roberto cheerfully commanded.

Rudy always waited until Roberto made his way onto the kinder playground then he’d drive off, heading to work for the day. Yet, on that particular day, for the very first time, Roberto made a request, telling Rudy to stay where he was, in the motor-running car. Suddenly, there was Roberto, backpack dropped to the ground in front of his feet, his teeny-tiny fingers entwined through the links of the fence.

I love you, and drive careful! Roberto yelled to him.

From that day on, this endearing ritual found a place in their private world.

And I love you, Bud, Rudy responded, giving Roberto a thumbs-up. Then Roberto would grab his school bag and run off to play.

by

furballs

cassandra

skyler

kitties
cats

twins
fraternal

cassandra is dark chocolate brown
and
skyler is layered with a multitude of hues

both have green eyes

cassandra is an extrovert
knocking books off laps
looking for a comfortable place to rest

skyler is an observer
standing back
watching
occasionally
tucking herself in next to those who love her

girls:garageDoor

early in the morning
when the day is beginning
the girls
wait
for the garage door to open
just enough
for them
to peek out
before
spending their day
exploring
the
wonders of the world

by

Parenting 101

REPOST from Sept. 15, 2012: (stands the test of time…)

brad, age 13

There’s this fine line between disciplinarian and friend, when it comes to being a parent. Kids need rules, yet, they also need someone they trust. Someone to talk to. Someone like me.

I’ve never grounded my kids. Rather, I find quiet moments to talk about a situation, without making a big deal. Which in turn develops a bond between us. A solidarity.

One day, when Brad was at a friend’s house, I took the opportunity to clean his way too messy room. As the pile of clothing, and other junk, began to diminish from the top of his dresser, having settled back into the drawers, I spotted the Kindle Fire. I had forgotten about the electronic reader, as I had given it to Brad to use for school; so, for me, it was out-of-sight-out-of-mind. During the summer, he said he wanted to spent some time getting acquainted with the gadget, to just play with it, learn how to use it.

Sounded good to me.

I picked the Kindle up, which was tucked into its black leather jacket that I had bought, to protect it. I stretched the elastic band off the cover, flipped it open, turned it on, and browsed through items Brad had downloaded. Just checking in, one might say. Games, Facebook, and a few magazines.

I should have guessed, but I hadn’t. Nor was I surprised. Or even mad, that one of the magazines included lots of photos of girls; young women, actually, in teeny-tiny swimsuits. HOT women, emphasizing breasts and rear-ends.

I laughed. To myself.

Later, when Brad was lounging on his bed, I walked in, asking how his day was. It was fun, he told me. And he thanked me for cleaning his room.

“Oh, and by the way, I was looking at the Kindle,” I began.
Brad gave me a sideways glance, narrowed his eyes, and smirked a bit.
“I saw the magazine you downloaded. The girls,” I continued.
He just looked at me. Waited for me to do some more talking.
“I see you have good taste,” I joked.
He smiled, and looked down.
“And, well, anyway, I have no problem with you looking at those pictures, but a word of advice.”
He waited, patiently.
“You need to delete them. The Kindle is for class books, for reading, and I don’t think your teachers would like those photos on campus.” I finished.
“OK,” Brad answered.

The night before his first day of school, I asked him if he had everything he needed. If he was all packed up.
“Yep,” he responded. “And, yes, the magazine has been deleted.”

I am sure he will not be surprised when another respect for women conversation drops into ours lives somewhere down the road.

I am building a lifetime with him. A trusting relationship, so that he knows that no matter what, he can always count on me.

by

The Semi-Plan

IMG_6006Years ago, when Rudy and I moved into our house, I knew that we had found our home. As far as I was concerned there would never be a need for us to move. Ever. I would imagine us together, raising our children into adulthood. The kids would eventually move on, maybe giving us the title of grandparents. I would envision homemade cookies baking as our kids, with our grandchildren in tow, would gleefully stride into our beloved home, to spend the day with us. Life would be grand, in the most typical way.

Over the years, though, Rudy would remark about how great it would be to live elsewhere. But, what about the value of stability? I would respond. He’d answer with his own question, What about experiencing life? Even though we would lightly debate, the subject would be dropped, both of us knowing we weren’t actually ever going anywhere.

Yet, one day, I was sitting alone when Rudy’s voice popped into my thoughts. What about experiencing life? I heard him say. And that is when I knew, we did not need to keep our wonderfully stable home forever. Life is too short to live stagnantly. Life should be experienced.

Thus, the semi-plan was born.

I want to experience life, I told him. Rudy was surprised to hear me say I was willing to become unstable. We discussed the seriousness of my comment, and we both agreed that life has so much more to offer than just living a stationary lifestyle.

Our plan begins now. And even though it’s mainly in thought and conversation, eventually, we’d like to unstable ourselves when retirement comes to fruition. Maybe, we can sell our family home, and possibly buy something smaller, just for the two of us along a coastline. Somewhere. Maybe we will road-trip throughout the United States. Or live in one location until we decide life was experienced, then move on to another unforeseen destination. The unstable possibilities are endless.

by

Lemons and Liz

IMG_8262IMG_8164Liz is my pal. My friend. My daughter. And when she talks, I listen. When she gives me advice, I’m focused. Tuned in. To everything she has to say. Including healthy advice. Things she’s learned about eating properly, ideas that make my day brighter, lighter, uplifting, and overall body-better feeling.

So, when she brought up the importance of drinking lemon water I couldn’t wait to get home and slice up some of those sunshine-yellow nuggets.

I know. I know. Nothing new. Heard it before. Just a reboot. An old idea renewed. But a valuable idea nonetheless. And, honestly, coming from Liz, it’s an old idea that she believes needs new attention. And, well, I consider her a valuable healthnut guru. Why? You might ask. She’s healthy, love-wealthy, and definitely wise, I’d answer.

Therefore, I’ve been drinking it up. Water saturated with lemons. So good. So refreshing. So easy. So worthy. So me. So Liz.

by

straight from the genes

He was sleeping. Soundly.

She sat on the edge of his newly purchased queen-sized bed. Watched him. Smiled.

He must have sensed her there, in his bedroom, because he slowly peeled his eyes open. Looked at her. Smiled.

“Morning,” she said quietly.

He mumbled something. Something incoherent. Then he closed his eyes. Shut.

She didn’t move. From the edge of his definitely-slept-in bed. Watched him. Smiled.

She saw his feet rub together. Nonstop. Slowly. In a way that soothed him.

Just like her.

She never noticed. Before now. That he had inherited her habit. Her habit that provides comfort.

by

If I had my life to do over again…

Financial freedom comes to mind.

To just be.

To live freely,
without constraints.

If I went back, I would begin at the beginning,

When I got my first job, at age 16.

Because, then,
in the long run,
in the far distant future,

As in NOW!

me and rud

Rudy and I would be traveling together,
to crazy-cool destinations.
To experience the world, in the simplest way.

We’d run wild,

carefree,

happily.