tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16733995203627759642024-03-13T19:22:09.178-07:00Guadalupe ProjectTODAY IS A GIFT. THAT'S WHY IT'S CALLED THE PRESENT.Janeloves2writehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13576068858223163609noreply@blogger.comBlogger60125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673399520362775964.post-84942911730919068972011-05-24T09:17:00.000-07:002011-05-24T12:05:24.337-07:00I'm Not Dead Yet!Prior to all this cancer nonsense, my husband and I, along with our good friends, Don and Ginny, went to see Spamalot - the musical version of Monty Python. There's a scene where a grubby medieval man tows a cart piled with dead bodies, and yells into the street, "Bring out your dead!" A dead man gets thrown on the cart, but suddenly revives with a song and dance (accompanied by his fellow corpses), "I'm not dead yet."<br /><br />Thirteen days after my surgery, I'm happy to announce that we kicked cancer's butt. It is gone, I'm still standing and I'm not dead yet.<br /><br />The whole surgery experience reminded of having a baby for the first time. You're not in control anymore. It's a big, surreal, drug-induced blur with pain. The doctors and nurses call the shots, and you hope for the best. On the day before my surgery, I was asked to come in for a little radioactive isotope injection. Sure, I said, I have nothing better to do.<br /><br />Chelsea and I drove to Indy for the procedure. This time my breast was injected with this radioactive material. No one had told me it was a shot. I thought it was going to be another IV. Oh well! I was released for a three-hour furlough, while the radioactivity coursed through my body heading its way to my sentinal node (the first lymph node the breast tissue fluids would drain to). The mission of the procedure was to map which node to target and remove during surgery. I asked how long I would be radioactive, and the nurse assured me that it was only going to be through the next day, when the doctor removed everything. Until then I was Nuclear and could set off geiger counters. The nurse gave me an ice pack to stuff in my bra to help with the pain from the injection site. Honestly, I felt like Dolly Parton. I was also instructed to "massage my breast" frequently during that time period, which was tricky to do while still being socially acceptable. She said I could ask others for assistance, but I declined.<br /><br />Our three-hour furlough was spent eating and shopping for a graduation dress for my daughter. Big day coming up - her graduation from pharmacy school, alongside her brother who was graduating from ag school, too (but didn't need a dress).<br /><br />Back at the operating room, I was was put in another machine whose screen lit up like the night sky, sparkling stars indicating where I was radioactive. My sentinal node glowed like the North Star. The nurse took a Qtip dipped in radium and painted it under my armpit. The screen showed the streak it made, and she matched it up exactly with the internal reading, like a puzzle piece. Taking a purple marker, she drew a circle where Dr. Schmidt would escavate the next day.<br /><br />The evening concluded with Happy Hour at the Embassy Suites and a great family-style dinner at Maggiano's with our family.<br /><br />The next morning at 7 am sharp, I returned to the doctor's office. What a way to start the day, a mammogram before you get your coffee. Heck, coffee wasn't allowed, nor anything to eat or drink. Immediately following, a different doctor inserted a hollow needle in the breast, located the radiated area and injected a blue dye to point out the cancerous cells. At least that's my understanding. In the hollow needle was placed a thin, pliable "piano wire" that locked onto the metal marker that was there from my biopsy. Who comes up with these procedures? Very bizarre, but they seem to do the job. All wired up, we proceded to the hospital.<br /><br />The whole operation took only one hour, recovery another hour, and that was that. I had a lumpectomy and a lymph node removed with some very impressive anesthesia. I'm happy to say that the pathology reports came back very positively negative (no more cancer). I'm no longer sore, but I have a terrific scar under my arm. Scars are tattoos with better stories. I will have to receive radiation treatments next month, every day for five weeks. Then hormone therapy (pills) to take for five years, just in case.....<br /><br />Tomorrow I start back at the Salt Mine, as my boss, Mike, fondly refers to work as. The DRAIN is still in place, but I can do most things save drive, play tennis, carry heavy items and vacuum. I hope the vacuumming restriction stays in effect for at least two more weeks.<br /><br />All for now ~ Keep dancing, no matter how many legs you have.<br />JaneJaneloves2writehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13576068858223163609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673399520362775964.post-85171172601042804572011-05-03T18:08:00.000-07:002011-05-03T19:38:14.267-07:00"REMEMBER, O most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known that anyone who fled to thy protection, implored thy help, or sought thy intercession was left unaided. Inspired with this confidence, I fly to thee, O Virgin of virgins, my Mother; to thee do I come; before thee I stand, sinful and sorrowful. O Mother of the Word Incarnate, despise not my petitions, but in thy mercy hear and answer me. Amen"<br /><br />I repeat this Memorare to remind myself as we approach Mother's Day, that Our Holy Mother is always there with open arms, ready to listen and help. Well, I have an earful.<br /><br />Today marked the Last of the Tests - which I passed with flying colors, as I had hoped. The previous MRI was a trip, "Just imagine you're in a spa," advised my friend, Ann. Okay, a bizarre medieval spa where you lie down on your stomach, breasts dangling from circular cutouts, with your head in a toilet seat while hooked up to a intravenous tube pumping dye in your bloodstream. It was VERY LOUD - I had been warned, but was still surprised at the racket. My previous spa experiences didn't include jackhammers at my head, nor dentist's drills, or the annoying honk honk honk of the kiddie ride horns. <br /><br />"Now hold COMPLETELY STILL," the distended voice of the radiologist said, as a series of hammers started pounding. <br /><br />I held my breath and nearly passed out.<br /><br />"Can I breathe?" I gasped, when the noise stopped.<br /><br />"Yes, just breathe normally, but don't take deep breaths," the voice said.<br /><br />How do I breathe normally? It was if I'd never done it before. Forty-five minutes later, the noise stopped and it was time for a chest x-ray.<br /><br />"Do you smoke?" No. "Do you have allegies?" No. "Do you take any medications?" No. "Do you have an insulin pump?" No. (I'm thinking I'm too healthy for all this nonsense.)<br /><br />"Take off your shirt and put on a hospital gown with ties facing backwards, and another with ties facing the front," says the x-ray technician. <br /><br />What can you do, but follow their orders. I complied, held my breath as they shot their radiation my way, and got dressed.<br /><br />The next day I got news that there was a "shadow" in the chest x-ray. Come back next week for a cat scan. I heard, "Go away, and come back tomorrow." Will I never get to see the Wizard?<br /><br />Today, a week later, I had a CAT scan. More paperwork, more questions, more blood. CAT scans are interesting. As opposed to my MRI which was in a tube, this looked more like a big, thick metal ring where I was wheeled in on a cart. I got to keep my clothes on, but still had a needle in my arm pumping in a solution that made me warm all over, to the point of feeling like I wet my pants. Very odd. Like the sensation one feels the first time they sit on a heated car seat.<br /><br />I looked up at the rotating gear mechanism, which sounded like a dull roar of an airplane engine, and saw a sticker that read, "Laser Radiation. Do Not Stare at the Beam." What the? I could just imagine the doctor saying, "Your chest is clear, but you burned holes in your retina."<br /><br />After some much needed retail therapy with Ann and Joanne at the Dress Barn, we headed back to the doctor's office. Dr. Schmidt was charming and personable, and most of all reassuring. "I've got great news for you - nothing to worry about," he said as popped his head into the room. <br /><br />When he returned, he explained the imminent procedures: pre- and post-surgery, radiation, and the DRAIN. This is really going to happen. Next week, no less. This is the best possible set up I could have. Snip snip here, snip snip there, a couple of laser rays, that's how we treat the cancer cells so they shrivel and go away. I was really hoping for a miracle to dodge this bullet. I would be happy to give Blessed Pope John Paul all credit. It's a win-win situation! But no.<br /><br />My friends have been wonderful - helping me through each step. Like Mary, they offer comfort and support when needed, peppered with laughs and love.Janeloves2writehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13576068858223163609noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673399520362775964.post-66975254840942839202011-04-27T17:37:00.000-07:002011-04-27T18:09:29.495-07:00Ready, Set, StallThat's where I am in this crazy cancer circus. I'm jumping through the hoops, juggling flaming torches, and walking the tightrope while trying not to concentrate on the smelly elephant breathing down my neck. Last Monday's day of tests verified that I must take more tests before we proceed with surgery.<br /><br />I haven't been this out-of-control since I was a child, under the thumb of my parents. This is definitely out of my hands, and in God's. I trust there is a GOOD REASON why this is progressing so slowly. I wish I could flip to the end of the story and know how this saga ends.<br /><br />Good news - I'll be able to see my daughter's "Grand March," a beautiful parade of all the dressed-up couples at the high school prom, which I probably would have missed otherwise. Also, I have another week to tie up some loose ends at work that were flying wildly in the wind, and stressing me out more than I need to be stressed.<br /><br />Bad news - I hope I won't miss my oldest two kids' graduation from college in May. Dang it! I've worked hard for their degrees!<br /><br />There is only one answer to every problem - prayer.<br /><br />Dear Our Lady of Guadalupe,<br /><strong>REMEMBER, O most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known that anyone who fled to thy protection, implored thy help, or sought thy intercession was left unaided. Inspired with this confidence, I fly to thee, O Virgin of virgins, my Mother; to thee do I come; before thee I stand, sinful and sorrowful. O Mother of the Word Incarnate, despise not my petitions, but in thy mercy hear and answer me. Amen</strong><br /><em>Memorare - A Prayer to St. Mary</em>Janeloves2writehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13576068858223163609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673399520362775964.post-80223906686876783932011-04-19T17:51:00.000-07:002011-04-21T20:06:43.227-07:00Swapping BrasLast month our Junior High Youth Group had a program called, "Walk a Mile in My Shoes." It was great. It started out being a bowling event with goofy games, one of them was to bowl using someone else's shoes, another to bowl with shoes on their opposite feet. We wrapped it up with a presentation showing people in all different situations: being homeless, handicapped, poor, or maimed, to try to get the kids to empathize with others who are different from them, but no less worthy of God's love. Junior High can be a tough time - it's easy to judge others who are different. We hoped this program would help them realize that but for the grace of God, they too could be wearing those shoes.<br /><br />That brings me to swapping bras with someone with cancer. I admit that before I usually shied away from those with cancer, unless I knew them really, really well beforehand. When I'd see them, it was like they were wearing a big "C" on their head, like the Arby's commercial, only it said, "I'm Thinking Cancer." I felt uncomfortable. I didn't want to pry, and thought if I just showed up when they were diagnosed that I might be misconstrued as a false friend, or worse yet, a busybody.<br /><br />What I have learned is that when people reach out to others, EVEN IF THEY DON'T KNOW THEM REALLY, REALLY WELL, the act is appreciated. It's an acknowledgement that you care. Any person that goes through something of magnitude: a serious illness, divorce, miscarrage, or death in the family rides in the same boat. I certainly don't deserve the support expressed by some of the same ladies I shied away from, but I'm learning, Lord, I'm learning.Janeloves2writehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13576068858223163609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673399520362775964.post-52745751228722743722011-04-15T19:49:00.000-07:002011-04-15T20:40:30.563-07:00Sex in a WheelchairMy new phone has a great feature. You can talk into it, like a microphone, and it translates your words into texts. Perfect for those with slow or fat fingers or for those whose nearsighted vision isn't what it used to be. Also a great benefit for those who might be tempted to text and drive. I was texting/talking to my daughter who was in Washington, D.C., on her way to Georgetown Cupcakes to pick up some of their delicious confections to bring back home to Indiana tomorrow. <br /><br />"What kind of cupcakes do you want, Mom? Red velvet, coffee, chocolate, lemon...." she asked.<br /><br />"Yes. One of each," I texted. "Get an assortment - I'll pay you back."<br /><br />"How many? Six or a dozen?" she wrote.<br /><br />Now, these cupcakes are wonderful, but expensive. A half-dozen cost around $15.00. I would have loved a dozen, but resisted.<br /><br />"Sex in a wheelchair."<br /><br />I had <em>said</em>, "Six and we'll share", but my cell phone took it the wrong way. Hilarious. I sent the message anyway. Chelsea, and my family, have come to expect these strange texts. They remind me of the old days of typing on a real typewriter (with carbons and white out), making typos and laughing my head off at my mistakes. I am not the best typist, which is odd for one who is a writer AND an administrative assistant. In fact, I don't really like typing except when I'm writing a story.<br /><br />"If you don't like to type," asked an office friend, "why in the world are you a secretary?"<br /><br />"Because they weren't hiring clowns at Purdue," I replied.<br /><br />I had great news today. Got a call from my surgeon's office, and they told me that some test results came back from California. Evidently, this fancy-schmancy test can predict what kind of therapy would be most effective post-surgery, as well as indicate your chances of having another bout with cancer. "You have a score of 6%," the voicemail relayed to me. "That means you have an extremely low chance that the cancer will return."<br /><br />Not only that, but finally "the moon is in the seventh house," meaning I could schedule my MRI for Easter Monday. We're finally moving forward. Once that test is done and interpreted, surgery is a go - most likely in early May. After that, a little R & R at home with my drain bag, and back to civilization within a few weeks.<br /><br />So much to live for. So much to be grateful for. It looks like I'll be around for while, after all. Hmmm, maybe sex in a wheelchair isn't so far-fetched, after all!<br /><br />My new Spanish resource, <em>Speak in a Week!</em> (what a lie), provides my phrase for the day: <em>Yo le escribía cada dia</em>. I used to write to her every day.Janeloves2writehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13576068858223163609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673399520362775964.post-84770936698485681382011-04-13T19:38:00.000-07:002011-04-13T20:13:35.008-07:00Jane and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad DayEveryone has one of THOSE days - mine just happened to be today. You must understand, I am usually immune to having bad days. I always try to find the silver lining, "a stain on my outfit - I needed a new one anyway," "breast cancer - it will be my opportunity to reshape my figure." A bit extreme, I know, but I have been accused of being a Pollyanna. But not today.<br /><br />The reality of my reality is always at the back of my mind; shoved back pretty far, but an annoying whisper,nonetheless. Add to that some pressure to find "missing documents" needed to file our taxes, due tomorrow, that only I can put my hands on. Hubby is too busy at work and doesn't know my complex/disorganized filing system. I'm doing fine. I can do this AND my job and still be chipper. I take my daughter to a college visit and stupidly leave my cell phone for 5 minutes unattended. Yep, it was stolen.<br /><br />That was the icing on the cake I never wanted. My thoughts went from hatred of the individual who thought it was okay to steal a phone, to fears of getting into all my personal stuff - names, passwords, calendar, notes, my life. I spent a big chunk of my day doing damage control cancelling things and changing passwords. Most likely, the chump just threw away my SIM card and inserted his own - upgrading to a nicer phone. But I don't know for sure.<br /><br />When my boss walked into my office, I greeted him with a "Mike, I'm having a bad day. I lost my phone and I want to tear someone's head off." Needless to say, he avoided me. Smart man. He saw a storm brewing and knew to take cover until it passed.<br /><br />Having something stolen was more hurtful to me than having cancer. Cancer was an accident I couldn't avoid. I don't smoke. I exercise and eat healthy foods. One friend calls me Mother Earth - for God's sake, I've made my own cheese before! This was an accident that I, and many other good women, don't deserve but must bear the burden. But the person who chose to steal did it on purpose, with no regard to the worry, fears and expense they inflicted on me. I don't get it.<br /><br />Later - after I cancelled my account and bought a new phone, my head cleared. It's really an awful state to be miseraable all day. I don't think I can do that again. While opening a pile of mail, I found cards filled with outpourings of love and prayers from friends and family. I wasn't expecting that. <br /><br />When life knocks you down, it's the people you love that help you back up.Janeloves2writehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13576068858223163609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673399520362775964.post-70154964578277624482011-04-07T20:23:00.000-07:002011-04-15T20:46:01.699-07:00Bad News Spreads Like a BrushfireMy friend, Ann, had a GREAT idea. She said if I needed any fat to fill out my post-surgical boobs, she would be my Fat Donor. Can you see the women lining up to make donations to breast cancer patients or to poor, skinny individuals? It's a win-win situation. The skinny folks could gain extra pounds to look more robust without the extra money and time spent eating. Fat folks could shed unwanted pounds and feel good about helping their fellow man. You could sign up for it on your driver's license if you wanted to make a post-mortem donation, but I say why wait? This could be BIG BUSINESS! <br /><br /><br />On a more serious note, there's no news like bad news. I realized that in sharing my plight with cancer with friends and family, it spawned a brushfire in my daughter's school. Don't get me wrong, they meant well, but when teachers started sharing with her all the other people they knew who survived cancer to cheer her up, and pried her with questions, it was too much for her to take.<br /><br />It got me thinking. What should one say to a child who's parent has a serious illness? We discussed it, and she said she'd prefer if people simply asked her how I was. No big interrogation on what stage, what treatment, what doctor, etc. First of all, she doesn't know (I don't even know), and secondly it refocuses her energy on the one thing she doesn't want to or need to think about - her mom's mortality. It's got to be frightening for a kid to think about losing a parent. Not that I'm going anywhere, but still. We all know too many who lost the battle.<br /><br />Next week, we matachina dancers from the Our Lady of Guadalupe's feastday are reuniting for long-awaited margaritas. I need to be with my Spanish amigos again to refocus my energy on learning Spanish. Keep on swimming, keep on swimming.....<br /><em>Mantener en la natación</em>Janeloves2writehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13576068858223163609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673399520362775964.post-15786197440510502872011-04-06T12:46:00.000-07:002011-04-07T20:23:02.217-07:00New Chapter - What's the Spanish word for Cancer?Hola, It has been many months since I sat down and wrote an entry. So much has happened. Doug and I went on our dream vacation - a Mediterranean cruise that sailed from Barcelona to Monaco to Italy back to Spain. I did use my Spanish - un poco - while shopping, but honestly, the store clerks preferred speaking English rather than hear their language get butchered. <br /><br /><br />In December, I participated in my second Our Lady of Guadalupe feastday, who this blog is dedicated to, by dancing in a complex set of Indian-type dances in an extravagant costume with a feathered headress in and outside St. Boniface Church - starting at 4 am. If you are curious, you MUST see it. Simply amazing. Once my kids show me how to load pictures, you'll see. <br /><br /><br />And the last of the recap, I started a new job at Purdue in November as the program coordinator for the Center of Economic Education. Small center doing big things. Days are filled with (mostly) interesting projects, and I'm really liking the creativity and independence of the position. It's more hours, and with the steep learning curve, I've slacked off on my writing and Spanish. Looks like I'll have more time on my hands soon.... <br /><br /><br />Instead of fielding a million calls, I'm going to try to use this as a journal of sorts as well as a place for you to go to discover the "gory details." I've always hated talking about or hearing about people's health problems. Some may say it's a lack of compassion, or just a low tolerance for gore. I don't want to turn into my Aunt Ann, who always had a long laundry list of her ailments whenever you asked her how she was. Big mistake! It's not that I don't want to talk to folks, it's just getting a bit repetitive. Call me if you want to go out for a drink; check here if you're curious about cancer. To draw an excerpt from my recent email, here's the scoop: (if you already read it, skip down) <br /><br />As you may or may not know, I was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. If you're family, I'm sure the McLaughlin Grapevine has gotten around to you already. If you live around Lafayette, you probably know as I can't keep secrets, and talking about breasts can be entertaining. First of all, thank you for your prayers and well wishes. I am blessed to have all of you in my life, regardless of my health. I would love to sit down and chat with each and every one of you about all the gorey details, but there simply isn't time. That's why I'm resorting to sending updates electronically. I'm starting up my blog again: www.guadalupeproject.blogspot.com again to relate the funnier aspects of cancer, so check there as well. <br /><br />Doug and I just met with my doctor, Thomas Schmidt, in Indianapolis yesterday. He is doing another test on the breast tissue from my biopsy to tell if I'd be more receptive to chemo or hormone therapy. "It takes a good man to make a hormone," added my boss, Mike. Dr. Schmidt is leaning toward hormone therapy (I'd be thrilled) but it will take a couple weeks to know for sure. Doug remarked about the doctor, "He's a really nice guy," which I thought was a magnaminous statement considering he just witnessed another man giving his wife a breast exam! <br /><br />Next step is a MRI and chest X-rays which can't occur until I'm in a certain part of my "cycle." Pretty much when the moon is in the 7th house and Jupiter aligns with Mars, I can get my MRI. That will be the road map for surgery and subsequent treatment. Why lop off a boob only to realize you've got it in your liver... As far as time frames go, we're looking at mid-April for the MRI, then surgery a week or so later. Good news/bad news: Good news - I'll be off for 2-3 weeks; Bad news - I'll have a DRAIN attached to my chest and can't drive anywhere. After that, probable radiation treatments everyday for several weeks. I may need drivers - not sure yet.<br /><br />BUT, the prognosis thus far is hopeful. I'm not incredibly worried - please don't you worry either. What I do request is that you save the horror stories of those you know with cancer. It's kind of like me just finding out I'm pregnant (I'm not), and hearing about awful deliveries and breech babies and umbilical cord strangulations. You get the idea. I'm just taking this one step at a time. Please also send your prayers my mother's way too. She is having her own struggle with cancer they just discovered that's screwing up her eyesight. Red letter week for the McLaughlins! All for now - I'll keep you posted. <br /><br />By the way, it's el cáncer.Janeloves2writehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13576068858223163609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673399520362775964.post-55075929364273872292010-07-12T12:05:00.000-07:002010-07-13T10:50:21.831-07:00Drew Brees - Our Hometown HeroDrew Breesed into town Friday for a book signing of his new book, <em>Coming Back Stronger; Unleashing the Hidden Power of Adversity. </em>Drew is no stranger to Greater Lafayette - he spent four years flinging the pigskin here, bringing his team to an eventual Rose Bowl appearance in 2000. Since then, he makes trips back here frequently for fundraisers for his foundation, the Brees Dream Foundation, which funds underprivileged children's participation in a Purdue sports camp, along with other charities. He also just "hangs out" with kids from local selected children's organizations. I was fortunate to have been the co-director of one such organization in 2008, and met Drew at a bowling event for kids. Backpacks with Drew's signature were given to all the participants, and some children won big prizes like bikes. All the kids received lunch and bowled with the future Superbowler. It was a thrill to meet one of Purdue's greats, let alone the NFL quarterback for the New Orleans Saints.<br /><br />The biggest impression I had at the time was his friendliness and open accessibility to the public. Contrary to what the sponsoring credit union, PEFCU, which sponsored the event had said to us, Drew <strong>did</strong> want to pose for pictures and sign other things (like the backs of kids' shirts, their hats, footballs, etc.). We were told he was to be seen, but not touched. I saw Drew lift one of our group's children onto his shoulders and pose for pictures. I used the one I took of them for a brochure to promote our cause, helping children whose parents had cancer. How can you not love the guy?<br /><br />When Drew came back this time, it was as the Superbowl XLIV MVP from 2010. He drew huge crowds from both sides of the Wabash River. Usually his appearances are exclusively for the big hitters or the kids. This visit was for the public - his public. At the bookstore, people came early to buy his book and get "tickets" for the book signing. Older people like me who saw him play at Purdue or who taught him in school. One such gentleman was his Business Ethics teacher. Drew looked up from the stream of books and jumped to his feet when he saw Judge Meade. "How are you doing? Are you still teaching? I really enjoyed your class!" Drew was every bit the polite and respectful student from a decade ago. When I approached him, I gave him a gift bag containing Krannert School of Management apparel. Drew was one of our own graduates. You know, something to change up the normal Saints garb. I also slipped him an old brochure I had made up starring him and the kids from my former organization. Judy, my co-worker took a photo of the encounter.<br />Drew looked great as always. Boy do I need to stay on my diet...<br /><br />Drew's public also included current Purdue students who could relate to their fellow Boilermaker, and little kids who dreamed of playing football on the big turf. I know Drew has fans all over the country, but we have so many concentrated fans per square mile that we're like family.<br /><br />What does this have to do with learning Spanish? <em>Nada. Nada thinga. </em>Rosetta, I promise I'm coming back. Now that I have an upcoming trip to Spain and Italy, your words of wisdom will come in mighty handy.<br /><br />Until <em>manaña</em>,<br />JaneJaneloves2writehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13576068858223163609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673399520362775964.post-63215158098000391602010-07-08T13:36:00.000-07:002010-07-08T14:02:38.157-07:00The Day Mike Rowe Came to TownWouldn't you know it, no one knew Mike Rowe from Discovery Channel's <em>Dirty Jobs</em> was on campus until he had shaken the dirt of our little town off his feet. Okay, some people knew it, like the student in the forensic entomology department who arranged the visit. All their staff probably knew, but the rest of us were oblivious. This makes me sad on many levels.<br /><br />1. I work just a few buildings down from where he spent the day.<br />2. I met his neat mother a few months ago at a writer's workshop, and she and I have corresponded a few times. She graciously helped me procure an autographed photo of Mike for my oldest son, Sean, a senior at Purdue. It says "Keep it Dirty, Mike." It's one of Sean's prized possessions.<br />3. It would have been fun seeing him - even though he was probably knee deep in dead pigs and maggots.<br /><br />I'm not a big TV watcher. In fact, I hate it, except for a few shows. My down-time, if there is such a thing for a working mother, is reading or writing on <em>Antonio</em>, my computer. However, <em>Marcia</em>, my name for our television, is top dog of the house. She's blaring away from the instant the kids or hubby hit the door. Her steady line-up of stupidity makes me want to commit telecide. BUT, our meeting ground is the Discovery or History Channel. By God, you actually learn something on those channels! I am engrossed in every episode I see of <em>Dirty Jobs</em> because Mike edifies real people with real jobs and teaches all of us how complex (or disgusting) their work actually is. The night after I watched the episode about gathering goose down from the dead duck up, I hesitated a bit before I lay my head on the pillow. So many lives for my comfort...<br /><br />So, Mike, I'm sorry our paths didn't cross this time, but it'll be fun seeing you in our local episode when it airs. And we even had leftover barbecued pork you could have taken home!Janeloves2writehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13576068858223163609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673399520362775964.post-6030794712910465392010-06-04T13:09:00.000-07:002010-06-04T13:39:19.061-07:00Español De-railed by GraduationAny excuse will do when you really need one, but having 200+ people drop over last Saturday night is pretty good one I think. It was like planning a wedding, only without a bride and not knowing exactly who or how many people would show up. Thankfully, we had two other couples co-hosting with us, who pitched in cleaning up our 1oo year-old barn, decorating and helping prepare the food, including 125 lbs. (too much) of smoked pork loin. It wouldn't be an Indiana graduation party without pork!<br /><br />Personally, I worked like <em>un hombre</em>, if I must say so. Something I'm not anxious to repeat, I might add. I sweat like a man and swore like a man. SO MUCH WORK, weeding, shoveling, lifting, hauling, mulching, washing, cleaning. What was I thinking when I volunteered our house for the party? Hey, at least the place got cleaned up for the summer...<br /><br />We relived our football season through photographs and sheetsigns. It was like another huge tailgate party. Several of my son's classmates are going on to play football in small colleges - it will be fun keeping tabs on them.<br /><br />As a result, <em>español</em> has taken a back seat. "Get in the back, and be quiet! We'll get there when we get there," I say to Rosetta. "We've got to get through graduation season." In a small school like ours, that means going to almost every senior's party. Good thing we like pork.Janeloves2writehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13576068858223163609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673399520362775964.post-28926551248570354722010-05-18T18:17:00.000-07:002010-05-25T19:10:09.813-07:00Things, glorious things - cosas en EspañolIt's been a long time coming, Rosetta. Finally more nouns have arrived on the scene. I furiously wrote down my new vocabulary as the pictures flashed by:<br /><em>jugete</em> - toy<br /><em>paraguas</em> - umbrella<br /><em>anteojos de sol</em> - sunglasses<br /><em>medicamentos</em> - medicine<br /><em>escalera</em> - ladder<br /><em>joyas</em> - jewelry<br /><em>fruta</em> - fruit; vegetales or verduras - vegetables<br /><em>carne</em> - meat<br /><br />You never know when you'll need to differentiate one thing from another. You don't want to ask for <em>carne</em> in a <em>farmacia</em> (pharmacy). At least I wouldn't. Rosetta took me through many stores: <em>ferreterias</em> (hardware stores), <em>supermercados </em>(supermarkets), <em>joyerías</em> (jewelry stores) and <em>panaderías</em> (bakeries). One of my favorites was of a girl saying to her father as she was leaving the house to go shopping, <em>"Necesito dinero,"</em> with her hand out. Some things are just universal.Janeloves2writehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13576068858223163609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673399520362775964.post-32238811209720296302010-05-11T20:41:00.000-07:002010-05-14T19:51:44.101-07:00Seinfeld EpisodeIt's too bad the Seinfeld series is over because I have a doozy of an episode they could have used. My husband, Doug, and I went to the movies last Friday night. Afterwards, we stopped at Lenny's Sub Shop.<br /><br />Guy at counter: "Hi, welcome to Lenny's. Sorry but we don't have any cold subs right now. Unless you wanted a tuna sub because the guy that runs our slicer cut his finger and the Health Department said he can't slice anything for 10 minutes until it's sterilized. We do have hot subs, though."<br /><br />Me: "Do they have fingers in them?"<br /><br />Guy: "Of course not, this isn't Wendy's."<br /><br />Doug: "How about a Philly. What's on it?"<br /><br />Guy: "Roast beef, cheese, onions - you can also get lettuce and tomatoes on it.<br /><br />Doug: "Any mushrooms?<br /><br />Guy: "Sorry, no mushrooms. A lot of people ask for mushrooms, but for some reason we don't have them."<br /><br />Doug: "Okay, give me the Philly with the works."<br /><br />Guy: "Sorry about the slicer. I'll give you the sandwich 1/2 off."<br /><br />Doug: "Are the cookies any good?"<br /><br />Guy: "Yea, I eat them all day long. Pick one out and I'll throw that in for free."<br /><br />We wait and wait and wait. Another customer walks into the store. A big gal with a big appetite.<br /><br />Guy: "Hi, welcome to Lenny's. Sorry, but we don't have cold subs available tonight. The slicer is, uh, temporarily out of service."<br /><br />Gal: "No problem - it's freezing outside and I want something hot. How about a Philly? What's on it?"<br /><br />Guy: "Roast beef, cheese, onions and you can get lettuce and tomato if you want."<br /><br />Gal: "Do you have any mushrooms?"<br /><br />[I swear I am not making this up.]<br /><br />Guy: Sorry, no mushrooms."<br /><br />Gal: "Okay, I'll take the Philly with everything. It had better be big because I'm a big gal and I'm hungry. I'll take a large Coke too."<br /><br />We're still waiting and waiting for Doug's sandwich. Then it dawns on us that it might take a while for a one-handed sandwich maker... Meanwhile, the gal takes her cup to the Coke machine and presses the metal bar for ice. Nothing. She moves it to the soda dispenser. Nothing again.<br /><br />Gal: "Hey, excuse me, but your Coke machine isn't working."<br /><br />We just burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation.<br /><br />Guy: "Sorry, this happens all the time." He flips a switch and the machine starts humming.<br /><br />Gal: "It's okay, but please stop saying you're sorry."<br /><br />Guy: "I'm sorry."<br /><br />We strike up a conversation with the gal while we're waiting because we are now bonded in this bizarre sub shop Seinfeld episode and we all know it. Turns out that she sat behind us at the movies. She didn't like Ironman 2 whereas I loved it. In walks another customer, a college student all decked out in black motorcycle garb.<br /><br />Guy: "Hi, welcome to Lenny's. Sorry, but we don't have any cold subs right now. The slicer isn't working."<br /><br />Motorcycle guy: "Is Ben working?"<br /><br />Guy: "No, he left earlier tonight because it was so slow. He'll be back tomorrow, though."<br /><br />Motorcycle guy: "I'll just come back tomorrow." (He probably gets free subs from Ben.)<br /><br />If Lenny only knew that they were literally working short-handed and giving away the store that night! But I must say that my Seinfeld episode was every bit as entertaining as the movie and a whole lot cheaper!<br /><br />Phrase of the day: <em>Deberíamos triturar eso. </em>We'd better shred that.Janeloves2writehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13576068858223163609noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673399520362775964.post-84551740288314667532010-05-07T15:01:00.000-07:002010-05-07T15:33:21.907-07:00I Got It From My MamaMother's Day is closing in, and this year I am totally prepared for it. I'm leaving town. I'm not sure who is to blame: Hallmark, FTD, the economic need for a post-Christmas boost. Whatever it is, mothers are led to believe that they are SUPASTARS and should be treated as such on Mother's Day. It's taken me 23 years of motherhood to get over that notion. The truth is everyday is Mother's Day if she has a child. Expecting the BIG CELEBRATION is unrealistic and usually ends in mom being grumpy and let down.<br /><br />Don't get me wrong, my family is great. They've bought me flowers and trees and mulch and brunches over the years. But my best days of being a mom are days when the kids are having fun with each other. Like the other night when my two oldest were dancing in a campus bar with their friends to celebrate the end of finals, and the song <em>"I Got it From My Mama"</em> by Will I Am came on. They started dancing with each other and laughing so hard they couldn't breathe. They told me about it later. What a great Mother's Day tribute! Now I can leave town.<br /><br />Actually, I'll be with my mother-in-law and younger daughter watching Chelsea run a mini-marathon in Indianapolis. Chelsea is running for TEAMFOX, the Michael J. Fox foundation for Parkinson's research. She's raised a good chunk of change and is dedicating her run to her grandfather. I'm leading her cheering block. A great way to celebrate Mother's Day - in a mom's classic role as #1 cheerleader. That's another great thing about being a mom. You can celebrate their victories like they were your own.<br /><br />Speaking of my mama, I'm long overdue for a visit home. After the race I'm heading northward to visit my mama and papa. No BIG CELEBRATION, just some relaxing family time. When I found out that my brother will be there too, I told Mom, "Gosh, you're awfully popular!" She replied, "Yep, one day a year."<br /><br />Phase of the day: <em>Llama a tu mamá.</em> Call your mother.Janeloves2writehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13576068858223163609noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673399520362775964.post-66885784202406308412010-05-03T08:34:00.000-07:002010-05-03T09:10:56.182-07:00Quiero un asiento de ventanillaThis has been a busy week, but every mother who has children in school knows that Chaos reigns King in Spring. Plays, musical performances, track meets, tennis matches, golf games, academic awards, prom, hurry up and learn everything you were supposed to last semester, senior trips, graduation parties. Help! It's no wonder the pharmaceutical industry is showing healthy profits in a recession...<br /><br />My stress reliever has been a new-found interest in an old love of mine. I rediscovered this love at the University of Dayton last month. Not a guy. Running. Twenty five years ago, pre-children, I found running in the morning was my only break from the action of my hectic job. Right out of college I was a sorority consultant and flew around the US helping chapters with recruitment and officer training. I was on the job day and night. My runs were MyTime. I'd forgotten how wonderful it was to have the wind on your face and hear the birds and breathe in lungfuls of fragrant flowers. Running hurts more than it used to, but it meets so many needs: peace in nature, healthy exercise, time with God. Plus it's free.<br /><br />Although I really enjoyed my classes at the Y, now that it's spring, I need to be outside - to feel the rain on my face and sweat on my brow.<br /><br />Phrase of the day:<em> Quiero un asiento de ventanilla</em> <strong>I'd like a window seat</strong>.Janeloves2writehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13576068858223163609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673399520362775964.post-65769975011133165332010-04-26T07:19:00.000-07:002010-04-26T08:27:42.871-07:00Face OffThis is not exactly a hockey match, but when the puck dropped, I had to concede to my husband. I'm referring to my six hour stint on Facebook. He's not ready for me to get tangled up in the World Wide Web. So, the Face is off, but the blog is still on. Reflecting on it, I know my friends will be there when I really need them because my Mama's Grapevine is alive and well.<br /><br />Today Rosetta had me jumping through more hoops. The reading is the easiest, but speaking is still a challenge. I put on my best Antonio Banderas accent, but still mess up when speaking without prompts. For one thing, I can never remember the words for <strong>breakfast</strong> <em>almorzar</em>, <strong>lunch</strong> <em>desayunar</em> or <strong>dinner</strong> <em>cenar</em>, and Rosetta has us brushing our teeth and drinking coffee and going to sleep <strong>before</strong> <em>antes de</em> and <strong>after</strong><em><strong> </strong>después de </em>these meals. These are important terms you need to know to survive. Maybe if I talked faster with a slur, I'd fool Rosetta. I overheard a conversation at a coffee shop the other day between two college students; one a native German speaker and the other who was studying German. It was suggested that they have a German-only weekend - no foul English to muddy the waters. Total immersion. Sink or swim. I don't know how the conversation ended, but I'm pretty sure there will be some German beer and brats involved too. Perhaps we can host a Spanish speaking exchange student one day.<br /><br />Word of the day: <em>Rechazado</em> <strong>declined</strong>. Kind of sums things up.Janeloves2writehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13576068858223163609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673399520362775964.post-47771476808595877412010-04-22T19:33:00.000-07:002010-04-26T08:35:03.323-07:00You're my best, best, best friendIt's incredible what happens when you open your heart. When you cross barriers of race or religion or culture or nationality to connect with another human being. When I began my Guadalupeproject eight months ago, I never envisioned that I would be enveloped so completely in another culture. That I had so much in common with folks who spoke another language.<br /><br />My youngest daughter plays tennis for her high school, and is teammates with a cutie from Guatamala. Her mother is best friends with the Panamanian mom of my dance partner, Glenis. So, we're all family. Glenis came to the match and gave me a huge hug. She introduced me to the Guatamalan mom as her "best, best, best friend." I can think of no higher compliment. Now, if only I can get her to marry my son.<br /><br />Keely has been asked to be on Ashley's Quinceañera court. I don't know what that means exactly, but it's Ashley's 15th birthday - a coming out party of sorts. New adventures, here we come!<br /><br />Rosetta is doing a great job, but oh how I long for a textbook. My scribbled notes are filling a box by Antonio, <em>mi computadora</em>. I'm tempted to take a class with a workbook that I can use for reference. What I'd really like to do is spend a winter in Costa Rico and live like a native. Be forced to learn Spanish out of necessity, as the Latinos are forced to learn English by living here.<br /><br />Hasta luego mi amigo!Janeloves2writehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13576068858223163609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673399520362775964.post-57562857779971345092010-04-20T08:22:00.000-07:002010-04-21T07:45:17.420-07:00Erma and CompanyWhen I sent a text message to my 23 year-old daughter telling her that I was in the presence of the Bombeck kids at my conference, she replied, "Sorry I don't know those kids." The generation gap swelled bigger between us, and I replied that they were the children of famed columnist, Erma Bombeck (Feb. 21, 1927 - April 22, 1996), and her kids were the fodder of her stories, as mine are for my blog. You can't help it - kids are so generous with material. I asked the Bombecks how they felt being the subjects of the column that had a readership of 30 million people. They said that their mom usually exaggerated everything, and besides they didn't read the column anyway. <em>Touché!</em> I have nothing to fear.<br /><br />Being at the Writer's Conference was like being on a cruise at anchor. The food, accommodations and service from the Dayton Marriott were superb, and the University of Dayton couldn't be more hospitable or beautiful. This was a bonus to the talent-packed lineup of speakers, authors, columnists, comedians and workshop leaders that filled our days and nights. If you're an aspiring humor writer, Dayton Ohio is the place to be with Erma.<br /><br />Joanne and I rubbed elbows with Loretta LaRoche (stress management and humor consultant), Wade Rouse (<em>America's Boy</em>), Christian Lander (<em>Stuff White People Like</em>), Gail Collins (NY Times columnist and author), Tracy Beckerman (humor columnist), Bill Scheft (David Letterman's writer and author), Steve Doocy (Fox News host and author), Bruce Cameron (<em>8 Simple Rules for Dating My Teenage Daughter</em>), Suzette Martinez Standring (columnist and hypnotherapist), Jerry Zezima (humor columnist and author), and Craig Wilson (USA Today columnist and author of <em>It's the Little Things. </em><br /><em></em><br />That's just who I saw. It was like a Writer's Buffet: every session looked delicious, but I could only stuff in so much in one day. The great thing about the conference is that these folks were totally accessible. They roamed around like normal people throughout the workshop. We could strike up conversations with whomever. I rode the bus with Suzette and told her about my experience with God during her hypnotherapy session, told Craig of my experience in Mexico with "sombreros," one of the chapters in his book, and had my picture taken with Bill. Wade said he liked my jacket. Probably one of my biggest thrills was meeting Peggy Rowe, mother of Mike Rowe of Dirty Jobs fame, who was a fellow attendee. Hopefully her son will send my son the promised autographed photo, and maybe offer him a job when he graduates from Purdue...<br /><br />Something else that was cool about this conference, if I may belabor the subject, was that every attendee had a great sense of humor and were motivated to excel in their craft. And helpful! Jim Higley, Chicago Tribune online columnist and blogger <a href="http://www.bobbleheaddad.blogspot.com/">http://www.bobbleheaddad.blogspot.com/</a> was effusive in his advise on blogging and social networking tools. He talked me into joining the Facebook frenzy, something I've been avoiding for various reasons. Most of all because I was told point blank by my younger kids that they would not "friend" me if I joined. Whatever. Maybe when I'm rich and famous they'll be singing a different tune...<br /><br />On the anniversary of the passing of Erma Bombeck, I pay tribute to this very special lady. God bless you Erma! I'm sure you're still firing off jokes and anecdotes to the heavenly bodies.<br /><em></em><br /><em></em>Janeloves2writehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13576068858223163609noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673399520362775964.post-56129567286200163882010-04-13T07:34:00.000-07:002010-04-13T08:31:04.796-07:00Yo estoy muy bienSay "<em>Yo estoy muy bien</em>" three times really fast. Very strange, it's like talking with an enlarged tongue that is trying to get peanut butter off the roof of its mouth. It means "I am very well," as in the response to <em>"¿Como estás tu?"</em> The <em>abuela</em> in Rosetta's most recent lesson said it without a hitch, as if she's been scraping peanut butter from the roof of her mouth her whole life.<br /><br />I also completed another Milestone Lesson, finally, with Rosetta. This time we went on a bus ride. Again, it's like watching a slow motion filmstrip, starring a cute Brazilian <em>hombre</em> (man) and an attractive Chinese <em>mujer y su hermano </em>(woman and her brother)<em>. </em>He opens a small duffel bag filled with <em>pelotas </em>(balls) and <em>naranjas </em>(oranges). Obviously, he's a juggler on the side. He says <em>Hola</em>, and her face brightens up. [A green light to continue!] <em>¿Cómo ésta?</em> (How are you?) <em>¿Cómo se llamo usted?</em> (What's your name?) <em>¿Ese es su hermano?</em> (Is he your brother?) <em>¿Cuantos años tienes?</em> (How old are you?) - asked of the little boy, of course. The girl would have slapped him. <em>¿De dónde son ustedes?</em> (Where are you from?) Duh. China. <em>¿Tiene hambre?</em> (Are you hungry?) The Brazilian shares <em>una naranja</em> with <em>el niño. </em><br /><em></em><br />The bus stops and everyone debarks. Oops! La mujer left a yellow book behind. He runs to catch up with her. <em>Es esta su libro?</em> (He knows it is.) The book falls, they laugh as they retrieve all of its loose papers and photos. (Who carries loose photos? My kids' photos are kept in their cell phones or facebook.) Anyway, they share some sodas after the incident, the boy trys his hand at juggling and the Brazilian plots his next move.<br /><br />My phrasebook with all of the practical, modern phrases could be employed at this time. A perfect setting for international relations. Rosetta doesn't go there, and I'm not going to either!Janeloves2writehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13576068858223163609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673399520362775964.post-68049861060677573242010-03-31T08:11:00.000-07:002010-04-09T08:07:39.650-07:00Cruising AlongI'm back from the cruise, and if you've never been on one, you must try it at least once. For the lovely service if nothing else. Where else can you go that has people tripping over each other to grant your every wish? Our room was cleaned/straightened three times a day by a friendly Phillopino man, Arman, who created towel animals each night and left them on our beds. A comedian on the ship predicted that we'd take two pictures of the sunset and seven of our linens. He was right - only I missed the sunsets because I was either at dinner or at a show. I am a horrible picture taker, considering I once was a "professional photographer." I dread the loading on a computer or developing process because I know I'll never put the photos in an album, let alone a scrapbook.<br /><br />A cruise is really a haven for hedonists when it comes down to it. All the food you can eat, and it is GOOD, liquor (pricey, but flowing from every tap and comes delivered on trays cocktail-party-style 'round the clock), an all day and night gambling casino and a dedicated cigar bar. If you're just a girl who can't say no, you could run into a lot of trouble!<br /><br />My son and I went with a group of 48 from the high school - seniors and their parents. The kids had a heyday exploring the ship and islands, avoiding their parents like roaches running from sunlight. Who could blame them when given this new-found adult freedom on a ship with 11 decks to hide? Well, I could. I really meant for this trip to be a special memory for my college-bound son and me. Something he could look back on as we grew older with a misty eye and a lump in his throat. I did see him across the room at dinner time and even sat with him twice. Made me yearn for the old days when he was lashed to my back in a pouch and I always knew where he was. Although, back then, I was probably yearning for the days he'd be able to get along independently without any assistance. Why can't we mothers ever be satisfied?<br /><br />Luckily, my friend Joanne and I and the rest of the adults spent quality time together. We explored the nearby shops on the islands and loaded up with souvenirs and tequila. Amazingly, there's more than José Cuervo in Mexico. I had to sample several different kinds to determine good quality, and the shops were willing to comply. Imagine going into a liquor store at home and getting samples! There would be standing room only!<br /><br />Revelations from the trip:<br />1. Be prepared. I didn't read any of the material about the trip or excursions until I was on the first flight. I really had no time for the research, and missed out on some exploration due to lack of knowledge. I hate getting ripped off, so I played it too safe.<br />2. Lay down ground rules with your kid before you embark the boat. I thought I did, but evidently they didn't register. Alternatives - an imbedded GPS system. Cell phones didn't work on the ship.<br />3. Make sure the travel company, or yourself, plans the flight route. There is no earthly reason to have taken a flight north to Detroit, then one to Ft. Lauderdale for a ship departing from Miami! We almost missed the boat. Literally, we were the <strong>last ones</strong> on the boat due to flight delays!<br />4. Resorty areas like Cozumel are stocked with bi-lingual Mexicans. I heard more English in those stores than I do back home in our Mexican stores! My <em>español</em> was useless. I need to travel inland next time.<br />5. Bring sea-sickness medicine with you. That first day was awful. Not a great way to lose weight.<br />6. Ask questions about the spa treatments before you plunk down your money. The detox red algae treatment was nothing like I imagined. Instead of getting a relaxing massage and toning treatment, I was rubbed with goo, and had 4.5 inches electroshocked away from my belly. Think labor contractions and you've got the picture. Hey, but it was an experience I'll never forget!<br />7. Don't zipline if you're afraid of heights or falling. I loved it, but once you're there, there's no going back.<br />8. Use sunscreen. Lots of it, or your face will be unrecognizable to even you.<br />9. Find a peaceful place to get away when you need to.<br />10. Go for the desserts every night. It's vacation! My favorite - chocolate melting cake :)<br /><br /><em>¡Hasta luego!</em>Janeloves2writehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13576068858223163609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673399520362775964.post-53345185876765267102010-03-19T11:57:00.000-07:002010-03-19T12:48:50.091-07:00Burning the CandleWhy do I always do this to myself? This time it wasn't entirely my fault, though. Why is everything always due on the same day? There can be long stretches of nothingness, then blammo - the @*a% hits the fan and I'm covered in work. Not that I'm complaining, I'd rather write than clean or cook any day, but back-to-back projects can be a bit stressful.<br /><br />I jumped from project to project, barely raising my head to acknowledge my family, "Sure, son, you drive our car wherever you want. Goodnight." Talk about <em>laissez faire</em> parenting, yea gods! My daughter is busy with after school sports and I rely on her text messages to summon me out of the twilight zone. At times, it feels like my head is actually sucked into the computer, but I'd rather be consumed with something I love, than wile away my life. Hey, you can sleep when you're dead.<br /><br />So, the candle has been burning at both ends for a month and a half. Almost done - only taxes left to tackle before I can board that cruise ship with no worries, mon. It is so worth it. I'm bringing my Spanish books with me and will try my best with my newfound language. I have a feeling I'm going to break into my Franco-Italian Spanglish, however. Should be amusing (for others) nontheless.<br /><br />Spring is official tomorrow. Yes! The birds are singing and daffodils have poked their yellow heads through the ground. We have made it through another winter.<em> ¡Es hora de celebrar!</em>Janeloves2writehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13576068858223163609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673399520362775964.post-69010753568520243812010-02-23T18:21:00.000-08:002010-02-23T18:53:01.877-08:00Our Lady is BackOn Sunday I met with my dance troupe friends for an Our Lady of Guadalupe reunion and planning session for this coming December. It's going to be an even bigger undertaking this year with practices starting in March ~ revving it up to full speed as we get closer. This year we're aiming to raise money to pay for new costumes to the tune of $450 for <em>los hombres</em>, and $250 for <em>las mujers</em>! Fundraisers consisting of selling authentic Mexican food after Masses. Hello, that's a lot of tamales! We'll see how this goes.<br /><br />Also, new this year, we're planning to dance at couple other venues to bring publicity to our ministry - at the Latino festival and at the Germanfest. Fr. Gustavo saw other <em>matachine </em>dancers perform around a fire with torches and thought that would be a good idea for us too. Yii!!! It sounds like a very rigorous program, like the Olympics, that we'll be training for. Hopefully we can live up to our own expectations.<br /><br />I spent a couple of hours with Rosetta today. All was good - the grammar is becoming natural as she only speaks in complete, correct sentences. It's really becoming a product of environment, as children of educated people speak well, and children of hillbillies speak hillbilly.<br /><br />As I look back on this blog, I'm seeing large blocks of time with no entries. <em>Mia culpa, mia culpa</em>, but there is a fairly good reason. Remember how I wanted to get in shape so as not to collapse when dancing through the streets? Well, I've taken exercise to a new level, for me at any rate, and have been exercising almost daily at the YMCA. Good and bad. Good that I'm feeling stronger, healthier, and more tone, bad that I've actually gained weight, am developing this gluteus maximus, and don't have "free time" to pursue other interests. I will probably slow down after Spring Break or when my membership expires. In the meantime, I am a fighting kick boxer and body shopper, sporting muscles I didn't know existed anymore. And the batwings are receding, thank God.<br /><br />A parting phrase from my calendar for <em>Martes, Febrero</em> 23, 2010: <em>Riase todos los días.</em> Laugh every day.Janeloves2writehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13576068858223163609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673399520362775964.post-31323613353566782822010-02-12T06:29:00.000-08:002010-02-19T08:57:24.633-08:00Memory FullI don't know how many times my cell phone has told me that it's memory is full. My voicemail's memory is full. My email box's memory is full. My memory is full and it's time to delete something before I can cram more in. Thank goodness Rosetta gives me recall exercises when I log in, so the Spanish doesn't leak out accidentally.<br /><br />At the moment, I am reading Julia Child's <em>My Life in France, </em>a delightful true account of the years she and her husband Paul spent in Europe; he working for the Foreign Service as a consul, she working on the famous cookbook, <em>Mastering the Art of French Cooking. </em>She off-handedly recounts having to learn French, German and Norwegian in order to function in these foreign lands. Remarkable. This woman was in her 40's, and thought no more of picking up another language than she thought of picking up her fork. Why do most of us freeze at the thought of speaking anything other than our mother tongue? I'll tell you why ~ we don't have a reason. Joke: What do you call someone who can speak three languages? <em>Tri-lingual.</em> What do you call someone who speaks two languages? <em>Bi-lingual.</em> What do you call someone who speaks one language? <em>American.</em><br /><em></em><br />I am amazed at her level of energy, to spend weeks on perfecting a recipe with various ingredients and techniques. My family gets one shot at my cooking, "Eat it or make something yourself, " is my version of <em>bon</em> <em>appétit! </em>Perhaps her tireless energy stems from the fact that she lived in beautiful France with beautiful shops full of the freshest of fish, fruit and cheeses (subsidised complements of the French government), and the fact she had no outside employment or children. Sure, she and her two "cookery-bookery" friends ran a cooking class called <em>Les Trois Gourmandes, </em>but other than that her time was her own to cook and write. Contrast that with your typical American woman who is juggling a job, a home (no servants), the kids and all their activities. I don't care who you are, if you have kids, your life is no longer your own. Cooking is a treat to be wedged in when possible, often augmented by Pizza Hut and McDonald's on the run.<br /><br />Getting back to my recall activities, I revisited the Spanish Gringo, my old VCR tape. I picked up a few more gems from the crazy guy. There was a scene where he went around identifying his body parts. <em>Tóquese la cabesa</em> (touch the head), <em>las piernas</em> (legs), <em>los brazos</em> (arms), <em>el codo</em> (elbow). He also explained the most obvious thing I should have realized months ago. When your noun ends in an "o," it's a masculine word preceded by <em>el</em>; ending in an "a," means it's a feminine noun preceded by <em>la</em>. Also <em>él</em> with an accent mark means "he", and <em>el </em>without an accent mark means "the". People don't call me Captain Obvious for nothing!<br /><br />Also very important for travellers - directions! It's one thing to say, <em>"¿Dónde está el baño?",</em> and entirely another to grasp their answer! For the directionally challenged, here goes: <em>a la derecha</em> (to the right), <em>a la izquierda</em> (to the left), <em>arriba</em> (up), <em>adelante</em> (straight ahead),<em> abajo</em> (down), <em>enfrente</em> (in front of), <em>detrás</em> (behind). And if you can't decipher their quick responses, just say, <em>"Mas despacio por favor."</em> (speak slower please).Janeloves2writehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13576068858223163609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673399520362775964.post-84045326241157092222010-01-31T13:02:00.000-08:002010-01-31T15:07:06.038-08:00Roast Pastor and Small PotatoesMy Sunday plans changed at the last minute today. I was to have met with some of my former dance troupe members for Mass and brunch. I was looking forward to attending the Spanish Mass with them and sharing a meal with a lot of " <em>¿Como se dice eso en Español....? </em>(How do you say that in Spanish....) sprinkled on the side. Rosetta is a wonderful companion in that she only speaks when I summon her, but she always gets to pick the conversational topic.<br /><br />Faced with going to the Spanish Mass alone without my friends, I caved in and chose another parish where I could literally blend in with the other pale faces. Path of least resistance, or so I thought.<br /><br />The second reading was on 1 Corinthians 13:4-7 Love is patient, love is kind, love is not envious or boastful - you know the verse. I love that reading - it was in our wedding. In fact, I'm reading <em>Love Dare</em> which examines that verse with a magnifying glass. If I'm not getting the most out of my love relationships, it's because<em> I'm</em> falling short in the love department. Sure, anybody can be kind and patient and unselfish when you're head-over-heels in young love, but add 25 years and some irritating habits. Not so easy anymore - this is work!<br /><br />Something must have set the priest off earlier in the week, because his homily was peppered with things he was fed up with in his church family. He wasn't delivering fire and brimstone; he was poking sore spots with laser beam accuracy. He talked about people being habitually late (guilty), leaving early, talking in church (guilty), parish hopping (guilty), and roasting the pastor at Sunday dinner. I'm actually roasting a pork loin, but it's food for thought. I suppose we all think the pastor doesn't notice our sins, but I guess he does! <em>Mia culpa, mia culpa, mia culpa.</em><br /><em></em><br />When it comes down to it, all you need is love. Lots more love. Thank goodness Valentine's Day is around the corner. Cupid, shoot me!Janeloves2writehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13576068858223163609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673399520362775964.post-17021909699653246862010-01-23T12:23:00.000-08:002010-01-23T13:25:17.032-08:00Hard Core Lesson FourRosetta and I have made progress in our relationship. If I spend some quality time with her every few days, she'll make sure I have a good time in Mexico and Spain. Guaranteed. (I'd have a good time anyway, but I'll have a BETTER time knowing what the heck I'm talking about!)<br /><br />Spain you ask? A wonderful surprise trip with my husband at summer's end. Right when my year with Rosetta is completed. My reward at the onset of this project was rather vague, but now I have two destinations where the Spanish will come in handy. The latter one involves a cruise stopping in Barcelona, Spain as well as several cities in Italy. My last trip to Italy was on a bus tour with my mom for two weeks in 1996 and we hit all the highlights: Rome, Florence, Venice, Assisi, Pisa, and Tuscany. (Don't be duped by the "great beef in Tuscany" - our Indiana corn-fed beef is much better!) It was a trip of a lifetime - an art orgy. My eyes were filled with so much beauty per square foot that it filled me up. France is a food orgy - I'd go back there in a minute just to eat. Italy is much more romantic though - one fella I met said that Americans live to work; Italians live to love. Bonus - if you can speak decent Spanish, the Italians will understand you. I witnessed that as one of our younger Spanish bus-mates was yelling at some Italian thieves who made off with his wallet. I didn't say Italy was without it problems. I have no preconceptions about Spain except that it's supposed to be a new foodie capital on the cutting edge of gastronomy. That, and they don't necessarily speak the same Spanish that the Latin American speakers speak. Maybe the difference between British English and Louisiana English. We'll figure it out when we get there.<br /><br />In Lesson Four of Unit Three, Rosetta displayed a delightful assortment of pictures of smelly <em>huelen mal</em>, dirty <em>sucio</em>, wet <em>mojado</em>, clean <em>limpia</em> and dry <em>seco</em> dogs <em>perros</em>, shirts <em>camisas</em>, socks <em>calcetines</em>, faces <em>caras</em>, teeth d<em>ientes</em>, feet <em>pieds</em> and hands <em>manos</em>. We cleaned <em>lava</em> or brushed <em>cepillo</em> everything with soap<em> jabon</em> and towels <em>toallas.</em> When we were done, we laid our head on our pillow <em>almohada </em>and slept under our sheet<em> sábana</em> and blanket <em>frazada </em>- thank God. A very busy day.<br /><br />Next Sunday, some of Our Lady of Guadalupe troupe members are getting together for Mass and breakfast. It's only been a month since the Feastday, but it seems longer somehow. Glenis said, "I miss you too much!" <em>"Te extraño tanto!"</em> The feeling is mutual.<br /><br /><em>Hasta luego</em>Janeloves2writehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13576068858223163609noreply@blogger.com0