Tails from the O.C.
As usual trips in the car are eventful, this time, of course there was no damage incurred other than a battery that mysteriously would not turn the engine over when I tried to take it out with Eric (guess the car didn't want us to go to the library to study, ha ha, we thwarted her alright, and even got work done there!) but worked for M. making him think that I was smoking something... which chronologically would not be accurate, and a small person falling asleep with gum in her mouth on the trip back, requiring clever wielding of kitchen scissors and a badass mama...
And as usual, we did little beyond preparing fabulous food, imbibing too much vice of all sorts (let's just say I. found an adult entertainment video Saturday morning while the whole house slept and we did homework together at the dining room table, she asked me, with feigned innocence, "what does this word say?" "decadence, now go put that away you don't have permission to look at that, it's bad... (no, ilana, it isn't bad, it isn't age appropriate, rewind, reframe) I mean... it is bad for little girls, it is a grown up thing." sly look, mention with secret glee and curiosity every half hour for the rest of the day - say no more) and deep laughter to shake my soul out of its cleverly cyclical funks.
Lucía is at that madly in love with her child stage, not that the stage ever ends, but it morphs. She is over the hump of the horrible "oh-my-god-what-if-I-drop-my-baby" phase, and nursing, nursing, nursing. I can't say I miss having liquids leech from my breasts unexpectedly and in great gushing rivers. Must rethink this desire for other baby in future. Adopting might be nice. I. would like a brother from Africa and a sister from east Asia. It all seems highly dubious given my current circumstances, but, what is life for, if not fantasizing about alternate realities. Ah but babies, babies... (which reminds me, Yuré, darling, good luck to you guys, and get some sleep now while you still have the chance). I. wants so badly to have a sibling or three, and she seemed to be modelling her good sistering skills. No other major events save for a tiff between her and Miranda, which lead to eye-poking and tears, and then brilliantly I got them back to their former state of friendship by spilling my water on I.'s head and then she on Miranda which all came to an abrupt halt when Miranda bloodied her foot on a rose thorn and I. followed rapid suit, both howling in agony, and Dennis had to hijack an aloe bush and slather it on her foot until his child calmed down, and I on my own.
Of course, the best and most relaxing part of the weekend, after meeting the beautiful Wes Balam, (beyond being far from my computer and my obsessive interactions with her) were the animalitos, featured here are Brando (the perro guapísimo) and Cleto the previous stray who now, a year later was not only his skittishness, but more than happy to climb right on top of me, unsolicited, and caringe (Note to ESOL, you didn't fail to learn this word in English class, it is a verb I invented years ago to describe the caressing and nail insertion in ecstatic blissful pleasure that is often accompanied by nose-dripping in (male) cats) for hours on my soft sweater.
But as they say, a picture is worth a thousand words (and some might just be worth several thousand;) So I'll just shut up now, because nobody really wants to here me blathering on about my unevenful weekend anyway. Note 2: the gorgeous architecture is not from Anaheim but rather from the brief interlude in L.A.'s historic district on the way home, can you believe we didn't make it to a museum after making a plan? Breakfast on Sunday turned into a huge taquiza of left-over carnitas, pollito deshebrado, huevos con chorizo, quesadillas de nopal con cebollita de cambray, arroz rojo with coffe and pan dulce to kill us, and we ended up staying until it was too late to be worth stopping at the museums so we just drove around like psychotic tourists and shot photos through the window and the sunroof.
And as usual, we did little beyond preparing fabulous food, imbibing too much vice of all sorts (let's just say I. found an adult entertainment video Saturday morning while the whole house slept and we did homework together at the dining room table, she asked me, with feigned innocence, "what does this word say?" "decadence, now go put that away you don't have permission to look at that, it's bad... (no, ilana, it isn't bad, it isn't age appropriate, rewind, reframe) I mean... it is bad for little girls, it is a grown up thing." sly look, mention with secret glee and curiosity every half hour for the rest of the day - say no more) and deep laughter to shake my soul out of its cleverly cyclical funks.
Lucía is at that madly in love with her child stage, not that the stage ever ends, but it morphs. She is over the hump of the horrible "oh-my-god-what-if-I-drop-my-baby" phase, and nursing, nursing, nursing. I can't say I miss having liquids leech from my breasts unexpectedly and in great gushing rivers. Must rethink this desire for other baby in future. Adopting might be nice. I. would like a brother from Africa and a sister from east Asia. It all seems highly dubious given my current circumstances, but, what is life for, if not fantasizing about alternate realities. Ah but babies, babies... (which reminds me, Yuré, darling, good luck to you guys, and get some sleep now while you still have the chance). I. wants so badly to have a sibling or three, and she seemed to be modelling her good sistering skills. No other major events save for a tiff between her and Miranda, which lead to eye-poking and tears, and then brilliantly I got them back to their former state of friendship by spilling my water on I.'s head and then she on Miranda which all came to an abrupt halt when Miranda bloodied her foot on a rose thorn and I. followed rapid suit, both howling in agony, and Dennis had to hijack an aloe bush and slather it on her foot until his child calmed down, and I on my own.
Of course, the best and most relaxing part of the weekend, after meeting the beautiful Wes Balam, (beyond being far from my computer and my obsessive interactions with her) were the animalitos, featured here are Brando (the perro guapísimo) and Cleto the previous stray who now, a year later was not only his skittishness, but more than happy to climb right on top of me, unsolicited, and caringe (Note to ESOL, you didn't fail to learn this word in English class, it is a verb I invented years ago to describe the caressing and nail insertion in ecstatic blissful pleasure that is often accompanied by nose-dripping in (male) cats) for hours on my soft sweater.
But as they say, a picture is worth a thousand words (and some might just be worth several thousand;) So I'll just shut up now, because nobody really wants to here me blathering on about my unevenful weekend anyway. Note 2: the gorgeous architecture is not from Anaheim but rather from the brief interlude in L.A.'s historic district on the way home, can you believe we didn't make it to a museum after making a plan? Breakfast on Sunday turned into a huge taquiza of left-over carnitas, pollito deshebrado, huevos con chorizo, quesadillas de nopal con cebollita de cambray, arroz rojo with coffe and pan dulce to kill us, and we ended up staying until it was too late to be worth stopping at the museums so we just drove around like psychotic tourists and shot photos through the window and the sunroof.
posted by ilana at 10:54 p.m.
8 Comments:
(...) "what is life for if not fantasizing about alternate realities."
Interesting idea. You can make plans, and your life tuns out to be something that you never expected. Who in this little universe can tell for sure where is going to be next year? Or say: I'll never do such a thing...
And the cries in the wind: "Oh, if everything were different" and "if I were different," by people who lives wishing to be somewhere else, be someone else, and go trough life afraid of choice, always letting life choose for them. However, is there anything harder than following your own path?
When I look back at my life, past and present, I can only say: it has been quite a ride...
By the way, nice pictures. The red one is really cool.
Thanks quinto... yes, I have given up on believing that I can live my life by some neatly defined moral standard, and that I am capable of (and willing?) doing things which in a former positionality I would have considered immoral or unjust.
Not that I believe in absolutely situational ethics, just that life has this way of launching extremely complex and delicate situations our way, and the human "heart" or mind works in ways that we ourselves, despite being inside them, cannot foresee nor fully control.
Well said, about choice, although sometimes the active decision not to make one is also a conscious and strategic one.
I agree with the idea of life being quite a ride, but, at least in my case, no sé vos, I think I am a little too young to be loosing that sort of affirmation without the old gaurd snarkily laughing at me for novata...
I believe in living using a few rules that are conciously choosen by myself (don't drink from the toilet, ja, ja)but also being aware that such rules can be bent or broken.
If there´s one thing that I learned from the Matrix trilogy is that in life, choice is everything.
And least but not last, in life, quality is simply better than quantity. I prefer a few good years well lived that a lifetime of boredom. I've lived more in one nigth that many zombie alikes in their whole life. I know that you agree with this, don't you?
mais oui, mon frère, of course I agree with you, thus I refuse to be bored:) Beyond being a fatalist, I am more importantly a hedonist, and I like to try almost anything once (or twice;) maybe not drinking from the toilet, but then I have never suffered severe dehydration (but severe stomach illness, yes)
Como siempre la ternura de tu hijita es la que me hace seleccionar sus fotos entre mis preferidas. Aunque debo confesar que esta vez también me atrajeron bastante las de colores fríos, en especial en la que piruetean las palomas. Con respecto al cachorro que esperamos decidí no recurrir al mazazo y el brandy para que nos deje dormir cuando nazca. Me parece que con un buen tapón para los oídos será suficiente.
olvidate del tapón para los oídos, pero como los hombres que l@s engendraron, los bebés requieren de un buen tapón para la boca, de preferencia una chichi caliente y cremosa:)
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