en mexico

that is where i am, dear ones. and this is the first chance i have had to get a note out to you all. i am fine, and in fact, am dreading leaving this place, just a little bit. we have been having such a good time. and i have to tell you that i do not think i will be the same person when i come home.



home...such a wonderful word. and home means so many different things to so many people. you would not believe the poverty in this place if i told you. or maybe you would. all i can tell you is that it breaks my heart. but it humbles me, too. and i can see the abuse by abundance that we place on ourselves, as well. oh, i am not saying that i am coming home to sell all my possessions and live with the poor. but i will certainly think about it. and i mean that in all honesty. i really, really, really mean that. right to the tips of my toes.



last night, we shared church with the people who worship at el buen pastor, the episcopal church we have been working with. maria elena is one of the priests, and she gave the sermon in english and in spanish. we made eucharist together, speaking different languages at the same time. it felt like pentecost mixed in with the magical mysetry tour. the older ladies at the church have been cooking for us all week, and they made us pasole last night. and we danced until we could not dance anymore. (incedentally, i cannot find the apostrophy on this spanish language keyboard, hence the lack of contractions...ay dios mio...)



anyway, maria elena began her sermon by addressing us as " my brothers and sisters" and i started crying. it was such a precious moment to me. in that moment, i realized the only thing of any worth i brought to my brothers and sisters in mexico is myself--just being with them. that is really the only thing of any value i have to give them. they do not need my standard of hygeine, just because that is what i am comfortable with. they do not need my news, or my ideas, or my ideals for that matter. they just need me to see them, to really see them. to see past the crushing poverty, the struggle for mere subsistance, to see past the nits and the dirt and the smells, and see that they are my brothers and my sisters. they are whole people. they are beautiful and broken and just like me.

i did not have time to go on this trip, for lots of reasons. i honestly do not think when i left san antonio i had room in my heart to be on this trip. too many ideas too many ideals too clean too american too much. and somewhere along the way, the Jesus who lives here and the Jesus who lives inside of me met and made something new inside of me. and thanks be to God for that. it was time.

blessed am i among women.

mil besos.
rmg

by the numbers...

1--number of times my nephew punched me in the leg last weekend, after i removed some dangerous article from his hands.

190--number of miles i put on my car driving for work last week

2--number of loads of laundry i did this week in the giant washer in our communal laundry room, for the bargain price of $4.00. woo hoo.

355--the number of dollars i spent on securing a home warranty policy, so that all my appliances would be covered for the first year i owned my home, only to find out this week that my washer and dryer are not included. i'm still doing some detective work, though...

52--the number of pages i have written in my book, so far.

14--number of times i've been to the hospital in the last ten days. i'm kind of over hospitals right now. i hate them, which i realize is a dumb thing for me to say, seeing as how going to hospitals is a big part of my job. i hate, hate, hate them. and i hate that i know how to get around in them, with some kind of sixth sense, know how to sweet talk nurses and doctors to get what a patient needs, without having a shirley mcclaine moment from "terms of endearment", how i ride in the staff elevators like i belong there, how i scope out parking spaces, how i try not to cry when i leave, because when i leave, i always wonder when i'll have to come back, and how things will be. i always feel like i need to take a bath when i leave the hospital, to wash the smell off me, to prove that i'm home, and i don't have to stay there. and then i feel like a real jerk. see--sometimes, most of the time, i'm really not as nice as people think i am.

12--number of laps i swam the other night. not enough, but better than none, i suppose. the pool, in my defense, was highly over chlorinated, and i'm pretty sure i don't have any nose hair left, at all.

4--number of pillows i absolutely have to have on my bed in order to sleep with any degree of certainty. i've tried it with three, and that's moderately ok. but for real, hard, restful, decent sleep, 4 is the magic number. and i have to have my down comforter. i can't stand having a top sheet on my bed, and unless the fitted sheet is deep pocketed, i can't use one. i also have to sleep with one foot sticking out of the covers, at all times, usually the right foot, because i sleep on my left side. i know, it's complicated, and you don't really even need to know this.

1--number of background checks my bestest friend has done on my new crush. good news--new crush is clean as a whistle. so glad, aren't you?

3--hours i spent ironing clothes after washing and drying things. i hate how completely thourough i have to be when i iron something. and i'm almost out of starch, which i find irritating because i bought the big can last time. that is one of those "adulthood" things that grabbed me, and just won't let go. i'm so picky about that, now. and i was the kid who lived in jeans and t-shirts until well into college. it's a little nuts. and i had to clean my room before i could actually sleep. and i suddenly hate having dirty dishes in the sink, or clean ones in the dishwasher. and it's driving me nuts that i haven't dusted my room in a week. who am i? where did the other me go? holy moly...

1--number of times i have been to starbucks this week. i know, supress your shock. i've been trying to be fiscally more responsible, so i've been drinking crappy church office coffee. it's hard, ya'll. the coffee is so bad here. it makes me sad, but it takes the sting out of the morning headache. and as long as i remember to bring milk from home, it's almost ok. and it's free. which makes it almost sweet, instead of thickish sludge, much like what one would dredge off the bottom of my beloved san antonio river. sick out.

2--number of vacation options i have researched. a lady need to take a trip, people! i'm thinking either another jaunt to the wilds of far west texas with kristen and laura jane, or a trip to vancouver with ryan. i wish i had the time and the moolah to do both, but that house payment wants to be made EVERY MONTH! geeze louise...

0--number of naps i have taken this week, even though these rainy afternoons make for perfect napping weather. however, bossman is out of the office for the week, so rachiepoo is busy keeping the ship afloat with our senior warden.

75,000--number of times a day i remind myself that i love my job, even though people i work with drive me nuts. i know i am here for a reason. and that reason is not so i can go crazy before i turn 30. i know that. i know that. i really think i know that.

mil besos--rmg

bone tired...

i haven't really stopped moving since about may 5th. and i'm not complaining about that, i'm just saying i've been going, going, going for a month and change. and a lot of water has gone under the bridge between then and now. i'm going to my momma's house this weekend, to see the extended fam, mess with my little fat nephew (who is so strong that he can break out of his playpen at will...talk about a hoss...), drink beer with my brother, hear stories i've heard a million times, and some that i've never heard before. it will be a wonderful time, i'm sure. and i might even sleep. maybe. i hate to miss something due to a nap. but that's the story of my life.

i've been so busy this week. between trips to the hospital with little old ladies, communion appointments, and just trying to get my office in some kind of order after moving into a different part of the building, i'm a little frazzled. and i only made it to the gym once this week. boo. very, very bad. but it's ok. i just can't wait until next weekend, when i have absolutely nothing planned at all. and i refuse to do anything. period. i might go to the pool and work on my tan. i might work in my backyard. i might do laundry. or i might just read on my porch, nap in my bed, dust my room, and not turn on the tv for 48 hours. of course, that's assuming that none of my critical cases step on rainbows to go be with Jesus (footnote--kinky friedman), and i'm not planning funerals or dealing with their relatives. it's a crap shoot. we'll keep our fingers crossed, at any rate.

it's almost time for another "by the numbers" post, but i'm waiting on a couple of things from this weekend before i blow your mind with any stats from my mostly-mundane but personally gratifying existance.

for now, i'll leave you guys with the advice to go out and buy the new brandi carlile cd (much gras to caro, who gave it to me)--some of the songs make me want to throw myself under a bus, but in a good way. i think i'm nursing a new crush, and i'm kind of moderately excited about that. sweet. and, if you need a new cd to dance by, go pick up the new mika disc (ryan sent this one to me...oh my friends who send me music because they know i am a)descriminating and b)making mortgage payments, you rock my socks off, quite literally...) it's great for jamming out during traffic and makes you want to smooch on someone fun and dance til the wee hours.

i've been reading ts eliot, william blake, and shelby foote. my mind is a little muddy. and i'm sleeeeeeepy. sorry the last two posts have been so lame. i'll try and do better. i promise.

mil besos--rmg

ghosttown...

so, i totally overthought how bad my high school reunion was going to be. shocker--me over-think anything? what? oh but i did. damn near paniced and turned around about eighty times driving back on the road, that despite my travels and the fact that i don't have family living there anymore, still feels like the road home.

i saw people i hadn't seen in years. i laughed like a little kid. i saw the faces of my class mates on the faces of their children. and i put some old, aching, miserable ghosts to bed, hopefully for the last time. i drove past houses i used to live in. i made the loop around the park. i got a coke at sonic. for the first time, i had a beer at bonnie's house, and wasn't scared to death her parents were going to catch us drinking. it was surreal. and kind of nice.

the best part was knowing that while i don't always have the life i've dreamed of having, i no longer give two hoots and a holler about who thinks i'm cool or worth talking to. i was glad to know that the girl who felt that way didn't come to the reunion wearing my face. we all grow up, in our own time, and in our own way. and thanks be to God for that.

i imagined i would have to do a super-secret blog and tell you all about the things i saw and heard that weren't fit for public consumption. at the end of the day, all i can tell you is that i had a wonderful time. i had some amazing conversations. and i was ready to come home, back to the home i have made for myself, in this place and in this time. and sure, it's not always as pretty or put together, or even as full as i would like for it to be. but this is my life, all the pieces, and i'm proud of that. i have worked so fiercely to become who i am, to carve this out. i don't have time for regret or jealousy. that's a good thing to know. oh, and i know that i should never play the guitar after about 37 vodka drinks. it's the little lessons that count, right?

mil besos--rmg

Reading List for Summer/Fall 2007

slow blog week, i know. Iive pretty much felt half-asleep since, oh say last tuesday. i'm sure after this weekend, i'll have something to say. i mean, it's not every weekend you get to go to your ten year high school reunion. maybe i can even convince the 1989 uil spelling champion to do a "he said/she said" team post with me, just for this one little story. i'll keep you posted.

at any rate, i know you all just must be wondering with great anticipation what's on my reading list for the next six months...so i'll tell you. feel free to read along. i'll be giving some reviews along the way. i totally doubt i will get anywhere near done with this list, unless i give up sleeping and working, but if i can get through ten of these books, i'll feel pretty good about things. i'm already almost done with book five in the Harry Potter series--it makes for great reading on the exerbike at the gym. and i'm into the 1st volume of the shelby foote collection, so that's nice. it just kind of makes me a little narcoleptic...which may mean that it's a good bedtime book.

The Civil War, a Narrative—Shelby Foote
The End of the Affair—Graham Greene
100 Years of Solitude—Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Pride and Prejudice—Jane Austen
The Kite Runner—Khaled Hosseini
The Time Traveler’s Wife—Nifenegger
The Lovely Bones—Alice Sebold
Snow Falling on Cedars—David Guterson
Bless Me, Ultima—Rudolfo Anaya
All the Pretty Horses—Cormac McCarthy
A Good Man is Hard To Find—Flannery O’Connor
Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee—Dee Brown
My Life is My Sundance—Leonard Peltier
A Brief History of Time—Stephen Hawking
Catch a Fire—Timothy White
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas—Hunter S. Thompson
Like Water for Chocolate—Laura Esquivel
A Room of One’s Own—Virginia Woolf
The Kennedys and the Fitzgeralds—Doris Kearns Goodwin
Rise and Fall of the Third Reich—William Shirer
The Satanic Verses—Salman Rushdie
About a Boy—Nick Hornby
Wuthering Heights—Emily Bronte
Thirteen Moons—Charles Frazier
Blue Like Jazz—Donald Miller
Harry Potter Series—JK Rowling


mil besos,

rmg

we are family...

alabama is at her most beautiful in the last throes of spring. memorial day weekend definately qualifies as late spring, i think. (hard to believe that summer is still a bare month away...seems like it was just christmas...) and even though the lovely state is in the middle of a drought, and the wildfires in georgia made going outside smell like a campfire all day, every day, alabama was nonetheless lovely. it's hard not to be happy when you're by the pool, with a high blue sky above you and family around you. granted, it's easy to be nostalgic, and maybe have to sneak off to a little corner to catch you breath and say a little prayer and cry a tiny tear, because family has a way of making your heart hurt, in a good way, because you love them and they love you, and even though you want things to stay the same, you know they change with every single heartbeat. that's beautiful and awful, all at the same time.

for example--my wee little cousins (ella is 4 weeks, austin is 3 years) grow so fast, you can almost hear them growing in their sleep. austin is in the late stages of potty training, and ella is trying to learn how to a)be a real person outside the womb, and b) set up a sleep cycle that makes some kind of sense to everyone. they are both doing very well with their tasks. granted, both of them have lungs that will hold a lot of air, and vocal chords that allow them to reach soaring heights at decibel levels that seem to defy the laws of nature...but they sure get their points across.

it's funny what you notice about the difference between boys and girls when they are small--and i don't mean anatomical differences, either. with austin, who is very much a little boy into little boy things (his mother reports that for the last two weeks, he's been so preoccupied with building his thomas the tank engine tracks that he's totally lost interest in playing with his neighborhood pals), playing is the name of the game. he's on the go. he will be on the go from here on out. he's very goal oriented--stories are for nap-time and potty-time, they are not part of play time. play time needs to be outside or on the floor, surrounded by things with parts he can't swallow. it's good stuff. he's very busy. i've had the same experience with the World's Greatest Nephew. he's very into playing, and his play is deadly serious to him. he's not much into sitting and listening. oh sure, they will hear the highlights of stories, and have stories of their own--about how no man with a drop of graves blood in his veins can get out of this world without a monumental scar on his chin, and how that scar, in some bizarre way, symbolizes your role as a man in the family, whether you can remember how you got it or not...

now i realize good and well that ella is only a month old, but that girl, and whatever girls come along after her, will be the keeper of the stories. girls have the time to sit and hear the story. oh sure, they play, but they play differently. ella will know the stories that grandma jane told anna and mia, and the stories granny told to anna, mia, and me. ella will know stories that nanny told granny, that momee told nanny, that mere told momee. she will hear stories about crazy aunt rosie, about aunt bunch, about new orleans, and belle chase, and how nanny and fred's best friends were the guilliardo's, and how they used to boil 200 pounds of crawfish in an afternoon, just to feed the families. and we will tell her our own stories, as well. and she, and all the other little girls will keep them, until their are new little girls to tell old stories to.

sure, she smells like sleep and promises. and she has the whole world in front of her, tiny chances and giant leaps that wait before her, like the angles of some higher heaven, waiting to catch her and keep her as she begins her own journey. she is part of my story. i am part of hers.

mil besos--rmg

theory of evolution

i have no idea when it happened, but i can tell you the moment i realized it. i was standing in the toilet aisle of home depot, trying really hard to decide whether or not to buy the american standard model, with the 5 year warranty, antibacterial glaze, and the ability to flush a record 154 sheets of toilet paper at one time, or the kohler well-worth model, which while not as flashy as the american standard, brought with it the esteem of the kohler name, and looked like it would match my bathtub and sink fairly well. i'm standing in the aisle, kind of biting my lip, shifting from foot to foot, trying like hell to pick out a toilet, and i was hit with the freight-train of a thought that went something like, "holy crap, THIS is what it feels like to be a grown-up."

keep in mind that the trip to home depot was just the last portion of a string of events over a 36-hour time frame that made my head spin. on friday, i woke up, went to the bank, and rolled over my 401k into an IRA. i went to see momma and grammy for lunch, since i had the day off, got my teeth cleaned, and made a mortgage payment. that night, i went out with my friend jax, and had 1.5 adult drinks. granted, we were at pat o's, by the alamo, but seriously...1.5 drinks. then we went to some townie bar, to see some people jax went to high school with, which we shut down, and where i didn't actually drink anything. i was home and in bed by 2:30. no big deal, right? wrong. wrong. wrong. i woke up saturday morning with A HANGOVER. A HANGOVER--like real bad headache, scratchy eyes, general instability in the gastro-intestinal region, and feeling like my cat forgot to use his box, and used my mouth instead.

hangovers have never really been a problem for me. first off, i'm pretty good (most of the time, exceptions are made for family get-togethters, pasture parties, graduation parties, weddings, ordinations, and funerals) at keeping a tight lid on the drinking, i mean, i'm not 19 anymore (and i did, in fact, drink 9 beers one night and fend off a frat-daddy's advances once, so it's not like i'm all j.v. about being able to hold my own...) in the rare event that i have been overserved, getting things put to rights is as easy as a cold soda (preferrably coca-cola) and a couple of breakfast tacos, with a four-advil chaser. and that's just if things have gotten really, really, fundamentally out of hand, which they very rarely do, most new year's eve celebrations aside...

this hangover was vengeful. there was no cause for it. none at all. and it was during that limnal moment between being hungover and finally feeling moderately ok, while i was standing in the toilet aisle at home depot that i realized that there was no going back. not ever. i have an IRA. i have a house-payment. i have a pet. i have plants that need to be watered and re-potted. i have a body that will punish itself for the most minor over-indulgence or lack of sleep. there has been a change. and even if i sell my house, give away my cat, kill my plants, and run off to some health spa to master cleanse, the real change, the change that's in my head and my heart is just there to stay.

secret is...i kind of like it.

mil besos--rmg

visual effects, and such...

it's been a while since i've updated on you all on the continuing development of the World's Greatest Baby. he's progressing nicely. recently, he was awarded a plaque naming him"American's Number One Producer of Baby Cheese". he's being weaned off his bottle, and can only have it in his bed, so he's really into napping now. apparently, he's also really into screaming as loud as he can in public places, which has forced my brother to become one of the all-time greatest tippers in the history of tipping. World's Greatest Baby can now bark like a dog, mew like a cat, roar like a lion, and give raspberries. he can also find his eyes, his toes, his nose, and his belly. he's also added new phrases, "Mine!" "Um-bum-ba" "Dass Cold!", and "I dopped it" to his growing communications lexicon. I am utterly owned by this child. Good lord...



i took this photo in Harper's Ferry, W. Va. i'm pretty sure that west virginia is the only state where you can still buy candy cigarrettes in a store that's not a cracker barrel. i love harper's ferry. it's one of my favorite places in the world. and the day we went was impossibly beautiful. notice that next to the box of cigarettes is a box of licorice pipes. i had no idea they even made those...

i snapped this picture on the appalacian trail, right outside harper's ferry. i was walking in the opposite direction, and had one of those moments where you just know what's behind you is beautiful, and i turned and got this shot. i think it's pretty special. hiking just a little bit on the trail made me want to come home, sell everything, quit my job, buy a better backpack, and walk 2000 miles from georgia to maine, just to see if i could do it. maybe one day...

i snapped this under the railroad trestle in harper's ferry. funny part is, seven years ago, i was on top of that trestle in an amtrak train bound for washington and the rest of my life. crossing the rivers was like crossing some kind of mystical barrier, between being who i had been up to that point in my life and who i was going to be for the rest of it. rivers are magical places, and i don't mean that in a hokey way. and the potomac/shenandoah convergence is one of the most magical.

i snapped this picture in the lady's room at ben's chili bowl. it's kind of stunning, i think. it's totally going in the book. i just hope i'm up to the task of writing something worthy of sitting next to this question. i keep going back to it, knowing that at some point, i'll know what to say. in the mean time, it's been a good catalyst for late-night thought. and thank God ben's decided to paint their bathrooms with blackboard paint--this was chalked high up on the wall, by the air duct.

this is my favorite dinner, ever. keep the enchiladas and rice, the meatloaf and mac and cheese. keep the lasagna and salad. keep the fancy steaks and lobster. keep the fois gras. keep the cedar planked salmon. give me a little taste of heaven in a red plastic basket, and i will be happy. this meal was eaten on the same little counter stool i used to sit on when i was a lowly office rat in our nation's capital, sweating out the summers, being uncomfortably cold in the winters (texas is hot, ya'll...), and being glad there was a place where people were friendly, al green was always on the jukebox, and the chili could take the rust off a nail. ahh, so good.

i'm so glad i have tomorrow off, even if i do have to go to the dentist. this week has eaten my lunch and thrown the left-overs in my face. i need a nap, and a stiff drink.

mil besos--rmg

the long and the short of it...

geeze oh man. i'm staring down the barrel of one hell of a week, friends and neighbors. these are the weeks when i remember that there are, in fact, 24 usable hours in everyday. i totally stole that line from "empire records", one of my favorite movies. it's uttered by liv tyler, who plays an overachieving speed freak. sometimes, the irony in life is almost too much to bear, people.

the dc vacation was so nice, if a bit rushed. and even though i went on a scenic tour of western maryland and got to go back to harper's ferry and take pictures, and even though i saw the international spy museum and learned new stealthy skills, and even though i got to eat at my favorite restaurant three times, none of those things were my favorite time with the girls.

my favorite parts were making up silly stories while making upside-down faces (you know, like when you were 12, and you'd lay on the floor with a blanket pulled over your eyes and nose, and put glasses on your chin, and act like a goober? yeah, we did that-and there are 5 college degrees between the three of us--and we laughed until our stomachs hurt...), ordering chinese from our favorite low-budget take-away and watching "shrek 2" in preparation for the third part. and i liked waking up each morning, knowing that adventure lurked around every corner, because the three of us are totally incapable of following a plan--not on purpose, but because life seems to have other plans for us that the ones we made ourselves. mr. caroline put up with our antics admirably well--possibly because he's a high school teacher or because i routinely threaten his life. someday, maybe i will bring mr. caroline a playmate to share with him in his hour of need. today is not that day.

i literally can't believe that it's almost summertime. it's as suprising to me as knowing my nephew is about a week away from being able to say my name. or that my cousin mia grew and gave birth to a real live person two weeks ago.

today, it took me four hours to get through two songs on my media player. i have seven meetings to set between now and the second week in june. i need to send out cards and make phone calls, and write three articles, one report, two announcements, and i still need to send a check to our class treasurer for my 10 year high school reunion. the oil in the car needs to be changed. tomorrow is pay day, and pretty much every red cent is allocated, already. my cat jinx sheds so much that i'm pretty sure i'm going to have to dust my room at least twice this week, and need to vaccum my floor asap.

other than that, i have two new pictures to go in the book, but can't find the words to go with them. they are great shots, though and i'm stoked about finding the right idea to put with them. i'm sure the muse will choose to speak at some totally inopertune time--like around 3 o'clock tomorrow morning, when i'm trying to figure out what to talk about in chapel(tomorrow is my last chapel of the semester, and i want to say something that the little angles will possibly remember as far as lunch)...and i'll either ignore it, knowing it's brilliant, or get up, turn on my laptop and hack it out, and resign myself to sleeping when i'm dead. it could go either way, at this point.

and just a word to the wise--the new mika album is really good. ryan sent it to me and i love it. also, benedryl can put you right to sleep, but can also give you weirdly lucid dreams. just so you know...and i think i may need a 12 step group to deal with my current and overriding obsession with blue grass music. i literally can't get enough-- maybe it was all that sweating we did in west virginia.

that's all. for now. something profound next time, perchance. we live in hope...which reminds me, welcome home to nate, who just came back from the desert.

mil besos--rmg

little pictures...

i taught chapel this morning. considering the events surrounding yesterday's shooting at virginia tech, and the fact that the event has been well documented on the news, radio, and in newspapers, it seemed foolish to imagine that we would not say something about what happened during chapel. the middle school kids were easy to talk to, mostly. they are much easier to reason with, explain to, tell the truth to. even the lower school kids were mostly ok. one parent told my boss not to talk about it in chapel, because she and her husband had decided not to tell the child anything about what happened yesterday. i think there's probably a line between telling too much and not telling enough, but not telling at all is not an option, at least not in my world. geeze louise.

so i talked to them about the gospel lesson for today--how if you love the least of these, God calls you righteous. and we talked about how everyday, (it's cool as all hell, check it out at one.org)we have the chance to love the least of our brothers and sisters. we talked about how and who we love shapes how we live. and in the back of my head, i hoped that they could feel like they weren't totally powerless in the face of a kind of anger and rage that can take all that away in a heartbeat.

it is a hard thing to tell children that they are safe, loved, make a difference, ect., in the face of such senseless anger and brutality. and i keep remembering to myself that God was in those classrooms, those dorm rooms, those operating rooms, those phone calls, those last moments. God was there. and God was sad. and i have to remind myself that the young man who did all this, and took his own life, as well, was someone's baby, too. and what happened to him? what could make someone do such a thing? life is such a precious, precious gift, and it's not ours to take away. it's ours to love, and conserve, and honor, right? what the hell are we doing to each other? God was there. God is here. God save us, every one.

somedays, i wonder if people don't get loved enough. i think sometimes, they don't. we live in a broken and dying world, and it's so freaking hard to come to terms with that. there are no easy answers. and this morning, staring out at those clean, shiny, precious little faces, who dare to believe that because i am taller than they are, that i have something to say to make sense of the hard things. so we tell them that it's all going to be ok, even on days when we're not sure it's all going to be ok. we try our best to keep them safe, to say and prove to them that love does make a difference in the world, and God helping us, that will turn out to be true and real.

mil besos--rmg

favorites

i love favorites. i try not to play them, but let's be honest. we all play favorites. we kind of have to. we have favorite friends to call, favorite beers to drink, favorites songs to put on repeat, favorite snatches of poems to attach to our mirrors, so we see our favorite thoughts during our least favorite part of the day.

the trick is to be honest about the favorites. you can try and cultivate feelings about people or things that don't exist. that's usually a pretty futile and tiring practice. i can honestly say that, because i have tried really hard to make myself like people or things, with the sole intent of rooting out old favorites. it's hard. on the other hand, sticking up for my favorites is kind of fun. it's like arguing a case for my existential all-stars. and it is possible to have more than one favorite. for instance, my favorite song--it's daysleeper, by rem. but it's also smells like teen spirit by nirvana. but it's also amazing grace by my momma. it's also up on cripple creek, by the band. and it's also you belong to me, covered by bob dylan. my favorite city--san antonio. but it's also washington, dc. it's also fredonia, texas. and i don't feel one bit conflicted in saying that. they are all my favorites.

i took communion to a little old lady on good friday. she was getting blood transfusions. she wanted to talk about her children. she wanted to tell me about how she met her husband. she wanted to talk about not wanting to move out of her house and into assisted living. that is my favorite part of my job.

i drove on my church ladies home from chemo last week. it was hard. she's not doing well, and trying to come up with contingency plans for hospice, disposing of her stuff, bills, ect. we were quiet some, and we talked some. and i gave her a hug when i dropped her at home. that is my favorite part of my job.

a young woman with a cute family came by my office last week, to talk about visiting shut ins and needing information about mother's day out. she went to speak to the priest about having her little one baptized. the very small cherub hung out with me for an hour. that is my favorite part of my job.

i had lunch with one of my little old ladies last week. she cooked me lunch. we talked about people at the church, how she used to help stuff and mail the church newsletter, how her son always comes to blow the leaves out of her yard, how she'd like another dog. i was there for 2.5 hours. it was great. that is my favortie part of my job.

one of the kids in youth group is having a rough time right now. tonight, she called me to vent and talk about her life--what's going wrong, what's going right, how she feels, where God is in the middle of all this upheaval. we talked for an hour, even though i wasn't on the clock today, at all, and even though i was enjoying being in the relative anonymity of starbucks, hogging up wi-fi, and reading random crap on wikipedia. that is my favorite part of my job.

a couple walked in from the bus stop last week. they had been flooded out of their trailor. they were trying to get back on their feet. it was the wife's birthday--even said so on her drivers' license. we were able to help them, a little bit. that is my favorite part of my job.

the other day, i looked at my business cards. for the first time in a long time, i knew who the name on the card belonged to, and i was happy to know her. happy to be her. happy to find out more about her, every day. even on the hard days. i realized that i was doing exactly what God made me to do. and i was exhilarated. that's my favorite part of my job.

happy easter.

mil besos--rmg

the fact of the matter...

i heard it said once that there is no such thing as a casual comment. i believe that down to the darkest bottom of my itty bitty cold hard heart. the most innocuous joke, silly little aside, tossed off one-liner can a) have a thousand meanings, whether you intend it to or not, and b) can expose raw nerves that should by all rights, never see the light of day.

as a person who seems to do a lot of talking, both as a matter of fact and as a matter of vocation, i find myself doing a lot of "self-editing", and even when i feel like i'm in safe territory, like with friends or family, i still try to be careful with my words. sometimes i do ok, and sometimes i set off fire alarms for 20 city blocks. sometimes i wonder what it would be like to take a silent retreat, and not talk to anybody for a week. i would probably talk to myself, anyway, and that's cheating. but that's really not the point of this post, not really.

and so, in a fashion that is mostly alien to myself and to this blog, i am choosing to rebutt. dear friend, upon who's fragile psyche my rapier wit and razor tongue seemed to tread too hard, read and consider what i secretly mean when i talk to you, when we drink beer, and when i avoid saying what i mean in order to protect my own psyche from overexposure...

i'll be honest with you. i'm kind of past the idea of heaven and hell and wondering what an afterlife looks like. frankly, i could care less. i don't think that it's fair for me to talk about being a Christian, being someone who cares about other people and cares about my relationship to God if all i'm doing is hedging my bets about whether i'll be thrown into a lake of fire or spend eternity eating heavenly bon-bons and plucking a harp. neither of those ideas sound very realistic. and i don't mean that heaven sounds like a bad deal--it doesn't. i just don't think our ideas about heaven and hell make a whole lot of sense. and to reiterate, i don't want to have a relationship with God in the here and now that's secretly about keeping my butt out of a sling when i die. that's really not much of a relationship, is it? i mean, it's like sucking up to your math teacher so she'll go easy on you during finals. you've got no investment in being nice to her outside of what it does for you. and that my friends, is what i like to call being an asshole.

i don't want to spend one more minute thinking about where i'm going to spend eternity. i do want to spend a lot of time thinking about how i'm serving God's purpose for me in this life, in this moment, to the people i work with and meet every day. that's real. that's concrete. the rest of it, hell, heaven, the immortal soul, ect. those are unknowns, and in the final analysis, i have no idea and no control over what is real and what is whistling in the dark. i can do right by people, i can follow my heart, i can say my prayers. that's really where the rubber meets the road. so yeah, maybe i am flip about hell and heaven. maybe it's because i have a really hard time believing in a God who preaches love and forgiveness and then condemns people to a hell that is utterly removed from love and forgiveness. seems like situational ethics, if you ask me. but what do i know? i still have trouble remembering not to yell at God about why i'm still single when i have to change light bulbs in my house by myself. it's just as bad to expect a pay off in this life for being a good soldier as it is to expect the same when i die. what can i say? it's an ongoing struggle for me with my Creator. i wish i had a better handle on it, but that's what i know today. it could all change tomorrow. i'm willing to be persuaded.

and as for eve, oh eve.

i have advocated your cause the best way i know how--i have tried to stay away from being the stereotype--the overly involved, overly emotional, overly made-up, overly curious, overly female female. eve, my sister and my mother, i remember you daily. i think the men give you more power than you really have. i think they make you into a villain, because it's easier than admitting that adam is as responsible for the apple as you are. don't forget, the old ways say you were adam's second wife, that he made the first one mad.

so, sister mine, with your fig leaves and lonely, much travailed childbirths, i will be your devil's advocate. suppose you had all the facts, suppose adam had informed you as he had been informed. would you still have picked the fruit? would you have shared the fruit? and what in the wide world did you say to adam to persuade him to eat of it? surely your eyes and lips and hair were no more beautiful or winsome that the faces of your daughters gathered at the mall, or starbucks, or central market? surely you were ordinary some days, even though you were the first.

am i to be damned and lumped in with you for all time because you acted on poor information, were beguiled by a creature with a cunning mouth and empty promises? and maybe, just maybe adam saw how easily you were sidetracked, and took a lesson from the serpent. and maybe that's why i and all your daughters have been on an endless quest for information, for integrity, to know what it looks like all the way down, all the way to the bottom of the rabbit hole, because one dreadful time we acted on poor information, and have been punished for all time. fool us once...and punish us forever. where in the hell were YOU? and who are you to criticize, adam and sons, for your transgression was made with FULL knowledge, mouth of God to ear of adam. you kept it for yourself, and dared to offer up blame when we acted outside that knowledge. and rather than call us out, you followed along. and allowed us to take the brunt of the punishment, rather than taking the accountability upon yourself.

but we are the ones who drive you crazy? no, no, our punishment was to be desirous of YOU, that YOU would rule over us, and that the products of that desire would cause us pain and break our hearts, to have enmity between our children and the enemy. you were only given a longer work day, harder work to do, and were still exalted as the crown of creation. and don't think for a minute that was because God didn't know what had really happened. you may have gotten of lightly in the first punishment, but there is something to be said for being your own comeuppance.

so go right ahead, son of adam. be bewildered. be amused. be frustrated. be utterly confused. blame sins of the mother on the hearts of the daughters--confine us to the fishbowl and tempt us with things that glitter and shine. and by all means, neglect to view your father with unveiled eyes. blindness is your prerogative and your choice, and sometimes, a willing muse.

and that's really about all i have to say about that, folks. vitrolic? maybe, but i think accounts are being settled, and something new is about to be born. easter is coming, and with it a deep and abiding sense of hope and renewal. i love spring. this time of year is so fertile and good. and on the wind, before the rain, i can smell green things. and i feel them inside my heart.

thanks for putting up with the random.

mil besos--rmg

holy geeze, kids

this has been one of those weeks in which every day has been monday--kind of like "groundhog day", only not really funny because it's not a movie. my to-do list, crafted with such precision and care has sat on my desk, almost untouched since monday. life just happens. the to-do list has served as a kind of reminder of that--more an indicator of what's not going to get done than anything else. and i spent monday night yelling at a group of 50-somethings who hired me, and tried to explain to them that they are not being great helps in this whole "ministry experience". i know it seems like the height of moxy to yell at a group of people who can fire you, but when a lady gets her belly full of people making suggestions, and then not helping out, a lady can get a little excited. i think maybe they picked up what i was putting down. we'll be hopeful, anyway.

i keep feeling all these feelings that just make me tired, more than anything. not the least of which is a combination between feeling grateful and feeling selfish. i feel like i'm struggling to keep my balance, most days. like today. i'm stuck between feeling glad to do my job, spending the day with one of my church ladies who's in the hospital, and feeling irritated that i'm getting stuff done on the house and missing a trip to the gym. i hate that. i wish i could settle on one way to feel. mostly, i wish i didn't feel like such a bitch for not being able to devote all my attention to my sick church lady. but if i concentrate too hard on how sick she is, i don't think i'll be able to handle the situation the way it needs to be handled.

my little lady is very sick. shit, let's be honest--she's dying. and she is teaching me about how to live, in her own way. she uses words like dignity and grace. she tells me about raising her three children, and what her life has been like. she tells such good stories. and she knows exactly what kind of barrel she's staring down. i hope i never have to be as brave as my little lady is being. it's not that i don't think i have it in me to be, just don't want to have to reach down that deep. it's scary to go that deep.

she's out of recovery now. i gotta run.

mil besos--rmg

wrapped up in something or other

i was in starbucks the other day, staring blankly into the goodie counter, knowing full well i wasn't going to get anything in it, and trying like hell to decide what i wanted in the way of caffineated goodness. i knew i was two people away from being served. the first option that jumped into my head was "vodka tonic with lime". i knew i was in trouble. and all this was after the trip to the gym with all the grunting and gratuitous nudity.

this week has been a little better. monday was even a day off. it was nice. momma took me to home depot to look at paint samples. she also bought be some sandpaper and lunch. it was kind of nice to have her all to myself for a whole afternoon.

tuesday has come to be my least favorite day of the week. i hate that. i was born on a tuesday, so i've always had a kind of affinity for it. lately, it's been like monday, but with more attitude and sleep deficit behind it. tuesdays are the hangover of mondays. yeck. and since today is my last day this week in the office, it's like a giant crazy friday, with a fight to the finish.

my brain feels all jelly-fied like my legs did last night when i finished biking and swimming. no matter how hard i try and psych myself up, the eliptical machine scares me. i'm afraid i'm going to fall off. it's bizarre, i know. it was fairly amazing. my endurance is creeping higher and higher, and i am suddenly amazed at how much better i feel, and how much better i am sleeping at night. granted, i don't sleep as much as i'd like to, but that's my own fault. if i could convince God to put 36 hours into a day, i'd be so stoked. i could get so much stuff done. and still have time to goof off. and take a nap.

i'm off to corpus to save the world through yet another marathon weekend meeting. woo-hoo.

mil besos--rmg

geeze, louise...

the best part about valentine's day 2007 (which i lovingly refer to as "the ides of february", as i cast scornful glances at any and everything to do with being happy, except for those of you i know and love, of course) is that it was the day before pay day. yipee. i'm about to make my second mortgage payment. i can actually feel the home equity building. it's fairly amazing.

this week has been interesting. everyone on staff here took a personality sorter, and we spent 5 hours digesting our diagnostics as a group on monday. what can i say about sitting in a room for 5 hours with my co-workers, while we all get emotionally naked, and the phone rings off the hook in the back ground, while i'm just wondering if you can, in fact, o.d. on church coffee...

so, i escaped to the relative safety of the gym. i say relative safety for two reasons-- i can never feel totally safe around that many muscle-bound men in very small shirts, and the fact that a lot of journey and guns-n-roses get blasted over the sound system make it hard to really relax during the work out. let me tell you more... caro and moo will have to forgive me for repeating myself...

so it's monday night, and all i want to do is decompress from being cooped up all day, and i walked into the gym, and i came face to face with a man on the butterfly machine who looked like he was either being scared half to death by invisible imps, or having the most mind-blowing orgasm known to human kind. it was a little disconcerting.

then, while i was sweating like a clydesdale on the exer-bike, which is next to the weight pit, i heard what i imagine a man delivering a baby through his pee-hole might sound like. it was this horrible, very loud, very gutteral, very disturbing series of grunts, followed by some loud muttering that i couldn't quite understand (maybe if the cave-men from the geico commercials had been there, they could have translated for me...), but probably went something like "who's yer daddy now, weight room bitches?"

said ruckus was loud and distracting enough to pull me away from reading the closed captions of the o'reilley factor(which makes me peddle faster, and which i was having to squint to read, since i left my reading glasses at home...who the hell takes their reading glasses with them to the gym, besides me?), which was playing on the big tv in front of the bikes. i expected the sound to be followed by a pool of blood seeping quietly over the floor, the screams of someone being hit in the face by exploding testicles, or the sickening thud of detached arms hitting the plastic mat. instead, the woman riding next to me gave me a raised eye brow, to which i responded (seriously, i can't believe i said this...) "Good God Almighty, what in the world is that all about?" kind of boring, huh? and then, i decided to skip swimming laps because when i got back to the locker room, and older and moderately gigantic woman was just sitting in front of my locker section totally topless, like she had nothing better to do that be topless in front of the entire free world.

the week has pretty much been on par with the monday experience, so in the interest of time and good manners, i'll spare you the rest. but i'm sure your imaginations can run wild...

mil besos--rmg

recently discovered...

1) i have been identity thieved. i know, it's awful. but the people at the bank were very nice, and i'm getting my money back. with that money, i will be buying a super shredder. let me know if you need any filler for your hampster cages, ok?

2) if given the opportunity to over-react, i may or may not take it. it depends on the day and the situation. this is a huge improvement over the last year. seriously. if you've recently been a victim of my over-reation, do please forgive me.

3) i can sweat under water. i realize this may be too much information, but i was certainly impressed by this new revelation.

4) i can be a hard-ass, when i need to be. case in point--i will kick you out of my office if you ask for rental assistance after y0u've already grifted me once. i will feel bad about the fact that you have kids, and i will be pissed that you brought your two year old in with you to play on my emotions. however, if you would just TELL THE FREAKING TRUTH, use your real name, and no be a butthole to me, we might be able to do business. and if you come in my office again, i will call CPS and the police. you don't scare me. i went to high school with guys way bigger and way scarier than you. as a side bar, God bless that child. sometimes doing what is the right thing feels very bad, indeed.

5) i have the most stellar poker face in history. i wish i could tell you the story about how i learned this, just know that it had to do with a client in the hospital, and some unexpected disclosures. HOLY CRAP. if you want the whole story, do email me. it's fairly amazing.

6) my goodwill is not bottomless. i do have a breaking point, and instead of viewing that as a personality flaw, i'm kind of excited that it's there. i hope i don't get to the point where i have to start firing people from my life because they have exceeded their goodwill points, but it's nice to know that i do have that in me. i know that sounds bizarre. but after getting walked across more times than is strictly necessary, i'm pretty excited that i've made a concerted effort to not let that happen, anymore.

7) dust could care less whether you've finished moving in. it will accumulate and you will have to dust, even though there are still boxes to be unpacked, pictures to hang, and bathrooms to scrub. guess what i'm doing this afternoon...

i think that's a good place to stop...

mil besos--rmg

by the numbers...

i know some of you love these posts...and i shamelessly ripped this idea off from national public radio...and i'm shamelessly posting up one for the masses, yet again.


2--the number of times last week i went to the grocery store, after working out at the gym and looked like i had peed in my pants. i just didn't give a crap.

3--the number of languages i heard at one time in the steam room at my gym. i guess i could also mention that there was a chronic grunter in there the other day, as well. i made my visit a little shorter than i would have liked, because the grunting was totally harshing my endorphin buzz and freaking me out. said grunter was also quite hairy, and grunting in time to his i-pod.

12--the number of pictures i still have left to hang in my apartment because i don't get around to hanging them until about 10:30pm, and don't want to alienate the neighbors.

6--the average number of hours of sleep i've been getting

9--the average number of hours i'd be happy to be getting

10--the number of ass pounds i've lost since embarking upon my 2007 Quest For Self-Empowerment and Improvements

3--the number of pounds of organic greens i consumed in the last 2 weeks. i now officially hate radiccio

20--the average number of text messages i send in one day. it's really hard to do punctuation to my liking on the damn things, though.

17--number of times a day i think "i should just break down and get an i-pod shuffle".

3--number of times a day i plan imaginary vacations with assorted people

1--number of times a week i teach kindergarten chapel at the day school, and have to beg my ovaries to SHUT THE HELL UP BECAUSE WE ARE NOT READY TO HAVE A DATE, MUCH LESS A KID!

4--the number of kitchen implements my nephew carried into the living room of his house last week. his new favorite toy is my sister-in-law's cast iron skillet. he likes it so much that his parents had to hide it from him. he's also learned the word "no". things are about to get interesting with the petite, if you ask me.

11--the number of hours i have spent in the last 7 days in various emergency rooms, hanging out with people who go to my church

4--the number of hours i spent having coffee with sweet little grammies at my church this week. ok, i only had coffee for two of the hours, and water for the other two. i was very grateful the entire time, however, that my mother taught me decent manners.

28--the number of years i have been my mother's child. her birthday is monday. i'm glad she's my mother. happy birthday, mommy.

3.5--the number of hours i planned to work today. HA!

1--the number of adult drinks i could reasonably consume before falling asleep.

peace out,
word up,
mil besos,
rmg

on extremes...

"Dear God,

Deliver me to my passion.
Deliver me to my brilliance.
Deliver me to my intelligence.
Deliver me to my depth.
Deliver me to my nobility.
Deliver me to my beauty.
Deliver me to my power to heal.
Deliver me to You."

--marianne williamson


before i read this prayer, i never thought about praying to God to deliver me to the things i was already good at, the things in which i took great pride. i always imagined a more worthy prayer would be the one to deliver me from my efficicacy, my gut reactions, my "best" intentions. but i read this prayer one day, and immediately knew that God made me with those things inside me, setting a steady pulse inside my brain that cannot be ignored. so why not deliver me to the best things inside myself? why not pray for that? why not celebrate that? why be apologetic about any of it? i liked it so much that i printed it out and pasted it into the front of my daily planner.

i've struggled with myself for a long time over my tendancy to find myself in extreme situations. i'll be the first person to admit that i am probably an adrinaline junky. i like being useful in situations. i like being the one to make the assessment and call the shots. i don't just like it. i freaking love it. and most of the time, i'm right on the money, and hit all my marks. but i know that i won't always be right. i know that even when i am right, there are situations that i can't fix. in fact, 99.9% of the situations i run across in my job, i can't fix, not with a check or a prayer, or shared tears. the best i can do is band-aid things, hold some hands, make some calls, and pray that God's grace continues to be big enough to fill in the gaps.

i feel like i'm coming to a point where i don't have to hold back anymore. a point where i can be confident, and speak with some authority, but not be cocky. i'm realizing that a) there's nothing wrong with knowing what to do and b) there's nothing wrong with NOT knowing what to do. the knowledge or ignorance of the decision comes from the same place in my heart, i think. maybe that's the increasing sleep deficit talking, but whatever.

we are products of extremes-- life and death, love and indifference, joy and pain, black/white/shades of gray, peace and fear. i feel like i'm in that mix 24/7. and even though there are days like today where i am tired in my bones, don't want to go work out or meet people for drinks, don't want to be in my office for 48 hours, i wouldn't trade it for anything. i have been delivered into my passion, into my calling, into a life i wanted, but didn't know how to ask for. my cup runneth over, and i am drinking like a bedouin after a long desert journey. thanks be to God.

mil besos--rmg

sometimes

sometimes you're the 7. sometimes you are the 11. sometimes you are snake-eyes.
sometimes you are the lightning. sometimes you are the bottle.
sometimes you are the comforted. sometimes you are the comforter.
sometimes you cry. sometimes you laugh.
sometimes you forget. sometimes you remember.
sometimes you are salty. sometimes you are sweet.

all the time, you are human. all the time, you are alive.

that's been my lesson this week, every day, every minute. it's being written on my heart. and while i ponder these treasures, as i'm imagining new mothers pondering their new children, i find myself grateful, in a bittersweet kind of way.

i knew when i took this job that i was saying yes to hospital visits, funeral receptions, lots of phone conversations, lots of HEB cards given out to hungry people. i knew at some point, i would be saying yes to being with someone while they were dying. i figured that moment would come some place far in the future, when i had accumulated more wisdom, shed some more of my own bagage, become more mature, had steeled myself for the experience. silly me. silly, hopelessly optimistic, naive me. you can imagine how shocked i was to be at the foot of someone's bed on monday night as they left this side of things for whatever lays on the other side.

i knew what i was walking into about 10 minutes before i walked into it. i'm sure i was as suprised about this man dying as he was, as his family was, as my boss and our co-worker and our bible study leader were. life turns on a dime, and by the time we got to bob's room, the dime was thin and overspent. if you want to stop reading now, you can. i just need to say what i saw "out loud", and as much as i love my journal, this story doesn't fit there. i can't explain why, it just doesn't.

so i got to the room before my co-workers did. bob's wife was there, her friend, and their youngest son were there, too. as i got off the elevator, i had the morbid recollection that i was going to see someone's father die in almost the same outfit i wore the night my own father died--long sleeve blue shirt, gray shorts (even my work outs this week have seemed to co-incide with drama...), favorite socks, and tennis shoes. odd synchronicity to realize while stepping off an elevator, going to do "work" that you know will end with a bizzare mix of joy, pain, tears, and sometimes laughter. i felt like i was walking toward being able to finish something, to tie something off that had been tattered for a long time. and, in a way, i was.

hospitals are so clean, so pristine, so important, fussy, and technical. bob was hooked up to all kinds of machines telling us how fast his heart was beating, how many times per minute he breathed, blood oxygen level, the whole schmear. it was easy to quantify his life by watching those lines jump up and down and wind their way across a computer screen that probably cost more than a house payment. i found myself getting sucked into watching the screen, because it was safe, detached, sterile. the lines weren't bob, nor were the beeps, the dips in the waves, the alarms that started to ring closer and closer together. watching the screen let me pretend that maybe this wasn't happening after all.

death is such a private thing. and i had only known bob since a little before christmas, when he'd first gotten sick. we laughed a lot, and joked. monday night was only the second time i'd ever met his wife, who works outside the home. i'd go see bob every week, hoping to find him better. and better never really turned into well. it's the little things that get you--like the funky little infections or wet lungs. being with bob and his family felt perfectly natural and perfectly odd, at the same time. i was basically a stranger to them, watching them during this intimate time. but it all seemed like it was supposed to be happening this way, so i tried not to think about what was going to happen when bob actually made his big exit--was someone going to totally freak out (and dear sweet God, don't let me be the one to freak out, because i've never done this before, not even when i was supposed to because i just couldn't make myself...), was it going to be peaceful, was it going to be awful?

bob's son started telling a story about himself and his brother, and the go cart that bob made for them, at the prompting of our bible study leader. and bob opened his eyes to listen. and then, he really started to die. and no one was talking to him. i had a hard time with that. this was bob's big finish. someone needed to tell him it was ok, that he was doing a good job, not to be afraid, and that we were so proud of him. so i did. small voice at first, and louder toward the end. i remember my mother telling me that she and my grandparents and godparents did that for my dad as he was dying. i remembered. and i didn't flinch a bit. and it felt good, like in that very thin place, that place where what is beyond and what is present were colliding, i could do this thing for someone else's father that had been done for mine. and then bob was done, and it wasn't really bob in the bed, anymore. and we were relieved, and sad, and all had a laundry list of tasks to being taking care of. we said some prayers, hugged each other, and all went home. i slept like a baby.

i know that bob's death is the first one in this job, and will not be the last. and that's ok. i'm sad i only knew him when he was sick, but i am so glad that i got to know him at all. he was funny and kind, with an earnest and open face that you rarely see these days. i'm glad i got to learn with him, and that his last moments were spent teaching all of us in that room something about letting go with dignity and purpose.

digging out of this week will be hard, in some ways. in other ways, i'm already out. there are boxes to unpack, groceries to buy, carpets to vaccum, address books to update, bills to pay, and all those things that go along with being alive and being adult. but tuesday and today, the world has been in technicolor for me, water has been sweeter, words have been more gentle, food has had amazing flavor, and covnversations have been less trying. it is an amazing thing to be alive. and i am grateful and amazed.

mil besos--rmg

the next adventure, in which rachiepoo buys a house...

the ink is barely dry on the contract. i almost threw up on the closing table twice. the movers are coming at 8:30am tomorrow morning, and i have got to start moving boxes, so they can actually get to the furniture. for the first time since i left home to go to college, i will offically have a permanent address, and be fully unpacked. i don't really believe it, just yet. but the papers in my car with the RIDICULOUS numbers all over it say it's true, so if seeing is believing, maybe i'm on the right track. i'll put up some pictures later today, so you can see the new digs. paint will be forthcoming posthaste, or as soon as i can make up my mind and go raid home depot.

mil besos--rmg