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Black Velvet
December 16, 2012 – 3:09 pm | 17 Comments

Childhood memories are vivid, almost indescribable in their detail, and impossible to forget. A Christmas memory I have is that of a black velvet dress  a family friend gave to me for my seventh Christmas.
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Submitted by on May 13, 2009 – 3:44 pm3 Comments

escandaloI am stereotypically Latina in few things, but one of the stereotypes that does fit is that of the temper.   In my heart, I see little wrong with raising my voice, unleashing a long string of complaints/insults while holding one hand on my hip and waving the other one around exageradamente, though I have learned to check it after getting myself into lios too many times.   

My husband on the other hand is straying a bit from his even-tempered persona, quizas thanks to my influence? 

There’s been a bird that’s been attempting to build her nest in one of the rafters of our kids’ playset recently.  Each day, my husband has gone outside, knocked on the wall of the playset (kind of adorably), and then removed the nesting materials once the bird flew away.  Several times, each day.  I voted to let her go ahead and do it, but he argued that it would ruin the playset with its pecking, its popo, and fly at the kids’ heads if they tried to get near it.  So he won, but I told him he had to be the one to undo the nesting, over and over. And over…times eight!

I guess he’d finally had it because the other morning, after he’d removed a big pile of straw/branches/leaves and the bird sat two feet away from him chirping loudly (she was angry but not the least bit intimidated), he started waving his arms, speaking rather loudly at the bird to “GO BUILD YOUR NEST SOMEWHERE ELSE!” and chasing it around the yard.  Pero, from the window where the kids and I were watching, we heard “Go build somewhere else.”  Undoubtedly, our not-so-friendly neighbor (in a new construction neighborhood) who was spying my crazed husband (but not the bird) from her window heard that, too.  Y, no doubt, se imagino that it was directed at her and felt threatened. (I’m guessing, by the way she jumped from the window, shut every one of the many blinds in the upstairs of her house, ran downstairs, turned every one of her outdoor lights on (at 10am) and cracked the kitchen window the teeniest bit (to hear more, maybe)).  I was waiting for her to call the police.

Ay, the escándalo my husband caused!   I should have come with a warning sticker.


* photo by Michelle Brea

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