Silent Nights

The blog has gone dark lately and it seems that it hasn't necessarily gone unnoticed.  Funny enough, it went dark so I wouldn't "go dark".  This past month was pretty tough, mostly due to straight loneliness.  My loneliness led into a semi Facebook addiction that while I realized was pretty pathetic, I just couldn't seem to help.  Logging in multiple times a day, virtually punishing myself by looking at all the "happiness".  Every happily married couple, new and soon to be parents, newly engaged "friends", etc.  I found myself in this cloud of misconceptions.  The biggest one being that everyone else had it figured out, everyone but me.  See why I stayed silent now?  I didn't want to angry blog.  I needed to process what I was going through, reign it in and then share.

The end of this month marks my one year anniversary.  This time a year ago, two suitcases and a few boxes were packed and landed in Hormigueros, Puerto Rico.  The intended time span? Six months.  For me, six months was attainable.  I had no clue what I would be stepping into and so I didn't want bite off more than I could chew.  In my heart I knew it would most likely be more than six months but I'm guessing I didn't want to alarm myself nor anyone else for that matter.  Now, here, one year later, I can now say without a doubt I see no end in sight.  I am living day to day, enjoying where I am and the journey I'm on.  A cake walk it is not.  An exercise in patience, understanding, compassion, love and humility -- it most definitely is.

Throughout this year I've been stripped...financially (huge pay cut), physically (goodbye hair), romantically (long distance relationships, yeah, not so easy) and even socially (making friends at 30, also, not so easy).  As each layer was peeled back, a different pain emerged.  No more shopping, no more hiding behind my hair, no more comfort of a man, no more comfort of friends.  Just me.  Me and God.  He's dealing with me and seemingly stripping me down in an effort to build me back up.  Until recently, I was unconsciously resistant to it which really made this stage harder than it probably should have been.

Stripped.

A few weeks ago I had the privilege to speak with a friend that I hadn't spoken to in months.  In the course of our multiple hour conversation, we eventually got to just what was happening out here.  My experiences, my trails and tribulations, including that undeniable clock ticking in the back of my mind.  You know, that voice (which usually sounds eerily similar to that of your moms) that says "Girl, you're not 20 years old...you don't have a lot of time to figure it out, you've got to hurry up".  My friend proceeded to tell me about a sermon that addressed the issue of the role of the woman.  I just got a chance to watch this video and it was right on time.  God has without a doubt spoken to me through this video.  It confirmed my "God is stripping me" theory and has even given me the push I needed to continue to move forward.  I'm going to continue to allow him to do his work in me, try to be as obedient as possible, and look forward to the future me with an excited spirit.  I felt it was so valuable that I wanted to share it with you.  Yes, there is a kinda corny skit in the beginning but bear with it.  I do hope you can take something away from this. May not be what I took from it but I do believe there's something here for everyone.  Couldn't figure out how to include it here so here's the link: http://vimeo.com/7675479 

Customer Service for Dummies...

I am a pain in the butt...in a very general sense, just about anyone who has entered any sort of relationship with me (be it romantically, friendly, or family) has at one time or another said or thought these very sentiments (among others) about me.  In most of those situations, however, I have tried to curb my pain-in-the-buttness --- except when I am placed in the role of customer.  I'm sure it was a mix of my father and my sister/cuz who somehow drilled this into me through my developmental years, but either way, along the way, I have developed a need to support businesses that respect and value me as a customer.

Unfortunately, the days of "so sorry ma'am let's get that corrected" are seeming to slow down.  Here, in Puerto Rico, I am beginning to get the eery feeling that those days never really existed.  Here, it seems I am the only one up in arms about bad phone service, crappy mechanics, unjustified bill increases, $6 a gallon milk (I tell no lies people), incompetent city workers, office hours that obviously only work for the unemployed/retired crowd, doctors who shut their office down for a week AFTER booking days and days worth of patients (and not calling to reschedule), the list goes on.  Today, for sake of time and personal sanity I will touch on the "easiest" of all these.  The bad phone.

Had to "go white" on 'em

Back in August, Mama and I decided (after Mama was solicited by a telemarketer) to upgrade her home phone plan by adding wireless internet into the mix.  For $9 more, we'd have secure wi-fi and a free modem....done deal.  About a week later, our nightmare started.  For two weeks I had a modem but no service.  I called and was told it was being taken care of.  Two weeks later I discovered that was a blatant lie and a report hadn't even been made!  All of this information comes to me after hours of automated systems followed by hours of looped smooth latin jazz elevator music to keep me "entertained".  I also discovered that asking if the person on the other end could speak English so that we could better communicate the numerous issues was senseless.  Keeping me confused seemed to be part of the plan.  So, this week, when I received yet another erroneous bill from this company (Claro is the name becaues I need to name names), I took a deep breath and I "went white".  In no way am I trying to be offensive to any of my Caucasian American friends, but sometimes, unfortunately, to get things done the way you as a customer need them to get done, you gotta "go white".  So, as soon as the customer service rep picked up the phone and greeted me with her mile a minute Spanish greeting, I met her with my mile a minute Mish radio voice...never did I hesitate to worry if she could understand me nor did I bother giving her an opening by answering her in any way in Spanish.  She quickly put me on hold as I heard her hastily find someone, telling them they just needed to pick up the line because they couldn't handle me.  As soon as the English speaker picked up, and told me I had to be transferred to billing.  I put my "white" foot down and said "Let me bring you up to speed with what has been going on...I do NOT want to be transferred to anyone and if there is any way you can handle this issue, I would greatly appreciate it."  The result?  Ms. Santiago agreed, got on the case, and even brought in her supervisor, Ms. Pagan, in to really make some magic happen.  No elevator music.  No automated system.  Ms. Pagan even came back on the line every now and then to apologize for the wait and update me on her progress regarding fixing and FINALLY crediting my account.  It was one small victory but one that took over TWO MONTHS to accomplish.  I am not use to this nor do I want to get use to this.  Why did it have to come to this?  Why is getting what is just and fair from a company seeming like a part time job??

About a week ago I snuck in and out of New York for some family business (again Happy Bday Kris!) and during that time I was recounting my numerous frustrations with the manner in which business is done on la isla.  While reflecting, my mom just turned, looked at me and said "And why is it that you want to live there again?"  Initially, I shrugged her off, but it wasn't long before I had yet another oh-my goodness-can-you-believe-this-is-what-happens-in-PR story.  Again, she looked at me sideways and said "And your thinking of settling down there permanently for what reason?"  I hear her.  I get it.  She's not saying anything I haven't already (and continue to) wrestled with.  While for me the issue is Puerto Rico and its complete ignorance to customer service, the bigger issue is a lack of involvement.  A lack of demand.  Companies don't give it because we no longer expect it.  Sure, from my perspective, its way easier in the US to be up in arms about something, call the company or write a letter and get results.  But, more and more even that is getting difficult.  The checks and balances line has blurred and somehow we are beginning to believe that we owe them something.  That we can't live without what this company is offering.  Like we are not the ones who keep their business running.

Partially, like in the case of my issue with Jet Blue, these companies do have us by the cojones.  And so, they don't really have to do much for you....and they know it.  Let me explain, Jet Blue is to Western Puerto Rico what Greyhound use to be for Philly/New York commuters (before Peter Pan and the suspect but cheap China Bus...shout out to my TU folks).  Basically, if you're trying to get to Western PR and you don't want to embark on a 2+ hour drive from San Juan, you have to fly Jet Blue.  Sure, you could try Continental, but their schedules, seats, destinations and prices all SUCK.  So, for all intense purposes, Jet Blue has a monopoly because of their "cheap", comfortable and reliable service.  Normally, I am a Jet Blue fan, but as I've said before to be happy in life doesn't always mean you've got cash flow.  Tight budgets call for strategic planning.  So, on Monday when a ticket from NY to PR is $124 and I have to wait for a check to come in and on Tuesday its $165...well, that's an issue for me.  For most of you reading this, that price difference is nothing.  A drop in the bucket.  I know, I use to be you.  But, that is just not my reality.  And, more and more, it is not a lot of folks reality....watching your money is a necessity nowadays and watching how easily and quickly something that was originally valued at $99 can climb to as high as $900+ (it happened to my cousin) is just disrespectful.  So, in my furor I wrote.  I wrote a non-angry sounding, concise letter to Jet Blue explaining my situation, hoping for wonderfully-satisfactory-customer-appreciation-we-will-honor-the-lower-ticket-price loveliness.  Instead, I got a manufactured, run of the mill, sorry-you-have-to-take-it-up-the-tailpipe-we-can't-help-you-we-know-you-have-to-get-home-so-find-a-credit-card-or-sugar-daddy response.  Disappointment.  Utter and complete disappointment and worry about the seemingly waning power of the consumer.  I was jaded and beginning to lose hope....but then one supermarket changed all that.

One of the last times I went back home, I wracked up on groceries.  Puerto Rico isn't exactly packed full of Whole Foods or Trader Joe's or even Fairways.  Getting organic, vegan or vegetarian items are difficult and very expensive over here (uh oh here comes mom's sideway look and voice in my head again).  So, I did what I usually do and I rolled out to Fairway and went on a shopping spree.  It wasn't until I got back to Puerto Rico and began to balance my checkbook (yes, there are people who still do that) that I realized that I had been overcharged close to $25 dollars!  The cashier had made a huge math error with my Quinoa purchase AND the Quinoa flour that I purchased was expired.  I, by this time, was jaded and didn't want to deal with another damn customer service person.  In my mind I thought Let it go, what can they really do?  You're in PR, you can't prove the flour is old and you can't prove you don't actually have 8 boxes of Quinoa in your cupboard.  But, that little customer-is-always-right-I-must-be-heard-pain-in-the-butt person inside of me just couldn't let it go.  So, I shot them an email.  A few days later a very apologetic, very concerned customer relations person responded.  She asked me for  a few details from my receipt and within 48 hours I had an e-mail from her emphatically apologizing, informing me that my account would be credited and encouraging me to continue shopping with her store.  As a result of that experience, I heart Fairway.

I will continue to spend my precious money there and feel good about it.  We should feel good about the places we spend our money and feel good about the things we spend our money on.  No, you don't have to occupy Wall Street to make a change (although it is awesome if you decide to head down there for the right reasons...not just to be part of a circus), but YOU DO HAVE TO DO SOMETHING.  Don't allow yourself to be kept "busy" with technology and day to day drudgery.  Take a moment and look at the big picture.  The power has, is, and will always be in our hands...as long as we remain conscious.  We are the 99%!  Write a letter, voice a concern, call a congressman, demand recycling in your neighborhood (that's more of a PR issue...yet again), whatever it is...but stand for something.  Not just empty jokes, I don't care attitudes, and ignorance is bliss demeanors...

Titi Viña

She was small in stature, which gave her a great reason to keep a cute pair of pumps on her feet.  Whether it was patent leather Mary Janes or simply a diva like sandal, Titi Viña was always dressed, hair done, nails painted and zapatos on.  She was also always smiling, happy to receive company, as welcoming as ever.  Whenever I interacted with her she always seemed to have a glimmer in her eye, a look of pride and joy.  Maybe because I was Misha…la nieta de Celina, la hija de Neno…which meant I was family... or maybe it was just her way.  She would hug me as tightly as her petite arms could, then take a few moments to stare at me with those warm eyes and proceed to speak to me (whether I understood her or not).  This was Titi Viña.

Tit Viña, Tio Victor and Tata

In May, Titi Viña was diagnosed with Leukemia.  The doctor’s prognosis was grave, six months, they said. Initially, the family (naturally) reacted with sorrow but quickly just about everyone turned to prayer.  We spoke prayerfully and positively together and in our quiet time alone, we prayed.  I’m sure our prayers varied.  Most of us knew that there was a great possibility that the cancer was so far advanced that the result would inevitably be…well, what realistically is the inevitable for ALL of us.  Sobering thought, I know.  So, for me, at least, my prayers were for peace, for comfort, for limited pain and suffering.

Often times, non-believers say “Well, if there’s a God, why is there cancer and suffering? Especially to someone like Titi Viña or Mama Celina (my beloved grandma…may she rest in peace)?”  I can't necessarily claim to know the method to His madness but I do know that God has a plan and we are all part of his divine design.  Period.  I’m not God, so I can’t tell you why my car can go flying across the FDR one warm Saturday night and I can walk away from that virtually unharmed while Leukemia and Alzheimer’s plagued Titi Viña…in and out of the hospital for months.  I do know we all have a purpose.  I do know that Titi Viña touched lives as did Mama Celina and Papa.  I know that these three individuals (amongst many others) have helped develop character within our family.  They’ve shown us how to treat people, they’ve silently emphasized the importance of family unity and they’ve instilled values in us.  Tools, if you will, that we are expected to pass on to our children.

During the next few months, there were ups and downs.  There were times when she would feel strong enough to leave her bed and hang out in the living room, reminiscing on favorite past times and, in between chuckles, she would warn me that long distance relationships are relationships for the foolish.  Then there were the other times...when she just looked tired.  When a hospital room was the last place she wanted to be, and when she would urge her daughters to break her out and take her home.  Titi Viña had a fighting spirit though, so just when you thought she couldn't go one more day, she would somehow find the strength to pull through and make it back to where she wanted to be - home. 

So, on September 4, 2011, when I got word that Titi Viña had gone on to be with the Lord, I sighed and I cried.  I sighed a sigh of relief for her.  Her suffering was over.  She's at peace now, probably hanging with her sister (my grandma), keeping an eye on all of us.  Then I cried.  I cried for those of us left behind.  Will we make them proud?  Will we continue to stay together/united as they were...dedicated and loyal to their brothers and sisters, uncles, nieces, etc.?  No matter who lived in New York or some other part of the country, our elders have always kept in touch, sought each other out, and rolled out the red carpet for each other.  I can only pray we'll continue to do the same.

Titi Viña

That morning, shortly after I got the news of Titi's passing, I walked out into the kitchen and ran into Mama.  She was preparing to take Max for his morning walk.  Mama and Titi Viña were cruise buddies and it was just a few short weeks ago that Titi Viña found the strength to come for a visit.  Mama often asked about her and so I knew that I would have the unpleasant task of delivering the news.  I wasn't sure how Mama was going to take the news, but I decided to just do it.  As I told her, her eyes drooped and her shoulders dropped.  "Well..." she pushed out, "...we knew it was coming and now she's feeling no pain, no suffering."  As she spoke I saw more in her body language and her eyes than I had ever seen before.  At any age, the thought of death is often sad and scary.  But, at 87, it has to be double sobering.  All your friends, companions, peers are going one by one.  Before I knew it I was hugging her tightly and whispering in a cracked voice "Te amo".  Surprisingly, she responded.  "I love you too, mi amor.  I am so happy you're here.  I use to say to myself, 'Wow, I have a granddaughter and I am of no importance to her.  She's forgotten about me', and look, here you are." Her eyes got glassy and I just hugged her, shooshing her insecurities away.  This was the tightest I can ever remember my Mama hugging me, and without a doubt, the most sincere and eloquent she's ever been in her feelings towards me.  "I can't forget about you Mama." I whispered to her as we embraced.

Value who you have, honor who you've had, and every day try to love just a little bit more.  

Rest In Peace Titi.

¡Mi Nuevo Trabajo!

It's official.  I got my first paycheck so I am confident in saying I officially have a job!!!!  It took quite a few months to get here, but alas, I have arrived!

As of August 1st, I was hired as a teacher at a local Christian private school.  The school is bilingual so the fact that I am more English than Spanish speaking actually came to work in my favor!  So, there I was, a week before the kids started, preparing to take on 28 (yes, 28) 2nd - 4th graders (yes, all in one class).  Here, they group the kids together because this is a school where the kids essentially teach themselves with workbooks (that are all in English).  The teachers are there to serve as part tutor, part warden, part translator.  As the days went on in our "training", I realized that I knew nothing about what I was about to embark on,  there was no review of the system, no FAQ's (Frequently Asked Questions), not even a teacher's manual available.  So while fighting a knot from forming in my stomach I reminded myself, Michelle, God will never give you anything that you can't handle...follow the path.  So, I talked excitedly about the opportunity with my family and eagerly shopped for supplies to help put the 'Misha Touch' on my classroom.  

While fighting back worried feelings of failure, I was also dealing with a significant language barrier.  Sure, the school is supposed to be a bilingual school, but the reality is everyone's native language here is Spanish (except for maybe the computer teacher).  Also, there were only four of us newbies and the rest are veterans...inside jokes, experts on how things run around here, etc.  The other three newbies were all assigned next door to each other (since they were all set to handle Kindergarten and First Grade) while I was sent way out yonder to my own individual area.  I love working alone, so that wasn't an issue but I was worried that I was giving the impression that I was anti-social...farthest thing from the truth but what I'm finding is that when you are "lost in translation" you somehow morph into two different people.  I, for example, in English am funny, social, and confident. In Spanish, I am quiet, nervous, awkward and maybe even come across as dumb.  It sucks.  I think I even caught the office secretary laughing behind my back.  Of course I can't be too sure, but my gut tells me she totally was.  My Spanish seems borderline great when I speak to Mama but when I'm in the work setting, I just go blank! 

A few days after I started my "training week", I was called into the boss' office.  I thought Already?!  as a list of things I could have done wrong ran through my mind.  As I sat there with one boss who speaks very little English and another that speaks a lot of English (but lets the other one speak for him), my heart began to beat really fast.  Then, my boss began to explain how they think my services would be useful elsewhere in the school.  Another one of their teachers unexpectedly quit and they feel that her position may be a better fit.  Pay is the same, I would still teach Conversational English on Mondays, I would just lose the 28 little ones and take on a more administrative role.  Initially, my ego was bruised, they don't think I can handle the kids.  They don't think I can do it.  I'm not good enough in Spanish.  They thought I was better.  They're giving me a crap job now.  Good job Michelle.  Then I smacked myself in the back of the head, He'll NEVER give you anything you can't handle.  You may have just been blessed.  Go where the path takes you and chill out!

So what was the job? I proctor all the exams for all the kids in the school.  I have my own classroom that only has kids in it sporadically.  Yes, the first week was crazy with filing paperwork, Saturday work days and figuring out how to organize chaos.  But, it was an opportunity to shine.  An opportunity to show I'm not a dummy, its just easier to recognize my intelligence in English...for now.

I am loving my new space.  I listen to music freely, bond with kids who curiously come in to meet the-new-teacher-from-New-York-with-really-short-hair...and I still have my two classes!  Oh, and I also dodged a MAJOR bullet!  That classroom that they were going to give me is now their problem class.  Lots of kids...currently two teachers and the principal are in there on a daily basis trying to get the kids in order.  2nd graders are just learning the system while 3rd and 4th graders have it down.  There are overly concerned parents, obnoxious grandmas, and busy body little siblings plaguing the classroom daily...along with the 28 children --- talk about a lot to handle.  Some speak English more than Spanish and some speak practically no English while they try to navigate and learn from English only workbooks.  Just thinking about it makes my head spin!  On the first day of classes the electricity blew just as the school doors were opening.  I walked into groups of hot, anxious children, parents with cameras, parents with grimaces, teachers with hot, bewildered faces and a level of semi-organized chaos.  I punched in and continued to walk to my new little classroom/office in the corner while breathing a sigh of relief and throwing up a great big THANK YOU JESUS!

Hair Be Gone!

Freddie!

The infamous...

You know that feeling you get when you find yourself admiring another person?  Ok, let me clarify...when you find yourself admiring the style of another person?  This has happened several times in my life and, I suspect will continue to happen.  I've admired everything from headwraps to dreadlocks, Kim Kardashian-esq soft curls to Freddie from A Different World big crazy curliness.  Hair is a huge part of a woman's style.  Your hair can totally change the look of an outfit and without a doubt can and will change the way in which people receive/perceive you.

Who's The Boss now?!

One style I've always admired but never ever ever in a million years thought I could pull off was the Nia Long, the Alyssa Milano, the Jada Pinkett, the Halle Berry....the list goes on...its the so-short-you-can-easily-look-like-a-boy (or a science experiment) haircut!  THIS of course was my dream cut.  The kinda dream that just remains a dream mostly due to circumstance...my circumstance being my physical hangups.

Young (and plump) Mish

Adult sized ears!

See, I, was born with a head full of hair and chubby cheeks.  By the time I was about 2 or 3 years old I had adult sized ears (see photo).  Impressively sized ears run in our family...no really, they are somehow both chubby and big...and its on both sides.  Chubby on my moms side (and big) and big (like long) on my dad's side (if you ever meet Mama, you'll see what I mean).  This, coupled with my Elvis-like sideburns left me feeling pretty hopeless.  In fact, I discovered Gap hats when I was in 8th grade...you know, those awesome preppy baseball like caps that came in different shades of khaki, denim and black?  They were all the rage amongst Catholic school kids.  But unfortunately, by the time I got to high school I had pretty much decided that the combination of sideburns and ears that stick out meant no cool Gap hats for me.

Why not just get rid of the sideburns you say?!  Ha, one day I tried that...and I paid the price.   I was in 5th or 6th grade and I slept over my older cousin Jeanine's house during Thanksgiving break.  Jeanine is my older cousin who, although I didn't spend a lot of time with her, was always super excited to hang with her when the opportunity presented itself.  Well, that weekend, Jeanine was talking to me about the wonders of bleach.  She told me that the hair just "kinda disappears".  Now, Jeanine is very fair skinned with freckles.  I too, was fair skinned with freckles, but while her hair is a medium brown, mine is and has always been really dark...everywhere.  Nonetheless, I was maybe 12 years old and my cool older cousin was willing to make my sideburn woes disappear in a maximum of 30 minutes!  Her mom gave her the seal of approval and so, clumps of white cream were placed on the sides of my face...and my upper lip!  Thirty minutes later I found myself standing in front of the bathroom mirror with Jeanine on one side and her mom on the other...

Jeanine:  (trying to hold back a laugh) "Wow Misha, you have a lot of hair."
Me: (very confused) "Uh, Jeanine I still see my sideburns, except now they're blond.  Is it supposed to look like this?"
Jeanine: "Yeah, the problem is your whole face has hair...but its not so bad." Again chocking back her laughter
Jeanine's Mom: "Oh my goodness Misha..."
Me: "What am I going to do?!" Laughing and freaking out at the same time
Jeanine & her mom: "Wear your hair down!" They couldn't hold it back anymore and just started laughing.

Did I mention that I had gym on my first day back to school?!  My massive head of hair didn't last 10 minutes before it was up in a ponytail.  So, as I sat on the gym floor, Rosario (last name omitted due to lack of memory) looks at me strangely and says "What happened to your hair?" I, totally forgetting that I had two patches of blonde fur on the side of my face, respond "What do you mean?" She's like "It looks like your hair over here (pointing towards my ears) is a different color." My stomach drops as I remember that I was supposed to be keeping my hair DOWN.  If anyone gets wind of what I tried to do, that's the end of me.  I'll never be able to live this down.  Oh my goodness I need to throw her off before she discovers my blonde upper lip!  So, I did what any pre-teen in my position would do.  I told a stupid lie.  One that, in retrospect, should have actually been more embarrassing than fessing up to being the victim of a bleaching experiment but hey...so my incredibly intelligent response was "Oh, I put makeup.  Concealer." She was really confused at that point.  "Why?" she asked.  "Because I wanted to." and I quickly walked away in a pretend huff while pulling my hair down and around my face as quickly as possible.

The Curl Mentor Program :)

Sometimes I miss 'em :(

So, in short, going short was NEVER an option.  But, as years go by, if you're doing things right, you embrace your "flaws" and you make the best with what you have.  I had frizzy, out of control hair that I never knew how to do....I learned how to do it and how to make frizzy, out of control hair become cool, funky, big, beautiful hair...it became part of what defined me.  An extension of my personality.  Again, though, life is an ever changing (and challenging) journey...especially for me nowadays.  And, I've gotten use to being open to the idea of change--drastic change (apparently).  So, one morning I woke up and I just knew I needed to cut my hair.  Its so hot here in PR that even when I tried to wear it out, it would just end up back in a messy bun or ponytail 10 minutes later.  Sure, I toyed with the "cutting it all off" idea for about a week, took random polls of what family members thought, searched the web taking quizzes that would tell me what cut was best for me, the whole nine...but its hard to explain...except that this scenario was reminiscent of "my"decision to move to Puerto Rico...it was already done, even though I hadn't physically done anything yet.  Both decisions felt like they weren't necessarily all mine.  Something bigger at work, if you will.

The dry mop needed to go!

Note the photos in my hand LOL

Note the girl behind me, she was shocked LOL

Before I knew it, Mama and I were entering the local beauty salon/barber shop, I was handing Jessica (my new hairdresser/barber) several pictures I pulled off the internet, and I was being seated as local hanger-rounders were looking at me in amazement.  "She's really going to cut it all off?!" I heard them whispering to each other in Spanish.  For a moment, I panicked.  "Do you think this cut will look good on me?" I asked Jessica.  "Sí, porque tu tiene un cara muy finita." (Yes, because you have a thin face). I saw the scissors in her hand and showed her the pictures once again as she assured me... "Yo sé, tu quieres el mismo estilo de Halle Berry."("I know, you want the same style as Halle Berry.") I smiled, closed my eyes and allowed her to have her way.  When it was all said and done I couldn't hide how excited I was.  When she told me I owed her $10 I think I almost pee'd my pants...I couldn't handle it! The joy! The excitement! The disbelief!  They were all just too much for my nerves to handle at one time!  Mama absolutely loves it....I think she almost pee'd her pants too when she saw me get up from the chair.  She says I look like a different person.  I think she's right.  I feel like a different person.  I am not my hair.  It can come and go and I'm still here.  To feel BETTER (happier, prettier, more hopeful) with LESS (hair, money, friends and fam around) is an empowering feeling.  More and more all of my mini walls are crumbling.  Ever changing and ever growing, both internally and externally.  Sideburns, ears, and all....

Full Speed Ahead Batman!!!!

Icees after church!

“Full speed ahead Batman!” That’s how I feel nowadays.  My two-week trip to New York ended up being extended to almost a month long adventure.

Erto Berto on his way to Japan!

I arrived in time to see my little bro off to Japan and while we didn’t get to spend the quality one on one time I would have liked, in the manner in which I imagined it, we still got to be together.   The way I see it, he was given an opportunity to spend time with friends and family that truly missed him but he was also shown, that he’s changed.  There’s nothing like going back to where you came from to show you just how far you’ve come, and more importantly, how far you still have to go.  So, on July 6^th, he headed out…onto a two day journey that took him from New York to San Antonio to Dallas to Tokyo and finally to Misawa, Japan!  He had the privilege of being bumped up to Business and even First Class on the majority of his flights.  What luck right?!  Now, my fresh-faced 18-year-old hermanito and I are on similar yet very different journeys.  He’s experiencing the real life Top Gun, 13 hours ahead of all he’s ever known, financially independent for the first time in his life, while I’m sitting in a cafeteria, undergoing a Spanish-only orientation designed to prepare me to face 2^nd – 12^th graders beginning Monday morning.  I’m being asked to sign contracts that I can hardly understand and fighting feelings of panic.  Either way, we’re both in strange lands, embarking on new adventures, and prepping ourselves as best we can for what is to come.  We both feel excited yet disconnected, apart of a team and yet still lonely.  We’re navigating and looking to each other for support.

Don't miss this!

Did miss this!

Once Erto Berto left for Japan I realized I had a few short days to get a laundry list of things done.  I had already come to the realization that as far as my eyes could see, I wouldn’t be returning to live in New York anytime soon.  I also realized my parents garage was chock full of my stuff.  Letters, cards, notebooks, photos, books, clothing…the list goes on.  Some of that stuff, believe it or not, went as far back as elementary school.  It was time to start clearing that stuff out.  Letting go of what I no longer needed, finding use for whatever I “saved for later” and storing whatever I truly knew I’d use/need when I finally settle into my own place again.  So, I changed my cramped, no-space-for-my-knees-and-my-feet-Continental-Airlines-seat, for a nice and roomy Jet Blue seat 10 days later (no I’m not being paid for this endorsement although I should be)!  By the end of my bonus time in New York, I was ready to be home.  I missed Mama.  I missed Max.  I missed Titi Annie.  I missed Puerto Rico.  While in New York I got the good news that I officially got the teaching job at the school that my church has and I would begin August 1^st.  I also got all my paperwork in order to open my very own food stand!   Hence, why I feel like its been non-stop since I’ve gotten back.  Oh, and did I mention I chopped all my hair off?!  Yeah, check out my new haircut.  Its crazy short but I absolutely LOVE it.  More on the new job, the food stand and the decision to cut my signature mop aka hair in the coming post.  The blog slump is over!  Let’s celebrate! WoooO!

Went from this...

...to this!

AND I LOVE IT!!

Home?

Today is July 2nd.  I've officially been home for 7 days.  Apologies to those I have yet to reach out to as this trip seems to be going in overdrive.  Day 0.5 started in Puerto Rico.  I headed to the airport around 11pm prepped for a 2am flight.  The plan?  To land just before 6am, get home, catch a second wind, head to church (hopefully with my whole family), and then make it home in time for some much needed relaxing and catch up with my immediate family.  Now, as soon as arrived at the airport, I knew something was wrong...any time there are masses of people huddled around an airline counter, there's trouble.  I hoped it wasn't my flight, but I just knew it was.  It was.  My 2am flight had been delayed until 4:15am.  It was about 11:30pm.  I had quite an evening of waiting and then, traveling ahead of me.  I breathed deep, took the $6 food voucher and scoured for food I could kinda maybe eat under my new doctor prescribed diet (see previous post for that story).

I won't lie.  The waiting sucked.  Then, upon finally walking into the plane that was sure to take me home to comfort and relaxation, I realize someone is in my coveted window seat.  See the science behind my love for the window seat is as follows:  It is my mini zone.  I have the window to use as my pseudo shoulder.  If I can't sleep the window seat allows me to stare and zone, perhaps write, perhaps listen to music, perhaps to just think.  That night, my plans for the window seat involved lots of sleeping so I could be refreshed and ready.  There had been murmurs of a possible family BBQ on my arrival day, and while I really hoped those rumors were false, I still wanted to be ready to face it with a genuinely positive attitude.  I was determined to not allow any ridiculous 2 hour delay to set a negative tone to a trip I've been looking forward to (and at times using to help keep me pushing forward while in PR) for months.  As I zoned in on my seat, I realized there was a body in it.  I checked my ticket, yep, the larger sized older gentleman, complete with a cane, was in my seat.  Now, many would say "Mish, I know you asked him to move right?" and I would respond "Nope.", followed by a sigh.  At the end of the day, I didn't have the heart to.  He looked like a sardine in the window seat, had I moved him to the seat he belonged in (the middle seat) it would have been even worse.  Plus, if he had been my grandpa, I would have wanted whatever young lady's seat he took to take the high road and let him have that.  Was I pissed?  Yes.  Was I torn and contemplated throwing a fit all in the name of  understandable crabbiness and irritability? Heck yeah.  Did I give him nervous tension for most of the trip? Yup...until I pulled the tray table down and forced myself to knock out in an inhumanely uncomfortable position...with a dress acting as my sweater/blanket over my head.  I forced myself to sleep until we were told to please raise our tray tables (or in my case - beds) and prepare for landing.  I had a decision to make: continue to be a pseudo-jerk or snap out of it.  I snapped out of it and offered the neighbors on either side of me a Mentos.  That opened the line of communication.  Mr. Old Man Who Took My Seat told me he was landing in Newark and then had an hour and a half ride ahead of him down to Camden, New Jersey... in a pretty small vehicle.  I'm glad I gave him my seat.

Not too bad for no sleep right? Big bro Danny happy to see lil sis!

The BBQ wasn't a vicious rumor.  It was true.  Very true.  So true that cousins I hadn't seen since before I left were even present.  I'd be lying to say I was looking forward to this event.  Really, who wants to see anyone, much less extended friends and family after a very uncomfortable night of traveling?!  But, I locked myself in the bathroom for a bit and gave myself a pep talk as I showered.  I put a little more makeup on than usual (to try to hide my tired and borderline annoyed eyes), and faced the music.  It was lovely.  Person after person I embraced and exchanged information with.  It was a bit surreal and at times I felt like I was floating on a cloud but had I been better rested I may have shed a tear with every person I spoke to...and that may have just been awkward.

Me n my "twin"

That was Day 0.5 into Day 1.  The next few days were full of my three lil munchkins...Jaden, Renee and Phia.  They (minus Phia) hit the road for Florida on Thursday so I was sure to get my dose of them while I could...when they return I'll be back in Puerto Rico...unsure of when I'll return.  It was also full of cousin love.  I really do miss and love them so much.

Cousin n munchkin love!

Now, here we are, at the weekend.  I'm in Harlem and loving the Aloft Hotel!  Thanks to my lovely cousin Jeanine for introducing me to this place.  My boyfriend and I are taking these next two days together to catch up and continue to navigate the very difficult task of a long distance relationship.  As I sit here and type, the DJ in the lobby bar is spinning an oldie but goodie featured in one of my favorite movies (Dirty Dancing), titled "Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow".  A perfect song.  Love is hard.  Distance love is harder... and one never knows what tomorrow will bring.  But, until then, I'll concentrate on enjoying today...

Father's Day

Tomorrow some of us will make a last minute run to the pharmacy, grab a quick card, scribble a few choice words down, and take an obligatory trip to our father's house; some of us will face tomorrow with a chip on our shoulder, stating "I celebrate my moms on father's day"; some of us will relish in being the father we never had or in being the man our father's raised us to be; while others will take the day to reflect on the father that is no longer physically with them.  No matter which category you fit into, tomorrow is Father's Day.

Here in Puerto Rico, my grandmother and her neighbor traditionally recognize Father's Day today.  My neighbor pays homage to her husband as well as my step-grandfather by placing a bouquet of fresh flowers  at their graves every year.  She also comes equipped with a broom and dustpan, ready to clean and make everything pretty.  This tradition is not something I've ever been apart of, so I tagged along as a visitor.  Quietly watching and following Mama's lead.  But, upon arrival, we split ways with the neighbor.  The neighbor made it a point to note that perhaps my grandmother and I should head over to Papa's grave and have our alone time while she fixed up her husband's grave.  Already, my presence has broken tradition.  Again, I just quietly followed.  Giving no opinion.  I was there to accompany Mama, to reflect on the life of a man who to this day continues to touch me and to give prayerful thanks for his presence in our family. So, we walked over, replaced old fake flowers with new ones and just sat there.  At first it was awkward (as grave sites usually are), but then, I started hearing music...English music.  Upon further investigation, I realized it was coming from  my purse.  It was a song I had bookmarked on my phone a few months ago.  Initially the thought was to shut it down right away, but then I heard "Cuz IIIII love the way you call me baby, and youuuuu take me the way I am" and at that moment a peace came over me and I just let it play.  I let it play to celebrate Papa.

The man he was to me and the man he was to many.  That is just what Papa did.  He took everyone the way they were.  He just loved.  And without a shadow of a doubt, no matter what, he had the uncanny ability to make me feel like he just loved me...for being 'Michie'.  Once the song finished Mama and I found ourselves clapping and again sitting in silence.  Then, I spoke my thoughts:

Me: "You know Mama, Papa is the only grandfather I've ever known."
Mama: "Really?"
Me: "Yeah and you know what else?  I didn't know he wasn't my blood grandfather until I was a teenager. I remember one day we were driving up to your house and I saw that the mailbox said 'Vazquez' and I asked Papi why is Papa's name Vazquez if our name is Gonzalez...and that's when he explained that while he considers Papa his father, technically he's not his biological father."
Mama (with a surprised look on her face): "Yes, that's right."
Me: "I was so surprised because I had never felt like he WASN'T my Papa.  He was always so loving and so wonderful to me."
Mama: "Yes, that's how he was.  He knew that if he married a woman, he married her children and that was it.  He treated my sons like his own and my grandchildren, naturally, were his.  In fact, he found out he had a daughter that he never met.  We went to California twice looking for her because he had heard that's where she lived."
Me: "Did he have any information?"
Mama: "No, he just knew she lived in California and that was it.  We went twice but never found her."

We fell into silence again and I was left alone with my thoughts.  It's hard to come to this realization, but after spending the past 6 months with my grandmother, I am certain that Papa played a huge role in maintaining whatever relationship we (the Gonzalez kids) had with them.  Every year growing up, we could each count on a card coming from them with a few dollars included.  That was Papa.  Whenever we came to Puerto Rico to visit, Papa served as the spokesperson for the household.  He would tell me "There's my beautiful Michie!  Come give Papa a kiss.  I love you so much.  What would you like?  Anything that is here, in this store you can have, just tell Papa ok?"  The coldness I could never understand from my grandmother was always superseded by the immense warmth and true love my grandfather showed me.  Family was important to him and somehow, God placed him right in the arms of a woman who acts like family is something she can do with or without.  He, along with my maternal grandmother, Mama Celina (may she rest in peace), were key in laying the groundwork for the household I was so blessed to grow up in and for the way our family still operates to this day.  So, I continued to sit and give my thanks for a man who technically owed me nothing but somehow gave me so much.  I prayed for the daughter he never found and even thought about trying to find her myself one day soon.  I think anyone who didn't grow up with their father would appreciate hearing that he searched for them, he thought of them and although he never met them, loved them as if he did.

Papa's new flowers!

My thoughts were eventually interrupted by the neighbor, coming to sweep and clean Papa's tomb.  As she cleaned she chatted away, with her own fond memories of Papa.  Then, she broke my heart.  While sweeping and talking sweetly to his tomb, she stops, turns to me and says "Did you know him?"   .  How does one respond to such a ridiculous question?  I was so confused and so offended.  This woman, who has lived next door to my grandmother for over 30 years, who essentially gave her son to my grandparents to raise, is now looking at me as if I'm some second removed cousin or something and asking me if I knew him!  It was rude, it was hurtful and it was uncalled for.  I responded by saying  "Of course I knew him, he was my grandfather.  We went to Canada together, he would come to New York all the time to visit and I would come here to visit with everyone."  She gave me a quick "Ah." and then felt the need to tell stories of her own kids relationship with him.  As I sit here and type, I am still confused.  I am still hurt.  I know my presence here has been difficult for her.  As my grandma and I's relationship has flourished, she has taken more of a backseat.  I have not pushed her there though.  I  try to include her and she declines (often rudely).  At times it feels like she's in some sort of competition to get Mama to eat HER food, to get Mama to remember things she did with HER kids, to talk about past times that I know nothing about because I was living in New York.  It's been an interesting line I've been riding these last few months.  An exercise in patience and showing love even when you may not want to.  Today, though, was a whole other level.  For her to say that to me, made me feel like she was trying to undermine and belittle my role in this family.  To almost say "listen chick, you're a new jack here so stay in your place".

The ride home was quiet.  I was still mulling over my feelings and trying to figure out what to do.  If this conversation were in English I would have without a doubt addressed it.  But, because she really doesn't understand English, I would have to address it diplomatically, respectfully and clearly in Spanish...something I know I would be unable to do with the amount of emotion I have running through me.  The neighbor interrupts my thoughts by saying "Why is Michelle so quiet, is she upset?"  Before I have a chance to answer, my grandmother recounts our conversation.  Attributing my quietness to realizing how important Papa was to me based on how well he treated me.  The neighbor agrees he was a great man and of course, once again, brings up her stories of how well he treated her and her kids "are like his grandchildren."  I couldn't take one more second in the car, as soon as we parked I walked to the house, walked into the bathroom and just cried.  I cried all my frustration this entire Puerto Rico experience has placed on me, I cried for missing Papa's funeral, I cried for Papa and I cried out those haunting feelings that no matter how hard I try, I will never make up for the years I wasn't here.  Today was a challenge.  Tomorrow will be better.

Radio Roots Revisited

It was surreal.  Truly surreal.  There I was, walking into the control room of a radio station...slightly envying the producer behind the board...stopping myself from blurting out "So what program do you guys use?  It doesn't look like Prophet nor any other program I've used before.  Do you have drops? What music do you use as filler?  Is it touch screen?"  Its felt like a lifetime since I've been in the studio of a radio station (save the quick visit to Colb in Ohio in November - what up Colby?!).  It was definitely a different experience though, because instead of the whiney baby rhymes of Nikki or Drake, there were opera like religious tunes playing in my headphones.  Yeah, you read that right LOL now let me start from the beginning.  Remember the wedding that I went to with Mama (where we killed the photo booth with our gangsta picture reel)?  Well, that day I was introduced to a woman who has her own afternoon program on a local Christian radio station.  My neighbor, knowing my background in Communications, made it a point to connect us stating "You never know what it could lead to!" and boy, was she right.

Annie, the radio woman, and I immediately connected!  She told me she started off as a secretary at the station and one day management recognized that she had a wonderful voice.  They especially loved her clear pronunciation.  She went on to give me a mini lesson in phonetics and diaphragm breathing (yes all in Spanish, yes in the middle of the wedding, and yes my life is a sitcom).  We exchanged numbers and she offered to tutor me on phonetics, pronunciation and anything else I may be interested in.  She also made a point to introduce me to her daughter who studied Television Production and seems to have interned or worked at just about every network this side of the island.

Annie in action

Before I knew it, Thursday had arrived and it was time for yet another cooking class...which happens to be steps from the radio station that Annie works at.  So, I gave her a call, and next thing I knew I was salivating at the sight of sound boards, microphones, and headphones.  It was a great feeling because I no longer have expectations or put ridiculous unnecessary stress on myself.  In the past, my immediate thoughts from the moment I entered the station would have been: What's my angle?  What am I trying to get out of this? Who do I need to talk to for a job around here? But as quickly as those thoughts came, I pushed them out.   Being there was enough of a blessing.  I am here to see what I've been placed here to do.  So, there was a calm over me, a peace that I really enjoyed relishing in.  By the end of the third talk break Annie was asking me to give her a few quick notes about me and my background.  By the fourth talk break she was signaling for me to have a seat and throw on some headphones.

Me tryna be slick with the camera phone LOL

Then, I got interviewed.  In Puerto Rico.  In Spanish.  I told my story.   In SPANISH.  Why I'm here, what I did before I got here, what being in Puerto Rico means to me, what the language means to me...which lead to what my grandmother means to me (which of course led to me crying for the first time in my life on air).  Was it perfect Spanish?  I'm almost positive it wasn't, but it didn't matter...it was AMAZING!  That was probably a bucket list item that I didn't even know I should have had until after I did it.  Once we got off the air she told me she could always use volunteers to help her with the phone.  I told her I had no problem with that and since I take that cooking class every Thursday we can designate Thursdays as our days together.  Then, she gave me a homework assignment.  I'm to practice the phonetic exercise she demonstrated the day of the wedding, I'm also to read the newspaper out loud daily and practice my diaphragm breathing...all in front of the mirror.  I assured her I would, took my 'homework' notes, and prepared to head out the door...then she dropped the bomb on me as she said "I sure hope you do practice because I'm going to have you do some reading on the air next week."  Pray for me!!!!!!

I had to try to get a shot of myself behind the mic again woo!

A wedding, an eye exam, and a life without rice or bread...

Mama getting her hair dyed!

Beautiful Wedding

Alright so I got to go to my first wedding here in Puerto Rico!  At first, Mama wasn't going to go but I after she saw how excited I was and after I told her we could dress up and get our hair done and yada yada, she was sold.  So, we started preparing for this glorious event weeks ahead of time.  Really, we started preparing Mama...meaning we had to get her a dress, accessories, hair, nails (luckily I'm her resident manicurist), shoes, etc.  She looked so beautiful!  And we got really lucky with a last minute trip to Marshall's the day of the wedding and found a little pocketbook that matched her dress exactly!  She was very excited.  So excited in fact, she didn't eat anything before we left.  She had breakfast, but that wasn't sufficient..especially because the wedding ended up being 2 hours away and while we were on time the wedding wasn't.  So, we were forced to stand out in the Puerto Rican heat for way longer than we should have.  That, unfortunately, resulted in Mama damn near passing out!  It was without a doubt one of the scarier things I`'ve experienced.  One minute she's resting on my shoulder, next she says she feels dizzy and then just starts to go down.  Luckily there were plenty of men around willing to lend a helping hand.  Thank God she did not injure herself and within a half hour was fine.  I took away some lessons from that situation and I do believe she did too.  I've tried to allow Mama to maintain her independence and I don't try to push her too much when we disagree but she now knows that there are some things that aren't negotiable...doctor visits and now, food.

LOVED the photo booth!

My favorite of the 4!

Speaking of food, I am now on a 'diet'.  Let’s have a moment of silence.  Ok, so anyone who knows me knows I don't diet.  I try to pick healthier food options, I don't eat beef or pork, but diet?!  Me?!  It's pretty hard.  Bread is my bestie and cheese is yet another great friend of mine.  Well, Friday afternoon, that all came to an end when I had my first appointment with a Naturalist.  My mom had gone to see this doctor with my aunt a few years ago and she came back raving about how on point he was with his diagnosis.  She also said she thought I'd really like him because he prescribes natural products (if you need them) and he aims to improve your health through healthier eating habits.  

Couldn't eat it but I heard it was delish!

So, upon my arrival to Puerto Rico, I asked my aunt to please make us an appointment.  Mom had warned me that appointments are made months in advance so I definitely wanted to get my foot in the door as soon as possible.  Finally, June came and it was time to see Dr. Gonzalez (no, really, he is Dr. Gonzalez and I don't believe there's any relation...but ya never know)!  The thing about this doctor is he uses a method called Iridologia.  Basically he takes a close up picture of each of your eyes and through your iris, he diagnosis you.  It may sound crazy, but my mom went and didn't tell him a thing before he looked at her eyes.  She walked out of there amazed.  He found all that she had been dealing with JUST THROUGH HER IRIS.  

Iris

Anywhoo, I walk in there and he asks me what brought me in to see him.  I found myself caught off guard because really, at the time I made the appointment, I just wanted to see what he was all about.  But, by the time I was sitting there in his chair, I realized that I had been battling with some skin issues.  The adjustment to the Puerto Rican weather has not been kind on my skin and come to think of it, my complexion was going through changes well before I got out here.  So, I went with "my skin".  We chatted a bit and then he set me up to take my photos.  By the time I walked out of there, I had a new face soap, a daily regiment of dietary supplements, face creams, a request for a thyroid exam (in two months) and a very strict diet (also for the next two months). According to Dr. Gonzalez, I am overdoing it on the bread and cheese.  I am eating a lot of starches that are filling my face with grease (hence the breakouts).  He also says I have low blood sugar because I'm eating the wrong kind of food that's not releasing the insulin I need into my body and so I'm craving sugar and continuing to snack on and eat things that contribute to the bad sugar rather than the good sugar (and so continues the vicious cycle).  My iris also told him that I’m stressed (unemployed and still struggling with the language will do that lol). 

My aunt was shocked because in her mind I eat great, I exercise and I’m not overweight.  I kinda was too, I mean those are the measures that many people diagnose themselves…as long as the exterior is ok, the interior is fine.   But, this exam went to show, that may not always be true.  Our bodies speak to us, they let us know that something is up, and usually with time.  It starts out small and we try to ignore it until it becomes something big and we can no longer ignore that a change is necessary.   I knew something was up because my skin never seemed to be able to maintain a clear complexion but I thought I could fix it with lots of water and continuing to try product after product…no dice. Therefore, I am determined to follow the doc’s instructions to a tee.  Worst case scenario, it doesn’t work and I learn how to eat without meat, bread, seafood, rice, corn, etc.  (yeah, that’s just a piece of some of my favorite things the list of things I can’t eat for the next two months)!  Best case scenario, it does work, I finally get GREAT skin and I also learn how to eat (and cook) new, interesting, delicious things that are also very good for my health.   Want to know the most interesting thing?!  I’m ALREADY taking cooking classes that are teaching me how to eat in the way the doctor just mandated me to eat (see last post).  God is so good!  I don’t know what he has planned for me but I think it’s very interesting that I was already in “training” for this new challenge before I even knew what the challenge was!

Morning supplements (yes, 9)

Now, saying you have a laundry list of things you can’t eat is one thing.  Saying your going to stick to the list is one thing.  But, waking up the next morning really hungry and actually figuring out how to stick to this new diet...that’s a whole other thing!  I literally wracked my brain for about an hour on Saturday.  What can I eat that will be appealing…fruits only isn’t going to cut it.  I don’t want this to feel like a jail sentence but when you can’t eat anything made with corn, wheat or regular flour, no eggs, no cheese, no meat, no almonds…its like come on!  So, I whipped out the book Dr. Gonzalez gave me (outlining what I can and can’t eat) determined to make something work.  The result?  Oatmeal with almond milk (yep can’t eat almonds but can have almond milk), a tablespoon of brown sugar, ½ a tablespoon of Agave Nectar, and a freshly chopped apple.  I let that simmer and when it was ready drizzled it with a bit more Agave and fresh apple slices.  Delish!  A majority of my diet calls for apples, potatoes and other root veggies so I was very proud of my breakfast!  For Linner (Lunch/Dinner Mama and I love so much) I made my famous Quinoa salad and heated up some chicken for Mama.  She boiled some ñame (a potato cousin) and I made a nice salad.  Successful day 1!  The only drawback is that 2 of the pills the doc prescribed have a horrible odor/taste.  It has definitely taken some getting use to.

Mmmm breakfast!

The wedding was also pretty tough, but luckily they had a vegetarian lasagna and a salad available (although I couldn’t eat the pasta or the eggplant).  I know what you’re thinking…Mish, this is extreme.  Believe me, my dad feels the same way, but there is a medley of things I CAN eat, the problem is they aren’t generally offered in restaurants out here….which means more cooking at home, more money saved, and more recipes mastered!  You connecting the dots for why I’m not so bummed about this?!  The only thing that I’m really concerned about is that in just a few short weeks I’ll be back in New York visiting Mom.  Mom is my master chef.  Mom’s BBQ’s are legendary.  I can’t eat a majority of the things Mom is famous for and she can’t make some of my favorite dishes!  I also have to revise my list of restaurants I had all ready to visit upon my return.  Good news is I believe Ethiopian, Thai and maybe even Indian is all still possible mmmmm I can’t wait!